by T. J. Kline
Grant glanced away from the ball in time to see the little boy run directly into his path.
Bethany couldn’t watch. She’d looked away from James for two seconds to find a napkin in her purse to wipe away the ice cream dripping over his hands, and the next thing she knew, she was chasing after him as he ran directly into the path of the two men playing catch. She should have known better than to believe James would sit still when someone was playing football.
The man who’d gone out for the pass barely flinched before he leapt over her son’s head as if he was no more than a small hurdle, clearing James’ outstretched hands by at least six inches.
Holy crap!
James might be small for his age but that was incredible, to say the least. A few of the other spectators agreed and began to applaud as the man caught the ball and jogged back toward James, tossing it to him gently as he came close. She watched him go to one knee in front of James and place a massive hand on his shoulder. She tried to fight down the overprotective instinct rising up in her. He obviously wasn’t going to hurt James after he’d just, miraculously, avoiding crashing into him. She caught up to where the pair chatted like old friends.
“I’m so sorry.” She gasped for breath, cursing the sandals she’d worn and her lack of aerobic exercise since moving to town. “I looked away and he’d taken off.” She squatted down to James and grasped his shoulders. “What in the world were you thinking? You could have been hurt, badly. If this man hadn’t seen you—”
“It’s no problem, ma’am. He’s just keeping me on my toes and prepared for anything.” He smiled at James and gave him a wink before turning his deep chocolate brown gaze on her.
He rose slowly, unfolding his tall frame to tower above her, leaving her eye level with his bared, sweaty chest. Bethany felt her mouth go dry, unable to speak, even if she was able to get her brain functioning again, which it didn’t seem inclined to do. The second man jogged over to them, laughing.
“Where’ve you been hiding those moves, Grant? Because I haven’t seen that on the field in a long time.”
His friend tossed him his t-shirt and he slipped it over his head before glaring at his partner, then turning back toward her. “I’m Grant McQuaid and this is my brother Jackson. Jackson, meet James and . . .” He let his words trail off expectantly.
“Oh, I’m Bethany,” she filled in. At least with his shirt on again, she could breathe.
“Bethany,” he repeated, as if testing the name on his lips. “That’s pretty.”
“You’re on the Memphis Mustangs,” James announced, excitedly. “Mom, he plays football for Grandpa’s team.” He set the football Grant had handed him at his feet and signed to her, his hands moving with lightning speed.
As soon as James pointed it out, she realized this was Grant McQuaid, star running back of the Mustangs and James’ favorite player. Both men watched them curiously and she could read the questions in their faces. She signed to James to wait and let her speak for a moment before turning back to the pair of too-attractive men still standing in front of her.
“Mom?” Grant asked, arching a brow.
His brother laughed. “What were you, twelve, when you had him?”
Bethany crossed her arms over her chest defensively. She had always looked young for her age but if this was an attempt at starting a conversation, this guy sucked at it. “Not that it’s any of your business but I was twenty.”
“Sorry, you just don’t look much older than twenty now.”
Jackson nudged his brother but Grant glared at him and looked back at James. “When did he get his C.I.?”
She tipped her head to one side, surprised he knew anything about cochlear implants, let alone the abbreviation for them. “When he was an infant.”
“I guess that explains why he can speak so clearly.” Grant nodded. “So why go through the extra work to teach him to sign too?”
While she was touched by his acknowledgment of the hard work she and James had put in on his speech, she arched a brow, wondering what made this man feel he had the right to question the choices she’d made for her son. Just because he was some sort of star didn’t make him entitled to answers about her parenting decisions. Before she could answer, Grant awkwardly signed hello and introduced himself to James in ASL. James face lit up with excitement.
“He knows how to sign, Mom,” he whispered loudly.
“Yes,” she agreed. “And he can hear you too.”
James giggled at her and introduced himself to Grant in sign language. The irritation she’d felt a moment ago disappeared as her son’s boyish laughter filled her ears. She had no idea how Grant knew ASL, or why, but neither mattered right now.
Thank you, she mouthed to him, her heart swelling with gratitude at the fact that Grant had gone out of his way to meet James on common ground.
Grant grinned. “I haven’t had anyone to sign to in a long time.”
Bethany ruffled James’ hair before returning Grant’s smile. “I admit I’m impressed you know any. Not many people do.”
He shrugged. “I used to be better when I was volunteering at the children’s hospital back in Memphis. I’ve gotten rusty.”
“We can help,” James chimed in. “Right, Mom?”
“Oh, um . . .”
James wasn’t about to be deterred. “And you could teach me to be better at football.”
Bethany felt the panic rising up in her. So far, she’d been able to confine her son’s love of football to a safe, controlled version of catch with her. She knew it meant the world to him to meet his favorite player and, from the look of pleasure on his face, Grant McQuaid enjoyed spending time with his fans, but he couldn’t possibly understand the precautions she needed to take with her son, especially where contact sports might be concerned.
“James, I’m sure Mr. McQuaid doesn’t have time for that. He’s an important part of the team. He’ll be in training again soon and it takes a long time to learn to sign, remember?”
