Making the Play (25 page)

“Holy crap, Grant.” She slapped his bicep. “Nut up and just go see her. I guarantee you'll be sorry if you don't.”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” He arched a brow at her.

“Fine.” She heaved an exasperated sigh. “If you want to make jokes, then fine. Lose the best thing that's come your way since your scholarship, but I'm not going to ride along while you do it. Just drop me off at the coffee shop and I'll get a ride from someone else.”

“You're serious?”

“As a heart attack.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

Grant wasn't in a mood to toy with her and play childish games. He pulled off the highway where it slowed through town and into the parking lot of the town's newest coffee shop. “There you go.”

She opened the door and got out of the car. “You're an idiot, Grant.”

“And you're a busybody just like the rest of the ­people in this town. Maybe you should just mind your own—­”

Grant didn't want to believe it. Seated in the window on the coffee shop, he could see James bouncing happily on a stool beside his mother while Bethany laughed at something the person with her was saying. Seated across from her was Steven Carter. Maddie followed the direction of his gaze and planted her hands on her hips.

“Should I say ‘I told you so' now or save it for later?”

Grant didn't think. He simply reacted, the way he'd done during every football game, letting instinct take over. Dropping the car into Park, he climbed out and stalked into the coffee shop, barely noticing that Maddie ran in behind him. Several sets of eyes turned in his direction, but the only person he saw was Bethany as he quickly closed the distance between them.

“Grant!” James slid down from the stool and ran to him, wrapping his little arms around Grant's legs. “Hi, Ms. Maddie. Are you going to have hot chocolate with us?” He waved excitedly.

Grant scooped James up in one arm and carried him back to the table, but he had his sights set on only one person, and she looked so shocked by his presence that she couldn't speak.

“Hello, Bethany.” The icy tone in his voice matched the frigidness of his heart as he nodded slightly to the other man. “Carter.”

“McQuaid.”

“Grant, what are you doing here? I didn't expect you to come back this soon.” She gave him a hesitant smile and rose from the stool.

“I can see that.”

“What does that mean?” Bethany took a step backward and Grant settled James on his stool again.

Carter chuckled from across the table. “I think what Grant's alluding to is that we are out together and he's interrupted us.”

Grant glanced at James, still smiling, but the excitement in his face had dulled slightly and Grant could see the concern in the boy's eyes, as if he realized there was more to this situation than what he could understand. He didn't want to upset him, especially if he'd already been as upset as Maddie claimed he'd been.

“Something like that.”

“Can we talk for a second?” Bethany reached a hand to his forearm, her fingers barely grazing his skin. He instantly felt his body respond to her touch, to the memory of the last time they were together and he cursed his weakness, jerking back.

“I don't know that we have anything to talk about.”

She looked hurt by his reaction and, in reality, this was his own fault. He should have talked to her about their relationship and where he wanted it to go already, should have done more than just text her, but after the roller-­coaster ride he'd been on the past week, he didn't have it in him to argue about semantics. He certainly didn't want to do it in front of an audience. Grant ran a hand through his hair.

“You know what, Bethany? Why don't you guys finish your . . . whatever this is,” he said, waving his hand at their table, “and give me a call when you're done. We can talk then.”

He turned and stormed past his sister through the coffee shop and headed for the door. He'd no more put his hand on it when Bethany's voice stopped him.

“I'll call you the way you called me.”

Grant hung his head. Maddie was right; he should have called, and now he may have just lost the only chance he had because he'd let himself get too wrapped up in planning a future he wanted that he hadn't taken the time to stop and do the one thing that might have solidified it.

 

Chapter Twenty-­Five

G
RANT'S MAD?
J
AMES
signed, his brow furrowed and his lips twisted to one side.

“No, sweetie. He's just . . . tired. It's been a long trip.”

Bethany wasn't sure how to explain the situation to James, how to make him understand that this was nothing more than a complicated relationship between two adults, something he wouldn't understand until he was older.

In truth, she wasn't sure she understood why Grant was angry. He'd been the one to walk away, the one to not call and only text once, simply to tell her that he'd be in touch soon. She certainly hadn't expected “soon” to mean arriving home the next day, especially when every reporter speculating that his guest spot on the sports talk show was a trial run for a permanent position. She could only assume he'd made his decision and she and James weren't included in Grant's future plans.

“You want me to take you home?” Steven watched Maddie run after Grant, barely making it to the car in time to jump inside before he sped away, his tires spinning in the parking lot, kicking up gravel. “This wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I suggested coffee.”

Bethany glanced at James. “I should probably get him home.” She gave Steven an apologetic smile. “I'm sure there will be some questions.” She glanced back at the window where they'd watched Grant's departure. “I'm sorry, Steven.”

“Don't worry about it.” He waved her off. “You ready to head home, James?”

“Can we go see Grant?”

Bethany scowled at her son, willing him not to bring up Grant again. “Maybe in a few days, after he's been able to get settled and rest up from his trip, okay?”

