by T. J. Kline
Grant knew she would fall asleep and willed his body to resign itself to the fact that there would be no release for him tonight. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t have it any other way. His sweet Bethany had gifted him with her greatest treasure—her trust. She had come alive in his arms and that was more valuable than any trophy.
BETHANY WOKE THE next morning to voices in her kitchen. She jerked upright in her bed as the sound of James’ giggles carried upstairs through her closed door.
“What the hell did I do?” she wondered aloud, her hand reaching for the pillow that still held the indentation of Grant’s head. She drew her bare knees to her chest and buried her face in her hands. “No, no, no, no, no.”
Images of her and Grant played through her mind as the blush crept over her shoulders and covered her cheeks. Even as she burned with embarrassment, other parts of her body—most of them, if she was being honest—tingled with hot, dark pleasure, begging for Grant’s touch again. How could she have let herself get so carried away?
“Hang on, buddy.” She heard the deep timbre of Grant’s voice downstairs. “Why don’t you start your breakfast and I’ll make sure she’s awake.”
Bethany had barely tugged the sheet up under her arms, covering her breasts, when Grant slipped through the doorway and smiled at her, a cup of steaming coffee in his hand. “I see you’re up.”
He set the coffee on the nightstand and moved to her side of the bed, grabbing her clothing from the floor and passing the items to her as he sat down on the edge of the mattress.
“What time is it?” She glanced at the clock on her nightstand. Six-thirty a.m.
“I didn’t want to wake you but I figured you’d prefer that to being late for work. James is downstairs eating a bowl of cereal.”
“What did you tell him?” Dread grabbed a hold of her lungs and squeezed with a viselike grip.
“That I came over early this morning to surprise him.”
Relief coursed through her. James was already too attached to Grant. She didn’t want him to get the idea that he was going to become a permanent fixture in their lives. Now if only Bethany could convince herself to let go of that hope as well.
She reached for the cup of coffee, catching the sheet as it slipped slightly. Grant smiled wickedly and reached a finger out to tug it back down slightly, allowing him a better look at the swell of her breasts.
“Grant, about last night,” she began.
“I know.” He nodded slightly.
“I mean, I like you. I really like you, but I don’t usually . . .” She closed her eyes, trying to gather her embarrassed thoughts into something that sounded coherent. “I just don’t want you to think—”
“Bethany,” he interrupted, giving her a lopsided grin that made her heart race. “Don’t worry about what I’m thinking. I know what kind of woman you are, okay?”
He rose, leaning over her, and before she could put the cup to her lips, he captured her mouth in a kiss that stole her breath and made her want to call in sick to work just so she could stay in bed with him all day. Her entire body sizzled with longing and she could barely think straight, almost dropping the cup of hot coffee into her lap. Grant ended the kiss slowly.
“Go, take your shower. I’ll help James get ready.” She watched him walk toward the door, appreciating his backside even more now that her hands had memorized every dip and curve of muscle intimately. He paused with one hand on the side of the door, partway through the opening. “For the record, Bethany, next time I’ll be prepared.”
He closed the door behind him and she thought she might faint. Desire, hot and liquid, pooled low in her body and her heart raced erratically.
There was going to be a next time? There was going to be a next time.
“WELL, WELL, LOOK what the cat dragged in.” His mother eyed him speculatively, disappointment creasing her brow. She slid a mug of lukewarm coffee across the table in his direction, shaking her head as she turned away from him.
“Mom, it’s not what you think.”
Not exactly what you think.
“Sure it’s not.” She looked him up and down before dropping the newspaper on the table beside him. “Grant, I like her. You treat her right and be careful.”
“I know, Mom.” He glanced at the paper.
Grant McQuaid’s Undercover Hot Date. It was easy to make out the close-up of his face with the baseball cap. “Son of a bitch,” he bit out.
“Grant,” she scolded, the lines etching deeper into her forehead. “You want to tell me what’s going on because you’re not acting like yourself. It’s not like you to sneak around.”
“You’d sneak around too if you had some damn reporter following your every move.”
“Maybe your moves wouldn’t matter to this reporter so much if you’d just quit trying to be sneaky.” She tapped the newspaper. “Be upfront with everyone and they’ll go away. They only do this because they think they’re getting something juicy that you don’t want people to know about.”
Grant ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t. Not yet.”
His mother pursed her lips and glared at him. “The boy I raised to be honest never had a problem with reporters before, and he never had to sneak in and out of the house.”
“Yeah, well the boy you raised wasn’t sidelined and about to get fired.” Grant stared into the coffee, wishing he’d learned the art of divining because he could sure use something that might give him some solid direction now. He felt like a leaf in the midst of a tornado.
“What?”
He heard the concern in her voice and knew he should have just kept his damn mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to let it drop like a bomb but, as usual, his mouth outran his brain. “Don’t worry about it, Mom. I’ve got it under control.”
She arched a doubtful brow at him. “Do you now? Because you don’t sound like it’s under control. This,” she said, tapping the paper, “doesn’t look like it’s under control.”
