Betting on Grace (17 page)

That had been nine months ago.

And ever since he’d gotten up the nerve to call her
and ask her out, Jerry hadn’t looked back.

Grant’s cell phone rang for the umpteenth time, but he
ignored the damn thing sitting in his truck’s cup holder.

He had been parked in front of his parents’ trailer
for the last two fucking hours, waiting for someone to show up. He was hoping
his mother would be the one to greet him at the door, to let him know that her
cell phone was broken or lost and that was the reason he hadn’t been able to
get in touch with her.

No such luck.

When he had arrived around noon, the driveway had been
empty, and for the last two hours, the only vehicle he’d seen drive down the
narrow road that wound through the trailer park had been an old beat-up Buick
that had backfired and nearly given Grant a heart attack.

So, for the first half hour, he had walked around the
outside of the trailer, trying to find a way inside without looking too
suspicious. Both the front door and the back door were locked, which was a good
sign. At least his father was thinking clearly enough to do that much.

When that investigative stint had failed, Grant had climbed
back into his truck and cranked the air conditioner on high. For the next half
hour, he had sent numerous texts to his father and tried to call his mother
three more times. At the sixty-minute mark, he’d been oh for two.

The second hour of his wait had been a little more
interesting, but only because Lane was blowing up his phone in an attempt to
get in touch with him. As much as it pained him to do so, Grant had ignored
every one of Lane’s messages. He did not want to drag anyone into this mess.
Hell, as it was, Gracie had already had to endure Darrell’s uncouth behavior
early that morning. Grant didn’t see any reason to make anyone else suffer.

But for the last ten minutes, Lane’s attempts had
changed from text messages to actual calls, and Grant was beginning to feel
guilty for blowing him off.

Just when he was reaching for his phone, ready to give
in and call Lane back, the sound of a horn blaring behind him had Grant
twisting in his seat.

What the fuck?

Damn it!

Grant threw open the driver’s-side door hard enough to
have the damn thing nearly closing on his leg before he jumped out of the truck
and stormed over to the white Chevy with the ranch logo on the side that had
pulled up behind his, ready to lay into the man for being such an idiot.

Before he could do that, Lane leapt out and marched
right up to Grant, meeting him halfway between the two vehicles.

“Are you okay?” Lane asked.

Grant’s breath hitched in his chest as he stared back
at Lane. The man looked like he was crazy with worry, which sent another sharp
slice of guilt ripping through Grant.

Shit.

“I’m fine,” Grant said softly, all of his frustration
dissolving instantly.

“Why the hell haven’t you been answering your phone?
I’ve been fucking worried.”

“I’m sorr— Wait. How did you know how to find me?”
Grant asked, breaking off his apology.

“I’ve got connections,” Lane blurted. “Seriously,
Grant. You couldn’t just answer the damn phone?”

Grant looked at the ground, unable to come up with a
feasible excuse for why he’d been ignoring Lane.

When Lane reached out and touched his arm, a soft
nudge that had Grant’s heart leaping into his throat, he swallowed hard,
meeting Lane’s dark eyes once more.

“I didn’t want to drag you into this shit,” Grant
offered roughly. “I came here to try to find my mother.”

Lane glanced up at the trailer and then back. “Is she
here?”

“No. Neither is my father. So I’ve been waitin’.”

“What? Are you just gonna sit in their driveway all
damned day until they show up?”

“I’d thought about it,” Grant argued. “What else can I
do?”

“Fuck if I know.” Lane broke their stare down,
glancing around the area.

Grant knew what Lane saw. The trailer park where Grant
had grown up was the very reason people referred to folks like him as trailer
trash. The yards were mostly dirt — any plant life had died a long,
long
time ago. There were cars on blocks, screens missing from half of the metal
trailers, foil decorating some of the windows. This wasn’t one of those fancy
mobile home parks people were living in these days. They didn’t have modular
housing with elaborate decks and pretty little flower beds lining the front.
No, this was a trailer park.

“So what do we do now?” Lane implored, pinning Grant
with his gaze once again.

“
We
?”

“Yeah. You heard me. I’m here for you. And since you
can’t bother to answer the damn phone, I’m not goin’ anywhere. So, looks like
you’re stuck with me until you’re ready to return to the ranch.”

Grant looked around, trying to come up with a reason
to continue sitting in his truck. He couldn’t think of any because, hell, there
was no telling when his father might come back. If Grant had to guess, the man
would head to the races. And Lord knew where that might be.

“Fine. We can go back.”

“Seriously?” Lane’s tone reflected his incredulity. “I
drove all this way for you to tell me you’re ready to go back?”

Grant felt more guilt. He should’ve just answered the
damn phone and he could’ve avoided this whole mess. “Yes. I’m serious. You can
follow me back if you don’t believe me.”

“I will.”

Grant nodded, but he didn’t turn away. It didn’t
matter that the sun was blazing down on him and he was sweating like a whore in
church. He couldn’t seem to break away from this man, couldn’t turn around and
walk away.

Lane had come after him because he was worried. When
was the last time that had happened?

Never.

Not once in his entire life had someone worried so
much that they’d tracked him down to make sure he was okay. And his heart felt
as though it might just explode in his chest. He wanted to reach out and wrap
his arms around Lane, pull him close, and never let him go. The feeling was so
overwhelming Grant was tempted to profess his undying love to Lane right there
in the middle of the run-down trailer park.

“Come on,” Lane whispered, his arm lifting until his
fingers grazed the back of Grant’s. “Let’s get back to the ranch. Then we can
talk.”

Grant nodded, his emotions churning in his chest,
making it hard to swallow around the lump that had formed in his throat.