“Okay.”

He sounded disappointed but he couldn't feel any more disillusioned than she did. The past week had been a hard lesson in getting her hopes up only to have them crushed like the gravel under the tread of Grant's spinning tires.

B
ETHANY HEADED BACK
downstairs after almost an hour of
Where the Sidewalk Ends
in an attempt to make James laugh. Even that hadn't made him giggle the way it usually did, but they'd both been off this week. As much as she wanted to pretend that everything was fine, she didn't feel fine. Seeing Grant today had sent her senses skyward then plummeting, like they were free-­falling. It was exactly what had happened when they'd been together. Their entire relationship was one exciting free fall, glorious in the highs and painful upon the crash-­landing lows.

A quiet knock at the door had her pausing at the foot of the stairs. Butterflies took flight in her stomach as she moved closer to the door. Bethany knew exactly who it was without looking through the peephole. No one else would feel entitled enough to show up this late. She opened the door to find Grant leaning with both arms outstretched overhead, against the top of the door frame.

“What do you want, Grant? I don't have the energy to fight with you tonight.” She turned away from the door. He could follow or not but she wasn't about to play games.

“I'm sorry.” His voice was tight, hoarse, as if even uttering the words was painful.

She turned back toward him and crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself from reaching out to brush back the hair that had fallen over his forehead. He needed it cut and she desperately wanted to run her fingers through it, but the look on his face made it clear he wasn't hers to do that to any longer.

“Please, stop saying things you don't mean.”

She left him standing in the entry and walked into the kitchen, wishing she'd bought the bottle of wine she'd been contemplating purchasing after she'd left the coffee shop, wanting something that might dull the ache in her chest that had taken up residence for the past week.

“Like how you're going to call or how much you care. I don't need any more false promises. I'd much prefer your honesty to your flattery.”

Grant's hands landed lightly on her hips, drawing her back toward him, against the hard wall of muscle, causing desire to ripple through her, making her shiver with want.

“Bethany,” he whispered as he brushed her long hair to one side and pressed a kiss behind her ear.

She willed her body to remain rigid against him, to not give in to the yearning coursing through her veins, telling her to turn toward him and wrap her arms around his neck. That would only lead her back down the road she'd fought hard to move away from this past week, every day a battle to try to forget her feelings for Grant. Every ring of her phone agonizing when she realized it wasn't him.

“Don't,” she pleaded. “I can't do this.”

“I should have called you. I wanted to, but I barely found time to get the text to you as it was. And this is something we needed to discuss in person.” His voice was raw, gritty and anguished. “I need you, Bethany.”

She shook her head, letting it drop forward, away from the magic of his lips. “Needing, wanting . . . I have to think about what James needs, as well as what he wants. He needs a stable man in his life. You said so yourself.”

“Someone like Steven Carter?” Bitter jealousy tinged his voice, making her wonder about the man in front of her, a man she suddenly didn't recognize.

“Steven and I are friends, nothing more.” She turned to face him, pressing her palm against his chest to keep him at a distance. “But even if we were,
you
were the one who pushed that. You were the one who suggested I go out with him.”

Grant backed up a step but she wasn't about to stop now that she'd begun letting the vulnerability of her emotions spill out. “You were the one who left, who walked away with vague promises. I was the one who had to face James' tears all week, to be the one to help heal his heartbreak at losing his hero.”

“I went to find out what my future was going to hold, what I could manage to do if I couldn't go back to football.”

“And now you know. Congratulations, you'll make a great commentator.”

“I'm only doing that once a week, even less after football season.”

Grant circled his fingers around her wrist and slid her hand off his chest, pulling her closer. Her heart leapt into her throat and she couldn't take a breath. As much as she didn't want to admit it, even to herself, Bethany wanted him to kiss her.

“Every decision I had to make, I made for you and James, with our future in mind.”

“Why?” It was barely a whisper of sound. She couldn't manage anything more.

“Because I can't stand to not have you with me, to have you both with me.”

She bit her lower lip, looking into his eyes earnestly, searching for honesty. She had no idea what his intentions were, she never had because he'd never opened up and shared that part of his life with her. He claimed to want them to be together, that she and James were important, but he was making decisions without even consulting her.

“I don't know if I can believe you.” She backed out of his arms, away from his touch, and wrapped her arms around her waist. He blinked, as if her calling his integrity into question hadn't even been a consideration.

“I've never given you a reason to doubt my word.” She arched a brow in disbelief and Grant threw his hands in the air. “Is this really because I was too busy to call?”

“Too busy to call, too closed off to explain.” She shook her head. “You can say that you made decisions with us in mind, Grant, but the reality is that you made decisions alone without even including me in any discussion.”

“What?” He ran a hand through his hair. “What was I supposed to say, Bethany? That I might be going back to Memphis or to another team. Or that I might have a job in New York City, but I also might not have any job and that either way I still want you and James to go with me wherever I end up?”