“Actually—” Grant began.
“We should probably get going,” Jackson muttered to his brother, jerking his head toward the parking lot. “Gotta get a fence fixed. It was nice to meet you, Bethany. You too, James. Maybe next time we come out here, you can come play ball with us.”
James immediately looked up at his mother. “Can I?”
“We’ll see,” she answered, humoring him as Jackson left the three of them and headed toward the parking lot. The two men were just being polite and didn’t really mean it, but James was still too young to understand that.
“Yay!” James scrunched up his face, looking up, and a bright smile spread as he got an idea. “Then you could come to my house for dinner and call my Grandpa and tell him I played football with you.”
A blush covered Bethany’s cheeks. Her son didn’t realize he was practically setting her up on a date. “James, I don’t—”
Grant dropped his head back and laughed out loud. It was a warm, relaxed sound that reminded her of the afternoons she’d hung out in sweats, watching football with her Dad or nights curled up with James, watching him sleep. Inviting, homey, comforting.
“Little man, you’re on.” Grant winked at her son. “I’ll make you a deal. If you promise to help me practice my sign language, I’ll take you guys out for pizza tonight. Your Grandpa can join us.”
He turned his gaze toward Bethany, jerking her back to reality. He looked like he was waiting for her agreement, as if the idea that she might turn him down wasn’t even an option. She stared at him, unsure where to begin—by flat out turning him down because of his assumption that she wouldn’t or being honest and explaining she’d chosen not to date until James was older.
James broke in, filling in the moment of uncomfortable silence. “Grandpa doesn’t live here. He lives at my old house in Tennessee.”
The note of sadness in her son’s voice made Bethany’s heart ache and her throat close. He might have acclimated well to their move last summer but she knew he
missed living with his Grandparents. It had been a big adjustment for the child to go from doting grandparents giving him attention twenty-four hours a day to only the two of them. For a child who had few close relationships he could trust in, tearing him away from two people who loved him had devastated her.
“Oh, I see.” Grant squatted back to James’ level. “Well, then we’ll call him after we eat. What do you say?”
“Can we, Mom?” James clasped his hands together and turned his angel face up to hers, the way he did whenever he wanted something badly. “Please?”
“Yes, please?” Grant copied her son comically, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened, or the arrogant wink he gave her.
He obviously thought he could turn that deep brown gaze on her and charm her. He might be able to use his good looks and celebrity status to get his way with other women but, unfortunately for him, the only eyes that charmed her were her son’s deep blue ones. She wasn’t about to fawn over this man simply because he knew a little sign language and smiled at her.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Grant’s brow immediately furrowed and he looked back at James. She reached for her son’s hand, forcing him to drop the football.
“We really need to get going. It was nice to meet you, Mr. McQuaid.”
Even as she pulled James back toward the trees, she could feel him tugging against her hand, turning to look behind him. It wasn’t fair for this man to use her son’s hero worship to finagle a date and, while it hadn’t been the first time a man tried, it still pissed her off that anyone would use a child that way, let alone hers.
James planted his feet and stopped. “Mom, please. Do you know who that is? He plays football for—”
She turned around and knelt down. “Baby, I know who he is, but I have some things to get ready for school tomorrow.”
She was lying through her teeth, something she rarely did to James, but she couldn’t explain to him why they couldn’t go out for pizza. How was she supposed to tell a six-year-old that his hero was far too good-looking, that he made her stomach flutter in ways she hadn’t remembered it ever twisting and twirling or that he had what her mother fondly called “bedroom eyes?” Just because she didn’t date, didn’t mean her libido was dead.
But since she couldn’t say any of that to James, it was far easier to tell a little white lie.
Glancing up, she saw Grant jogging the short distance to catch up to them. “Bethany, look, I think you got the wrong impression.” James’ eyes swung toward Grant as he reached them and immediately lit up. Grant pressed the football into his small hands. “Would you hang on to this for me, big guy?”
“Yes,” James answered, completely serious as he watched Grant move closer to her.
“I don’t want you to think I go around asking pretty women and their sons out to dinner at the park all the time.” Bethany tightened her jaw and crossed her arms, refusing to admit that was exactly what she suspected. He flashed her a smile. “As a matter of fact, I’ve never done this before.”
She found that hard to believe. “While I appreciate the offer, Mr. McQuaid, I don’t date.”
“What’s a date?” James asked. Bethany cursed the fact that they were even having this conversation around James and ignored her son’s question.
Grant stood and shrugged. “Who said anything about a date? This will just be two guys talking about football in sign language, right, James?” Grant held his hand out for James to give him a low-five and her son obliged.
Bethany was having a hard time looking away from Grant’s dark eyes and the entreaty she could see there. When she looked down at James, the pleading blue was even harder to deny. She knew how much this opportunity to spend time with his hero meant to James, regardless of how cocky Grant might be, but she didn’t like the way he was going about this. Regardless, she could feel herself caving.
She took a step closer, moving between Grant and James so her son couldn’t see her face or read her lips. “I’m sorry, Mr. McQuaid, but my son isn’t some kind of toy for you to use to get a date.” She pressed a finger to his chest. “No one is going to use him as an easy target.”
