Riptide (A Renegades Novel)

by Skye Jordan

  She cleared her throat. “I’ll take Caleb through the Dairy Queen drive through on the way home.”

  “Are you sure? You should probably just fall into bed.”

  Fall into bed—alone. Again.

  Faith laughed, but she felt hollow. “Like that’s going to happen. I have lots of work still ahead of me. I’ll grab dinner while I’m there.”

  “Please tell me it’s going to be something other than ice cream.”

  “No promises.”

  Emma groaned, but said, “Thanks, I owe you.”

  “Good. Let’s get started on this video thing.” Anything to distract herself from Grant.

  Emma sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”

  Faith knew then that her hopes for that particular revenue stream was going to have to be put on hold. Emma had her hands full with her business and Caleb. “Don’t worry about that now. I’ll drop Caleb home in half an hour.”

  She disconnected, grabbed the keys to her father’s ancient Ford F150 from the cash register and bundled up to head outside. In the storage shed-slash-garage out back Faith climbed into the cab and turned the key.

  The old motor chugged, chugged, chugged, and died. She hadn’t used this thing in over a week, and every time she did, she always said a prayer that it would start for her. “Come on, baby. Caleb’s waiting.”

  On the third try, the engine revved and Faith breathed easier. The drive to the outdoor arena was short drive, and she could see the lights glowing in the darkness long before she approached. But when she turned into the parking lot, she found it empty—except for one black Range Rover.

  Her stomach lifted, twisted, then fell.

  She parked a couple spots away from Grant’s SUV and looked past the lot to the rink, where only two figures remained on the ice. Grant and Caleb. In fact, they were the only two people anywhere. The rink was deserted except for the two of them.

  Faith shut down the engine but stayed in the truck watching the two skate. She cracked the window to catch their voices carrying on the quiet night, and Grant’s low timber filled her gut with longing.

  She tapped out a text message to Emma. Did you set this up?

  On the ice, an orange traffic cone sat at one end in front of the goal. Grant picked up two more cones and spaced them out in the middle of the ice, then added another at the opposite end, mirroring the first. Caleb collected a pile of hockey sticks in his arms and skated them out to Grant, where he laid them perpendicular to the length of the rink. It looked like a mini obstacle course. He and Caleb skated to the opposite end of the rink where Grant placed a hockey stick across the two cones in the center all while talking to Caleb. Faith couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Caleb was rapt and kept nodding his head. And Grant used his hands and body to explain whatever he was talking about. Then he nodded, Caleb imitated him, and Grant patted Caleb’s helmet, a hockey-approved show of affection.

  Emotion welled in her chest, making it feel tight.

  Grant was a good guy. If he was like his brothers, he would have been out at the bar every night, not fixing up his parents’ house. He would have been sleeping around with any number of single, willing women in town, not dogging her just to be rejected. And he certainly didn’t have to be spending extra time on the ice tonight for Caleb.

  Her phone buzzed with Emma’s response. What do you mean? Are you getting paranoid?

  Faith laughed and typed, Did you buy extra training for Caleb?

  I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d call you but I have the woman on Skype.

  Faith smiled. Never mind.

  On the ice, Grant took a hockey stick from Caleb and started through the course in super slow motion while talking to the boy where he skated alongside, watching and nodding. Grant circled the first cone and glided toward the pair he’s placed at the center of the ice. He picked up speed and for a moment Faith thought he was going to jump the stick lying atop the two cones. What terrified her was having Caleb attempt that jump.

  Faith reached for the handle, but before she even got the door open, Grant dropped to the ice on his belly instead, sliding underneath the stick and between the cones like he was stealing home base. Caleb was beside himself with laughter, but kept watching as Grant picked himself up, skated toward the ladder of sticks he’d placed in front of the other cone and ran over them, tapping down the tip of his skate blade between each pair of sticks. At the end of the ladder, he skated toward the final cone and stopped sideways, spraying ice over the neon.

  “Got it?” she heard Grant ask.

