Making the Play (19 page)

How could she refuse?

S
HUT UP!
S
TOP
talking!
Grant's brain screamed.

He wasn't entirely sure where the words that fell from his lips came from, but he knew better than to make any sort of promises. He should have stayed away from Bethany and James from the first day in the park, but he hadn't and now he couldn't imagine not seeing them, not talking to her, not being with them.

Yet, it was possible that was exactly what was going to happen after Monday, he realized. He was flying out for an appointment on Monday with his own doctor before meeting with the team physicians on Tuesday. It was basically nothing more than a formality at this point, but this final assessment would give him a better sense of the direction his career would take.

If he was cleared to play, Wolf had already made it clear they were going to buy out his contract, which would allow Grant to be picked up as a free agent. However, if he wasn't cleared . . .

Grant wouldn't even entertain the idea. He'd worked too hard over the last few months, forging his body into a machine. He was more fit to play now than he'd been in years. At least, he had been until this past week.

Images of Bethany and James filled his mind. He'd actually thrown his workout schedule out the window in order to spend time with them. He'd never missed workouts before. Then again, he'd also never found a woman who made him rethink his desire to continue playing football. Physically, he was ready to go back to the game. Emotionally, he was torn between the future he'd spent his life working for, and his present—­a woman he'd met a little more than a week ago who was forcing him to see a new vision of what he wanted for his life.

He didn't have much time left to make some sort of a decision, but he had no doubt that what time he had left in Hidden Falls, he wanted to spend with Bethany and James.

 

Chapter Nineteen

J
AMES SAT IN
the back seat of Bethany's run-­down sedan practically bouncing in his booster seat as he recited what he and Grant had planned for their weekend. After she'd agreed to come for the weekend, Grant had asked to talk to James again and the two of them had schemed for over an hour, until she'd finally told him that if he didn't get his reading homework done, then they couldn't go.

She glanced in her rearview mirror to see his big blue eyes bright with excitement. He might look just like his father, but he reminded her of herself when she was younger—­filled with optimism and zeal for adventure—­before life had decided to kick her in the teeth. Not once but twice, leaving her divorced and trying to navigate motherhood with a special needs child as well as going to college full-­time while maintaining a job.

Matthew had taken so much from her but she also realized now that, in leaving, he'd given her something she never would have had otherwise—­strength. She'd let so much of her identity become wrapped up in Matthew and what he'd achieved in and after high school that she'd lost who she was deep inside. She'd allowed herself to become an extension of him and she realized now, he'd been weak. Not a bad person, but cowardly.

For years she had overlooked the signs—­the conflict avoidance in the name of intellectual superiority, the hesitancy to step out of his comfort zone and the endless supply of excuses—­but she'd seen the look in his eyes when the doctors gave them James' diagnosis. He might have been physically present for another week but he'd been planning his escape from that moment in the office. He'd run, first emotionally, then physically, and never looked back.

To his credit, James rarely asked about his father but she'd always been as honest as she could be without telling her son of his father's abandonment. She'd told him stories of their dates in high school and college, showed him the pictures of their wedding or of them together while she was pregnant. She let him see the happy times, the good memories she had of Matthew. As with everything, she didn't want to give James any more struggles to overcome, and knowing your father had abandoned you was a doozy to deal with.

“I asked Grant to be my dad.”

James' nonchalantly spoken bit of information in the midst of his excitement over riding Shorty made her heart stop in her chest as she looked into the rearview mirror again. “You what?”

He wasn't even looking at her. He was too busy drawing a picture on the notepad she kept the in back seat for him. “I like him. He's my friend. I want him to be my dad.”

Her mind raced with questions she couldn't ask James. When had James asked Grant? What did Grant say? What could Grant be thinking? She couldn't even imagine the sort of shock that must have been for him. Was that the reason for this impromptu weekend trip?

James glanced up at her reflection. “Then we could have guys' days all the time.”

“Grant is a nice man, baby, but—­”

“He's your friend too, right?” She nodded wondering how to best make it clear that he shouldn't ask questions like those of Grant.

“He is,” she agreed with a nod.

“Then I could have a mom
and
a dad like Carlton.”

She could see the simple hope in James' eyes and it broke her heart that she couldn't make his circumstances any easier. “Baby, it isn't always that easy for grown-­ups. Before they become moms or dads, they have to be friends for a very long time.”

