Chapter 7
I leaned back against the seat of the truck, my skin warmed from the sun. My cheeks tingled with the beginnings of a sunburn. I sat, trying to burn the day into my memory. It had been one of the best days I’d had in a really long time. I thought of the way Grant had looked when I turned around, sitting on top of his horse with the sunlight dappled over the two of them. I thought of the way the horse’s lips tickled the palm of my hand, how the short hair over their nose was silky soft. Grant’s eyes had looked at me throughout the day as if he could see right into me, mirroring the way I felt about him.
I felt him watching me, even though my eyes were closed. “So…” I said, before he could ask me anything. I could hear the warmth in my own voice. “You’re a cowboy.”
I heard him laugh and I opened my eyes to look at him. He hadn’t been expecting me to say that.
Laughter still danced in his eyes as he looked back at the road. “I guess so.”
I let my head fall back again. “A weapons consultant with a side of cowboy.”
He snorted a laugh.
“You’re an intriguing man, Grant.” I noted the pinking of his cheeks. I’d made him blush. “What’s your last name?”
“Bailey,” he said.
“Grant Bailey.” I tried it out. I liked it. A lot.
“What’s yours?”
Something made me pause. No one had asked me my last name. In five years. I’d made one up before, but no one had ever asked. I couldn’t even remember what it was now. “Legrand.”
“French.”
I tucked some stray hair behind my ear. “Is that a problem? I mean… you are from Texas.”
He chuckled. “Nope. Not at all.”
I settled against the seat, shutting my eyes again. “That’s how I can tell you’re dangerous.”
“How’s that?” he asked, his voice low. He clearly enjoyed me being a total flirt.
“You’re willing to take your chances on a French Yankee.”
He laughed again, this time from his gut. “So what does that say about you? Me being a Texan and all?”
I liked the way he said ‘Texan.’ “Oh, I’ll be all right. I assimilated to the South long ago.”
He smiled at my faux arrogance. “Have you?”
“Mm hm. I can even make grits.” I thought of another line. “And I can cross riding horses off the list.”
He chuckled, then was quiet for a minute, and I felt the energy shift between us. “Do you ever miss it?”
“What?”
“Your home.”
I thought of Sam and throb went through me. I remembered how we used to run around outside like idiots in the frosty air when that first blast of cold air hit in the fall. Like children. And really, we were children. No one had ever really asked me about home either, not beyond polite banter. “Very much.” Just speaking those words out loud, I felt it down in my bones. I missed Sam and Brooklyn worse than I’d ever thought.
“Do you ever go back and visit?”
I cleared my throat, realizing I was letting my guard down a bit too much. He still thought I was from Detroit. I had to be careful about where my reminiscing took me. “I don’t. It’s a long way and I’m pretty sure Debbie would be eaten alive before I got back.”
Grant chuckled, but I could hear the edge of sadness in his voice.
“What about you? You travel a lot. Is that hard?”
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh. “But I look forward to it, too.” He stopped short, as if he’d been about to say something more.
I looked at him, trying to read his expression. I couldn’t. “What’s your dad like?” Hank, I reminded myself.
Something like craziness flickered in his eyes. “Stubborn.”
It made me curious. “Just one word?”
His eyes were light as they took in my face.
I still couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.
Then he was back to looking out the road. “He’s kind. Funny. Opinionated.”
His words warmed me. Only three more, but I’d take it. “And he taught you how to ride?”
“Yep.”
“What about your mom?”
His energy changed; a subtle shift, but it was there. I couldn’t figure out what it meant. “She helped, too.”
He exited the highway then and I wondered where we were off to.
“Have to get gas,” he said, as if reading my thoughts.
It wasn’t long before he’d turned into a station, pulling up next to the pumps. He turned to me as he shut the truck off. “Do you want to get lunch somewhere?”
That uneasiness sprang up before anything else. That’d be the third thing he’d paid for. “You’re spoiling me,” I said.
“I doubt that,” he returned, his voice warm.
“Seriously, Grant,” I said, lowering my eyes. “You’re doing too much.”
That put up a wall of tension between the two of us. I hated it, but I was beginning to feel uncomfortable that he was doing so much for me. How could I repay him?
“Rachel…” His voice was slow, uncertain. It reminded me of the other thing between us, the thing he didn’t know about. Where I was from, who I was. He didn’t know any of it. “If I’m coming on too strong…”
“No, it’s not that,” I said quickly, looking back up at him and some of his worry drained away. “I just…” I looked out over the hood of the truck. “You’re spending an awful lot of money on me.”
He paused, like he was confused. “It’s not… that much.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I thought about the new truck we were sitting in, the phone. I started to feel a touch foolish. It highlighted something I hadn’t thought of before. We were on different spectrums. He had a complex job with the military, and somehow more than enough money to splurge on things like trail rides and dinner out; I was an illiterate waitress who couldn’t afford to fix my own bike. In New York, I’d never felt below a person. I’d never felt like part of a class system. Everyone had dreams there. They were their dreams.
“Hey,” he said, his voice soft.
I looked over at him, wondering if he could read my thoughts.
