A Refuge for the Rancher (Brush Creek Brides Book 6)

by Liz Isaacson

  Grant leaned against the door and took a deep breath. Landon would see him with Shannon. Ted. Walker. Everyone in the town.

  “I want them to,” he muttered to himself as he went back into his bathroom to finish getting ready. True, he hadn’t known Shannon for long, but he enjoyed her company more than anyone else’s.

  As he drove down the canyon, Grant’s stomach buzzed like someone had poured an entire beehive down his throat. Every breath felt sticky, and his hands slipped on the steering wheel. He couldn’t seem to swallow properly. He mentally coached himself to calm down, but it wasn’t until he sent a prayer heavenward that he finally managed to take a breath that felt properly oxygenated.

  He pressed Shannon’s doorbell, unsurprised to hear a custom chime sound behind the door. Her heels clicked against her floor and a moment later, she opened the door and leaned into it. “Hey.” A smile oozed over her face, making Grant’s heart pump extra hard and feel very vulnerable.

  “Hey.” He grinned goofily back at her for several long moments before putting himself back together. “You ready or should I come in?”

  She glanced next door and Grant followed her gaze but found only a red minivan sitting in the driveway.

  “I’m ready,” she said, stepping out of the house and joining him on the front steps. She glanced up at him, and it could’ve been his imagination, but it seemed like her smile was a little wobbly.

  Neither one of them could find anything to say on the short ride to the church, and Grant’s nerves kicked into a new gear when he had to stop and wait for Claire to cross the parking lot in front of him before he found a space.

  The other blonde looked up and her eyes moved in slow motion as they traveled from his face to Shannon’s. Pure horror entered her expression at the same time Shannon sucked in a breath. Anxiety pulled through Grant. He wasn’t exactly sure what Shannon’s plan regarding Claire had been, but he didn’t have anything to feel bad about.

  After all, Claire had ended things with him, not the other way around. He still wasn’t sure why, as she’d just cut off all contact one day, and when he’d asked why, all she’d said was that she didn’t want to see him anymore.

  Thus, the stalking had started at the elementary school. He wasn’t sure what he’d thought he’d say or do if he ever came face-to-face with Claire. Thankfully, that hadn’t happened.

  “I take it she doesn’t know about us.” Grant pulled into an available space and killed the ignition.

  “No one knows about us,” Shannon said. “Well, my neighbor does. She caught us kissing in the back yard last night. And I’m assuming a friend or two of yours knows.”

  “One or two,” Grant said.

  Shannon played with the ends of her hair as she stared toward the church. “I guess it’s time to show everyone else.” She sighed as she got out of the truck, and Grant didn’t like the sound of it.

  “I can just sit by my friends,” he said.

  “Did I say I wanted you to sit by your friends?”

  “I think this might be too soon for you,” he said.

  She glared even as she tucked her arm in his. “I'm not embarrassed to be with you.” She paused her step and looked up at him. “Are you embarrassed to be with me?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then let’s go.” She lifted her eyebrows as if she expected him to bolt.

  He stepped toward the chapel instead. He was sure not every eye landed on them as they entered and found an empty spot on the left side, but it sure felt like it. Most of them belonged to a cowboy or a woman, and Grant kept his shoulders straight and his face toward the pulpit as he waited for Shannon to settle onto the pew.

  He joined her, threading his fingers through hers and taking a deep breath of her floral perfume. That scent calmed him, as did the organ music, and when Pastor Peters got up and started speaking, Grant forgot about everyone staring at him.

  Pastor Peters had a way with words, and he said things in a simple way so Grant could understand. Today he said, “One of the greatest blessings of forgiveness is that we don’t have to own that sin anymore.” He swept his gaze from left to right, front to back. “What the Lord forgives, He forgets. We should too.”