  She didn’t hear Caleb’s reply, but he nodded. And Grant started back at the top, skating through the course a little faster, talking it all the way through. And Faith found herself just as rapt as Caleb, loving Grant’s fluidity, his agility, his athleticism.

  At the end, he sprayed the cone again. And Caleb laughed.

  “Do it again,” Caleb said. “This time full speed. Like you’d do it in your practice.”

  Faith grinned, rested her elbow on the window ledge and leaned her head against her fist.

  Grant complied with Caleb’s request, but he built up some speed first, rotating his right shoulder a couple of times before he headed for the first cone. The intensity of he approach made Faith’s breath catch. Then he was flying through the moves and before she had time to process his skill, he was done, spraying the cone with ice until the neon orange was invisible.

  Ty laughed and clapped gloved hands. Grant gestured to the opposite cone. “You’re turn.”

  Faith watched as Caleb took the course again and again under Grant’s watchful eye. She watched as Caleb faltered and fell. Kicked the cones out of place and sent the hockey sticks flying. And each time, Grant patiently replaced all the props and encouraged him to go again. Once, when Caleb hit the ice hard enough for Faith to wince, Grant skated to him, braced himself on his knees and talked to Caleb, but didn’t help him up. Faith knew that was to show support but teach Caleb he had to get up on his own.

  And the first time Caleb made it though the drill successfully, no displaced equipment, a nice heavy spray on the cone, her heart all but burst with excitement for him. The kid who struggled endlessly with anything athletic had finally mastered a drill. He and Grant shared a high five before Caleb went back to the top of the ice and continued running the excercise, just because he wanted to.

  Faith pushed from the truck and started toward the rink. When the truck’s door closed, Grant looked over.

  “Hey.” His tone held a little what-are-you-doing-here, and his smile seemed a little tight.

  Faith didn’t blame him, but it did take a little thrill out of her excitement. “Hey. Emma asked me to pick up Caleb.”

  Caleb sprayed the cone, then yelled, “Wah-hoo! Aunt Faith, did you see that?”

  “I’ve seen it all fifty-seven times,” she told him. “I’ve been watching.”

  “If I do it again, can you video it for mom?”

  Grant glided toward Faith as she pulled her phone from her pocket. “You bet.”

  Caleb made his way across the rink, giving Faith time with Grant. “It’s really sweet of you to take time with him. He—“

  “Struggles,” Grant said. “I know. He just needs some one-on-one. He picks up the moves fast when he’s focused.”

  “He’s a really smart kid.”

  “That’s good.” Grant grinned and rested his hip on the railing, looking out into the rink. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but you’ve got to be pretty sharp in hockey. Everything moves so fast. If you don’t think faster...” He shrugged.

  Beside him, Faith pressed her hands to the worn wood and leaned forward to see the whole rink. “I missed seeing you today.”

  “I finished grouting the shower tile,” he said. “And then I found mold under the sink.”

  She groaned. “Oh no.”

  He shrugged and smiled. “Just means I get to come in tomorrow.”

  She took a deep breath and pushed through her nerves to s
ay, “I’m really sorry about yesterday.” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I—“

  “Aunt Faith?” Caleb yelled. “Are you ready?”

  Grant called, “Take a practice run.”

  Faith laughed.

  “I’ve already taken fifty seven practice runs according to Aunt Faith.”

  “Take fifty eight,” Grant told him. Then grinned at Faith. “He’s a really good sport. Half the high school team would have dropped like flies by now. He has a future in high school hockey if his tenacity holds.”

  “That news will thrill his mom.”

  Grant nodded. “I’m sorry about yesterday too. I pushed too hard. I forget not everyone is as intense as I am.” He held her gaze, but the passion from the day before was absent, and Faith discovered she missed it. “But I’m not sorry about what happened. I wanted to kiss you from the first day.”

  “I’m re-ady,” Caleb sang, skating restless circles. “When-ever you are...”

  Faith laughed, and the uncomfortable tension she’d been feeling since Grant walked out of the store yesterday finally ebbed a little. She lifted her phone toward the rink. “Okay.”

