Claiming the Single Mom's Heart (16 page)

“No more than usual.”

“So what's up?”

She brushed the flat of her hand along the sofa's fabric. “This has been such a lovely evening, I hate to spoil it.”

A muscle tightened in his chest. Had something he'd shared tonight or during one of those late-night phone calls disturbed her? They'd both shared openly about their pasts, their dreams of the future. He'd never before spoken so freely, so vulnerably to a woman, though. Maybe he'd gone too far.

He let out a slow breath. “There's nothing you can't share with me, Sunshine.”

Even if she had something to say that he didn't want to hear.

“I still have some reservations.”

“About us?”

She nodded. “I know you said you don't think my running for the town council against your mother is anything to worry about. That it will all be over in a couple of weeks and life will go on.”

“But you don't agree?”

“It's not that I don't
want
to agree. It's just that I'm a realist. At least most of the time anyway.” She stood and moved to the fireplace, her hands outstretched to the warmth, the dancing flames highlighting her delicate features—and the apprehensive look in her eyes.

He eased himself out of the recliner and joined her, his voice reassuring. “So talk to me.”

She turned, tears forming in her eyes. What had he done to make her cry? He reached for her hand. “Did I do something wrong? Say something that hurt you?”

Wiping at the tears with her free hand, she shook her head. “No, not at all.”

“What, then?”

“I feel stupid talking about this.” She hesitated, composing herself. “What if your parents don't want us to get involved? What if they think I'm not good enough for you?”

“Why would they think that?” He released her hand to cup her face in both of his. “My dad's already told me that he and Mom are good with whatever decisions I make in my life as long as I make sure God's a part of it. And that conversation took place only a few days ago—and in reference to you.”

“You talked to them about me?”

“To Dad. So stop with the worrying.”

She blinked back tears. “But...he doesn't know that my father never married my mother. I'm illegitimate. Not exactly a prize for you to be carting home to the family.”

“Hey, hey.” He gently brushed away a tear. “Believe me, nobody's going to hold that against you. That wasn't any of your doing.”

“But—”

“God's going to lead us. He'll let us know if this doesn't have His blessing. Wasn't it you who told me that it's His job to close doors? Not mine?”

“Did I say that?”

“I believe so. Therefore, repeat after me. Jesus says...?” He raised a questioning brow.

“Stop,” she finished with a giggle, and his heart soared at the sound of it.

Then, before she could avert his intentions, he did what he'd been dying to do all evening.

Kissed her.

Chapter Sixteen

T
ori nodded to the envelope Sunshine clenched in her hand. “What are you going to do?”

Sunshine extracted the documents that had arrived in yesterday's mail, still trying to digest what she'd read. “I'm not sure.”

“That shows your great-great-grandfather paid the taxes on the property they now call Hunter's Hideaway. I matched the description to land records. The following year Harrison Hunter paid taxes on it. Now I'm searching for a record of sale from your ancestor to Hunter, in case it was a legitimate transfer from one to the other.”

“But it could be,” Sunshine said softly, “that the Hunters found a way to cheat Walter Royce of his land. Just like Grandma's story.”

Tori looked torn, as if unwilling to come to that conclusion. She'd been against this search, this hope that Sunshine had clung to of holding modern-day Hunters accountable. “Documentation can tell half-truths. I'll need to research further, but it looks as if that's a possibility.”

“Why didn't he fight it?” Sunshine gave the papers a shake. “Seek legal help? I know Arizona was still a territory, oftentimes lawless, but land grabbers couldn't have been well thought of.”

“Didn't you notice the date on the death certificate tucked in there? Not long after he paid the taxes, Walter apparently left this area. The following year he died of pneumonia. That newspaper notice implies he died deep in debt.”

Sunshine eased down onto the sofa, overwhelmed by a sudden sadness. “He died and left his family impoverished.”

Her
family.

A poverty, in fact, that had taken generations to climb their way out of. She clenched her hands in her lap. How different life might have been for her family if Hunter's Hideaway had remained in their possession. If Duke Hunter had indeed paid a fair price for the land that would become Hunter's Hideaway, how could barely a year later her ancestor have died in debt?

“So what are you going to do?” Tori repeated, her tone unsure. “Now that you may possibly have the evidence you want.”