  Grant found himself nodding, muttering “Amen,” and realizing that he hadn’t actually done that for himself. He still thought of himself as the loser-cowboy who’d come coasting into town on gas fumes, hoping a stranger who was a rodeo friend of a rodeo friend would give him a job.

  Landon had done that, and a whole lot more. Grant’s gratitude had never run dry, and he believed he’d been forgiven for his past mistakes. What he hadn’t done is forget about it. Move on. Look forward.

  No, he’d been hiding. Hiding his secret from his friends on the ranch. Hiding it from every woman he dated. Hiding from himself.

  He leaned over before he could even think about what he was about to say. “Hey, can we talk afterward?”

  “I made lunch, remember?” She flicked her eyes from the pulpit to his. “I texted you about it. Barbeque pork sandwiches in my backyard.”

  “Right.” He skated his lips across her brow. “I just don’t want to forget to tell you something.”

  “What?” Her eyes hooked his this time.

  “Later.” He focused on Pastor Peters again, but he didn’t hear anything else the preacher said. He’d never actually told anyone except Landon about his former financial fiasco. And he’d only told Landon because his bookie was in town, demanding his money.

  The meeting ended, and Grant took a few extra seconds before he stood. He figured Emmett would hightail it over to meet Shannon, and he wasn’t disappointed.

  “Grant, Molly wants to know what you guys are doing for lunch.”

  Molly stepped to his side, and her smile was genuine and warm. “I threw something in the crock pot this morning,” she added.

  “Oh, Shannon made lunch.” Grant reseated his cowboy hat and looked at Shannon, who was a natural with people.

  She wore an equally warm smile, and said, “Why don’t you two join us at my place?”

  Emmett looked at Grant, who shrugged and squeezed Shannon’s hand. Molly looked at Emmett, and they must’ve learned how to read minds since they’d been married, because she said, “Yeah, we’d like that too.”

  Grant started toward the back of the chapel, almost desperate to leave now for a reason he couldn’t name. He’d taken three steps when someone said, “Shannon, can I talk to you for a sec?”

  He turned to find Claire standing several paces away, her arms clenched tight around her middle.

  Shannon blinked at her, and then turned back to Grant. “Give me a few minutes, okay?” She slipped away from him, and while Grant had no idea what Claire needed to say to Shannon, his gut writhed like it had been magicked into a snake.

  He paused at the door and turned back, but Emmett put his hand on Grant’s shoulder and pushed. “Leave it. Trust me, you don’t want to be in the middle of that.”

  Shannon stood with her back to Grant, so he couldn’t see her face. She blocked Claire, and Grant couldn’t determine anything just by looking. He once again reminded himself that he hadn’t done anything wrong in the relationship with Claire. He’d genuinely liked her, had been truly upset when she’d ended things.

  Still, he couldn’t help worrying over what she was saying to Shannon that made her shoulders bunch like that.

  Chapter Nine

  “I don’t believe you,” Shannon said. She couldn’t. True, she didn’t know Grant that well. Sending hundreds of texts and spending a few days together didn’t make her an expert on the man. At the same time, she couldn’t believe he’d gamble away his entire rodeo winnings, his whole life, before showing up broke and broken in Brush Creek. He had to be smarter than that.

  More than anything else, Claire looked sad, and Shannon didn’t know what to do with that. She didn’t seem vindictive. Angry. Just…sad. “It’s why I decided to end things with him,” she said, reaching out an
d touching Shannon’s forearm. Claire had started teaching the same year Shannon had been given her first administrative assignment at Brush Creek. Shannon herself had taught for six years, three of which she’d worked on her administrative endorsement and applied to be a principal.

  Shannon stared at the other woman’s perfectly manicured fingernails. Vaguely, she heard Claire say, “I want someone who can take care of me, not the other way around.”

  “I can take care of myself,” Shannon said. “I have to go.” She turned and marched up the aisle, her words practically ringing in the rafters. She could take care of herself. She’d been doing it for thirty-four years. Once she hit the lobby, she detoured into the ladies’ room to make sure all the pieces she used to put herself together were still in place.

