He's No Prince Charming (18 page)

Something shifted inside of Grady in that very moment and he knew what it was. He was falling in love with Sierra. All this time, he had been going after long and leggy when what really turned him inside out was this little spitfire who was hard to handle but easy to love.

“I could do it, you know.”

Grady grinned. “You already have.” He looked into her eyes, and when his gaze dropped to her mouth he had to kiss her. When he leaned across the console, Gil moved out of the way as if knowing what was on his master’s mind. “Come here.” He pulled Sierra closer and kissed her gently, softly, but took his sweet time, until his cell phone rang.

After reluctantly pulling his mouth away from hers, he looked down at the screen. “It’s my mother. Probably wondering where I am.” With a sigh, he picked up. “I’m on my way, Mom. I know I said six o’clock, but I got tied up at work.” He winked at Sierra. “I’ll be there in ten minutes, tops. No, I won’t speed. Yes, I’ve had dinner. Okay, me too.” He hung up and shook his head. “No, you can’t back out now,” he joked to Sierra, and then pushed the automatic locks to prove his point.

Sierra laughed and looked so happy that it touched his heart. It didn’t dawn on him until now that she always looked a little sad. And perhaps lost. Well, if she were lost, he had just found her, and he wasn’t about to let her go.
God
, he thought to himself.
Talk about whipped.
Now he understood what happened to other guys; he just never thought it would happen to him.

“Wait, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

Grady put the truck in gear. “If we don’t get to my house in five minutes, my mother will be calling again.”

Sierra opened her eyes wide. “Ohmigod, they don’t know I’m coming, do they?”

“No. And guess what?”

She blinked at him.

“I’ve never brought a girl home with me before.”

“You’re lying.”

“Nope.”

“Well, this isn’t a date and I’m not your girlfriend, so it doesn’t count as bringing a girl home.”

“You think so?” Grady smiled as he rounded the bend in the road and turned down the one-lane gravel road leading to his family farm. A moment later, he parked in a paved driveway and pointed to an old Victorian farmhouse. “There’s my family home.” He pointed at her. “You’re a girl. It counts.”

“But I’m not your girlfriend,” Sierra protested as he scooted from behind the wheel.

Gil bounded out the door as soon as he opened it and ran like hell to play with the hound dogs his father always kept. Grady hurried over to the passenger’s side and reached for the door handle just as she was opening the door, causing her to tumble into his arms, which was the scenario he was hoping for.

“Put me down, Grady! People are lookin’!”

“I know.” He kissed her.

“What are you doin’? People are going to get the impression that you’re my—that we’re together.”

“I know. We are together.”

“But we’re not dating.”

He waved at his sister, who was heading their way. “You’re coming to the wedding with me, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s a date. So we are dating.”

“But,” she said, tugging on his arm. “I’m confused, Grady. What are you saying? Don’t mess with me.”

“I’m not,” he said, and looked down at her with serious eyes. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“Just like that?” She snapped her fingers.

“No, not just like that, but yes. I’m going to introduce you as my girlfriend.”

“You are not!”

“Watch me,” he said, just as his sister reached them. “Hey, Miranda, how are things going?”

“Better after my third beer.”

“I’d like you to meet my girlfriend, Sierra Miller. Sierra, this is my sister and the bride-to-be.”

“Nice to meet you, Miranda.” Sierra said with a shy smile.

“Girlfriend?” Miranda asked with a big smile. “And you were snapping your fingers at my baby brother?” Miranda looked up to the sky. “Thank you, God. My prayers have been answered.”

“She wasn’t really snapping her fingers at me.”

Miranda raised her eyebrows at Sierra. “Were you?”

Sierra pointed at Grady. “There he is.” She snapped her fingers. “I do believe I was.”

“Do it again!” she said, and took a picture when Sierra complied. “I don’t really know you yet, but I already love you,” she said, and gave Sierra a squeeze.

“You holdin’ up all right?” Grady asked Miranda with a measure of concern.

Miranda groaned. “I just keep out of Mother ’s way. Look, here comes the drill sergeant now. See ya! Nice to meet you, Sierra.”

Grady could tell Sierra was nervous at the prospect of meeting his mother, so he took her hand in his. “Hey, Mom,” he said when his mother reached them. She was in a yellow sundress and sandals and as always looked as cool as a cucumber.

“Hello there, Grady. Now, who do we have here?”

“This is my girlfriend, Sierra Miller. We work together at the marina. Sierra, this is my mother, Tara.”

“Mrs. Green,” Sierra said, and extended her hand.

