by Liz Isaacson
And because Shannon wanted to talk about Grant, she started speaking.
The week with her mom passed with a lot of laughter, a load of comfort, and a league of love. Shannon felt like she could make it through another school year after spending time with her mom and she vowed not to let so much time pass before she visited again.
On the eve of her departure, they had reservations at one of her mom’s favorite restaurants, and her mom insisted they wear their fanciest clothes. For Shannon, who was traveling, that meant a teal and gray sundress with gold sandals. They’d gotten pedicures, and her mom had done her makeup, the way she used to when Shannon was a teenager.
She felt glamorous and put together, the way she did when she went to school. Tonight, it didn’t feel like a wet blanket, pressing on her lungs, the way it had in Brush Creek. They sat down, and she said, “I think I might be ready to leave Brush Creek.”
“Oh yeah?” Her mom straightened her skirt and glanced up as the waiter arrived with water glasses. Three water glasses. Shannon eyed the third one, unsure of who was joining them. Her mom hadn’t said anything.
“I thought you loved Brush Creek.”
“I do,” Shannon said. “But I think a transfer is coming anyway, and I should probably get ready to leave town.” She swallowed back the regrets she had about leaving so much unfinished business in Brush Creek. Maybe she’d be transferred somewhere close enough she could commute. Beaverton had two elementary schools, and it was only fifteen minutes down the road. No matter what happened in Shannon’s life, she couldn’t give up hope.
She still hoped for a resolution for her and Hannah.
She still hoped Grant would text her back, maybe be waiting on her front porch when she got back from her summer road trip.
She still hoped she’d meet a wonderful man and have a family with him.
All the fun and joy of the evening seemed to fizzle, no matter how she tried to hold onto it.
“Are we waiting for someone?” the waiter asked, and Shannon started to say no when her mom said, “Yes.”
The waiter nodded, smiled, and left.
“We are?” Shannon locked eyes with her mom. “Who?”
Her mom’s neck seemed barely able to hold her head, and it bobbled around like a doll. “Hannah.”
Pure surprise mixed with panic—and that blasted hope—darted through Shannon. “Hannah? She’s coming here?” She glanced toward the entrance and scanned the restaurant like her sister would appear out of thin air.
“Just for appetizers.”
Shannon frowned. “I thought we were eating dinner.”
“You are.” Her mom smiled and shook her head. “Don’t ask questions. Just go with the flow tonight.”
“What flow?”
“You don’t need to be in charge of everything.” Her mom gave her a pointed look, which stabbed right through Shannon’s already wounded heart.
“I know that.”
“Then you can trust that I’ve arranged a few things with a few people.” She picked up her water glass and took a sip. “You’re going to sit right there and enjoy the evening.”
“But Hannah….” Tears pricked her eyes. She had so much to say and nowhere to start.
And then she didn’t have any time, because someone said, “Hey, Mom. Shannon.”
She looked up and found her beautiful, blonde sister standing at the end of the table. She’d cut her hair into a cute A-line that suited her face, and she carried a purse Shannon would’ve picked out for her. Shannon found she didn’t need words, didn’t need to think.
She leapt to her feet and embraced her sister, letting the tears flow down her face and ruin her perfect makeup. In public. She didn’t care. Her sister was here.
She leaned back and looked at Hannah, holding her at arm’s length. “I’m so sorry. I tried to explain everything. I called and texted. And—”
“I know.” Hannah’s eyes shone with unshed tears too. “You have nothing to be sorry about.” She smiled, but it was timid and hesitant. “You guys didn’t order without me, did you? Because I love the potato chip encrusted onion rings here.”
Hannah slid into the booth next to their mother, and Shannon half stumbled, half sat back on the bench. She couldn’t believe what was happening. “Did Mom ask you to come?” She glanced at her mom, in complete shock that she could hide such a massive surprise.
A smile—a true, genuine smile—spread Hannah’s lips. “No.”
Confusion riddled Shannon’s whole soul. “Then—who?”
“A man named Grant Ford,” Hannah said.
Chapter Fourteen
Grant had been to Georgia a few times while he traveled with the rodeo, but he’d never really had time to explore the city, sample the food, suffocate in the humidity. Okay, well, the last part wasn’t true. Every time he’d come to Atlanta, he’d felt like he was drinking the air.
He paced in his hotel room, eight-thirty still an hour away. Still, he wanted to leave now and spy on Shannon and her family. Hannah had arranged everything, and she should’ve arrived at the restaurant by now. Grant had wanted to give Shannon the best surprise ever, and it had taken almost a month, dozens and dozens of phone calls, and a fair share of begging to get Hannah to meet with him.
Once she had, though, the iciness he’d felt in her exchanges had melted away, and she’d finally admitted that Shannon had been right about Hannah’s ex. He hadn’t gotten all the details, but the gist was that Hannah had tracked Steven down and found him with another woman. He’d admitted to her that he’d come on to Shannon.
Grant had offered to meet up with Shannon in the morning, but Hannah had insisted he come to the restaurant tonight. She didn’t want more than an hour with Shannon, and Hannah suspected her sister would want to see Grant that very night.
