Making the Play (6 page)

“Not this time, buddy.” Grant looked almost as disappointed as James.

“I brought your football. It's still in the car. Mom made sure.” Bethany saw James' lower lip quiver as he tried not to cry.

“I'll tell you what, let's go out to the car and I'll sign it for you to keep.” He reached down and lifted James, swinging him up onto his shoulders as they headed for the door. “Duck your head.”

Grant squatted low so that James wouldn't come close to the door frame but exaggerated the movement, making James bounce as he popped back up to his full height outside. Her son giggled, forgetting his disappointment, more carefree than she'd seen him since their move, and Bethany wondered why doing the right thing for them both suddenly felt so wrong.

 

Chapter Five

G
RANT ARRIVED AT
his parents' house, far earlier than he'd planned on returning, to find three extra vehicles parked in the driveway. That meant the entire family was still here for dinner. Well, everyone but Linc since he was on the road touring with his band now. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension.

It was loud and rambunctious when he entered the kitchen, sounding more like a circus than a family get-­together. Knowing better than to try to sneak past the McQuaid clan, he walked directly into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator.

“Hey, you're home early,” Jackson pointed out. “Thought you had a hot date.”

Grant shot his brother a withering scowl. The last thing he wanted was to discuss the way he'd crashed and burned tonight, especially when his brother had predicted it. For the life of him, he couldn't see why Bethany had run out of the pizza place like her ass was on fire. And she hadn't just been tense, she'd been pissed, but he had no clue what he'd done to cause it.

“Oh, hot date? Anyone I know?” His sister, Maddie, wiggled her eyebrows at him as he popped the top off his beer, tossing the cap onto the counter.

“Garbage,” his mother ordered without even looking up.

Grant picked up the cap and took it to the can in the pantry, hoping the brief pause would be enough for someone to change the subject, but Jackson didn't seem inclined to let that happen.

“Probably.” Jackson grinned now that the entire family was listening. “Pretty brunette, rockin' curves.”

Maddie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that helps a lot. Thanks for narrowing it down to half the females in town.”

Grant glared at his youngest brother. “Bethany. She has a little boy, James.”

“Oh!” Maddie exclaimed. “Bethany Mills. I've been working with James since they moved to town last summer.” She laughed. “That explains why you're home early.”

“What does
that
mean?” Jefferson, Jackson's identical twin, had suddenly taken interest in the conversation now that it might involve their oldest brother's humiliation.

“It means she doesn't date. Trust me, Grant—­give up on this one. I've tried,” his brother Ben warned. Six pairs of eyes rounded on Ben. It was well-­known that Ben hadn't dated since his last relationship had ended badly over a year ago. Really badly.

“What? The fire chief had three of us do a presentation at the school, and after the kids headed out for recess, I asked her out for coffee. She shot me down so fast I barely got the words out.” He turned toward his sister. “I thought women couldn't resist a guy in uniform.”

“Most of us don't have any problems,” Andrew laughed. “I don't get turned down nearly as often as you do.”

It was a constant playful battleground between the two since one was a fireman and the other a police officer. It didn't help that the town held the annual Red versus Blue Football Game each year around Thanksgiving to raise funds for the local homeless shelter and the firemen had won three years straight.

“Only because you've usually got the woman in handcuffs and she'd agree to anything to be rid of you. Tell me again how that worked out for you?” Ben teased, knowing full well the last woman Andrew had asked out had been pulled over for going twenty miles over the speed limit at the time.

“Don't even remind me,” he conceded.

Grant took the playful banter as his chance to sneak out before the interrogation continued and his family began to pry for answers he didn't have. He took his beer out to the back patio and slid into one of the chairs his Dad had circled around the fire pit. It had been the family gathering spot on evenings since he was a kid and, honestly, he missed it. Right now, he welcomed the quiet retreat from the chaos of the kitchen.

Sighing, Grant took a long draw from the bottle, unable to stop thinking about Bethany and the way she'd reacted. He certainly didn't consider himself a dream guy but she'd acted like he was some serial killer. He wasn't even sure why he was continuing to let this bother him. So this chick didn't want to have him over for ice cream, or call their night out a date. So what? It didn't make him a total loser. This was her loss. But Grant couldn't help feeling like it was his and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

“Hey.” Maddie plopped into the chair beside him, passing him another open bottled of beer. He set it aside as she sipped hers. “You aren't going to let those guys bother you, right?”