He set his pencil in his lap and rolled his eyes at her, pursing his lips. “I know
that
but you've been friends forever already, since we played in the park together.”

He shook his head like she was being ridiculous and a bubble of irrational laughter almost burst from between her lips. It was useless to argue the semantics of relationships with a six-­year-­old who couldn't possibly understand interpersonal dynamics, let alone the complex issues of sexual attraction. Nor was she about to start explaining them.

“Grown-­ups like to be friends even longer than we have.”

“But it's been like forty days, Mom.”

She smiled at him as she turned off the exit leading to Grant's parents' cattle ranch, her mind still reeling with unanswered questions. “Not quite. Are you ready to see Shorty?” she asked, changing the subject. “We're almost there.”

“Yes!” He held up the picture he'd been drawing, a crude stick figure sketch of him riding the pony. Standing beside him were two ­people she could only assume were her and Grant, holding hands. “There's Shorty, me, you and Grant. When he's my dad, will I still call him Grant?”

She should have known he wouldn't drop this subject that easily.

G
RANT WATCHED THE
car coming down the driveway and tried to still his nerves. He didn't even get this nervous before a game.

That's because you know what you're doing in a game.

True, in a game he was prepared, had practiced every scenario in his head days, sometimes weeks, in advance. With Bethany, he was flying blind. He had nothing to compare with how he felt when he was with her.

Not that he hadn't dated, but he'd never let anything move beyond a ­couple of dates, nothing serious. He'd never had the time or inclination. His life had revolved around football for as long as he could remember. There hadn't been room for anything else.

Even when he was younger, he was too focused on keeping his grades high enough to attract a Division I recruiter. College was spent trying to stand out enough to attract agents and scouts before the draft. Any spare time was either spent making sure he got his degree or in the gym. By the time he'd joined the Mustangs, he'd put in too much time to risk his position for something that wasn't the real deal. There were too many women willing to date any player who'd take them out. He'd seen enough of them, especially when he first started with the team, but he'd learned his lesson quickly. As long as he was in the public eye, he was vulnerable to lies, treachery and betrayal, even from ­people he thought he could trust.

“Grant!” James yelled at him through the window he'd rolled partway down. “Hi!”

“Hey, little man. Shorty's been asking when you were going to show up.”

Bethany dropped the car into Park in front of the bunkhouse and helped James out, trying to hide a smile. As soon as she opened his door, James jumped out and ran to Grant, throwing his arms around his legs. Scooping him up, Grant tossed him into the air, catching him effortlessly and walking back toward Bethany.

“Mom made me do my reading before we could come,” he complained.

“Ah, I see. Well, that was probably a good idea because I don't think you're going to do much reading while you're here. Jefferson and Jackson want you to help them with the cows tomorrow.” He didn't miss the way Bethany's eyes widened in horror. “They need someone to count the cows as they bring them in.”

“I get to help?” He bounced excitedly in Grant's arms, clapping his hands.

“Yep.” Grant looked at him seriously. “But you can't play. I told them how good you are at counting and you'll have an important job. I'm trusting you, okay?”

Bethany frowned, no doubt concerned about the pressure she thought he was putting on her son, but James matched Grant's somber expression with one of his own.

“I promise.” He held up a pinkie finger and Grant smiled, remembering the first time he'd done it with the boy at the park when they met. He curled his pinkie finger with James'.

Grant set him back on the ground. “Why don't you go find Maddie in the kitchen?” He patted James on the rear end as the boy took off for the house. Turning his attention back to Bethany, he said, “I'll take your things upstairs and show you the room Mom got ready for you.”

She looked beautiful and he wanted to wrap his arms around her, to welcome her properly with a kiss, but she seemed unsure how to proceed. She bit her lip and he could see the apprehension in her eyes. He could tell she was chewing something over in her mind and knew she was probably overthinking this weekend.

Her eyes clouded and she turned away, opening the trunk. “That bag is mine and that one is James'.”

“I'll grab his when I come back out.”

“Why? We can just take both in one trip?”

“He didn't tell you?”

She looked confused and he was pleasantly surprised James had been able to keep the secret. It must have been even more important to James than Grant realized.

When she shook her head, Grant laughed. “Then you're actually in for a few surprises this weekend. James is pretty excited to stay in the bunkhouse with the guys.” He stared at the boy running up the back porch steps. “Huh, I didn't think he'd be able to keep quiet. I guess I should have given him more credit.”