“The ranch is set for the next two years and Jackson should be in the black next year. By then, I’ll have figured something out.” He took a swallow of the brew, letting its bitterness wash away the foulness building in his chest.
“I’m not worried about the ranch. I’m worried about you.” She laid her hand on his forearm and he met her deep brown gaze, filled with fierce devotion to her son. He gave her a half-smile, trying to set her mind at ease. “Grant, I know what football means to you, what this career has meant, but there is more to life than football. You’re nearly thirty-three years old and you’ve been lucky to spend the last ten years playing a game you love. Maybe it’s time to start living a life you love.”
She rose from the table and ruffled his hair, the way she had when he was little, moping at this very same table. Grant ran his hands over the table’s planks, taking in the grooves cut into the hardwood from daily wear and tear. Years of homework. Too many nightly meals to count, surrounded by his brothers and sister. Life happened here but, as much as he loved it, loved them, he’d gotten out as quickly as he could because he’d thought staying meant getting stuck working the ranch just like his father. If he was going to do something, he wanted it to be something he loved to do and football fit that bill.
It had taken him all over the nation, even out of the country at times. Sure, there’d been long hours practicing, lonely nights in hotels, events like his brother’s graduation from the police academy that he’d missed out on at home, but he’d traded all of that for the ability to provide for his family by doing something he loved. Hell, he’d been able to put Andrew, Ben and Maddie through college without his parents ever having to worry about any of it. He’d kept the ranch afloat in hard times and been able to fund Jackson’s dream of breeding premier cow horses.
Knowing his family was well-supported made it worth missing life, as his mother called it. He’d sacrifi
ced a few years of his own to keep his family from going into debt for multiple loans. And, to be honest, he hadn’t minded the sacrifice. He couldn’t have asked for a better way to be able to do it.
Grant rose from the table and slid his cup into the dishwasher, rubbing one hand over the tight muscles at the back of his neck. “I’m going to go work out.”
“I’ll call Ben at the station and tell him you’re on your way.”
Grant shook his head. “No, I’m just going to go for a run.”
He didn’t need the angry testosterone pounding of pumping iron. What he needed was a long run to clear his head, to put a few things into proper perspective so that he could decide what he really wanted. Because for the first time, he wasn’t thinking about the game or the fans. He wasn’t even thinking about the money being thrown his way by the network in New York. He was thinking about the way Bethany looked last night, sleeping on his chest with her hand tucked under her chin. Or the way her eyes had gleamed like multifaceted jewels when she made the decision to trust him. Or a blue-eyed little boy who’d asked Grant if he could be his Dad over breakfast this morning while his mother slept upstairs.
Chapter Eighteen
“PLEASE TELL ME you were Grant McQuaid’s hot date last night,” Julie practically squealed as soon as Bethany entered the teacher’s lounge.
“Shh!” She held a finger to her lips and shoved the other woman toward the coffeepot, trying to avoid several pairs of surprised eyes in the room. However, there was one set that didn’t look shocked. Steven simply looked disappointed.
“Why are you shushing me? It’s great!”
Bethany glared at her and shifted her eyes toward Steven across the room, where he was busy pretending that he wasn’t listening to their conversation. Julie waved a hand. “Pfft, he was the one who showed me the paper. I’m pretty sure he’s figured it out.”
Bethany bit the inside of her lip, hard. This was just one of the reasons she didn’t date guys she worked with. Now she had to say something, at least explain herself after blowing him off yesterday, and it was sure to be awkward between them. She poured a cup of coffee and took the pot to Steven. “Want a refill?”
“Bethany, it’s fine. I kinda had a feeling when I picked you up.”
“You did?” She slid into the chair, setting the pot on the table. “Why? I mean, when you and I went out, Grant and I were just friends.”
One of the second grade teachers took the pot from where Bethany had set it and shot her a scathing glare before walking away. Bethany cast the woman a curious glance and Steven gave her a sympathetic grin.
“Better get used to that,” he said. “I think you’re going to get that a lot more from some of the single women in town. And, for the record, friends don’t look at you the way he was, Bethany.”
She wasn’t sure what to say. Grant had been the one to suggest she go out with Steven in the first place. Why would he have done that if he’d been interested in her? But she couldn’t deny that only a few days later he’d stayed the night, even if they didn’t actually have sex. She cringed. What the hell was she thinking? This was moving far too quickly.
“Steven,” she began.
“Like I said, it’s fine. Maybe I shouldn’t have waited so long to ask, or maybe I should have moved faster, I don’t know.”
“That wasn’t it.”
He nodded, shaking his head slightly with a look of self-deprecation. “Maybe I should have just been Grant McQuaid.”
Guilt raced through her, choking her. Grant’s celebrity wasn’t what drew her to him. It hurt that Steven, someone who knew her, could think she’d been attracted to Grant for that reason. And if he believed that, what would the rest of the town, people who barely knew her, think? There was far more to her attraction to him than that. For starters, there was the way he treated her son.