“Whoa, wait a minute—” He took a step backward. “Now, I know we got off to a bad start.” He looked at James, peeking at him from behind her skirt, then back at her. “Look, it’s obvious James is a fan and I really was just looking for a way to hang out with him for a bit. It had nothing to do with you.”
She arched a brow in disdain. “Right, because all football players enjoy hanging out with six-year-olds.”
His eyes slid over her slowly, taking in every inch and she cursed the way her body responded, feeling heat travel the length of her spine into her legs. “Okay, maybe not nothing but not what you think either. I really could use the refresher with signing. I wasn’t trying to use your kid to get a date. I swear.” His eyes softened as he held up his last finger. “Pinkie promise?”
“Seriously?” What kind of man even said that out loud? “How old are you?”
“Pinkie promise,” James interrupted, moving beside her and raising his hand to hook fingers with Grant.
Bethany sighed, realizing she’d just been overruled by her six-year-old. “Fine, but not dinner.” Grant nodded and James mimicked the movement seriously. “Tomorrow after school. We’ll come if he gets his homework done.”
Grant grew serious with James and let his fingers move. “You hear that?” Do your work so we can play football tomorrow, he signed. “I’m looking forward to playing ball with you . . .”
He stood up and stared down at her. “I really am, you know.”
She wanted to ask him why, to find out exactly what his intentions were. There had to be something in this for him, some good press at the very least, but he took off before she could speak. Bethany watched as he jogged across the field to meet up with his brother in the parking lot, trying not to appreciate the way the muscles down his back and legs rippled under his clothing with the movement. She felt her stomach twist and somersault like a gymnast, something it hadn’t done since she’d started dating Matthew in high school. Grant McQuaid was definitely a fine male specimen, maybe enough so that she should rethink her no-dating policy.
What in the world was she thinking? She’d made the rule to protect James from getting hurt. The last person she needed to date was a professional football player who was only home for vacation, especially as cocky as this one seemed. James didn’t need that kind of emotional upheaval in his life. But she couldn’t help wondering if she was more worried about James or herself.
You won’t want to miss meeting the Hart family in
Heart’s Desire
“I got another call from Brendon, Jessie. We can’t keep pouring money into Heart Fire without some sort of income. If you won’t take in guests right now, you need to think about selling a few of the horses.”
Jessie Hart held the phone away from her ear, taking a deep breath and trying to contain herself before she blasted her brother with the anger bubbling like lava in her chest. How many times did she need to explain that she didn’t care what their accountant said or how many times he called, the horses weren’t ready to be sold yet? She couldn’t rush them. These were abused horses, for goodness’ sake. Several of them were still recovering, psychologically as well as physically, from the mistreatment they’d faced. She couldn’t just sell them to the highest bidder and wash her hands of the situation.
Justin was a veterinarian; he should understand. Why couldn’t he see how much this meant to her? She just needed a little more time to figure out how to turn the ranch into a rescue facility; she couldn’t give up and go back to running the property as a dude ranch now. Maybe she should just explain what she and their father had been planning, how he’d agreed to let her turn the ranch—at least part of it—into a horse rescue. But Justin had always seen it as another waste of time, a drain on the family finances. In his own words, horses were a money pit unless she was buyi
ng and selling quickly.
“I don’t tell you how to run your vet clinic, so don’t tell me how to run my ranch.” She clenched her jaw, barely able to stem the flow of angry words before her mouth got her into trouble again.
Justin sighed. She could picture him, rubbing his temples the way he always did when he was growing impatient with her.
“I’m not telling you how to run it, Jess, but we need to figure out something. Right now, my clinic is the only thing keeping your ranch in the black. I can’t keep delaying buying new equipment in order to fund a place that used to turn a profit.”
“I bet you didn’t ask Julia to sell any of her dogs,” Jessie snapped, instantly regretting her quick temper. It was her worst trait, the one thing her mother had left her that she wished she hadn’t. It wasn’t fair to drag her sister or her service dogs into this argument.
She didn’t need to hear the words come from his mouth to know what he was thinking: Julia wasn’t the one driving the family ranch into ruin; Jessie was.
“No, I didn’t.” Justin’s voice softened, the way it did when he was trying to soothe terrified animals in his vet clinic. Jessie was beginning to feel a bit trapped herself. “Maybe it’s time to think about taking in guests again. It’s been months since Mom and Dad—”
“No!” She couldn’t give up her dream, not yet. This plan had been in its first stages when their parents were killed in the car accident. She had to see it through to fruition. She just needed to buy herself a little more time to figure out how to get cash flowing into the ranch again. Maybe she should sit down and talk with Brendon about getting another loan. If nothing else, it would get her brother off her back.
The thought sent shivers of dread up her spine. She couldn’t stand the creepy way Brendon watched her every move, as if he owned her. He’d always been overly possessive, but lately he’d been dropping by unannounced and following her around the ranch. He’d never wanted to be around when her parents were alive. She certainly didn’t need him stalking her now.