Grant Read online

  Adam and Kyle still weren’t best friends, but Adam had made sure Kyle and his brother, Ray, got invited not only to the wedding but the bachelor party.

  Grant set down the spoon, got a beer for himself, and made for the poker tables. “Ray coming?” he asked Kyle as they both sat down. He’d seen Ray at the bar talking to Christina, which had bugged the hell out of him. Then Ray had moved off to greet friends, looking like he was settling in.

  Kyle made a show of glancing around the room, then shrugging. “Who the hell knows?”

  “Huh. Saw him earlier—thought he was coming.”

  Kyle looked slightly worried, as he’d done ever since the night last October when Ray had been smashed up in an accident, but he quickly masked his expression. “I don’t know what the hell Ray does these days.”

  Grant shrugged, but the statement didn’t make him feel better. Ray had been dating Christina off and on for the past year—everyone in town knew that. So Kyle saying he didn’t know what Ray was doing tonight annoyed him.

  It shouldn’t. Grant and Christina hadn’t been a couple in a long time, so why would Grant care who she went out with?

  But he did. Ray now got to be the one lying with her in the dark, touching her beautiful body, sliding his hands under her full breasts, tasting her mouth …

  Grant tried not to think about it, but it was impossible. Every time Grant saw Ray, he barely resisted the urge to punch the shit out of him.

  Tyler lifted his beer bottle and toasted Adam. “To my big brother, Adam, who’s sticking his head into the noose tomorrow morning. Trapped forever into a life of shopping for rugs, buying furniture, kitchen appliances …”

  “Didn’t you and Mom buy a new stove last week?” Ross yelled at him.

  “Shut up,” Tyler said. “Here’s to Adam. Boldly going where none of his brothers have gone before.”

  “You mean down on a woman?” someone called.

  Tyler gave him the finger. Adam stood up and raised his own beer.

  “Eat your hearts out, losers,” Adam said. “I snagged me the best woman in town.”

  No one could dispute him about that. Bailey was a sweetheart, and Grant had long considered her a good friend. She’d been a friend to him even after Christina broke up with Grant. Adam, his lucky-ass older brother, always landed on his feet.

  The party got started. Beer flowed, chili was served. Grant got his usual compliments of Shit, this is hot—what did the hell did you put in here? To You gotta give my dad this recipe, Grant, come on.

  Grant only grinned and told them to piss off. The secret of Grant’s chili had been handed down from his grandfather, passed on to only one male Campbell of each generation. He remembered the day his mom had given him a sealed envelope, saying, You’re old enough to have this now.

  Grant had been sixteen, and he hadn’t known what to expect from the envelope—the sex talk written down? Secrets to financial success?

  He’d been stunned to find his grandpa’s chili recipe, written out in his dad’s handwriting. Grant had memories of his father standing over the stove, winking at anyone who asked him what he put in the chili and refusing to answer.

  The recipe hadn’t gone to Adam, the oldest boy. It had come to Grant. Mom had explained that the honor wasn’t reserved for the oldest, but the one who would take best care of it. Grant had been very, very proud to be chosen.

  Not even his mom, Olivia, knew what was in the recipe. It was a secret that Grant would pass along to his son, when he was ready.

  Except it was looking more and more like Grant would never have kids at all. The thought etched sadness into his happiness for Adam.

  Grant took a break from the poker table after a while and wandered outside to breathe the clean air of the balmy Texas night. Spring came early in Hill Country, with grasses turning green, and bluebonnets carpeting the sides of the roads and along the streams. Right now, the moon was high, the night cool and clear, but winter’s chill was gone.

  Tomorrow Grant would stand up—the best he could after a night of pouring beer down his throat—as best man to Adam, the brother he was closest to. He was happy for him, but sad to say good-bye. Adam and Bailey would be heading back to California after their honeymoon in New Orleans, to work together on a movie Adam was the stunt coordinator for.

  Bittersweet. That was the term for what Grant was feeling.

  “Hey, Grant,” Kyle Malory said. He stepped off the small porch and moved down the drive to where Grant stood, taking in the night. “Been meaning to talk to you.”