Before she could say anything else, the bell rang. Bethany scooped up the construction paper she needed for their project this morning and, walking by the newspaper, she grabbed it and tucked it on top, pressing it against her breasts. The fewer people who suspected she was Grant McQuaid’s “hot date,” the better.
SITTING IN HIS car outside the small two-room office building on Main Street, Grant debated what he was about to do. Confronting the editor about the lack of professionalism on the part of his reporter probably wasn’t going to go over well. He took a deep, cleansing breath, willing himself to let go of his anger, but it wasn’t working. Frustration continued to build in him. His five-mile run hadn’t done anything to clear the dissatisfaction he was battling and taking it out on an editor was likely going to cause more trouble instead of less.
The front door opened and a woman walked by his car. “Hey, Grant, what are you doing here?”
He recognized Gina Bradley, one of the girls who’d been on the cheerleading squad in high school. She’d been a few years younger and, while they’d hung with the same sports crowd in school, they’d never been more than acquaintances. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to reminisce old times, but Grant wasn’t about to be rude either.
Plastering the fake smile he usually reserved for the media on his face, he met her gaze in hopes this would be a quick conversation. “I’m good. What about you?”
“Good. I heard you were back in town for a while.”
He rolled his eyes and jerked a thumb toward the newspaper office. “You’d have to be living under a rock not to know I’m here, thanks to these guys.”
She laughed and brushed a lock of dark hair behind her ears, giving him a coy smile. “Yeah, you do seem to be quite the topic of conversation. If it’s not your brother, it’s you.”
“Which brother?” She giggled and he felt the warning bells signal in his brain.
“Depends on who’s conversation it is, but it’s usually your name or Linc’s I hear mentioned. I guess that’s the price of fame, huh? Everyone wants a piece of you.”
“Oddly, the shit I’m catching here has been worse than what I’ve gotten anywhere else. It’s pretty ridiculous.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. The paper’s only trying to keep afloat. You and Linc sell papers.”
He glanced back at the doorway she’d just exited. “You work here?” Maybe she could give him some help figuring out who the anonymous reporter was.
Gina laughed again and rolled her heavily made-up eyes. “I wish. Nope, I’m at the coffee shop down the street. My Mom bought it, so guess who gets to manage it.” She jerked two thumbs at herself. “I was just dropping off the payment for an ad she wants to run next week.”
“Between you and me, how receptive do you think the paper would be if I asked nicely for them to leave my family alone?” Grant jerked his chin at the office in front of his car.
She gave him a bright smile, one that used to dazzle most of the football team. “If you were the editor of a struggling media format, and you had a meal ticket like reporting on not one but two famous brothers in the same family, and could get exclusive photos, how would you respond?”
Grant’s confidence in the idea plummeted. She was right but he had to do something to make this stop.
“Don’t sweat it, Grant. You’re leaving for camp soon anyway, aren’t you?” She looked up as the door to the newspaper office opened. “Look, I gotta head back to the coffee shop. I’ll see you around. Come by before you leave, okay?”
Grant nodded and agreed to try as he slid out of the car, prepared to go to battle for his reputation as well as his ability to walk around this small town with Bethany without worrying that their picture would be plastered on every doorstep in town the next morning.
“HEY.” GRANT’S VOICE over the phone was husky and seductive.
How was it possible that one simple word could send her entire body spiraling into a quivering, heated ball of need?
Other than a few texts during the day
to tell her that he couldn’t wait to see her, she hadn’t talked to him since he’d left her house yesterday morning. However, he hadn’t mentioned when she might see him again or indicated that he wanted to make any solid plans, and it had led to some serious doubting on her part. Bethany was beginning to wonder if she’d hadn’t been reading too much into their relationship and acting like a stupid girl with a crush. But hearing the warmth in his voice, she tried to cast her doubts aside, at least for the moment. She would deal with the heartache later.
“Hi. What have you been up to all day?” She settled back into the couch cushions as James glanced up from his homework at the kitchen table. She gave him a quick wink and he turned back to his handwriting.
“I ran a couple errands in town, made some phone calls, helped my brother check some fences and missed you like crazy.”
She felt her anxiety slip a little further into the distance. “I missed you too.” She glanced at James and saw his face light up. He must have guessed who she was talking to on the phone. “I think someone else is missing you too. And it doesn’t look like he’s going to finish his homework until he talks to you.”
“Put him on.” She could hear the smile in his tone, could visualize the way his dark eyes lit up when he was with James.
“Hang on.” She waved James toward her and handed him the phone.
“Hello?”
Bethany would have laughed at the excitement in her son’s voice if the reality of their situation didn’t worry her so much. Watching James’ face as he talked to Grant, she could feel her misgivings building again. She’d willingly opened herself up for heartache but, in doing so, James was going to be hurt too. The longer this relationship with Grant went on, the more devastated James would be.
James handed her back the phone, a wide smile gracing his face while his eyes shone with renewed excitement. I get to ride Shorty this weekend if I do my homework, he signed.