by T. J. Kline
His gaze fell to her lips and she felt her knees weaken, her breaths coming in shallow pants. “I take that back. I can think of a few other things I’d rather do with you.”
Grant took another step toward the doorway and she moved backward, molding her back into the door frame even as his chest pressed against her. She inhaled the scent of him, earthy and all male. Not cologne but simply soap and the heady, heavenly scent of his skin. Every part of her tingled, a raging inferno sparked in the long-dry tinder she’d forced her body to become. She felt the coarse hair of his forearms under her fingertips as she clung to him for balance. Grant’s head tipped to one side and he leaned closer.
He was going to kiss her and, heaven help her, she’d never wanted anything as desperately as she did his kiss at this moment.
“Grant.” She had no idea what she wanted to say, whether it was to ask him to stop, or beg him not to. Her voice was barely a whisper of sound but she saw his eyes darken as her fingers dug into the muscle of his arm.
“Come on,” James appeared at her side in the hall. We are going to be late, he signed.
Grant laughed quietly before signing okay. He plucked his t-shirt from his skin. “I’d ask to borrow your dryer but I think it’d be better if we don’t keep James waiting.”
Bethany glanced down and saw several damp spots on her own shirt where their bodies had been pressed together. Goodness, if he took off his t-shirt, she’d faint on the spot.
THE EXTRA ATTENTION they received while waiting in line at the small ice cream parlor didn’t pass Grant’s notice. There had been several people slowing as they walked past the front window, a few daring to point at them. Luckily, Bethany seemed oblivious but it wouldn’t take long before she caught on to what was happening. After their failed dinner last night, he didn’t want anything to add any more pressure to today.
“What do you say to taking these cones back to the house so I can throw the ball around with James for a bit?” he suggested.
It wasn’t a complete lie. He’d much rather play football with James than sit in a booth with people staring at them, speculating about who she was and why he was with her and her son. Bethany hesitated and he could almost see the excuses running through her mind.
“What if I promise you that this is not me making a play for you? I’m just really enjoying the time I’ve been able to spend with you guys and being treated like a normal person. Plus, I get the feeling you could use a friend around here.”
“Friend, huh?” She arched a slim brow dubiously.
He gave her a lopsided grin and raised two fingers into the air. “Scout’s honor.”
She laughed and shook her head, lifting his ring finger and pressing them all together. “It’s obvious you’ve never been a Scout or you’d know how to do it right.” She shook her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “How am I supposed to trust someone who impersonates a Boy Scout? And poorly?”
“You’re right, I was never a Scout.” Grant tucked his hand into his pocket as they headed toward the door, shaking his head. “I was too busy playing ball. But my Dad did raise me to always keep my promises.”
She paused with the spoon lifted partway to her mouth and tried to read him with those beautifully expressive hazel eyes. He could see the questions swirling in the depths of them, curiosity waging a war with her vulnerability.
After what seemed like hours, she agreed. Grant held open the door as Bethany and James went through, escorting them back to his car. He’d wondered at the frivolity of taking it for such a short distance when they’d left her house, but now he was grateful for the tinted windows that would hide her and James from prying eyes. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure if he was protecting her privacy for her sake or his own.
“MOM, WATCH!”
James turned his back on Grant and ran across the backyard. Just when he stopped and turned to face Grant again, the man she’d already seen easily pass a football forty yards to his brother, acted as if his ten foot pass to James was a tremendous effort. She clapped as the ball landed squarely in James’ hands and he spiked it with zeal, performing his version of a wobbly-kneed touchdown dance. Grant danced around as well, copying James with every step, before falling onto his back on the grass as Bethany cheered for them.
“That was amazing.” She directed the words at her son but her eyes were taking in the man lying supine on her back lawn. James ran up to him and threw one leg over Grant’s stomach, plopping down and making Grant grunt loudly. “Be careful, James,” she scolded.
She watched him sign an apology to Grant before being scooped up and swung over Grant’s shoulder as he stood up. “What do you say, Mom? Didn’t you tell me you were going to buy a sack of potatoes?” He tickled James, laughing along with the boy’s squeals of delight.
“Okay, you two.” She slid James from Grant’s arms and put him back onto his feet. “You need to go get cleaned up for dinner.”
“We had dinner,” James argued. Ice cream, he signed.
She tipped her head disapprovingly. “That wasn’t dinner and you know it. Go wash up.” She swatted his bottom lightly as he hurried into the house and up the stairs. Grant chuckled as he held open the back door for her.
“I’ll say it again, Bethany. You’re a great mom.”
She looked back at him as she moved past, trying not to notice the way he was watching her, like he wanted to finish what had almost happened in the bathroom. She cleared her throat. “He’s a pretty great kid. I wish I could take all the credit.”
He gave her an odd look.
“What?”
“Well, you said that his father was gone. You’ve been the only one raising him. So who else would you give credit to? Learn to take a well-deserved compliment, woman.” He followed her into the kitchen, leaning a hip against the island as he watched her move to the refrigerator.