  She tapped play and followed Caleb through the drill. When Caleb sprayed the cone, Grant put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Faith cringed and covered the ear closest to her.

  “Oh,” he said, laughing. “Sorry.”

  She shoved his shoulder. “Are not.”

  He caught her wrist, and held it. Their eyes met, and there was no freaking way she could deny the pull between them. But Grant didn’t push it. He loosened his grip and slid his hand over hers, then yelled at Caleb, “Clean up, kid.”

  Without one word of protest, Caleb started picking up cones and sticks, dragging them to the bench and tucking them away in equipment bags.

  Grant looked down at their hands and threaded their fingers, but didn’t speak, and the moment felt unnervingly intimate.

  “I wish he couldn’t see us,” Grant murmured. “Because I’d kiss you again.”

  All the feelings from the day before rushed in, mixing with new nerves, and she breathed, “Yeah.”

  Grant chuckled, squeezed her hand and met her eyes. His were relaxed, but a spark was missing, and that made her sad. He lifted a hand, swept a piece of hair off her cheek, then tucked it behind her ear in a gesture so tender, it flipped Faith’s heart. “Headed home?”

  Her stomach did that squeezing thing again, but this time she couldn’t tell if it was fear or excitement. “No. I have to take him back first. And I told Emma I was going to take him through the Dairy Queen drive through, which means she’ll be expecting her regular.”

  He grinned. “What’s her regular?”

  “Oreo.”

  “And what’s your regular?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I don’t have one. I try something new every time I go.”

  He lifted his brows. “Really.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’m reckless like that.”

  He chuckled, opened his fingers and slid his hand against hers. “I like reckless.”

  She nodded. “I figured. What’s your regular?”

  He lifted his gaze to the rink. “I’d like to taste Faith Nicholas again. I didn’t get enough the first time to tell if it was my flavor or not.”

  Her whole body erupted in a mass burst of tingling heat.

  She hummed a laugh, and before she could think of a witty comeback, Caleb streaked across the ice, shoes and hockey stick in one hand, blade guards in the other. “I’m ready to go. Wait ‘til mom sees me.”

  Grant released her hand and pushed off the wall, putting space between them as Caleb jumped and turned, planting his ass on the ledge. And he slid on his guards, then changed from skates to tennis shoes while talking nonstop about practice.

  Grant egged him on, but kept looking at Faith as he shifted restlessly on his own skates. While Faith’s mind was spinning a mile a minute—ask him to come over or leave it relaxed between them? Go for it or let things end on a good note? Was she ready to jump back in to the deep end? Should she do it with this guy?

  The flutter in her belly told her she was pretty sure he’d drag her under and drowned her without ever realizing. But then she wondered if she were underestimating herself. Underestimating him.

  “Aunt Faith.” Caleb’s frustrated voice dragged her gaze from Grant’s grin.

  “What?”

  Caleb was already standing outside the rink, skates in hand, arms out.

  “Hey.” She frowned at him. “Lose the attitude or you can walk home, buddy.”

  He deflated. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you say to Grant? And think before you answer.”

  Her warning tone registered, but he still answered immediately. “That was the best practice ever, Mr. Saber.”

  “Grant,” he said, chuckling then grimaced. “No Mr. Saber.”

  “Sorry. But seriously, I’ve never had so much fun playing hockey before. Thank you.”

  “I’m glad. Thanks for giving it your all.”

  “Okay,” Faith said, reluctant to walk away from Grant. But she tugged on the hood of Caleb’s sweatshirt, teasingly dragging him right then left then right again until he was laughing. “I guess we can go to Dairy Queen on the way home.”

  Caleb jumped and fisted his hand. “Yes.” And he ran to the truck, yelling, “Thanks for the extra practice, Mr....Grant.”

  “He’s a good kid,” Grant said, waving to Caleb before he jumped in the truck.

  Faith walked backward a few feet. “And you’re a good man, Grant Saber.”

  Grant dropped his hand and looked at her for a long, deer-in-the-headlights moment, before a grin split his face.