“No. It wasn't them.”

“Bethany?”

Grant shook his head. “I just don't get it. I'm not
that
bad, am I?”

Maddie laughed. “Don't kid yourself, Grant. Women are still lining up to try to get your attention.” Grant shot her a dubious look. “Ask Mom how many messages she's taken in the past few weeks.”

“What?”

“You didn't realize women find the number to the ranch and call?” She bumped her brother's leg with her toe. “Don't let Bethany's rejection bug you. She's a pretty tightly closed book. I know a little of her story from working with James so trust me when I say, it's not you. She just doesn't seem to want a man in her life, or in James'.”

Grant grunted and finished off his bottle. “She made that clear tonight.”

“He's a pretty special kid, though. Funny, adorable—­”

“Smart as a whip,” Grant filled in, rubbing his index finger and thumb against either side of his jaw.

Maddie arched a brow. “Are you interested in the kid or his Mom?”

Grant shrugged. “Maybe both. You didn't see how sad he looked when he talked about leaving his Grandfather. I get the feeling he misses that male attention.”

“That's actually pretty likely. Are you offering?”

Grant shrugged again. He wanted to offer but it seemed pretty unlikely that Bethany would agree. He wasn't even sure why he wanted to make the offer. He had more than enough to worry about with his upcoming medical clearances but he couldn't seem to get James' melancholy expression out of his mind.

“You know,” Maddie hinted, “I could probably set up some sort of assembly or something at Hidden Falls Elementary if I knew a big football celebrity willing to talk to the kids. Maybe about staying in school, following their dreams, all that jazz.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know I'd do anything for you, Mads, but why?”

She shrugged and her lips curved up into a mischievous smile. “I know for a fact what a huge Mustangs fan James is. It's all he's talked about since he saw the picture of us at the playoffs in my office. I'm sure if he was able to show off his favorite player at school and elevate his playground status a bit, his mother might be willing to show a little appreciation. Maybe I could put in a good word for you.” She tipped her beer bottle toward him clinking the top of his.

It would probably work, but Grant wasn't sure it was a good idea. Bethany had made it perfectly clear that she didn't want anyone using her son as a way to get close to her. Not that he'd need to
pretend
to like James. He couldn't help himself. Any more than he could help being attracted to Bethany.

He needed to stay away and not put himself into that sort of predicament. Grant needed to focus on getting back into spring training, not spend what little time he had left trying to convince some woman he was worth dating when he could offer her nothing but a short-­term fling. But he'd be damned if he could think of anything else.

“
W
HY DIDN
'
T YOU
tell me you were going out on a date with Grant McQuaid?” Her aide, Julie, dropped the morning paper on the table in the lounge before class started.

“What?” Bethany nearly spilled the coffee as she set it on the table and looked at the newspaper. The front page showed a picture of Grant holding James at the counter as they ordered pizza. Somehow, someone had caught the moment on film and now it was headline news for their small town.

Wonderful.
“It wasn't a date.”

“So, it
is
true?” Julie's voice pitched several octaves higher. “Do you know how many women are going to hate you now? How did you meet him? What happened?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Is what they say about him true?”

“It wasn't a date,” Bethany repeated. “James almost tripped him in the park the other day. He was just being nice to take him out to pizza, that's all.”

Julie's eyes twinkled wickedly. “Sure it is.”

Bethany clenched her jaw before pinching her lips together firmly. “Julie,” she warned. “Nothing happened. We had pizza and I took James home.”

“Well, that's not how this article makes it sound.”

Julie tapped the paper and Bethany cringed as she skimmed it. It repeatedly insinuated that there was far more to the picture than just a pizza and some pool. It didn't even mention the fact that Grant and James had been playing football at the park. Instead, it implied they'd shared intimate moments and stolen glances. It was Bethany's worst nightmare come true.

“How many times do I have to tell you—­”

“You don't date. I know.” Julie looked like she'd just lost her best friend. “Do you have any idea how much I was looking forward to the dirty details of your wild night with a football star? If I can't have Grant McQuaid myself, I wanted to live vicariously through you.”

“Sorry. But I guess this means you can have him now. It's just one of my personal rules.”

“Tell me again why you don't date?” She pulled the paper closer, looking at the picture wistfully. “I mean, if I had a guy like Grant McQuaid taking me out for pizza, I'd be showing him just how grateful I was, maybe even twice. I'd break every rule in the book. I might even make up a ­couple just so we could break them.” Julie winked at Bethany.