“Grant, I don't like the idea of him sleeping in the bunkhouse. What if he needs something?”

He grinned at her. “He'll have five men at his beck and call all weekend.”

His hands itched to pull her close but she seemed unusually tense right now and he didn't want to push his luck. He slid the strap of her overnight bag over his shoulder and closed the trunk of her car.

“Relax. We'll try it for tonight and if it doesn't work out, he can come back into the house and stay in your room, okay?” She twisted her lips to the side, debating his suggestion, and he laughed. “You know you look just like James when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“That face he makes when he's thinking about something. It's adorable.”

“Adorable?” Her eyes ignited in playful defiance and her brow quirked. “That's not exactly a term women find complimentary.”

“No?” he asked, taking a step closer. He congratulated himself on the way she'd relaxed a bit, even as she pursed her lips, trying to hide her smile. This was the Bethany he'd come to know. “What about cute?” He slid his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Or bewitching?”

“Those two things are even cl—­”

Grant didn't wait for her to answer and his lips slanted over hers, unable to keep himself from sipping from that well of temptation. She opened beneath him, like the morning glories his mother had planted around the house, as if she'd been waiting for him to release the woman she held hidden inside. Her hands slid to his chest and she fisted his shirt in her fingers, pulling him closer, demanding more from him.

He withdrew and glanced back at the bunkhouse where he suspected there were at least three sets of eyes on them. Grant saw the blinds snap closed, confirming his suspicions. “Bethany, you have no idea how much shit I'm going to catch tonight for that.”

He couldn't help the shit-­eating grin that spread across his face. It didn't matter how much crap his brothers wanted to give him about falling for her. It was more than worth it. He leaned his forehead against hers. “Do you have any clue how much I've missed you?

“Want to show me again? What's a little more harassment?”

He looked down at her, surprised by the playful fire in her hazel eyes and more than a little enticed by it. “Yes, I do, but I see James and Maddie heading out.”

She jumped backward like she'd been burned and he immediately regretted his warning. He hadn't expected her reaction to sting, especially since he knew she was trying to protect James. But he was praying that after this weekend, she wouldn't feel the need to hide their relationship any longer, especially after the surprise he had planned for her tomorrow morning.

B
ETHANY LAY AWAKE
in bed, the silence of the night deafening. She felt on edge. She hadn't had a quiet night, one where she didn't check on her son, in six years. It was odd and disconcerting.

She'd been in the bunkhouse when James fell asleep and Grant carried him into Linc's empty bedroom. She'd shown Grant how to take off the implant microphones and instructed him on how to put them on in the morning, warning him about how it was a good thirty minutes before James was ready to put them on. Even though it was barely nine o'clock, Grant had walked her across the short distance between the bunkhouse and his parents' home, warning her that they would have a busy day ahead before giving her a disappointingly gentlemanly kiss on the cheek and opening the back door for her.

It wasn't what she'd wanted, or expected. She'd thought he would give her a kiss with a bit more substance. Hell, the kiss at the car had had been pretty chaste, even if it had nearly turned her bones molten. She'd been looking forward to some time alone with him.

Unless James' question had him second-­guessing their relationship and he wasn't sure how to deal with this limbo-­style relationship.

She lay in the guest room, frustrated and unsatisfied, tossing and turning on the large bed. Thoughts of the night Grant had stayed at her place heated her blood and forced her to give up any hope of sleeping.

Bethany swung her legs over the side of the mattress, unsure where she was heading, but knowing she couldn't just lie here any longer, staring at the dark ceiling, waiting for dawn to break. It was still hours away, but Grant's mother had told her to make herself at home, and maybe a cup of tea would settle her mind. Grant's father had already explained how he got up early and planned to be rising at five. She glanced at her cell phone screen—­only four a.m.

She would have to be quiet so as not to wake anyone. Creeping down the stairs and into the kitchen, Bethany reached for a glass in the cupboard. She nearly dropped it when the kitchen light flicked on and she spun to see Grant's father, Travis, sliding a chair out at the table.

“Couldn't sleep?”

“I . . . I just came down to get . . .” He didn't say anything but the way he continued to stare at her was disconcerting, and she found she couldn't even try to make an excuse. She shook her head. “No.”