“Oh, do call me Tara,” she offered in a polite tone, and turned to Grady. “When were you going to tell me you had a girlfriend? Why am I always the last to know everything?” She raised her palms in the air, but gave Sierra another polite smile and a brief hug. “I must be off. There is so much to do!” Her fingers flitted in the air. “Your father is hiding from me somewhere. If you find him, send him my way; would you, dear?”

“Sure, Mom,” he said with a serious nod, as his mom left to tend to the flowers.

“Are you gonna rat out your daddy?”

“Not a chance.”

Sierra laughed, but then said, “Why are you doing this, Grady? Introducing me as your girlfriend this way?”

“Sierra, we’ve been friends and worked together for such a long time. I don’t know why I was so blind to how I felt about you.”

“Maybe because I’m not a leggy blonde with big breasts.”

“I don’t want a leggy blonde with big breasts. I want you. Or at least a chance with you. Look, I know we have a ways to go, but I want to give a relationship a shot, if you’re willing.”

“Shouldn’t we have had this conversation first?”

Grady gave her a sheepish look. “I wasn’t sure you’d give me a chance.”

“Oh, come on. You have to have known I’ve had a crush on you for a long time.”

Grady drew her behind a big oak tree, away from prying eyes. “Yeah, but I also knew you thought I was a player who couldn’t commit.”

“I was right.”

Grady cupped her chin in his hand. “But it’s different with you,” he confessed, but he felt her resistance and knew she would have looked away if he hadn’t been holding her firmly. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said, and dropped his hand. “I went about this ass-backwards and didn’t play fair. I was just afraid that if I didn’t force your hand you might not ever trust me or give me a chance.” He took a step back and ran his fingers through his hair. “When you and Dakota were all jacked up at Dewey’s and those guys were hitting on you, I was so damned jealous I couldn’t see straight.”

“That was the plan.”

He looked at her in surprise. “Well, it worked.”

Sierra reached out and tugged him closer. “You’re right. Grady, I’ve known you for a long time. Seen you in action. My biggest fear is that you can’t stay committed to one girl.”

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

She nodded. “And taking this step means we can never go back to being just friends. That loss would be hard to handle.”

“Tell me about it.”

She looked up at him with earnest eyes. “So let’s give this our best shot, okay?”

“Not a problem.”

“And one more thing.”

“What?”

“If you know it’s not going to work out, tell me. I would rather that you be honest.”

“I promise to be honest with you, Sierra. You can count on it.”

She smiled. “Thank you. That’s all I can ask for. Now, we’d better get into that barn and get to work before your mama hunts you down like a hound on a rabbit.”

“Sierra, really, you don’t have to lift a finger.”

She gave him a shove. “You know me better than that. I’m not a sit-back-and-watch kind of girl.”

“And it’s one of the many things I like about you,” he said, and took her by the hand. “Let’s go, girlfriend.”

Trace followed her inside and pulled her into his arms. “I know what you mean.”

“You were right. Sleeping on the boat was the best.”

He grinned down at her. “The sleeping part came in second-best for me.”

Dakota tilted her head to the side and gave him a shy smile. “Mmm, I must say, I have to agree with you there, Captain.” She loved this playful side that was coming out in him.

“That’s good to know, or my male pride would have taken quite a hit.”

“No chance of that,” Dakota assured him, but she felt a sense of loss that the day was over and she didn’t want him to go just yet. “Would you like something to drink? I have some sweet tea.”

“I would like that, but I really should head over to the office and do some paperwork and check up on things.”

“Oh.” She longed to put her cheek to his chest, hug him tightly and entice him to stay, but she stepped back. “Well, thank you again for the lovely day, Trace. I can’t remember when I had so much fun and felt so relaxed.”

He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled. “Me too.” He hesitated as if wanting to say more, but then walked toward the door. Dakota followed, hoping for one last kiss before he left, but he pushed open the screen door and walked out. On the first step of the porch, however, he paused and said, “Hey, did you ever check your messages?”

Dakota nodded. “All but one was from Sierra wondering where the hell I was at, as she put it, and I called her back while you were bringing up the anchor. The other one was from my manager.”

Trace’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Anything important?”

“I’m not exactly a hot commodity, so I’m guessing no, but I’ll give her a call back. I am eager to dust off my guitar. The local inspiration is jump-starting my creativity.”

“Well, I should let you go, then.”

Dakota nodded and gave him a smile, but she felt him pulling away, retreating into his shell, and it bothered her. “Don’t work too late,” she said, as he walked down the steps.

He glanced back at her. “I won’t,” he promised, but kept on going as if he were somehow anxious to get away from her.