Bethany hadn’t meant to open this can of worms. She pulled a head of lettuce and two tomatoes from inside the crisper, trying to figure out what she could say without revealing too much.
“Well, my parents for one. My Mom watched James during the day so I could finish school and, when I started working, she took care of him and made sure he got to the therapy appointments I couldn’t get to.”
“Need help?” he offered as he moved closer.
She pointed at the drawer beside his hip. “Knives are inside but it has a child lock.” She showed him how to open it. “And then there was always my Dad. He’s been the only father figure James has ever known, but I couldn’t have asked for a better one.”
Bethany pulled several chicken breasts from the freezer to thaw. She should ask him to stay for dinner, especially when he was helping her fix it, but she was worried he might get the wrong idea. She’d made it clear that she wasn’t interested in dating but if that were true, why was her body humming from his nearness, every nerve ending on edge? Asking him to stay would be like lighting the fuse on a stick of dynamite, but she could already hear her mother’s voice scolding her about how rude it would be not to ask. Not to mention that she couldn’t deny that it felt good to have him look at her the way he had all day, like she was more than just a mom, more than someone to pity. He treated her like a woman he respected, and made her feel desirable. Paired with the raw sex appeal this man had, it was a dangerous combination. She spit out the words before she could second-guess herself.
“Did you want to stay for dinner?” Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for his answer.
Grant turned back toward her, his eyes dark with a yearning her body instantly recognized. Her heart slammed in her chest, pounding furiously. “I do.”
Her stomach did a backflip.
“But I can’t.”
“Oh.” She hoped she didn’t actually sound as disappointed as she felt. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. She needed to rein in her fantasies and
regain control of her wayward libido. “Maybe another time.”
She set the chicken onto a plate and washed her hands, avoiding looking at him. She reached for the towel on the counter before grabbing a bowl for the salad from the cupboard beside him. “Here,” she said, passing it his way.
Grant’s hands covered hers on the side of the bowl and she could feel the jolt of electricity shoot up her arm, striking her square in the chest and coiling into a molten desire low in her belly. She caught her breath in a quick gasp and her gaze lifted to meet his.
Bethany could read the heated, primal desire in his eyes, was sure he could see it in hers as well, and wondered why she didn’t just lean forward a couple of inches and make the first move. Her gaze fell to his mouth, his lips so full, perfect for kissing. With her lower back against the edge of the counter, she should have felt trapped, pinned between the granite countertop and wall of muscle that would likely burn her if she touched it. His fingers moved over the back of her hand, sending shivers of anticipation through her.
“Grant, I—” Her voice was barely a whisper of sound. She rocked forward on her toes, leaning into him, giving in to the need she’d forgotten existed between a man and woman. And, goodness, was he all man.
His head tilted, dipping toward hers, but his gaze never left hers. She could stop his kiss at any moment but there wasn’t one part of her that wanted to.
Footsteps pounded on the staircase, breaking the spell he’d woven over her, making her jump backward against the counter.
What was she thinking? She couldn’t have James see her with him, not like this. Bethany quickly slid away from the counter, setting the bowl aside and hurrying to the sink. Bracing her hands on the counter, she tried to regain her bearings and her self-control. She bit her lower lip, wondering where she’d lost her sense of self-preservation.
“Are you staying for dinner?” James asked as he trotted into the kitchen and pulled one of the chairs toward the sink to watch his mother ready the chicken.
Bethany felt her stomach clench and cursed her reaction. How could she feel this strongly attracted to a man she barely knew? “Mr. McQuaid can’t stay tonight, baby.”
Grant moved to the other side of James and she was grateful for her son between them. It was a great reminder of her priorities and who she needed to put first.
“I don’t know. I guess maybe I can stay.”
Her eyes lifted to his, questioning, but he wasn’t looking at her. His gaze was focused on James and she could see the worship reflected in her son’s blue eyes as he stared up at his hero. James wasn’t looking at him like a sports star now—he was looking at Grant the way he looked at his Grandfather. Bethany couldn’t help but wonder how that had happened so quickly.
How had Grant scaled the skyscraper of a wall she’d kept around her and James for the last six years in only a few days? And why couldn’t she seem to convince herself to do more to stop it?
She took another chicken breast from the freezer, running it under hot water to defrost it before placing it with the others.
“Mom, can me and Mr. McQuaid watch T.V.?”
“Mr. McQuaid and I,” she corrected as she signed yes to him.
“Come on,” he said, jumping down from the chair and reaching for Grant’s hand.
“Well, now, buddy, I think we should probably help your mother in here. Why don’t you show me where to find the plates and silverware and we’ll set the table for her.” He leaned down to James’ level. “And, you can call me Grant.”
James looked to his mother for permission and she couldn’t help but smile at his glee. She didn’t usually let James call adults by their first names but, she also didn’t usually have strange men setting her dinner table. Grant was proving to be an exception to many of her rules. She nodded slightly and turned back to ready the chicken while the pair set the table, signing in between their chatter about football.
