Making the Play

by T. J. Kline

  “Mom, weren’t you the one who kept telling me to relax because it wasn’t really a date? That I shouldn’t think of it that way?”

  Bethany heard her mother’s sigh through the receiver. “I know but, honey, I just want to see you happy again. I hate seeing you lonely.”

  “I’m not lonely,” she lied.

  “You might be able to fool some ­people, Bethie, but you will never be able to fool your mother. I hear it in your voice every time I talk to you.” She laughed sadly. “That would be like you not knowing James’ moods the way you do. We mothers know.”

  Bethany took a deep breath. “James and I went to his family’s ranch last weekend,” she confessed, wondering if her mother could hear how torn she felt from her tone. “He taught James how to ride a pony and they went swimming. They played football,” she added.

  “He’s a good man,” her mother said matter-­of-­factly.

  She laughed at her mother’s quiet confidence. “There is no way you could possibly know that.”

  “Bethany Marie Mills,” her mother scolded. “Would I say something like that if I didn’t know it? First of all, your father knows everything that has ever been reported about any of the Mustangs in the past twenty-­five years since we moved here. I’m so tired of his sports shows,” she complained before catching herself. “And, besides, I know you. You would never let someone close to James if he wasn’t a good person.”

  Guilt swept over Bethany. As much as she wanted to agree with her mother’s assessment of her, she wasn’t nearly as confident in her own judgment, as a mother or a woman. Maybe a week ago, but now? She could barely meet her son’s gaze, knowing that her decision to let Grant into their lives would hurt him, far more than if she’d just said no to dinner with him in the first place.

  “So . . .” Her mother drew out the word.

  “So?” Bethany poured the pancake batter onto the griddle and leaned back against the island, grateful that James hadn’t put on his microphone receivers yet. “There’s really nothing to tell. Even if there were, he’s heading back to spring training soon. I’m not about to get involved with someone who is about to leave.”

  “And if he wasn’t?”

  “Of course he will.” She heard the thud of the morning paper against her front door and headed to retrieve it, cradling the phone with her shoulder. She slipped the rubber band from around it and unfolded the newspaper. “There’s no way he wouldn’t at least go back and—­”

  Bethany couldn’t believe the picture gracing the lower half of her paper. It showed the back of her son’s head, while he ate a burger and fries in Grant’s car. That would have been bad enough since Grant hadn’t told her he’d taken him out, but the snapshot showed a profile of Grant with his cell phone to his ear, watching something directly in front of him. The restaurant where she’d had lunch with Steven was directly across from the parking lot he was in. There was only one reason she could think of for him to be there. But why would Grant spy on her?

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, Mom. Let me finish getting James his breakfast and I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Sure. Bethie, are you sure you’re doing okay? I mean, I know it was my suggestion you move but—­”

  “I’m fine, Mom. We both are. I’ll talk to you in a bit, okay?”

  Bethany disconnected the call and studied the picture. She wished she knew for sure what Grant had been looking at. Obviously the photographer had been along one side of the street to catch this vantage point. However difficult it might be to figure out what attracted his attention, the look on his face was easily deciphered. He was angry. The question was what had made him that way—­his call or the subject of his intense focus?

  GRANT CLIMBED OUT of the shower and wound a thick terrycloth towel around his slim hips. He was in great shape, better than when they’d carried him off the field last season, but even the hot water couldn’t ease the soreness already setting in from a long day in the saddle. He’d left the actual banding of the cattle to his father and the twins who were faster at it than he and Andrew were, but it didn’t lessen the physical exertion he, Ben and Andrew expended herding and moving the cattle to and from the chutes. He’d forgotten how much work was involved on the ranch, and how it never seemed to end.

  Or how much you actually enjoy working with your family.

  It was true. It had been a long time since the seven of them had put in a full day’s work together but he found it as exhilarating as it was exhausting. While there had been plenty of name calling and ribbing, there was also an unspoken rhythm to the work. Each person knew their part, like a well-­oiled machine, and they worked together flawlessly. Now that the hard part was done, they were going to grill some burgers and have a ­couple cold beers apiece while they relaxed at the fire pit. They’d probably end up giving each other crap about stupid things they’d done as kids, reminiscing and reliving memories, the way they always did when they got together, but he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather be doing.

  Nothing else?

  Okay, there was one thing that he’d rather be doing, something he hadn’t quite managed to get out of his mind all day. He couldn’t help but think about the way Bethany’s soft curves had felt in his hands last night. Ever since the conversation with his father this morning, Grant had been dying to call her, but he didn’t want to push her. He wasn’t exactly sure where he stood with her after that kiss. He couldn’t expect to just go from being a friend—­offering her advice and suggestions on dating—­to the guy she was dating without letting her catch her breath.

  However, he wasn’t willingly walking away from the easy friendship they’d developed. That was as much a part of his attraction to her as her as her tender vulnerability and her quiet strength. In truth, it was the biggest part of his attraction to her. Of course, it wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate her beauty, but there was so much more to her. She was as sweet and innocent as she was feisty and flirty. She didn’t mind standing up for what she believed courageously but she was also willing to keep an open mind. She was as honest as anyone he’d ever met and wasn’t impressed by his celebrity. In fact, she’d been put off by it, and therein lay part of the problem.