“Does Gracie know?” Grant asked as he tried to
convince his legs to move.

“No. But we’re gonna tell her when we get back. This
secretive shit has to stop, Grant. If you need help with somethin’, we want to
help you. That’s part of the deal.”

Grant’s eyebrow cocked in question. “The deal?”

“Yeah. The relationship deal. You really are havin’ a
hard time with that part, aren’t you? You can’t keep us in the dark.”

Grant wasn’t just having a hard time with it, he
didn’t know how this was supposed to work. Regardless of how strong his
feelings were for the two of them, Grant just wasn’t used to this.

But he knew he wasn’t the only one keeping secrets.

That had Grant thinking about seeing Gracie riding
Astro Boy in the arena. The fact that she’d been hiding that from everyone for
who knew how many years made him realize that it ran both ways. He wanted to
know why she’d stopped racing, but he hadn’t bothered to ask her because he
didn’t want to force her to open up to him. And in return, he’d been keeping
his secrets, too.

As he looked into the penetrating brown eyes staring
back at him, Grant understood just what Lane meant. Grant had spent his entire
life keeping it all inside, never turning to anyone for help. Yet now he had
two people who wanted to be there for him.

“Okay,” Grant mumbled. “Let’s go home. So we can
talk.”

The small smile that formed on Lane’s lips sent a
spark of something significantly more intense than just lust coursing through
Grant.

No, this wasn’t lust that he was feeling, although his
body was reacting to Lane’s nearness. But this … this feeling in his chest… That
was something else. Something that he was pretty sure was the closest thing to
pure love he would ever feel.

Oddly enough, it was the same feeling he got when he
looked at Gracie.

Man, oh, man. He was in big trouble.

■□■□■□■□

Grace was pacing her living room floor when she heard
the telltale clomp of boots on her front porch. She’d given up on keeping the
front door open so that she could greet Lane and Grant when they arrived
because the thick, humid August heat had become unbearable.

But now that she heard them, she rushed to the door
and yanked it open, staring directly up into Lane’s stony face.

It hadn’t been an hour since she’d received a text
from Lane letting her know that he’d left the ranch to go find Grant and that
they were en route back. He had asked her to meet them at her house. The last
part of that text —
it’s time we sit down and talk
— had been what
startled her the most.

Fear had been a tangible thing, making her hands sweat
and her head hurt. So, instead of lingering at the main house for long, Grace
had excused herself, purposely asking Hope if she could entertain Maddie and
Ben for the afternoon. Not that she’d received an argument from Hope.

Unable to help herself, Grace threw her arms around Lane’s
neck and hugged him. She must’ve caught him off guard because he nearly
stumbled as he caught her, his big hand cupping the back of her head while his
arm banded around her waist.

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” she whispered,
referring to that morning when she hadn’t bothered to tell him about Grant’s
father. She’d been dealing with the overwhelming guilt for most of the day,
even as she tried to tell herself that she didn’t have time to deal with her
personal problems.

No, Grace found that the more she tried
not
to
think about Lane and Grant, the more she did.

“It’s okay, doll,” Lane whispered back, the warmth of
his breath against her ear reassuring her.

Reluctantly releasing Lane, Grace took a step back and
allowed both men to come inside. When Grant closed the door behind him and
turned back to face her, their eyes met, held. And then Grace was running into
his arms.

What it was that made her want to grab hold of them
and not let go, she had no idea. But being with them right then seemed like the
most important thing in the world. And now that they were there, she knew they
were going to have to sit down and talk. As much as she didn’t want to, it was
inevitable. After all, they couldn’t let this thing they’d started blow up
before it really got underway.

Although they’d been together now for a few months,
Grace would be the first to admit that they had used sex to bring them closer
to one another. Unfortunately, sex wasn’t the most important aspect of a
relationship — no matter how good it was.

“Sit,” Grace said, releasing Grant and stepping away
from him. “Can I get you a beer?”

“Beer’s good,” Grant and Lane said at the exact same
time.

While she was grabbing three bottles from the
refrigerator, Grace heard Lane ask, “Where do you think he went?”

She could only assume he was talking about Grant’s
father since the two of them had been at the man’s house according to what she
had learned during her text conversation with Lane earlier.

“No telling with him. If he’s back to hardcore gamblin’,
he could be with his old friends, or he might’ve actually found a race to go
to.”

“When did he start gamblin’?” Lane asked as Grace made
her way back to where the two men were sitting, one on each end of her sofa.

Passing out the bottles and keeping one for herself,
Grace kept her eyes on Grant, waiting for him to respond. She could see that he
wasn’t thrilled with the topic, but he also didn’t appear to be trying to brush
Lane off. That had her wondering what had happened when Lane found Grant
earlier. Had he actually approached Grant about talking this out? Or was Grant
just feeling guilty?

That’s your own guilt talking.

The little voice in her head was speaking up and had
been for the last couple of hours. Ever since Lane had mentioned that they
needed to talk, Grace had been thinking about the day they’d seen her racing
Astro Boy in the arena. She’d blown them both off, refusing to talk about the
subject although she knew they had questions. Why wouldn’t they? No one seemed
to know about her racing.

And that had been the plan.

“The first incident that I recall was when I was in
sixth grade, so when I was maybe ten or eleven, I guess. I don’t think they
wanted me and Morgan to find out, but it was hard not to notice when my dad was
so excited. I think he won a few thousand on a bet. He and my mom had just come
back from a long weekend somewhere, and apparently, he’d found he had a
fondness for horse races. After that, it was constant. Win or lose, my dad was
obsessed.