It was hard to keep herself from slipping into the fantasy—the one where this was just another ordinary day in her life—when a husband and children were all she’d ever wanted. She’d always pictured herself a mother with several children, the white picket fence and, maybe, a dog. She’d imagined dinners and birthday parties and vacations as a family. Never, before or after she and Matthew married, had she dreamed she’d be barely scraping by as a single mother, worrying about things like toilets and car repairs . . . or dating.
She looked at her son, basking in the attention from Grant. It could be far worse.
James was well adjusted and bright. They had a home in a beautiful town. And even though she rarely let people get close, they had a few friends. Melissa and . . .
Bethany paused, realizing there was no one else. She had never let anyone else close enough for more than a casual greeting. She didn’t let anyone see inside her world because then no one could make judgments, about James or about her.
Suddenly, her life felt lonely and pitiable. And that was something Bethany refused to be—pitied. She turned around and slid the chicken into the oven.
“Are you okay?”
Bethany stood and saw Grant watching her, his brow furrowed as if he was trying to figure her out, while James climbed into one of the chairs and waited for them to finish in the kitchen.
“Yeah, why?”
She wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t about to admit it. These little white lies were just another part of keeping walls up and pretenses in place. Of not letting anyone see her need for protection from others.
Grant shrugged. “I don’t know, the way you sighed.” He took a step closer, making her want to retreat but she had nowhere to go. “The way your shoulders are all bunched around your ears.” He moved even closer, lowering his voice so that James couldn’t hear. “The way your eyes looked all sad again.”
He reached up a finger and brushed a strand of hair from where it caught in her eyelashes. Her heart immediately began pounding against the inside of her chest, heat flooding her body. He didn’t touch her, didn’t have to, but she felt the warmth emanate from his body to hers. She licked her lips, unable to speak, and saw his eyes darken even more.
“You can talk to me, Bethany.” The corner of his mouth curved up in a beguiling half-smile. “My sister says I’m a great listener and I’m a great guy to have as a friend.”
Friend? It was what she had told him she wanted, more than once.
Longing and disappointment crashed through her simultaneously, like two conflicting waves of the emotional spectrum and threatened to drag her into the undertow. She reached her hands behind her, gripping the rolled edge of the counter top to regain her balance and returned his smile, glancing over his shoulder at James, watching them intently.
“I guess we could probably use another friend. Right, James?”
“Yes,” he agreed, jumping down and hurrying to where they stood, wiggling his way into the small space between them. Bethany breathed a little easier and ran her hand over James’ head, feeling the strength of her willpower return. “Mom says it’s good to have lots of friends.”
Grant’s gaze flicked from James’ back to hers. “Your mother is a very smart woman, buddy.” He took a step backward, leaning his hip against the island but not breaking eye contact with her. “She knows that friends are important. They are the people you can count on to help you.”
“Like you, fixing our toilet.”
Grant laughed, looking back down at James. “Exactly like that.”
Chapter Eight
GRANT LEANED AGAINST the back of the couch and looked down at the little blond head curled against his stomach as the end credits played on the Disney movie. They weren’t even twenty minutes into it when he’d crawled over his mother and planted himself firmly between them on the couch, leaning against Grant’s side. He’d never seen a movie about talking cars before but James had loved every minute. Beth
any leaned forward and reached for the remote on the table before turning off the television and rising from the couch. She looked down at James, curled against Grant.
“I should probably get him to bed.” She bent down, her dark ponytail swinging toward his face as she tried several times to scoop James from his lap without touching him. Grant could smell vanilla and sunshine with just a hint of wildflowers. It was just too damn tempting for him not to inhale deeply.
“I’ll do it.” Grant stood, effortlessly lifting the boy to his shoulder.
“Wait, I need to take these off.” She leaned against his arm and unplugged the microphones over each ear from the battery pack, slipping the packs from where they were held with Velcro strips around his upper arms. With her body pressed against him, Grant felt every muscle in his body clench with need. He willed parts of his body straining against his jeans to settle down before he embarrassed them both.
“There,” she said, stepping back. “Just follow me upstairs and I’ll turn down his bed.”
Grant felt his chest constrict as he watched her lead the way to the stairs, her hips swaying gently as she walked. “Pajamas?”
“He can just sleep in his clothes tonight.” She plugged his batteries into the charger and tucked the microphones into their case before tugging down the blankets on his twin bed. Grant felt her eyes on him as he settled James on the mattress and pulled the covers over him. “Thank you for bringing him up.”
“My pleasure,” he murmured, his voice husky even to his own ears.
His words held far more impact than they should have and he wondered if she would read too much into them. They’d come to a sort of truce today—friendship and nothing more—and he didn’t want to destroy the headway he was making at getting to know her, to know them both.
She smiled slightly. “You do realize you don’t have to whisper now, right? He can’t hear you.”
Grant dropped his head sheepishly. “I didn’t even think about it. Sorry.”
