One Last Chance

by Sherryl Woods

  “I suppose.”

  “So, what do you say? Is it a deal?”

  “Two weeks,” she countered, her defiant gaze locked with his.

  “Two weeks,” he agreed, seizing it. He bit back his desire to utter a whoop of triumph. “Lunch and dinner.”

  “You’ll be satisfied with that?” she asked, gaze narrowed as she studied him. “Whatever my decision at the end of two weeks, you’ll live with it? You’ll accept it if I say you haven’t convinced me of anything?”

  “That’s the agreement.”

  She held out her hand. Grady clasped it, felt her tremble, and knew he’d just made the smartest deal of his life.

  As he walked away, he murmured under his breath, “Two weeks is a start, darlin’. That’s a real good start.”

  CHAPTER 5

  What had she done? Karen rested her head on her arms and groaned as she considered Grady’s trap and the way she’d neatly stepped into it with virtually no hesitation at all. She had invited the enemy into the camp and promised to break bread with him. She had to be out of her mind.

  But somehow, in the quiet stillness of the night, she hadn’t been able to resist what he was offering—a chance to end this battle once and for all.

  More, it was a chance to unravel a puzzle that was increasingly complex. Why she cared so much about that didn’t bear thinking about. She feared it went beyond fair play, beyond curiosity. In fact, she had a terrible sense that it had to do with a yearning that had started in the pit of her stomach and hadn’t let up since the day he’d appeared in her kitchen.

  It could be as simple as a yearning for companionship, something she’d missed desperately in the weeks and months since Caleb’s death. A worrisome voice in the back of her mind told her it was something more, something specific to Grady, the allure of the forbidden.

  She hadn’t been the rule-breaker all those years ago. That had been Cassie. But, oh, how Karen had longed to be just like her, to shake things up, defy convention. Spending time with Grady would certainly qualify. There would be talk. Her in-laws were likely to be outraged. Deep down, even she disapproved of the choice she had made.

  But it was done now. She couldn’t go back on her word. It was only a few meals, she reminded herself. How difficult could that be? How much trouble could she get into by spending an occasional hour in Grady’s company?

  * * *

  She found out when lunch turned out to be a daily ritual and dinner slipped into the schedule six nights out of seven. By the end of the first week of their agreement, she’d almost grown comfortable having Grady around. She’d almost forgotten why he was there. The wicked danger of it all faded when he continued to behave like a perfect gentleman.

  Then came the Saturday night that snow started falling while they were sharing a meal of beef stew and homemade bread. Karen wasn’t aware that the weather had changed outside as Grady beguiled her with stories of his grandfather.

  As the tales unfolded, it became evident that Thomas Blackhawk was an amazing man, one who fought to preserve his Native American heritage while getting along quite well in a white man’s world. He was mayor of his town in the northwest part of the state and there was some talk that he might run for a position as delegate from the region to the state legislature.

  “The first time I ever saw him dressed in a suit and tie, I couldn’t believe it was him,” Grady said, his eyes twinkling. “I’d seen him most often in jeans and flannel, but there he was speaking to a crowd at a town meeting, wearing this fancy black suit, his lined face filled with pride. It was quite a transformation. When I commented on it afterward, do you know what he said?”

  “What?” Karen asked, fascinated.

  “That all the fancy clothes in the world couldn’t make a man respect you. It was actions that did that.”

  “You love him a lot, don’t you?”

  “It’s more than that,” Grady said. “I love him and I admire him. He lives a very simple life in the middle of nowhere, in a house he built himself. As a kid I spent a lot of time with him, listening to him talk about nature, about our place in the universe. He taught me all of the old legends and practices, but those weren’t the most important lessons, by far.”

  “What were the really important ones?” Karen asked.

  “He taught me about self-respect and loyalty, about family and duty.”

  She thought she saw where this was going. “Was he the one who taught you to hate the Hansons?”

  “Not to hate them,” Grady denied. “My grandfather has never hated anyone. He just made me aware that this land should have belonged to his father, that it should have been Blackhawk land.”

  “In other words, he planted a seed in your head, watered it regularly and now it’s grown into this obsession,” she said, derision cutting into the admiration she had begun to feel for Thomas Blackhawk.

  “It’s not an obsession, Karen. It’s a commitment. I want my grandfather to stand on this land someday, look around and know that it’s back with its rightful owners, that it’s Blackhawk land again.”

  “Would he be happy about that if he knew the price you’d paid?” she asked.

  “Dollars aren’t the issue,” he told her.

  “No,” she agreed. “And I wasn’t talking about the amount of money you say you’re willing to put on the table. I was talking about the rest, the attempts you’ve made to force Caleb, and now me, to sell.”

  He regarded her with obvious impatience. “Dammit, I’ve told you I had nothing to do with trying to sabotage your herd.”

  “If not you, who?”

  “Both things could have been accidents. Cattle get ill. Pastures catch on fire during a dry summer.”