  “’Bout what?” Grant remembered Kyle eying him earlier, and faint interest perked through his moroseness.

  “My sister.”

  Grant looked at Kyle in surprise. The Malory girls, Grace and Lucy, were outside the Campbell-Malory feud, by tacit agreement between both families. Grace, the younger sister, lived in Riverbend, while Lucy had moved to Houston a while ago, though she’d returned for the wedding.

  “Which one?” Grant asked.

  “Grace.” Kyle’s answer was clipped. “She’s been going through a hard time. You heard about her restaurant?”

  “Sort of.” Grant folded his arms and inhaled sweetly scented night air. “She was going to open it down in Fredericksburg, right? And then something happened?”

  Kyle growled. “Yeah, her partner disappeared with all the money, leaving Grace holding the bag.” His eyes flashed in the darkness. “If I ever catch up to him …”

  Grant nodded, understanding Kyle’s anger. “What a bastard.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle’s tone said everything it needed to. “Anyway, Grace is taking it hard. Not happy.”

  “I don’t blame her. Is that what you wanted to ask me? To help you track this guy down and kick his ass?” Grant would be happy to tell the man what he thought or maybe hold him down while Kyle did.

  “No.” Kyle paused. “Although that’s not a bad idea. No, what I was getting around to asking is whether you’d take her out. You know, to dinner, or whatever. To make her feel better.”

  Chapter Three

  Grant didn’t register the words for a moment or two, then he stopped. “Wait, wait, wait. You want me to ask Grace out?”

  Kyle shrugged. “Why not? I thought you two were friends.”

  “We are. But you just asked me to take your sister out on a date.” Grant slammed his forefinger to his chest. “Me, Grant Campbell.”

  “Yeah.” Kyle looked annoyed. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Because you’ve tried to kick my ass before for even looking at your sisters.”

  “Sure.” Kyle folded his arms across his chest. “When we were kids.”

  Grant gave him a narrow glance. “Hold up, Kyle. You never have a change of heart—not you. So why are you trying to fix her up with me? What’s this about?”

  “I told you, to make her feel better.” Kyle gave him a stony look. “She’s upset.”

  “And you think a Campbell taking her out is the solution?”

  Kyle unfolded his arms in exasperation. “Shit, if I’d known you’d be so pig-headed stubborn about it, I wouldn’t have mentioned it.”

  It was dark, but Grant could see Kyle avoiding his gaze. Something was going on here, but Grant couldn’t figure out what.

  “She won’t go out with me,” Grant said.

  “How do you know? You ever asked her?” Fury entered his eyes as he spoke, as though Kyle were adding You’d better not have. This was weird.

  “I didn’t have to. She told me a long time ago she’d never go with me. She said we’d be Grace and Grant, and that sounded stupid, so she didn’t want us to be a couple. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t changed her mind.”

  Kyle growled. “Fine, then. Don’t. Forget I even asked.”

  “Does Grace know you’re trying to set her up?” Grant asked. “I bet she’d kick your ass if she found out. Huh, mine too, probably.”

  “Well, then don’t let her find out.” Kyle gave him a belligerent glare before subsidin
g. “Look, I’m just worried about her. Grace had her heart set on that restaurant. She loves to cook. That jackass took her dream away from her, and now she doesn’t even have a job. She could work for Mrs. Ward, but she wouldn’t earn very much.”

  Mrs. Ward ran the only restaurant and bakery in town. “At least she’d be doing what she loved,” Grant pointed out.

  “Yeah, maybe. But Grace would always be second to Mrs. Ward and her daughters, and she knows it. I wish I could find something for her.” Kyle’s anger disappeared, leaving him with a worried look.

  Grant shrugged. “Tell you what. I’ll keep an ear out. But Grace might have to leave Riverbend if she wants to get into the serious chef stuff.”

  “Yeah, I know. She’s talked about going to Houston and staying with Lucy. She won’t be happy there, though. She loves it here.”

  It was Grace’s decision, Grant thought, but didn’t say so. Everyone had their problems, he guessed.