  Even when he walked away from the team and left that chapter of his life behind, the reporters wouldn’t just go away. At least, not at first. Once your name was up in lights, that fame was a difficult thing to shed. For most players, it took at least five years of ducking the press and disappearing off the media’s radar. She was far too private a person to ignore it. He’d seen the anxiety she’d tried to hide when she read the last article about his car at her house. He couldn’t ask Bethany and James to live under that kind of scrutiny and media attention.

  “Oh, hey!” He heard Jefferson’s voice from downstairs as he greeted someone in the bunkhouse living room. “I’ll get him for you.”

  His brother’s feet pounded on the stairs and Grant jerked a t-­shirt over his still-­damp head just as Jefferson banged on his door. “Grant, Bethany’s here.”

  He opened the door, looking over the banister to see her looking up at him, her hair loose around her shoulders, looking gorgeous and agitated. He hadn’t expected her to come by and, from the look on her face, this wasn’t a friendly visit. James, on the other hand, looked ecstatic and Grant chose to focus on the boy’s excitement first.

  “Hey, little man. Are you here to whip Jefferson at Xbox? I have to warn you, he’s pretty good at car racing.”

  James eyes widened with delight as Jefferson jogged back downstairs. “You have an Xbox?” He spun on his mother. Can I play? he signed.

  Jefferson wisely looked to Bethany for confirmation before he agreed. Bethany pinched her lips together tightly. He could tell she was upset and wondered what had happened.

  “Fine, for a ­couple of minutes while I talk to Grant.” Her gaze slid past James a
nd his brother, who were already heading for the couch, and lit on him again. The yellow flecks in her eyes glowed brightly.

  “Why don’t we go outside?” he suggested, opening the back door for her. She glanced back at James. “He’ll be fine with Jefferson for a few minutes. You look like you need to get something off your chest and I’m thinking you might prefer to do it privately.”

  She pinched her lips together again and he knew he’d hit the bull’s-­eye. He held open the back door for her, ignoring the surprised looks from Andrew and Ben as she headed toward the barn. This wasn’t looking promising for him.

  “Okay, what’s on your mind?” he asked as he led her into the aisle of the barn. The horses greeted them with quiet nickers and the sweet musty scent of straw surrounded them.

  “This.” She pulled a folded newspaper from her purse and slapped it against his chest. “I thought you were watching James.”

  Grant scanned the headline of the paper, his gaze falling on the picture his father had pointed out earlier. “I was. He was hungry, so we went for burgers and fries.”

  “Looks like James wasn’t what you were watching here. This burger place is across the street from Rosetti’s.” She tapped the picture. “Were you spying on me?”

  Grant clenched his jaw. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her the truth. He could easily confess that he’d been jealous of her date, but seeing the picture of him on the phone with Wolf reminded him of just how insecure his future really was. For all he knew, he could be out of a job by the end of a week and, as of right now, he had no real prospects. Regardless of the conversation with his Dad this morning, even though he knew he wanted her, he had nothing solid to offer her. He had no idea where his career was headed, or where he would end up. And there were plenty of guys in Hidden Falls who could offer her the privacy and security Bethany craved in her life, something he wouldn’t be able to give her for some time. It wasn’t fair for him to ask her to wait, or make her a promise he might not have the power to keep.

  Chapter Fourteen

  BETHANY WASN’T SURE what had possessed her to show up unannounced at his home like she really had any reason to be angry at Grant. But seeing the look on his face staring back at her from the front page, knowing he’d been across the street while she’d been on her date, realizing that James could have seen her and misconstrued even a handhold, had infuriated her. Almost as much as the damn guilty grin he had plastered across his face right now. She wasn’t about to let him charm his way out of this.

  “Okay, let me explain,” he began, reaching for her hand.

  She jerked it away. His touch had a tendency to scatter her thoughts and turn her into a puddle of Jell-­O. She needed every ounce of her focus to confront him.

  “Explain what? You were the one who convinced me to go out with Steven in the first place. What could you possibly say to make this okay?”

  Grant took a deep breath, patiently waiting while she lashed out at him. When she paused, he answered. “Bethany, I called the paper and told them where to find you on your date. I was there, trying to make sure that reporter, whoever it is, showed up to get a picture of you with someone that wasn’t me. That was the original idea, remember? To prove that we aren’t a ­couple.”

  She’d forgotten. The revelation took the steam out of her tirade. After arriving home after her date and trying to recover from Grant’s kiss, which had left her hungry for more, the reporter following him had been the last thing she’d worried about. After his sudden rejection, little else had commanded her thoughts. Assuming that he’d followed her because of jealousy gave her a reason to confront him and had taken some of the sting out of the way he’d walked out last night. Now, she wasn’t sure whether to be grateful that he’d been trying to help her reputation or confused by his mixed signals.

  “Then why do you look so mad in the picture?”