Bethany shook her head and rolled her eyes. Julie was the first person Bethany had met after the real estate agent showed her the house, and they'd quickly become friends, but as much as Bethany adored the aide, it didn't stop her from keeping her private life exactly that—­private. That meant not sharing the details about her afternoon with Julie, not that there was anything to share.

“It was nothing more than James meeting his hero and Grant McQuaid spending some time with a fan.”

“Who's the bigger fan? James or you?” Julie winked.

“A guy like him is the last thing I need in my life, the last thing
James
needs. What I do need is to get these kids ready for our field trip next week.”

“What you need is to get laid.”

“Julie!” Bethany felt the blush burn her cheeks.

Her friend laughed. “It's true. I bet you haven't had a good man in your life in years. You're
not
in a convent,” she scolded, waving her hand, indicating the teachers' lounge. “You need someone who'll come in and rock your world off its matronly axis, Bethany.”

“No, I don't. What I need is to get into the classroom before I have twenty-­five monkeys jumping on desks.”

Bethany rose, trying not to glance down at the picture staring back at her. James looked happy. No, he looked over-­the-­moon ecstatic, but what really caught her attention was the look on Grant's handsome face. He was facing James but he was looking at her with more than a little interest. She felt the sizzle of desire curling in her belly again.

Would it have really been so bad to let him come to the house for ice cream? She had no doubt she could have had a good time with him if she'd let herself. Instead, she'd pushed him away, upsetting her son and making sure that the one and only man she'd been attracted to in the last few years would want nothing more to do with her.

 

Chapter Six

G
RANT GRUNTED AS
he finished his bench press set and his brother slid the barbell back onto the rack. “Not too shabby,” Ben commented, not bothering to hide his admiration. “You've got me beat.”

Grant sat up and reached for the towel to wipe the sweat dripping into his eyes. “I've gotta do better than this.”

He eyed the barbell. He was going to need to push more than the two-­sixty he was using now if he wanted back on the team. This wasn't going to be enough, not with so many young guys gunning for his position in the Combine right now. And with the draft coming up . . .

“What exactly are you trying to prove, Grant? That you can kill yourself?” Ben shook his head at his brother and leaned over the bar, crossing his arms. “Why is it that you can't just accept that it might be time to retire? Do you want to finish out the next sixty years of your life in a wheelchair? Because that's what the doctor said could happen if you take a hit wrong. Or worse. You know that.”

Grant stood up, throwing the towel into his gym bag, and tugged his t-­shirt over his head, zipping up the bag without answering his brother. He knew the consequences and didn't need the reminders of how likely he was to fail. He'd read every prediction from various sports writers, heard the commentary from the correspondents and read enough doctor's reports that he knew the risks.

But he wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance for him to get back into the game. He had to give this last shot his all. He had to make a comeback and prove everyone wrong. Not succeeding was not an option. He couldn't afford to not make a comeback.

Grant hurried for the door of the firehouse, trying to head off any arguments. “Thanks for letting me use your gym.”

“Anytime, brother. You know you're always welcome here.” He didn't miss the note of curiosity in Ben's voice.

This burning desire to push, to excel, wasn't something he could explain to his family. It was just a part of him, what drove him every day. He had to play football; it was the only way for Grant to help provide for them. His entire family kept that ranch running and, since he wasn't around, his contribution was purely monetary. In fact, he'd sunk a hefty chunk of his savings into several new wells and an irrigation system to combat the drought that had struck the entire state and also helped with the start-­up funds for Jackson to start his own horse breeding facility on the ranch. If he couldn't continue to support his family, what kind of man was he? He had no right even thinking of starting a family of his own until he had more than just his name to offer them.

Hurrying from the station toward the parking lot, the school across the street caught his eye. At least sixty kids ran around the blacktop, playing on the swings and monkey bars or caught in a game of what looked like baseball on the grassy field. Except for one small boy who stood alone in the back corner of the field, tossing a football into the air and catching it.

Grant couldn't mistake that blond hair for anyone else and felt the breath catch in his lungs painfully. Poor James stood off from everyone else, ignored completely by the other kids.

Leave it alone.

Without permission from his brain, his feet carried him toward the front doors of Hidden Falls Elementary. He'd no more stepped inside when he heard a stern voice from his right.