Dakota stood there, and as she watched him walk away, she had the urge to run after him, grab his arm and tell him not to retreat but to move forward and to learn to trust again. But she didn’t. Instead, she headed back inside and tried to remain upbeat. The day had been amazing. Surely he would want more of the same?

She knew she certainly did.

And yet as he left—when she had been craving one last kiss to make the magic last just a little bit longer—he had simply walked away.

The cabin seemed so quiet that a sense of loneliness washed over her. Dakota suddenly felt restless, out of sorts, and headed to the kitchen for a glass of tea. If she hadn’t had sun on her shoulders and a pink-tipped nose as evidence, the day could have been just a dream.

With a sigh, she poured the tea and leaned against the counter. After all the cheerful sunshine, the waning light made her moody. She flicked on lights, sipped her cold beverage, and made mental notes of things she needed to make the cabin feel more like an extension of her personality instead of the constant reminders of the childhood memories that for some reason made her feel melancholy. She had cut her childhood short, missed so much, and for what?

Closing her eyes, she pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger. “Don’t do this,” she said firmly, and took a deep breath, reaching for the inner strength that had always come to her rescue. She didn’t allow her shoulders to slump or tears to fall, and instead went in search of her guitar.

After flipping the light on in her bedroom, she spotted her guitar case leaning against the wall in the corner, looking as lonely as she felt. “I’ve neglected you too long,” she said, and, while she unsnapped the buckles and opened the lid, tried not to think about the fact that she was talking to an inanimate object. “Okay, so I’m a little crazy. Sanity is overrated, right?”

Thankfully, the guitar did not answer, so she wasn’t too far gone. With a fond smile, she lifted it from the velvet casing and gave it a quick strum. She started to sit down on the bed, but the room felt stuffy after the warm day, and so she paused to turn on the paddle fan and open the windows wide, knowing that the room would soon cool off enough to sleep in.

She decided, however, to grab her tea and head out onto the front porch, where she could watch the stars pop out and enjoy the light breeze on her sun-kissed skin. She sat down on the top step and leaned against a wooden post and played a few chords while allowing her mind to wander. When she closed her eyes, her body felt the rocking motion of the water as if she were still on Trace’s boat. Oddly, the motion felt soothing, calming, and her imagination brought music to her fingers and lyrics to her head, and she began to sing.

Trace locked his office door and headed over to his cabin. After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, he went out onto his deck, sat down, and tried to think of anything other than Dakota. Since his lounge chair was on the far left of the deck, all he had to do was turn around and he could see her cabin. It took everything in his being not to do so. He was falling for her too hard, too fast, and setting himself up for getting hurt. They needed to go back to plan A instead of this plan B thing they suddenly had going on. While he knew he was being fickle, unfair, and above all damned stupid, he couldn’t help it. He took a long swig of cold water, stretched out his legs, and felt a sharp stab of pain.

“Well, hell.” Gritting his teeth, he massaged the sudden tension bunching up his thigh muscle. Funny, after thinking about it for a minute, he realized that his leg hadn’t tightened up on him like this for a few days. Ah, damn, but it suddenly ached now. He guessed he would soon need a long soak in the hot tub, or he would suffer all night long. With a sigh, Trace lifted the arms to tilt the chair back and then gazed up at the inky blue sky dotted with glittering stars. He tried to relax, but he felt odd. He supposed he felt a bit off kilter after sharing a picture-perfect day with a woman he had vowed to stay the hell away from. With that gloomy thought, his leg tightened up even more and he glanced over at the tub that he hadn’t been in since the night with Dakota, Sierra, and Grady.

With a groan born of frustration, Trace ran his hand over his face, pausing at the slightly puckered skin at the corner of his eye that bisected his cheekbone. “She never seems to notice,” he whispered into the night. He inhaled another deep breath and looked back up into the sky just in time to see a star shoot across the heavens, and
Make a wish
filtered through his brain.

“I wish I could get Dakota Dunn out of my head,” he grumbled, and ironically, a mere moment later, Dakota’s voice softly came to him as if floating on the night breeze. “Oh, that worked,” he grumbled again with a glare up at the heavens, but he supposed there must be some sort of rule that if you really didn’t mean it, your wish would not be granted. “Like I believe in that crap anyway,” he said. But in the sudden silence that followed, he wondered if he had simply imagined the sound of her voice, and so he sat very still and cocked his head to the side, waiting. There it was again.

She was singing.

In the still of the night, her song drifted across the road to him, causing every other nocturnal noise to fade into the background. Trace leaned back, closed his eyes, and simply listened. Her voice was deeper, stronger, much more lyrical than he expected, and he felt inexplicably drawn to the haunting quality that seemed to reach out and grab him.

