Betting on Grace (27 page)

Saturday morning

Saturdays were just like any other day of the week at
Dead Heat Ranch. The day often reserved for time off wasn’t any different from
Monday through Friday when it came to caring for animals or taking care of
visiting guests. They tried to make sure everyone had at least one full day off
during the week, but most of the crew would agree that Saturday wasn’t that
day. For once, Lane was glad today wasn’t his day because he’d probably go stir
crazy without something to do.

Since he had walked out of Grant’s house last night,
he hadn’t talked to him. When he’d woken that morning, he’d noticed that he had
received a text from both of them. Grant’s had been simple:
I’m sorry. I
want to talk.
Gracie’s had been similar, short and sweet.

And for the first time since everything had gone down
last night, Lane had actually felt a smidgeon of hope where their relationship
was concerned. She didn’t tell him that she loved him, but her text eluded to
her wanting to tell him something. Something she said she should’ve said a long
time ago.

Lane’s hope had soared high and far at that point, but
now it was almost ten o’clock in the morning, and he hadn’t seen either of them.

Not that he’d been looking.

Before the sun had even broken over the horizon, Lane
had shuffled out of bed, snuck over to the kitchen at the main house, and
grabbed a cup of coffee before coming out to the stables to hang out with Dixie
and her pups. Budweiser had been there to greet him, and for the last hour, Lane
had been sitting on the ground, his back against the wood wall, his knees bent,
as he stared at the metal roof and let the squirmy little dogs walk all over
him. He didn’t care whether or not he looked like a fucking pansy playing with
the dogs, either. It was the only thing he could think of that would possibly
make him feel better.

Aside from going to see Gracie and Grant.

Since that wasn’t an option — Lane refused to be the
one to grovel at their feet — here he was.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

Lane jerked his head up at the sound of the voice, but
he didn’t see anyone peering in the stall at him. He knew the voice belonged to
Grant, but Lane was pretty sure Grant wasn’t talking to him.

“Sure,” another voice said.

Yep, he was right. Grant wasn’t talking to him.

Hmm. What to do. What to do. Should he get up, make
his presence known, and leave so the two of them could have a conversation in
private? Or should he just sit right there and let them carry on, none the
wiser?

Drumming his fingers on his thigh, he considered his
options. Lane decided that he didn’t care much whether they knew he was
blatantly eavesdropping just a few feet away, so he remained right there in the
small pen with the puppies nipping at his fingers and his shirt while he
listened to the conversation on the other side of the wall without one ounce of
guilt.

Served Grant right for not stopping him from walking
out last night.

“Faith came to me the other night,” Grant said.

Faith? What the hell was Faith going to Grant for?

“And?”

Lane peeked through the slats in the stall wall,
trying to see who Grant was talking to.

Well, well, well.

Rusty Ashmore.

Ahh. Well, that made sense why Grant was mentioning
Faith, at least.

“She wanted me to talk to you.”

“Is that right?” Rusty stated, sounding none too
thrilled with Grant’s revelation.

“Hold up. Before you get all butt-hurt, let me
explain.”

Lane knew Rusty. He liked the guy. Rusty was one of
the newbies to the ranch, having only been there for roughly a year. Maybe.

In their world, with so many tenured wranglers at the
ranch, one year was the equivalent of two weeks. But in Rusty’s defense, he
knew his stuff. He worked his ass off, didn’t complain, and didn’t make
excuses. All around, he was one hell of a wrangler. Aside from his work ethic,
Lane knew the guy was young, twenty-five as of his last birthday a couple of
months ago, which they’d all celebrated by getting plastered at the main house,
trying to best one another at pool. To this day, Lane had no idea who’d won.

Lane also knew that Rusty’s mom and dad lived in one
of the neighboring towns, and he went to see them every time he had a day off.
Whether that was just because they were close or because something was wrong,
Lane wasn’t sure. He didn’t ask, either.

“I told her this would be better coming from her.”
Grant’s voice echoed in the large, open space, pulling Lane from his thoughts.

“Get on with it,” Rusty barked.

Lane would’ve given his right arm to see Rusty’s face.
Based on that remark, he wasn’t at all happy with Grant. Not that Lane could
blame the guy. He was as in the dark as Rusty when it came to where this
conversation was going, but he was ready to give Grant a shake just to get him
to move along.

“She doesn’t want you askin’ her out anymore.”

Well, shit. Lane wouldn’t have been surprised if Rusty
had cold-cocked Grant. Had Lane been in Rusty’s boots, he would’ve delivered a
nice knuckle sandwich right to Grant’s mouth. As much as he would like to be in
Grant’s corner at all times, Lane wouldn’t support any man interfering the way
Grant just had.

“And that’s your business, why?” Rusty retorted.

Exactly
,
Lane thought.

“Exactly!” Grant exclaimed. “It’s not, and I tried to
tell her that. So, to honor my promise to her, here I am. But in all honesty, I’m
not here to warn you away from her.”

There was silence for long seconds, and Lane was
tempted to make his presence known, just in case these two needed a referee.
Grant had overstepped, Lane would agree there.

“That’s good,” Rusty said softly, his tone lethal,
“because now I won’t have to hit you upside the head.”

“The only thing I’m gonna say is that you treat her
right.”

What?
Lane
couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Grant was giving relationship advice now?

“Keep goin’ and I still might belt you one, Kingsley,”
Rusty grumbled.

“Originally, I’d intended to tell you to back off even
though it’s none of my business,” Grant added defensively. “I’ve come to my
senses since then.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Yeah, what the
fuck
was Grant talking about?