“Excuse me, sir, you need to check in.” The receptionist stopped him before he could get past the desk. “Oh, you're—­”

“Grant McQuaid! Maddie told me you might be willing to come talk to the kids. You have no idea how excited they would be to meet you.”

As Grant turned to face the secretary, he recognized Raif Hunt, one of his former high school teammates. In fact, they'd graduated together but Grant hadn't seen him in years and had no idea he'd become the elementary school administrator.

“It's been a while. Didn't Maddie tell you I'm the principal now?” Raif held out his hand and chuckled at Grant's obvious confusion.

“She might have mentioned it, but I don't remember. It's good to see you, bulldog.” Raif cringed at the nickname his teammates had called the boy who growled at the opposing players on the line of scrimmage.

“Yeah, these days it's just Mr. Hunt,” he chuckled.

Grant glanced toward the door as he shook Raif's hand, wondering how quickly he could get out to the playground to talk to James. The slouch of his shoulders seemed so forlorn and lonely as he stood in the field, even from a distance, that Grant didn't want to hang out in the office chatting, but he couldn't exactly walk onto the school playground without permission. There were rules these days. Procedures to follow, and he doubted those included letting some strange man just walk out to see kids.

What had he been thinking? This spontaneity wasn't like him. He usually thought everything through.

“What are
you
doing here?”

Grant heard Bethany's voice and spun to see her looking prim and proper, albeit slightly shocked, in her frilly peasant blouse and jeans. Grant couldn't stop himself from letting his eyes travel the length of those long legs, taking in every curve she didn't seem to realize she showed. Her hair was pulled back into a tightly restrained ponytail again and he wondered if it didn't speak to her personality.

“Oh, Ms. Mills, have you met Mr. McQuaid? He's one of our local celebrities.” Raif rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Surely, you've already heard about him from Ms. McQuaid. She's pretty proud of him.”

Bethany's eyes shifted from Grant to her boss. Confusion flickered over her face before fire sparked in her eyes, igniting her anger, and he could practically feel the tension emanating from her.

Great. What in the world did I do now?

“
F
ROM
M
S.
M
C
Q
UAID
?
”
she repeated.

Heat flooded her face as Bethany nodded, trying to ignore the sharp slice of envy ­coupled with the shame at having had dinner with a married man. She didn't remember hearing in the news that he'd married, but that didn't mean it hadn't happened. She didn't pay much attention to gossip about the private lives of football stars, and there were always those guys who kept their family lives hidden. She recalled the phone call he'd received at the park and cursed her naiveté. Now with the article in the paper, everyone would think she'd been trying to steal her co-­worker's husband. The nightmare just seemed to get worse.

Indignation rose up in her as she glared at Grant.
He
was the one who'd cheated on his wife. She was grateful now she'd insisted that their trip to the pizza place was not a “date.” Although, terminology had little to do with the disappointment she wanted to deny right now. Mr. Hunt cleared his throat and she realized she was staring at Grant, silently.

“Huh, I probably should have made the connection but I don't usually spend much time in her office. As a matter of fact, I'm seeing your wife today with James.”

Grant couldn't hide his shameless grin and Bethany thought about smacking him for a brief moment until Mr. Hunt choked as he laughed aloud.

“Oh, no. Ms. Mills, Maddie, is Grant's
sister
.”

Grant cocked his head at her, his dark eyes glinting with humor. Bethany had no idea it was even possible to blush more than she was. She couldn't remember ever feeling this embarrassed. Unless it was after her father's comment last night. It appeared she was bound to make a fool out of herself repeatedly in front of this man.

“Mr. Hunt,” Mrs. Bale, the school secretary, interrupted. “I'm sorry, sir, but you have Mrs. Davis on line two. She says it's important.”

He rolled his eyes. “I'm sure it is. With her and her son, everything is. Ms. Mills, would you mind taking Mr. McQuaid on a quick tour while the kids are at lunch? I'll meet up with you at the kindergarten classroom in a bit so we can figure out a good day and time for an assembly.”

Bethany opened her mouth to protest but Mr. Hunt had already vanished into his office, shutting the door behind him. Mrs. Bale shot Bethany a look of pure jealousy, practically swooning as Grant opened the door for her.

“Ladies first, Ms. Mills.”

Sighing in resignation, Bethany ducked through the doorway, scooting past him. “You never answered my question,” she muttered as the door closed behind him.

“And which question was that?” She cocked her head to one side, crossing her arms over her chest. Grant chuckled at her disapproval. She might be used to this tone working on kids but he was no child. “You mean, why I'm here? Maybe I came to see Raif.”