  She regarded him evenly. “Do you honestly believe that’s what happened? Isn’t it a little too coincidental that both the outbreak of disease and the fire happened to our herd and no one else’s?”

  “I’ll admit it looks suspicious, but I had nothing to do with any of it.”

  “So you say.”

  “In a lot of very powerful circles, my word is good enough.”

  “All that tells me is that the world is filled with foolish people,” she said, stubbornly clinging to her—no, Caleb’s—conviction that Grady couldn’t be trusted. She needed these reminders from time to time. Otherwise, it would be too easy to start to like him a little too much, to begin to believe the pretty words that tripped so easily off his tongue.

  He gave her a steady look, one clearly designed to rattle her. “Can you honestly sit there and look me in the eye and tell me that you think I’m capable of trying to destroy your herd just to get what I want? Have I done anything in the last week that was the least bit underhanded? Have I pressured you in any way?”

  “No,” she was forced to admit. Not unless the fact that he was here in the first place counted as a crime. The truth was he’d been helpful and considerate. He’d done everything in his power to ingratiate himself with her, tackling odd jobs too long ignored. The ranch buildings had never been in better condition.

  “Well, then, shouldn’t you be starting to trust me just a little?” he asked.

  “I do,” she conceded with a sigh, then met his gaze. “A little.”

  He grinned. “Another good start, darlin’. We’re making progress.”

  Karen wasn’t sure they were making the right kind of progress. She was absolutely certain Caleb wouldn’t approve of it. She pushed away from the table, because it was becoming too tempting to linger, to share a second cup of coffee and a little more conversation each time they were together.

  “I’d better get these dishes washed,” she said, turning her back on him.

  Grady was on his feet at once. “Let me help.”

  “No need,” she insisted. “I’m sure you want to be heading home.�
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  He grinned at that. “Not especially. The company’s better right here. And it’s Saturday night, a time to settle back and relax a little. I brought a video. I thought maybe we could make some popcorn and watch it together.”

  The prospect was more alluring than she cared to admit. “Sorry,” she said edgily. “No popcorn in the house.”

  “I brought that, too.”

  “You do think of everything, don’t you?” she said in a way not meant to be complimentary.

  “I try to,” he agreed, not taking offense. “Shall I get the movie, or are you going to turn me down?”

  She hesitated, then asked, “What movie is it?”

  “One of Lauren’s,” he said with a smug expression. “It just came out on video.”

  She frowned at him. “You knew I wouldn’t be able to resist that, didn’t you?”

  “No, but I was hoping.”

  The chances to get to Laramie for a movie had been too few and far between. The one she’d seen a week ago had been the first one since before Caleb’s death. The last one of Lauren’s she’d viewed in a theater had been a year ago. She told herself she was merely eager to catch up on her friend’s career, not for the lingering company of the disconcerting man who’d brought the video.

  “Get it,” she told him. “I’ll finish up here.”

  Grady grabbed his jacket and opened the back door, allowing a blast of frigid air into the kitchen. When he shut it again without taking a step outside, Karen regarded him with curiosity.

  “Anything wrong?” she asked.

  “I suppose that depends on your point of view,” he said with a wry note in his voice.

  She crossed the room and opened the door to see for herself. Great white flakes of snow were swirling around in blinding sheets. She could barely see the lighted outline of the barn in the distance. The ground had already been blanketed with a layer several inches thick. At this rate, the roads would be impassable in no time, if they weren’t already.

  Even as the implications of the blizzard sank in, she couldn’t help being awed by the beauty of the snow-covered landscape. Rugged terrain softened and glistened.

  She had learned long ago how to weather a storm. There were supplies on hand, a generator to keep the most basic electricity functioning and a well-stocked woodpile by the back door.

  The only problem, of course, was the fact that she was going to be stuck here for who-knew-how-long with Grady. She couldn’t send him out in this, not with the distance he’d have to drive. Maybe if he lived just up the road, they could have risked it, but he was miles from home.

  The prospect of allowing him to stay under her roof didn’t disconcert her nearly as much as it should have. This was an emergency. Who could make anything of it if he stayed? Who would even know?

  She closed the door carefully, then announced briskly, “You’ll stay here, of course. I’ll go check the guest room and make sure you’ll have everything you need.”

  “Karen,” he said softly, drawing her attention.

  “Yes?”

  “I didn’t plan this.”

  She allowed herself a brief smile at that. “No, I imagine not even you can control the weather.”

  “I didn’t know it was predicted,” he amended.

  “Grady, I know enough about storms to know that they can come up unexpectedly, be worse than anticipated, any of that. I’m not thinking that you somehow conspired to find a way to spend the night here.”

  He nodded. “Okay, just so we’re clear.”

  “We are,” she said, amused despite herself. “Why don’t you go ahead and get that movie and the popcorn?”

  “If you’re sure. I could still try to make it home.”

  “And wind up stranded in a snowdrift? I don’t think so. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

  “And we both know how worrisome you find that conscience of yours,” he said lightly. “I’ll get the movie. And I’ll check on the stock in the barn to make sure there’s plenty of feed.”