At first, he paid little attention to the words, but when she stopped and started, repeated and changed, he realized she was composing a song. He recalled her comment about getting local inspiration, and smiled in spite of his inner turmoil. The process went on for a while, punctuated by what sounded like frustrated strumming and an occasional curse that coming from her sounded more amusing than angry.

From his angle almost directly across the road, he could hear her pretty clearly and was disappointed with sudden silence and the slamming of her screen door. If he raised his head above the lounge chair, she might realize he was listening, so he sat there and waited, wanting more. But just when he thought the impromptu performance was over, he heard the door shut again, and after a few minutes she began strumming and singing once more.

Trace had no idea how much time elapsed, but he was held captivated by the soothing sound of her voice and the tender yet sometimes amusing lyrics about finding love in a small town. It wasn’t until he finally heard her go inside for the night that he realized he had forgotten all about soaking in the hot tub, and, in truth, his leg had stopped aching. Trace shook his head and wondered why he continued to back away from something that could be so good.

He sat there for a little while longer, reliving the day up until the moment when he had wanted to kiss her one last time but had walked away, knowing full well that a kiss would lead to another and he would likely be in bed with her right now.

God, how he wanted to be. But what silly thing was he truly scared of? The answer was cute, little, could-not-kill-a-spider Dakota Dunn. “Why?” he asked, grinding his teeth together, but he knew the answer. The only thing he had ever truly committed to one hundred percent had been bull riding. He had given his heart, his soul, even his well-being, and he didn’t know if he had the strength left in him to ever give of himself in that total way again. And he also knew that Dakota was an all-or-nothing kind of girl. Her brave I’m-a-big-girl, no-strings-attached speech was a crock, and she had already pretty much admitted it, and she deserved much more.

With another long sigh, Trace pushed up from the chair and went inside. He started to turn toward his bedroom, but instead he walked into his living room and looked out the window over to Dakota’s cabin, wondering like a lovesick fool if she was thinking about him or fast asleep.

Her cabin was dark, making him think she was doing the sensible thing and getting some rest, which is precisely what he should be doing. Playing hooky had its price, and tomorrow he would have a full day’s work ahead of him. When he passed the kitchen on his way to the bathroom, the digital clock read well after midnight. With that in mind, he brushed his teeth, shucked his clothes, and slid beneath the covers.

And thought about Dakota.

With a groan, he punched the pillow so hard that several fluffy feathers escaped, but he didn’t care and punched it again. “Damn!” He closed his eyes and then realized he was squeezing them shut like a little kid. If he wasn’t so frustrated he would have laughed, but instead he punched the pillow again, thinking all the while that Dakota was most likely sleeping like a baby.

Dakota flopped onto her right side for a minute, couldn’t get situated with her pillow, and then rolled to her back, but knew she would never sleep on her back, so she rolled to her left side and blinked into the darkness. Boy, it was dark. She pulled the extra pillow to her body, closed her eyes, but remained completely awake.

“Well, hell’s bells,” she grumbled, borrowing one of Sierra’s many curse-word combinations. She had Trace Coleman on the brain, a man who was probably sawing logs while he had the nerve to keep her awake. While he walked away without so much as “I’ll see ya later” or even a little bitty kiss on the cheek, she had spent the night writing a song inspired by his sorry ass.

His sorry ass.
Now there was a country song title. After all, she was supposed to be doing kick-ass, not sappy-ass, songs with happy endings, and if she thought of the word
ass
one more time, she was going to scream!

She punched the pillow so hard that she felt she might have broken her wrist. She lifted her arm and rotated her hand in a circle. “Ouch!” Well, at least sprained her wrist anyway. She turned over, tossed and turned, pushed the pillow away when it made her too hot, and then felt bare, so she pulled it to her again. But then she was reminded she was in bed alone, hugging a pillow instead of a body, and with a little squeal, she tossed it to the floor.

“I don’t need you!” she growled at the innocent pillow, when of course she was really referring to one Trace Coleman, who she was sure was absolutely not tossing and turning or thinking nonstop about her or reliving the waterfall kiss over and over and over like a crazy person.

The jerk.

Dakota glared down at the pillow, really wanting it back in bed with her, but she’d be damned if she’d give it the satisfaction. “No way,” she said, and then realized she was once again speaking to an inanimate object. She punched the bed this time, totally forgetting about her almost-broken wrist, and let out a very loud yelp, not from pain but from frustration. It wasn’t one of her movie-worthy screams, but it rang out loud and clear in the dead of the night.

Oh, crap.

The windows were open wide, and she just bet Trace heard her. “No way. He’s sleeping like a log.” And even if he did, she had cried wolf so many times that he surely would ignore it anyway, right?