She continued to glare at him silently, waiting for n better answer. “Okay, you want the truth?”

Bethany couldn't hide the irritation in her voice and arched a brow high on her forehead. “No, by all means, please lie to me, Mr. McQuaid. That's exactly why I asked, for you to lie.”

Grant shook his head and tried to bite back his laughter. “Why, Ms. Mills, do I detect a note of sarcastic smart ass in you after all?”

“Watch your language,” she chastised. “There are kids here and the last thing I need is a parent complaining because you want to mock me.”

He frowned and she could see the remorse in his face. “Sorry, I didn't think.”

“I'm sure you didn't. I thought after last night—­” Bethany planted her fists on her hips, letting her words fall away. She hadn't done much thinking either, if this morning's front page was any indicator. Parents were likely to be far more upset about her
extracurricular
activities than his language.

He held his hands out in front of him. “Trust me, you made your position very clear. I'm not here to ask you out again.”

She glanced at the long fingers extended out in front of her, noticing the callouses on his palms. Her father always told her you could tell a hard-­working man worth keeping by the callouses on his hands. She wondered what he'd say about Grant.

He'd love him and you know it.

She felt disappointment course through her as she thought about how many women would have reacted differently to Grant's dinner invitation. Hell, Julie had practically throttled her this morning. But, as much as she might want to date this attractive, hard-­working, kind man, she had to think of James first and what was best for her son.

Grant's words sank in slowly. He was making it clear he wouldn't make the same mistake again. She'd had her shot at this guy and had thrown it away with both hands.

“I was with my brother at the fire station and was actually heading to my car when I noticed James playing out in the field alone.” He clenched his jaw and she wondered at his sudden obvious aggravation. “I don't know what I was thinking I could do, but it bothered me to see him off by himself. The next thing I knew, I was in the office with Raif and you walked in.”

Bethany couldn't help but be touched by his heartfelt honesty, feeling the wall around her heart chip slightly. Regret assailed her as she realized how unfairly she'd judged him, without any indication he deserved it. She couldn't believe how arrogant she must sound, assuming he'd come here to see her.

“You really came over here just to see James?”

He ducked his head slightly. “Look, Bethany, I swear I'm not some creepy stalker, but that kid of yours has gotten under my skin. He just looked so sad out there by himself and—­”

She could see from the look on his face that he really cared about James. Not just as a fan, but on a personal level. Bethany didn't need to hear any more. “Come on.”

She hurried with him toward the open field. Scanning the area, Bethany saw her son near the fence on the right, tossing the ball high into the air and dancing beneath it. He missed more often than he caught it but she didn't doubt for a second that he was acting out some brilliant Super Bowl fantasy in his imagination.

“Here.” She reached into a bin nearby and pulled out a worn youth-­sized football with tattered laces barely hanging on. Her fingers brushed over his and she tried to ignore the sizzle of pleasure that skirted up her arm. The ball was tiny in Grant's hands but smaller than the one James was trying to catch now. It would be just the right size for him. “Go out there with him. When the other kids see you, they'll come over but don't tell them you know me. Let them see you as James' friend.”

The corner of Grant's mouth turned up when he comprehended why she was sending him out to James without her. It would give James more credibility with the other kids to be seen with a football hero that was
his
friend rather than one that his mother knew.

“You're a good mom, Bethany.” His gaze caressed her face, warming her cheeks.

He didn't touch her but the tenderness she could see in his eyes shot straight to her heart, and she returned his smile. His gaze heated, smoldering slightly with what looked like longing, before it was gone and he spun on his heel, jogging out to the field where James played.

She felt the butterflies in her stomach bounce wildly against her ribs as she tried to catch her breath.
Goodness, what have I gotten myself into now?

G
RAN
T WAITED AT
his car for Bethany and James to finish up inside the classroom. He'd spent the rest of lunch recess entertaining nearly forty kids who'd come running over when they realized James knew a professional football player. The smile that lit James' face when he introduced Grant had been well worth the discomfort he'd faced trying to explain why he was at the school to Bethany.

He couldn't blame her for being standoffish with him when she first saw him there. What kind of weirdo showed up at your job the day after you told him to take a hike? But something had shifted in her today. He'd seen it in her eyes when he tried to explain why he'd come. Enough that he was willing to push his luck and see if she wasn't up for having ice cream today.