  Her eyes looked a little more watery than usual, but her makeup was flawless. Her gold hoops sparkled in the light. Her blouse lay exactly right, with the pink parts of the necklace showing right along her collarbone.

  Staring at herself, she realized how tired she was. Tired of being this perfect version of Shannon Sharpe. She wanted to roll out of bed on Saturday mornings and wear her pajamas all day while Theo and Bear chased a ball.

  Would Grant care if she did that?

  No, a voice whispered in her head. She could barely hear it above the sound of her ticking, ticking, ticking biological clock. She wanted a family, and she wanted to be there to raise them. If Grant really couldn’t support her, would she have to work outside the home?

  “I don’t want that,” she whispered to herself. But she couldn’t just believe Claire either. She drew in a deep breath and determined to do what she’d do at school: Get both sides of the story.

  Satisfied, she exited the bathroom and entered the sunshine. Grant waited for her against his truck, and when he saw her, he pushed to a standing position and approached with long strides. He wore his anxiety openly on his face, and Shannon adored that.

  He cared about her.

  He cares about me. The thought felt like helium to her soul, lifting her spirits toward the clouds.

  “Everything okay?” He reached her and ran his warm hands up her arms.

  “Sort of,” she said, wondering how she brought up this rumor. Maybe he’d simply tell her. If he was as serious about her as she hoped he was, he’d want her to know everything about his life, right?

  “What did Claire say?”

  “She told me why she broke up with you.”

  “Wow.” Grant looked over Shannon’s head toward the church. “I don’t even know that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean she sent me a text one morning saying she didn’t want to see me anymore. When I asked her why, she never responded. I don’t know what I did.” He stepped with her and they moved to the truck. He opened the door and she climbed in, holding one hand over the back of her skirt so she didn’t flash him.

  He got in beside her and put his hands on the wheel, but he didn’t put the truck in gear. “So, what did she say?”

  Shannon thought he carried a bit too much interest in his voice. He was over Claire, wasn’t he?

  Of course he is, she chastised herself. She’d already asked that question, and she believed Grant. She believed in Grant.

  “I didn’t really understand it,” she said. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Sure.” Always the easy-going cowboy, Grant turned up the radio, the sound of country twang almost too loud to think through. Shannon couldn’t make what Claire had claimed about him line up with the man sitting beside her. Pastor Peters’ words from the sermon only minutes ago slammed into her.

  Of course she couldn’t make the accusation of who he was years ago line up with who he was today. He’d changed.

  “And people deserve to make mistakes,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  He reached for her hand, and she willingly gave it to him. It had only been three weeks since she’d strode over to him and told him to leave the school grounds. She didn’t have to know everything about him right now. What she did know, she liked, and what she’d seen, she admired. She’d wait until he told her, and then she’d know how serious about her he was.

  Once at her house, Shannon flew into guest gear. She got down her best dishes and asked Grant to set the table. When Emmett and Molly showed up, Grant recruited Emmett to table duty and Molly stepped into the kitchen. “Anything I can do to help?”

  Shannon grinned at the taller woman. “Stir this barbeque sauce?” She handed her the wooden spoon.

  “You made your own barbeque sauce?” Molly stared at her like Shannon had grown a set of horns on her forehead. “I didn’t know people even did that.”

  Shannon giggled to cover up the fact that she didn’t normally cook this elaborately. She’d just wanted her first homecooked meal for Grant to leave an impression. Seemed like it would accomplish that, at least.

  “It was super easy. Dump this in, measure in some spice. Done.”

  Molly still seemed dubious as she stirred, and Shannon opened her second crock pot to shred the pork.

  “Cole slaw is in the fridge,” she told Grant, who retrieved it and put it on the table.

  “And buns right here.” She nodded to a package on the counter. “Knives there. They need to be sliced.”