  “Never mind.” Kyle returned to his usual brisk manner. “Forget I said anything. I think the stripper’s here. We’d better go in and act like we’re eighteen or Tyler will get his feelings hurt.”

  “Tyler’s not going to care what we think,” Grant said.

  “That’s true, as long as he gets an eyeful. Come on.”

  Grant followed, wondering why the hell Kyle had spent twenty minutes trying to convince him to go out with his baby sister. Kyle never did anything without a reason, and that reason was rarely favorable to Campbells.

  At least the conversation had shaken Grant out of his self-pity and given him something to think about. He sure needed it.

  ***

  “Go ahead and kiss the bride,” the minister said to Adam.

  As Christina’s already wet eyes brimmed with fresh tears, Adam turned to Bailey, caressed her cheek, and pressed a kiss to her lips.

  No one should really whoop in church, but the Campbell boys did it anyway. Even Carter grinned as Tyler, Grant, and Ross made noise, all of them happy for Adam.

  Bailey, in her body-hugging white dress, white flowers in her hair, flushed as Adam’s kiss deepened. She brought her hand up to cup his neck, and the kiss went on.

  Tyler laughed and the church filled with aws and whistles. The minister, who was a family friend, said, “Now, now, Adam. Time for that later.”

  Christina, next to Bailey as her maid of honor, watched her sister with warmth in her heart. Bailey had gone through a long period of stress and misery, until Adam had come home. The pair’s feelings for each other had rekindled—more than rekindled. They’d built a bonfire. Adam and Bailey had needed each other; they’d come together and life was good.

  Christina’s gaze flicked to Grant, who stood with Adam as best man.

  Damn, but he looked good. Grant wore a tux, as all the brothers had today, though they’d insisted on cowboy boots. Grant’s coat stretched across broad shoulders, the suit hugging his lithe body.

  As though he felt Christina watching, he turned his head and looked at her, his eyes so blue in his Texas-tanned face. Their gazes met, and Grant lost his smile.

  Should have been us. The words whispered through Christina’s mind as though Grant had spoken them. Christina and Grant had lived together a long time before the breakup. They’d have made it permanent if they both hadn’t been so angry and stubborn.

  And young, Christina thought. We were too young to be so serious about everything. Stupid decisions made in the heat of youth.

  Grant’s mouth set in hard lines and one hand curled at his side. She wondered if he were thinking the same thing.

  Grant’s brows pinched together. He moved his head the slightest bit, as though shaking it in the negative, and he pulled his gaze from hers. Christina looked away, steel fingers of hurt clamping around her heart.

  Adam and Bailey finally stepped apart, neither looking ashamed of their passionate kiss. The minister, now that he had quiet again, pronounced the final blessing.

  The organist played a fervent recessional as Bailey turned with her new husband and walked arm-in-arm with him back down the aisle.

  Now came the part Christina had been dreading. As maid of honor, she was to take Grant’s arm, and let him lead her out.

  They hadn’t practiced it at the rehearsal—Christina’s mother had said, Then Grant and Christina go out, but she hadn’t made them go through the motions.

  Christina had been standing out of the way, in a cluster with the Malory girls. Grant hadn’t even looked at her.

  Christina’s eyes were sandy from the bachelorette party—though she’d avoided the Jell-O shots, she’d done too much rollicking dancing with the guy dressed as a fireman, trying to erase the memory of the blond woman straddling Grant’s lap and kissing him. Hadn’t worked very well.

  The stripper had been hot but once his stint was over, he’d simply packed up and gone home. Probably to his boyfriend, Lucy Malory had said regretfully.

  Grant was looking at Christina now. Blue eyes like summer skies put a lump in her throat the size of a baseball.

  He walked stiffly off the step that led to the altar rail and stuck out his arm. Christina, heart beating too fast, lightly put her fingers on his sleeve.

  Even that one touch was a mistake. Christina felt the warmth of Grant through his coat, the vibrant power of him through the thin fabric.

  Grant’s athleticism never ceased to amaze her. He was a large man, with muscles to match, yet he could leap onto and off of a horse with the grace of a big cat. He’d taken falls that would have seriously injured many a man, only to roll away and come up lightly on his feet.