“I travel a lot. I do this kind of thing all the time. I see what’s in the area and I go do it. Trust me when I say it’s a lot more fun having you with me than going alone.”
I wasn’t sure if he was just trying to make me feel better, but his words rang true. I bit at my cheek. “So does that mean you do this with all the small town waitresses you meet?”
I expected a light-hearted comeback, but instead his hand slid up along my face, pulling it to his.
I swallowed, the playfulness draining from me as he invaded my space. I wanted him there.
“No.” He slowly kissed me, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. A flame tore down through me, and my whole body flushed, making me pull away. What the hell was that?
I stared at Grant. He stared back, trying to read what was going on in my head. I knew he couldn’t because I didn’t even know. His thumb smoothed over my cheek. It made me let out a shaky breath, reminding me to breathe.
“What were we talking about?” I whispered.
Grant’s face eased into a smile, his eyes going soft. We looked at each other for a moment. Then he took a breath. “Can we get lunch? Because I’m starving.” His voice was low as his face was still right next to mine. The way his eyes looked into mine made me feel at ease.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “All right.”
He gave me a quick kiss, the casualness of the gesture making me giddy and then his hand left my face to pop the truck door. In an instant, I was alone in the truck, my cheek still recalling how his hand had felt against it. It felt good. Everything about Grant Bailey felt and looked good. I remembered when he’d come to me only that morning, and I’d tried to picture him with his shirt off. I had to quickly replace that thought with another before I blushed all the way to my toes. So this is it. This is what it
feels like. Something like fear tried to grab hold of me, but it couldn’t hold up against the warm happiness that swirled through me. I was safe in his truck, and I could feel where he stood, just a few feet away.
* * * *
It’d been easier to order that time. I’d looked at the pictures in the menu for about two seconds before ordering a burger. After the incident with the signature, I had my confidence back in hiding that part of me from him, although something uncomfortable was growing there. I didn’t even want to think about it, so I pushed it aside. Grant was holding the tip of his straw in his ice water, picking it up, and then letting the water fall back into his cup. He was at ease, his face and the tops of his ears a bit pink from the sun, his broad shoulders relaxed. I thought of how good he looked sitting there across from me, how my insides positively melted when he smiled at me with his whole face. I wondered… how could a man like him be available? How many women had sat where I was sitting now, across from him at a restaurant, contemplating the date they’d been on?
“So, Grant,” I said, lowering my eyes to study the condensation on my glass.
“Uh oh,” he said at my tone, his voice soft.
He’d picked up the flavor of morbid curiosity in my voice.
“I’m just curious…”
His eyebrows were raised as he looked at me, straw frozen in the air.
“How many other girls have gotten the Grant Bailey treatment?”
He dipped the straw back in his water, his face a mask. “The Grant Bailey treatment, huh?”
My smile grew at his words though frustration lit in me at the shield of neutrality he was projecting. I didn’t know if it was good or bad. “Yeah.”
He sighed at me through his nose, his eyes a touch defeated. I tried not to laugh as I took a drink.
He looked back down at his drink as he let the water pour out of his straw again. “I was in one serious relationship that ended in college, a not-so-serious one that ended when I went into the military. I dated here and there between the two.”
“Dated here and there?”
His eyes flicked up to mine. “Yeah.”
“What does that mean?”
He slowly turned the fork in front of him with one finger, like he’d done that night at the waffle place. “I thought it’d be fun, but it wasn’t.”
I sobered some. “Why not?”
He sighed and leaned forward. “There are a lot of batshit crazy women out there.”
I laughed hard, his assessment completely surprising me. When I looked at him, his face held a perfectly dimpled grin and his eyes were shining.
“What?”
“You say the most unexpectedly insightful things.” I took another drink. “So how do you know I’m not batshit crazy?”
Grant’s grin widened before it eased into a smile. “I just know.” He took a drink then and looked at me, a veil coming down over his eyes. “So what about you?”
Whoops. Should have seen that coming. I got the feeling he was asking just to be polite. I looked down at my drink, rubbing lines down the condensation in my glass. I wondered what to say about Roy. Again I wrestled with that. Did I tell him that there had never been anything between us? He obviously thought there was. Not that it was surprising; most people thought that. And then Chad popped up in my mind. Lord. I had no idea what to tell this man. “There’s not a whole lot to tell,” I answered.
Grant was quiet for a minute. “I don’t buy that.”
I tried to get a look at his eyes, but he was looking down at his water.
“What about Roy?” he asked, still not looking at me.
I couldn’t think of the right thing to say about that whole mess to save my life. “We’re not together,” I finally said, reiterating what I’d said earlier, hoping that it was enough.
“Someone like him…” he said slowly, his eyes still on his water, “doesn’t deserve a second of your time.”
I bristled at his words. Someone like him? “You don’t know him.”
Grant tensed. It was subtle, but it was there. “I’ve seen enough of both of you to know.”
I kept my eyes on my glass, the distinct feeling of a trickle of conflict wedging itself between us. The tension lifted some when the server brought the food, but not much. I shouldn’t have brought up that subject.