He swallowed, the hope that she’d accept his surprise and his apology and they could pick up where they’d left off almost choking him.
By the time he parked, his only thought centered on running away. Turning his back on this city, and that woman, and finding another ranch in another state.
Then he thought of Shannon, and how he wanted her in his life. He wanted to see where things could go and maybe, just maybe, if she wanted to be a Brush Creek Ranch wife. At eight-twenty-nine, he got out of the truck and straightened his tie and then his cowboy hat.
His legs felt like someone had turned them into wood, but somehow he managed to get through the door. He saw Shannon immediately, off to the right, sitting in a booth across from Hannah and an older version of both girls.
Grant sucked in a breath and held it. Shannon looked as gorgeous as ever, and he couldn’t believe he’d been so blind. So wrapped up inside his own head. So prideful and unwilling to see beyond his past.
Please soften Shannon’s heart, he prayed. He’d been praying for clarity for weeks, and the answers he’d received had opened doors for him he hadn’t even known existed.
He crossed toward her, and she lifted her head when he was halfway to her table. Shock showed plainly on her face, and with every step he took, the more clearly he could see that she’d been crying.
She stood to meet him, and he chuckled nervously. “Surprise,” he said, the word sticking in his throat.
She smiled but sobbed and threw herself into his arms. He closed his eyes, relieved to be holding her again.
“We’ll catch up tomorrow,” Hannah said, sliding out of the booth. Her mom followed, and her blue eyes saw everything.
She paused next to Grant. “Nice to meet you. I hope you’ll stop by tomorrow so we can get to know each other.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a tip of his hat.
She dipped her chin and left with Hannah, leaving Shannon alone with Grant. “You haven’t eaten, have you?”
“My sister wouldn’t let me order, and I could barely eat anything once I learned you were here.”
“So you aren’t mad.” He slid onto the bench where Hannah had been sitting, and Shan
non sat next to him. He took her hand in his. “Are you mad?”
She shook her head, her eyes welling with tears. “I was at first, but not at you.”
Grant’s heart somersaulted. “At yourself?”
“I can be intense,” she said. “I know that.”
“My idiocy had nothing to do with you.” He squeezed her hand as the waiter arrived with two plates of food.
“Who had the bacon cheeseburger?”
Grant liked cheeseburgers so he indicated himself.
“And the chicken parm.”
“That’s what I would’ve ordered,” Shannon said. The waiter put down their food and left. Grant spied Hannah loitering near the hostess station, and he nodded toward her. Shannon followed his gaze, and Hannah smiled before she ducked out the door.
“Good surprise?” Grant asked.
“You’ll never be able to top it.” Shannon picked up her fork. “And I don’t deserve it.”
“Sure you do.” He nudged her with his shoulder. “You deserve the best.”
“Does that include you?” She spun spaghetti around and around on her fork, her eyes on her plate but her interest sky-high.
“I hope so,” he said. “I’m sorry about what happened. I—” He cleared his throat. “I got scared.”
“Of me?”
Grant wanted everything on the table. “I’m not scared of you, Shannon. I’m scared of being good enough for you. I’m scared of not having you in my life. I was scared I’d fallen in love with you too fast. I was—I am—scared of us.”
“But you want for there to be an us, right?” She raised those beautiful eyes to his, and Grant leaned toward her. He didn’t need to eat. He didn’t need to breathe. He only needed to kiss Shannon. Now.
“I definitely want there to be an us,” he whispered. She smiled and he leaned in further. She closed the distance between them, and this kiss felt like it reinvented him yet again. Like he’d never be the same Grant Ford again.
And that was okay with him.
Chapter Fifteen
Shannon could hardly believe that Grant was here. In Atlanta. Here.
“So Hannah wouldn’t tell me, but how did you get her to agree to talk to me again?”
Grant nearly slopped his soda down the front of his shirt. “She didn’t tell you?”
Shannon knew better than to think everything would magically resolve itself in a mere hour-long conversation with her sister. But she didn’t like Grant’s reaction.
“No, she didn’t say.”
Grant shifted in his seat. “Well, you should probably ask her.”
Frustration coursed through her. “Do you think she’ll tell me if I call her?”
“She’s your sister. I barely know her.”
“How did you get her number?”
He squirmed again. The man seriously had ants in his pants. “You know how people say there’s only six degrees of separation between people?”
“Yeah,” Shannon said slowly.
“Well, I know a cowboy from my rodeo days who’s based here in Atlanta. I talked to him, who talked to his sister, who has a friend who works at the university….”
“My mom works at the university.”
Grant grinned. “It only took about a week.”
“And you just called her.”
“Called her right up, out of the blue.”
Shannon felt like squirming but held still. “Was she nice?”
“She hung up on me.”
She gaped at him, her eyes wide.
“Three times.” Grant chuckled. “I see why you’re so stubborn. Is that from your mom or your dad?”
“Both,” Shannon muttered, which caused Grant to laugh. He swung his arm around her shoulder and tucked her into his side as he dipped a French fry in ketchup.