  That controlled power came to Christina now through her fingertips. She’d loved running her hands over his beautiful body when they’d lain together in the dark. She’d loved doing it in the heat of the afternoon, and the coolness of the morning.

  Grant said nothing at all as he took them swiftly down the aisle after Adam and Bailey. Going the wrong way, Christina thought. Rushing away from the altar instead of toward it.

  Once they made it outside, Grant moved away from Christina as if he couldn’t drop her hand fast enough.

  Christina pasted on a smile to cover the ache of his dismissal. The photographer was snapping pictures, and she’d be damned if she’d ruin her baby sister’s wedding photos.

  They took tons of pictures outside the church—of the bride and groom, the entire wedding party, bride and groom with parents, bride with her attendants, groom with his, all members of both families together.

  Adam had more people on his side—four brothers and small Faith, his mom, Olivia, beaming proudly. On Bailey’s side, Christina and their mother and father filled the space with warmth. Mom and Dad were so happy for Bailey, and they loved Adam.

  “Are we done with pictures?” Adam growled after a time. “My face is going to crack.”

  “Mine too,” Bailey said, rubbing the sides of her mouth.

  Christina stepped in front of them. “But you look so cute, Adam.” To his glower, she laughed. “No, seriously, you two look awesome.”

  She hugged them—her sister she loved with all her heart and the cowboy who’d swept Bailey off her feet.

  Christina was aware of Grant next to Adam, though she did her damnedest not to look at him. “When do we get to the drinking?” Grant drawled.

  “’Cause you didn’t get enough of that last night,” Tyler said. “You’re gonna be in a coma for a week.”

  Grant shrugged. “What else are weddings good for?”

  Adam laughed at him. “I can think of one thing.” He drew Bailey up to him for a long kiss.

  Everyone went aw. Faith snapped a picture with her blue spangled phone.

  Faith’s shot turned out to be Christina’s favorite photo of the wedding. Adam was scooping Bailey up with one arm, kissing her in pure joy, Bailey’s arm straight down beside her, her hand clutching her bouquet of white roses.

  The rest of the family was gathered around, focused on Adam and Bailey, every single
one of them smiling or laughing. Christina helped Faith print it out afterward and Bailey framed a copy for everyone.

  The reception was held at the Campbells’ ranch, the Circle C. Christina rode to it with Bailey and Adam and the Malory girls in the limo. The three unmarried women squished together in one seat, teasing Adam and Bailey, who sat opposite and couldn’t stop kissing each other.

  While traditionally the bride’s parents were supposed to organize the entire day, the Campbells’ mom, Olivia, had said, “We have plenty of room—why shouldn’t we have the reception at the ranch? Be easier for the Farrells too, coming in from out of town.”

  Christina and Bailey’s parents now lived in San Antonio, where their father worked as an engineer. Close enough that they could drive to Riverbend in a couple of hours, but too far to make planning a wedding convenient. Olivia and Christina’s mom, friends from way back, put the whole thing together, with help from Christina, and also Grace Malory, who was one hell of a pastry chef. Her restaurant would have been awesome.

  “If we have the reception at the ranch,” Faith had said excitedly, “the horses can come too.”

  The girl was wise enough to realize the horses couldn’t attend literally, but she was happy that they could watch from corrals or their open stalls in the barn.

  A huge white tent went up on the slope behind the house, the path lined with potted flowers and streamers. A barbecue had been set up outside to cook all kinds of food, and champagne and beer came in by the crateload. White ribbons, white roses, and splashes of pink, yellow, and red flowers made everything festive, beautiful, and welcoming.

  The party began when the limo deposited them all at the ranch. Christina walked behind the rest of the party as they made their way to the tent, both happy for her sister and sad for herself.

  Then came feasting, dancing, celebrating. Grant stood up and gave the best man’s toast.

  “How the hell my good-for-nothing older brother got so lucky, I’ll never know,” he said, champagne glass in hand, to the waiting crowd. “I guess he fell on his head enough times to realize he needed to hold on to something good.” He waited for the laughter to fade then lifted his flute. “To Adam and Bailey. The best-looking couple in Riverbend.”