  “Thank you. Now go, before it gets any worse.”

  Only after he had gone outside did she sag against the kitchen counter. She had just invited Grady Blackhawk to stay in her home. The only thing the Hansons would consider a worse betrayal was if she’d invited him into her bed.

  * * *

  Grady trudged through the deepening snow to the barn and checked on the horses. It took no more than a few minutes, but by the time he went back outside, the house was lost behind a seemingly impenetrable wall of white. He found the guideline installed for occasions just like this and made his way slowly through drifts that were now knee-high and growing.

  Thankfully his truck was parked close to the house. It took him several minutes to wipe the layer of snow from the door. The lock was frozen, but he always kept a de-icing tool in his pocket this time of year. Shivering, he got the door open, grabbed the video and popcorn, then closed the truck up and headed inside. He stomped the snow from his boots on the back steps, then removed his jacket and shook it off before stepping into the kitchen.

  The heat felt like heaven to his stiff fingers. Not even gloves had been much protection against the falling temperature and wind. He was rubbing his hands together when Karen came back into the kitchen. She took one look at him and grinned.

  “My, my, an honest-to-goodness snowman in my kitchen,” she teased.

  “I shook my coat off,” he protested. “And knocked most of it off my boots.”

  “But you should see your hair,” she said, stepping closer to brush away the lingering snow. “Even your eyelashes are covered.”

  As her fingers grazed his cheek, Grady felt his breath catch in his throat. The temptation to kiss her was so powerful it was almost impossible to resist. Her sweet, warm breath was fanning against his skin. Her lips looked warm and inviting. In fact, they promised the kind of heat that could chase away that last of his chill.

  No, he told himself firmly. He couldn’t do it. It would ruin everything. Certainly, it would destroy her fragile trust in him.

  He forced himself to take a step back, to capture her hand in his and hold it away from his face.

  “Thanks,” he said a little too curtly. “I can finish up if you’ll get me a towel.”

  There was a startled flash of hurt in her eyes before understanding dawned. Then, cheeks flaming, she nodded and quickly ran from the room. When she returned, they had both regained their composure.

  Grady toweled his hair dry as Karen made hot chocolate. His gaze kept straying to her rigid spine, to the soft curve of her hips, to the bare nape of her neck. He wanted to trail his hand down her spine until she relaxed, to rest his palm against that very feminine backside. He wanted to press a kiss to her neck, feel the shudder ripple through her.

  He wanted things he had no business wanting, he chided himself, turning away. Staying here might be a necessity tonight, but it was a bad idea. He’d honed his willpower over the years, resisted more than his share of temptation, but this…this was torment. Karen Hanson was the kind of woman made for loving—not just physically, though that was the strongest temptation at the moment—but through and through.

  Was that how Caleb had seen her, Grady wondered, as a woman who deserved a carefree world? Was that why he had struggled so hard to keep this ranch afloat, to give her a home? It was funny how the last week or so had taught him a thing or two about Caleb Hanson, when his goal had been getting to know the man’s wife. He found himself walking in the man’s shoes, understanding his stubborn determination in a way he never had before, even admiring it.

  “The hot chocolate’s ready,” Karen said, breaking into his thoughts. “You’d better get started on that popcorn, or the drinks will be cold before it’s done.”

  “I just need a couple of minutes,” Grady said.
“Where’s your microwave?”

  She grinned at him. “I don’t have one. You’re going to have to pull this off the old-fashioned way.”

  His gaze narrowed at her amusement. “You don’t think I can do it?”

  “It will be interesting to see, won’t it?” she challenged him.

  He shook his head with exaggerated pity. “You’ve forgotten already about the bare-bones lifestyle my grandfather lives. I’m used to roughing it,” he said as he reached for a covered pan. He set it on the stove, turned on the heat, then dumped the contents of the bag into the pan and covered it. “Piece of cake. You’ll see.”

  Grady’s gaze clashed with hers and held. She didn’t seem to be impressed yet.

  Her gaze never wavered. Time fell away as he listened to the beating of his heart, and watched the flicker of some unreadable emotion in her eyes.

  “Smells like it’s burning,” she said cheerfully, breaking the mood and the eye contact after several minutes.

  He tore his gaze away, saw smoke billowing from the pan, and muttered a soft curse. He grabbed the pan off the stove and dumped it into the sink. He could hear the few last kernels popping even as he scowled at the offending pot. He’d been oblivious when they started to pop, oblivious to everything but Karen.

  Her low chuckle drew his gaze. He studied her for a second, and saw the twinkling satisfaction in her eyes.

  “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?” he accused.

  “What?” she asked, all innocence.

  “Distracted me.”

  “Did I? How?”

  “You kept my attention so I wouldn’t notice what was happening on the stove.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “To prove a point.”

  She grinned broadly. “Well, you have to admit, you were awfully sure of yourself.”

  “And you were willing to sacrifice the popcorn just to take me down a peg or two?”