She opened her mouth to speak but he didn't give her the opportunity.

“Because that would make perfect sense, right? You want me to open up? How about if I admit that I can't stop thinking about you or that I can't sleep because I'm dreaming about you? What about the fact that I was torn between a career I've spent my entire life cultivating and being willing to give it all up just to stay here where I might have a shot with you, even if it meant working the ranch with my parents?”

He closed the distance between them, his hand moving to the curve of her jaw. “Don't you get it, Bethany? You and James mean more to me than anything else, anything.”

She searched his eyes, and this time she could see his heart there, open and vulnerable. “Grant.”

“Bethany, I'm falling in love with you, with both of you. I didn't expect it and, damn it, I certainly didn't plan it this way, but I also can't help it. I wouldn't if I could.”

Grant didn't wait for her to respond before he covered her mouth with his, seeking her answer in the passion that had always burned brightly between them. She clung to him, her arms circling his neck, her body pressed against his, their breaths and heartbeats becoming one. Bethany knew there was far more that they needed to discuss but, for this moment, his confession was enough. Grant's strong arms held her against him as his mouth plundered hers, the way his heart had stolen her will to resist him.

He was the first to regain control of himself and pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hitching in ragged gasps. “I love you, Bethany.”

“Why didn't you say something before you left?” Her hand covered his cheek, the rough hair rasping deliciously against her palm.

“Because you deserved more than an out-­of-­work has-­been. Until this week, I had nothing. I'd sunk everything into the ranch and had no future. I couldn't tell you unless I knew I had something to offer you.”

“Grant,” she scolded. “Is that really how you see yourself? You were injured, you're retired. That doesn't make you a has-­been. If you were a has-­been, they wouldn't have put you on the show.”

“I didn't want to leave you and James. Not for that long. I'm doing guest spots once a week and they've agreed that most of those will be filmed at the L.A. station.” She shook her head, but he curled his arm around her waist, drawing her back to him. “You said it yourself. James needs stability.” He brushed his fingers through the hair at her temple. “Bethany, everything I want in my life is right here, in Hidden Falls, in this house. I guess the question is, do you want me?”

G
RANT
'
S HEART DIDN
'
T
beat as he waited for Bethany's answer. After what felt like forever, she met his gaze.

“Grant, when my ex-­husband left me, I had no idea what was going to happen to me or James. I was able to finish school and was determined to give James a good life, but I knew it wasn't going to be the life I'd envisioned when I first married Matthew. I was bound and determined that I would protect James, both of us really, from ever being in a position to have someone hurt us again or to strip away everything we thought our future held.” Her hands fell to his waist and she looked up at him with eyes filled with awed wonder. “And then we met you that day in the park.

“I wasn't ready for you, to feel the things I've felt since James ran out in front of you that day. But it hasn't stopped any of it from happening and, seeing how much knowing you has changed him for the better, how much it's changed me, I wouldn't do anything differently. You've taught me that I can trust my heart again, feel alive again. I'm falling so deeply in love with you, Grant McQuaid, that I would have followed you to the ends of the earth.”

Grant wasn't sure that his heart could be any more full of emotion. Bethany loved him.

Before he could respond, she turned her attention to the footsteps at the top of the stairs. “James is up.”

He heard the instant concern in her tone. In spite of the bomb she'd just dropped on him, she didn't give it a thought before she rushed to her primary role as a mother.

Grant followed her up the stairs and saw the blur of James' little body as he ran into the bathroom and they heard him retching. She hurried in behind him, holding his body as he vomited, his face pale and frightened.

“Shh,” she murmured, even though he didn't have his implant microphones on. She glanced back at Grant. “Can you wet a washcloth for me?”

Grant pulled a cloth from the drawer and dampened it, passing it to her.

“Are you sure you are ready to sign up for this?”

Grant smiled at the woman on the bathroom floor, her arms wrapped around the little boy who'd held his heart captive from the first moment.
I've been ready for a long time
, he signed. He held up his hand.
I love you.

She held her hand up in the same sign toward him. “What do you say we get this little guy back to bed?”

“I'll take him,” he offered. Grant didn't hesitate in scooping James from her arms, tucking the boy's feverish head under his chin.

“I'll get the thermometer and medicine.” Bethany scooted between him and the door, hurrying downstairs.

Grant reached for the cool washcloth before carrying James into his room. The heat from his little body burned through Grant's shirt and the smell of sweat was heavy on the child as he slipped him between the sheets. As he tried to stand, James whimpered, clinging to him, and Grant's heart fractured. With memories of his mother in the forefront of his mind, Grant lay on the blankets next to James and let the boy curl into his chest for comfort, running the washcloth over his temple, quietly whispering soothing words to a boy who couldn't hear them. James laid one hand over Grant's chest, just above his heart. Grant ached, his mind searching for something he could do to make James feel better, but he felt helpless, unable to do anything but hold him and try to comfort him.