“Sometimes I’m clueless,” Grant explained. “That’s all
I’ve got to say. Just be good to her. If you know what’s best for you.”

“Whatever, man,” Rusty snapped. “I don’t have time for
this shit.”

“I’m serious,” Grant said, sounding … well, serious.

The silence was deafening, nothing but the soft
yapping from the pups and their little feet scuffling on the concrete floor.
Lane was just about to get up, to let Grant know he was there, when he heard
another voice. This one wasn’t one he’d been expecting. At least not that early
in the morning.

■□■□■□■□

Crap.

“Grant,” Jerry greeted as he stepped into the stable.
“Hey, Ashmore. Mind if I talk to him alone for a minute?”

Grant was tempted to turn and run, but he knew better.
It wasn’t often that Jerry sought him out unless it had to do with work, and
this was one of those times Grant prayed his boss wanted to scold him for not
doing his job. Maybe he’d do that and then move on. Because anything else he
wanted to chat about … well … Grant wasn’t sure he would be allowed to stick
around to hear it.

Surely, the guy didn’t know Grant had spent the night
with Gracie last night. Right?

“Have at it, boss. I don’t know what his deal is this
mornin’,” Rusty bit out.

Grant watched Rusty walk off, the younger man shaking
his head as he did.

Yeah, Grant knew he looked like a big fucking asshole,
interfering when he should’ve kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t help it. Faith
had asked him to talk to Rusty. Now he could honestly say he had.

Even though he hadn’t warned Rusty away from Faith —
because after what he’d learned from Gracie, he knew there was no way Jerry had
done what he’d originally thought. How the hell he hadn’t heard the story about
Garrett, Grant would probably never know. Sure, he knew the wranglers had their
own conversations, and most of the time they excluded Grant because he was the
foreman, but shit, that was some big news for him to have never heard.

“Miller! Out here, now!”

Grant wrenched his head around in time to see Lane’s
giant form standing up from behind one of the stall walls. What the hell?

He didn’t get a chance to question Lane before the
other man was shrugging his shoulders and walking toward them. Grant did notice
the frown that creased Lane’s handsome face.

That was just great. Now Lane had heard Grant’s finest
moment of the day.

The only thing he could hope for at this point was
that Jerry wasn’t coming to rip him a new one. As much as wanted to believe
otherwise, there was still the off chance that Darrell had gone to Jerry first
thing that morning. Grant didn’t think Darrell had — mainly because Grant’s
head was still on his body — but since he hadn’t forked over any money just
yet, Grant figured anything was possible. The only thing that might’ve saved
his ass was if his father realized by opening his big mouth he would never see
a dime.

“Did you need somethin’?” Grant asked Jerry, unable to
stand the silence as the older man moved across the stable toward the stall
where Astro Boy was being kept for the time being.

“I wanna talk to you boys,” Jerry explained as he
stopped in front of the stall. “You know that Gracie adores this horse?”

Grant looked at Lane, wondering whether or not either
of them should actually answer that question. When Jerry didn’t continue, Grant
said, “Yes, sir. He’s her pride and joy.”

“Did you know that Gracie started out barrel racin’
when she was five? She was good, too. So damn good. But she refused to do it
anymore after her mother passed away when she was twelve.”

Grant did know that. He also knew that she was still
going strong, although she didn’t want anyone to know.

“I tried to get her to jump back on the horse again,
but she refused. Flat-out refused to do the one thing she loved so much. She’s
a stubborn one, my Gracie.”

Stubborn? Yeah, Grant would certainly agree with that
assessment.

“And when I say stubborn, I mean her head’s as hard as
a brick wall. When she believes in somethin’, she doesn’t back down.”

Grant was beginning to worry just where this
conversation was going. From the confused expression on Lane’s face, he was
feeling pretty much the same.

“Sir, if this is about yesterday in your office—”

“Son, this is about a lot more than you huggin’ my
daughter in my office.”

Shit.

“Come on, let’s walk.” Jerry didn’t wait for Grant or
Lane to catch up as he headed outside, a surprisingly cool breeze kicking up
the dirt and filling Grant’s nose with the scent of hay and fresh-cut grass. It
was rather reassuring, for some strange reason. And he hoped like hell it
disguised the putrid aroma of fear he was likely putting off right about then.

“Gracie came to see me this mornin’,” Jerry said
casually, the words making Grant’s throat swell to the point he wasn’t sure
he’d be able to swallow around the knot of trepidation that was growing at a
rapid pace.

“Do you know what she told me?” Jerry asked, shooting
a glance at Grant and Lane over his shoulder.

Grant could do nothing more than shake his head. He
had no idea, and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

“She told me that she loves you.
Both
of you.”

Grant’s feet stopped moving, as did Lane’s.

They just stopped and stared at Jerry as though the
man had lost his mind. Maybe Grant was dreaming. Maybe in a few seconds he was
going to wake up drenched in sweat, and the fear would dissipate…

“It took a lot of guts for her to tell me that.”

Grant nodded this time.

“Sir, I can explain,” Lane interrupted, but Jerry shot
him a glare, effectively silencing him.

“I don’t need your explanation, Miller. She was pretty
thorough.” Jerry paused, staring back at them both and making it hard for Grant
to keep from fidgeting. “You know what else she told me?”

While Lane answered with a firm no, Grant just shook
his head again. Yep, Jerry’s little conversation had effectively rendered Grant
mute, and he had no idea whether his voice was going to make a reappearance
anytime in the near future.

“She told me that she’s in a relationship.” Jerry
didn’t continue, but Grant knew what was coming.