“So…” Grant said, his tone lighter as the server left. “Other than Roy…”
I took a bite of fry, thankful to get off the subject of Roy, but now wondering how to classify Chad. We’d had something, more of a one-sided arrangement than anything, but it’d been kept a secret. I didn’t fully appreciate it until after the fact, but he was never really my boyfriend. He was just a giant string of mistakes, one after another. He’d used me and I’d let him. At least I’d gained a backbone and some knowledge in the process. “A not-so-serious relationship,” I finally decided.
When I didn’t continue, Grant asked, “That’s it?” He was so surprised he was unable to hide it.
I smirked at his response. “There was some unrequited love in my youth, I suppose. Some awkward encounters. Nothing much.” I used to be insecure about my romantic past, but I wasn’t anymore. After Chad, things had changed. I didn’t want attention from men, and as a result, I had too much of it. Once I didn’t care, it was like I couldn’t escape them. And they’d all been nothing but nuisances. Until now.
Grant was watching me, the dimness in his expression gone to curiosity. “When did the not-so-serious relationship happen?”
“When I was…” I stopped myself right as I was about to say seventeen. “Nineteen.” Holy shit, that was close. Not that it really matters. Although it sort of did. It was a small town. And I didn’t want to be the new toy for the town gossips. Not to mention if Roy got wind of things and traced it back to the source…
He was still watching me, and I started to feel self-conscious. “What?” I asked him.
He looked down at his food, as if he’d realized he’d been staring. “I just have a hard time thinking… that’s it.”
My cheeks flushed at his compliment as I pulled apart a fry. I didn’t bother to call attention to the fact that I’d turned down more than a few offers over the years, especially before I’d finally let Roy in on some level. A grin tugged at my lips. “Are you worried I’m bat shit crazy now?”
He laughed. His eyes found mine across the table, the laughter still there even though it’d died from his lips. “No.”
I popped a fry in my mouth. “You seem pretty stable yourself.”
He snorted a laugh. “Thanks.”
“It’s refreshing,” I added. I felt his eyes on me and then gave him a look through my lashes before taking a bite of my burger. I’d let him mull that one over. I didn’t want to be cocky about it, but I wanted him to know he was special.
The slow smile I saw when I looked at him again told me he’d gotten the message. He was a quick one, that Grant Bailey.
* * * *
I knew it was a decent drive back to town and I was starting to get sleepy. Grant was holding my hand as we drove in contented silence. Lunch had gone well, the tension from the whole Roy thing evaporating into more flirting. I’d had a really good day with him, and I wasn’t looking forward to it ending. How could I feel so comfortable with this man I’d only just met? A few days ago, he’d just been Gray Eyes to me, strong and handsome, someone new to look at. Now he had a name. Grant Bailey. The cowboy with surprising insights, a sense of humor, and pleasantly original tastes.
I unclipped my seatbelt and slid into the middle of the truck, worried for a second that it might get awkward if I started feeling uncomfortable. But the delighted smile that lit Grant’s face spread over to me, making me confident in what I was doing. I refastened my seatbelt and leaned my head on his shoulder, surprised that the touch of his leg pressed against mine made me feel so good. He swung his arm over my head, letting it fall over my shoulders. The weight and warmth wrapped me up in more Grant. We drove along like
that, not even needing to fill the space with chatter. Eventually, rain began to fall on the windshield, filling the silence with its pleasant smatterings. The lines on the road flashed under the car and I watched them, thinking of all the sweet things I’d heard Grant say throughout the day. Feeling his warmth and the tiredness of having spent a day in the sun, I shut my eyes to rest them, just for a second.
Chapter 8
“Hey,” Grant said next to my ear as his hand squeezed my shoulder. “We’re back in town.”
I opened my eyes, the sound of the rain soothing. Then his words hit me as I took in the familiar streets. All at once I panicked, but tried to keep myself under control. We were in town and I was sitting next to him in his truck. Someone might see us. If Roy got wind of this… I undid my seatbelt and slid back over to my side. I was thankful for the rain. It was probably harder to see inside the truck. I felt him watching me, there was already tension in the air. I knew he was confused by my reaction, or he could sense that I didn’t want us seen together. That made me feel bad. I picked up his hand, wishing I’d never let Roy in. Then I wondered at that. It was okay if that was for me, but I had to remind myself yet again that Grant would be leaving. This wasn’t a permanent thing. Why shouldn’t I keep it a secret?
“Where do you want me to drop you off? Back at the library?” His voice was warm, but I was right. He’d definitely sensed that something was off, and I noticed that he didn’t ask about it. I wondered if that meant that he knew I was worried about us being seen together. What else could it be? It wasn’t rocket science and Grant was a smart man.
“That’d be good.”
“All right.” The silence wasn’t as comfortable now and I wished we could go back. My mood sank as I thought of how Grant’s truck would look, driving away. What would he be thinking as he left?
I watched the crooked river of water run across the window. Part of me didn’t want him to see how much this had all meant to me, but at the same time, I wanted him to know. “I had a really good day,” I said, my voice soft. “Thank you.”
Call Me Ana: A Novel Page 8