  Faith’s heart tripped again. And to keep herself from falling over her feet, Faith turned and jogged the rest of the way to the truck. When she backed out of the parking space, she glanced over at the ice and found Grant sprinting from one end of the rink to the other, a puck at the blade of his stick, swooshing around corners, taking sharp turns and speeding back the other direction.

  She paused a moment to watch, mesmerized by his speed and intensity. The sight made her body tighten in ways she hadn’t felt in so long, she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt quite like this. “I need to start watching more hockey.”

  “I told you that when I was, like, five.”

  Faith reached across the bench seat and stuck a finger in Caleb’s ticklish ribs. He burst into giggles that warmed Faith’s heart. “Shush, monkey. Be nice or no Blizzard for you.”

  She only half listened to Caleb’s constant chatter on the drive, her mind spinning around how quickly her desire for Grant had ramped up over the span of a week. She’d been single for five years now. During that time she’d made a lot of male friends and been asked out dozens of times. But she’d only met maybe a handful of guys who’d tempted her to date again, and not one who’d made her want to jump into bed with him.

  Yet here she was, losing sleep over Grant. And it wasn’t just because of his looks. Sure, that was a benefit, but what had captured her attention was his confidence and wit. What had deepened her interest was all she’d learned about him during his daily visits to the store. The way he stopped to talk to locals. His easy nature and quick laughter. And the way he continued to fix up his parents’ home even when their relationship was strained. How he’d stayed in town even after a blowup with them to honor his commitment to Dwayne and support a team that had once been his team.

  “I couldn’t believe it when he told me he’d been bullied in school.” Caleb’s comment broke into Faith’s thoughts.

  She pulled her gaze from the road in her headlights to look at him. “What?”

  “Mr. Saber. He told me that he was really unpopular as a kid. He got picked on a lot, like me.”

  Her brows shot up and a grin turned her mouth. He’d probably made that up to make Caleb feel better. “Really?”

  “Uh-huh. He was super skinny and had really bad pimpl
es, you know? What do you call that?”

  “Acne?”

  “Yeah, that. He said kids called him names for a long time. You know, the way they call me nerd and dweeb and stuff.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Faith’s brows pulled together. She was having a hard time picturing that.

  “Yeah. Told me that people only started to respect him when he got good at hockey. Said I didn’t have to choose hockey, but that finding something that I’m really good at will make other people respect me. And over time, people would stop teasing me. He said I shouldn’t be afraid to be me. That too many people spend too much time trying to fit in when they should be trying to stand out and be their own personal best.”

  That sting of warmth she’d had earlier filled her chest again, and she smiled pulling into the Dairy Queen drive through.

  Grant Saber just kept surprising her.

  Faith was still thinking about Grant long after she’d dropped Caleb off at home and returned to the store to finish up her day by stocking shelves. Thinking about his kiss as she started toward the basement where dozens of delivery boxes awaited her. Thinking about his words that still created a shiver in her gut and settled heat between her legs.

  “I talk as dirty as I fight, and I fuck has hard as I play.”

  She wondered what it would be like to have a man like Grant Saber, with all his confidence and skill, talk dirty to her. Wondered what it would be like to be fucked hard. Hell, fucked period. She’d never approached sex that way. Dillon had been her first and last. And she’d been in love with him. Had believed she’d marry him.

  As she unloaded the last box, Faith came to the realization that nothing in life was a sure thing—except death. And that by trying so hard to hold onto the store, she was letting life pass her by. A big chunk of which she’d already missed out on. It didn’t matter whether Grant wanted one night. Or even one hour. Because the truth was, with her life so unstable, Faith didn’t have much more to offer.

  Gathering the influx of outlet covers, nuts, bolts, and screws from the last box, she started upstairs to fill the shelves.

  “Tomorrow,” she told herself, “I’m going to ask him out. Tomorrow, when he comes in, I’m going to see if he wants to go to dinner. I’m going to be honest with him, and if he’s still interested, then...” She paused on the stairs. “Then what?”