  Emmett took over that job while Shannon transferred the shredded pork to a large bowl. “Barbeque sauce here.”

  Molly let her take over the job of mixing the meat and the sauce, and then Shannon said, “Dinner’s ready.” She wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat more than a few bites as quaky as her stomach seemed to be. She forced a smile to her face and looked around at her company.

  A pang of homesickness hit her. It had been so long since she’d cooked for someone besides herself. She hadn’t visited her mom in Atlanta since the Labor Day incident, and emotion choked in her throat.

  “Thanks for coming,” she said, and Grant’s eyes flew to hers. He could hear her distress, and she waved it away with a small laugh. “Grant, would you say grace?”

  Everyone sat down at the table, and Grant prayed, and Shannon found herself wishing this was her reality every Sunday. Every weekday. For always and forever.

  Grant’s hand found hers under the table and he squeezed, a quick question of “You okay?”

  She smiled at him and plucked a bun from the basket in front of her. “I hope you guys like Saint Louis style barbeque.”

  “I don’t even know what that means,” Emmett said. “But it smells great.”

  “She made the barbeque sauce,” Molly said, scooping some cole slaw onto her plate. “From scratch.”

  “You can do that?” Grant asked, and Shannon tipped her head back and laughed.

  “I thought they’d never leave.” Grant turned from the closed front door, where Emmett and Molly had just left.

  “I like them.” Shannon picked up two coffee cups. She couldn’t remember a better Sunday afternoon.

  “Remember I wanted to talk to you?”

  She almost dropped the mugs but managed to set them in the sink before facing him again. “Oh, right.”

  He invaded her personal space, and she didn’t mind. Her hands went automatically to his chest, and she seemed to fit right next to him.

  “Did you like the sermon today?” he asked.

  “I always like hearing about forgiveness.” She tried on a quick smile. “I’m hoping Hannah will forgive me one day.”

  The intensity in his eyes softened the tiniest bit. “I’m one of those people Pastor Peters was talking about.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve done some things in my life I’m not proud of, and I’ve worked through them.” He cleared his throat. “Been forgiven. But I haven’t forgotten about them yet. One of them is still haunting me. I can’t really forget about it until—” He cleared his throat and swiped his cowboy hat off his head. “I mean, I know I’m good with God, but w
ith Landon….”

  Shannon had no idea what he was talking about. She gave him the time he needed to organize and articulate what he needed to. This tactic usually worked with kids.

  He searched her eyes, but she didn’t know what to give him. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”

  “I’m afraid not,” she whispered.

  He inhaled deeply, his chest puffing out beneath her hand. “After I left the rodeo, I sort of wandered around lost for a while. I—I liked to gamble, especially on horses. I lost all my winnings, and more. I was in a real bind, running from those I owed money to, until I landed here in Brush Creek.”

  Shannon could only blink, and only because it was an involuntary bodily function. Claire had been telling the truth.

  “Landon and I have a mutual friend in the rodeo, and he told me to come to the horse ranch and see if Landon would give me a job.” Pure agony shone in Grant’s eyes, and Shannon wanted to kiss it away, make it so he didn’t have to feel this kind of pain anymore.

  “He gave me more than that. He gave me the money I needed to get square with everyone, and now I just pay him back.”

  “How much do you still owe him?” Shannon asked.

  “I’ll be done payin’ at the end of this year.” He sagged against the countertop as if he needed it to support him. “Then I think I’ll be ready to forget and move on.”

  She liked the sound of that, but the end of the year suddenly seemed so far away. She stretched up and kissed him, but he didn’t melt into her the way he usually did. “Thanks for telling me.”

  He exhaled, the more carefree and gentle Grant she’d come to like replacing that serious, stern-faced version of him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for. We all make mistakes.”

  He eased away from her and gathered the last two mugs from the living room. “Are you always this understanding?”

  “Usually,” she said. “It comes with the territory of dealing with small humans all day long.”