  “I got a phone call I wasn’t exactly expecting.” Grant clenched his jaw, his tone suddenly clipped and almost angry, but he didn’t seem inclined to share more information than that with her.

  “I see.”

  “No, Bethany, you don’t.” Exasperation and sheer frustration colored his voice and he shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “You think you understand, but you can’t. Because I had a life all planned out, in every detail. I was coming back here to recuperate and returning to Memphis, back to my job but now, who knows?”

  He ran a furious hand through his hair, making it stand up. Her fingers itched to brush through it and lay the strands back into place. She had no clue what he was talking about but she could see the aggravation in his face, the anger building in the way his muscles tensed. She’d never seen him lose his temper, not even during press conferences, and she wasn’t sure what she’d said to cause it. Grant threw his hands into the air and spun in a circle, looking at the barn around him.

  “I could stay here, but that isn’t exactly a long-­term option. I’m not a rancher and I’d go crazy.” He beat a hand against his chest and it hurt her to see him feeling lost. “I’m a football player—­it’s what I do, who I am. That is the only thing I know how to be successfully. But I may not even be that anymore. I’m not a coach or a mentor. Those guys don’t want to listen to me.”

  Bethany was confused and wasn’t sure what she could say to help him so she simply remained silent, letting him vent his anger until it was spent. Grant slammed his palms against the wall of the barn, turning his back to her.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “I didn’t mean to lay that on you.”

  “It’s okay.” Bethany stepped closer, suddenly understanding that his anger stemmed from fear—­fear of what his injury might have caused, fear of whether he’d have a future with the team, fear of the unknown. She could understand that kind of fear.

  Laying one hand over his against the wall and the other over his heart, she looked up at him, wanting him to see her empathy. Regardless of what had happened between them on the stairs, he’d been a good friend to her and James in the past week. He deserved for her to be a friend in return.

  “What do you want to do, Grant? What would make you happy?”

  He looked at her hand, splayed over his chest then back to her face. As much as she might try to deny it, she didn’t miss the desire that flashed in his eyes before they shadowed with regret. Grant closed them and shook his head. “Don’t ask me that, Bethany. Please.”

  “Grant, you’ve made me face some hard truths in my life this past week. Maybe it’s time for you to face a few as well.”

  “Bethany,” he warned, looking away from her. “This is a Pandora’s box you don’t want to open, trust me.”

  “I do trust you.” She reached her fingers to his jaw, turning his face back toward her. “What about you? What would make you happy, Grant? What do you want to do?”

  His eyes were sorrowful and it hurt her to see him agonizing over this decision she couldn’t help him with. Their meeting might have been unorthodox, but in the past six days he’d made more of an impact on her life, on James’ life, than anyone other than her parents. He was teaching her to trust again and it pained her to know he didn’t feel he could lean on her as well.

  He looked into her eyes and she could see the inner war he was fighting. He wanted to open up to her, even opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes clouded and he closed it again.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the agonizing rejection that wanted to steal her breath from her lungs. She couldn’t force him to open up, to tell her what he was holding inside. Searching his eyes, Bethany questioned whether she was sure she wanted him to. It would change things, even more than their kiss had. She wasn’t sure how she knew it, but Bethany was certain that Grant telling her whatever he was holding inside would alter their friendship.

  “Okay.” She nodded, unsure where they
could go from here.

  There was an unspoken wall between them now that hadn’t been there before, not even when she’d been trying to keep barriers between him and James. He had secrets he couldn’t share, or wouldn’t. They were no longer on a level playing field and she couldn’t allow herself to be open with someone who was closed off with her. She had to walk away, regardless of how much it hurt, if she wanted to save face at all. Otherwise, she’d look just like all of the rest of the football groupies throwing herself at the Grant McQuaid. She closed her eyes and fortified her resolve as she turned her back on him.

  Grant’s fingers brushed her waist as he reached for her. She paused midstep but didn’t turn around. Bethany felt him move toward her, his chest pressing against her back, the heat of him scorching her through her clothing. She stood still, waiting for him to do something, to say something, to explain himself and reach out to her emotionally. His arms moved around her waist, enveloping her, and she felt the tornado of need spiral through her. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  “You make me happy,” he whispered.

  He didn’t sound happy. He sounded tormented, like the admission was being ripped from him.

  GRANT TRIED TO stop himself, tried not to confess the truth but the anguish he saw in her eyes was his undoing. When she’d turned away from him, he’d known he was losing her for good. She’d had enough hurt in her life. He refused to be the reason she had more.

  His hands cupped her shoulders as he turned her slowly to face him. His fingers ached to touch her face, to slip into her hair and tip her head back. He wanted to kiss her—­was dying to kiss her—­but he knew that if he gave in, he would only hurt her more if he left. However, his mouth didn’t seem compelled to listen to his brain’s logic.

  “I want you, Bethany, and I can’t seem to stop it.”

  She smiled up at him, sweetly, her eyes lighting up with a pleasure he couldn’t understand. As her hands cupped his face, her thumb traced the line of his jaw. “Then don’t.”