“I’m so glad to be here,” he murmured. The husky, warm tone of his voice, and the pine-scented nature of his skin drove Shannon’s pulse to pounding. She turned into him and kissed him, enjoying the saltiness on his lips and the way he seemed to be hers when they touched.
He pulled away sooner than she would’ve liked, a dark red stain creeping up his neck. “We should eat and then…go somewhere more private.”
Shannon tossed her hair over her shoulder and laughed. “Right. Eating now. Kissing later.”
Shannon didn’t leave Atlanta the next morning. Her sister arrived at her mom’s house just as Shannon stepped into the kitchen looking for coffee. Hannah had brought Grant with her, as he was staying in a hotel and didn’t have a car.
Shannon kissed him hello and then gripped her sister in a tight hug, the kind she used to give after months had passed without any Hannah-time. When she pulled away, she found tears in Hannah’s eyes. “You okay?”
“I’m sorry about everything,” she said, sniffling.
“You already said that last night.”
“I’ve known for months that you were right.”
Shannon paused in her caffeine retrieval. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I followed Steven up to Washington D.C. I told him we could still be together, that I’d visit my family without him. He was….” She shook her head, the tears slipping down her cheeks quickly now. “He was already engaged to someone else. He said we could have a little fun if I wanted, whenever I wanted.”
She hung her head. “I asked him if he’d come onto you, and he admitted it.”
Shannon’s emotions warred. Vindication that she’d been right and Hannah knew it. Horror at the man Hannah had fallen for. Heartache for her sweet sister. She pulled Hannah back into a hug. “When did you find out?”
“Valentine’s Day.”
Five months. She’d known for five months. And Shannon had texted and called plenty of times since Valentine’s Day. She swallowed back her rearing anger. She had no idea what Hannah had been through, being only months away from marrying who she thought was the man of her dreams and then learning the awful truth about him.
“I’m sorry,” Shannon said again, her voice foreign to her own ears. “Mom went to get pastries, so we can carbo-load and talk about it.”
“No, that won’t work,” Grant said.
Shannon turned toward him as she released her sister. He extended a mug toward her. “Why not?”
“Your mother promised me a fun-filled day of all the tourist sites.” He calmly sipped his coffee. “Said you’ve never been to them either. I’ve seen you when you carbo-load.” He clucked his tongue, the teasing sparkle in his eye so bright it almost blinded her. “Another flaw, I suppose.”
Shannon blinked at him. Hannah burst into laughter. Grant just stood there, all handsome and twinkly, sipping his coffee.
“You are so lucky to have him,” Hannah said as she stepped into the kitchen. She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter.
“I suppose,” Shannon said in the same tone he’d used about her flaws. He reached for her and held her close.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Flaws and all.”
She froze in his embrace. She’d never heard those three little words from a man before. Certainly not in such a throaty whisper. She tipped her head back and locked eyes with him. “You do?”
“Mm.” He smiled at her, the wattage of it off the charts and lighting the whole room. “So, Atlanta touristy attractions then?” he said in a loud voice.
“I’m in,” Hannah said from the kitchen.
Shannon nodded, because she couldn’t quite get her voice to work. If she could, she wanted to say I love you too.
Eight Months Later:
Good luck this morning.
Shannon glanced at the text and smiled. Grant always remembered the things she was most worried about. Of course, she’d talked and talked and talked about this meeting with her supervisor. Transfers always came through in late February or early March, and she’d been expecting one for a full year.
She twirled the diamond she wore on her left ring finger, anxious to finally have the comp
lete set soldered together. She’d have to be married for that to happen, and the wedding sat five weeks away.
She inhaled, parked her car, and fired off a text to Grant. She didn’t tell him about her nerves. He already knew, as he’d held her last night on his couch and told her that they’d be fine no matter what happened. He could leave Brush Creek Ranch if he had to.
But she didn’t want him to do that. If anything, she wanted to move up to the ranch, quit her job, and start having his kids. Over the past eight months as she went up to the horse ranch more and more often, she’d fallen in love with the scenery, his cabin, and all the people who lived up there. The ranch boasted its own community, with families, children, dogs and cats, and the most beautiful country God could create.
Shannon wanted a piece of that for herself. They’d talked about having a family as soon as possible after their wedding. They’d talked about possibly moving. They’d talked about his debts—which he’d finished paying off two months ago. Everything was in place; all her dreams were about to come true.
She just needed to get through this meeting.
She straightened her jacket once she’d gotten out of the car. Pressed her lips together to make sure her lipstick was still pigmented. Adjusted her jewelry. All the pieces were in place. She marched into her supervisor’s office and said, “Good morning, John.”
“Ah, Shannon. Come in. Sit down.” The man half stood and shook her hand across his desk before she sat. He smiled at her. “Almost ready for the wedding?”
Shannon returned the grin. “Almost.”
“How long now?”
“Five weeks.”
She was friendly with John, but their relationship had always revolved around business. “Transfers are in.” He drew a stack of folders toward him, the small talk clearly over. “I know you’ve been expecting one.”
Everything in Shannon felt wrong. “I have.” Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed broken glass.
John opened the top folder, and she put her hand on the desk. He glanced at her, curiosity in his expression. “Shannon?”