“I don't know, Tori. I guess I didn't deep down believe Grandma's story. Didn't think I'd find proof of it anyway.” Nor had she foreseen feelings for a man like Grady Hunter would stand in her way if she did find it.

But the dream of righting a wrong was a part of her before she'd met Grady. Before she'd fallen in love with him. Could she march up to the Hunters now and present evidence of their ancestor's duplicity?

A muscle tightened in her stomach.
Betrayal
. That was how Grady would see it. Another betrayal by a woman he cared for. As much as she and Tessa needed a solid financial foundation—their ancient SUV had finally bit the dust yesterday and she had no idea where the next medical-insurance payment would come from—could she do that to him?

And yet...what if things didn't work out between them? The attraction was undoubtedly there. He was a good, godly man, but had she lowered her guard too quickly to dream of what it might be like to share her life with him? To be his wife. To give her daughter a father.

Was that hope realistic? She hadn't dated much since Tessa's father had walked out of her life. A few nice guys had come and gone, but things had never worked out. What if things went no further with Grady than dating relationships had in the past?

No declaration of love. No ring. No wedding.

She glanced uncertainly at the papers in her hand. Were they a God-provided insurance of sorts? If things didn't work out with Grady, could she garner the courage to approach his family? See if they would be willing, out of the goodness of their hearts...?

No.
Even if they parted ways, she could never bring herself to hurt Grady like that.

“What am I going to do, Tori?” She gave her friend a determined smile. “Nothing.”

Then she crumpled the papers in her hand.

* * *

“I've got a bad feeling about this. No offense intended, Grady, but I'm afraid your mother will pull out of the race at the last minute and leave us sitting high and dry.” Thin-lipped, Arlen Gifford swallowed down the remainder of his coffee and set his mug firmly on their back corner table at the Log Cabin Café Thursday evening, his expression undeniably gloomy.

Grady cut a look at his uncle Doug, who appeared lost in thought across the table from him. This wasn't the first time he'd heard a similar concern voiced recently and it wasn't surprising to hear it again, even at this impromptu gathering he'd been pulled into by some of Mom's more ardent supporters.

“You can't blame her, Giff, if that's the way it goes.” Bo Briggs cut Grady a sympathetic look from under his bushy gray eyebrows. “She looks more exhausted each time I see her.”

“She's left us with no options, though.” Arlen's tone remained petulant. “If she'd have pulled out a month ago, we could have put someone else forward as a write-in candidate. Now we've missed the registration deadline.”

“Don't blame her.” Patti Ventura narrowed her black-brown eyes in reprimand. “She'd barely started treatments and couldn't have known how ill they'd make her.”

“I'm not blamin', I'm just sayin'.”

Bo looked expectantly at Uncle Doug, then Grady. “Are either of you getting a feel for Elaine's plans?”

“I haven't heard one way or another.” Grady could honestly voice that. Dad wanted Mom to put her health first. That wasn't for him to share with others, though, not even supporters. Mom and Dad would together make the final decision but, knowing Dad, he wouldn't point-blank tell her what to do.

Uncle Doug folded his arms on the table in front of him. “Elaine won't give up unless she has no choice. I guarantee you that.”

Arlen didn't look satisfied with either answer. “I wish we had options, you know? Either Elaine comes through for us, or we're saddled with four years of Irvin or that artist lady.”

Dare Grady put in a good word for Sunshine? He cleared his throat to speak, but Bo launched in first.

“Hopefully we can convince her not to forfeit her all-but-guaranteed victory by pulling out of the election.”

“But her health, Bo,” Patti reminded. “We don't want her taking risks she shouldn't, no matter how much we want her in office.”

Uncle Doug rapped his knuckles on the oak table, drawing their attention. Then he glanced almost furtively around the café and leaned in, his voice low. “What if we can get her to hang in there for the election, then resign from office at the opening council session in January?”

He arched a brow, eyes gleaming, and Grady almost groaned out loud. Leave it to Uncle Doug to have a plan. Grandma Jo said that ever since Aunt Char had divorced him, he was always on the alert to avoid being caught off guard again.

“A belated resignation,” he continued, not meeting Grady's pointed gaze, “relieves her of council responsibilities to take care of her health, and the city is forced into a special election to replace her.”

With a satisfied smile, he settled back into his chair. The others nodded thoughtfully, taking in his idea. Mulling it over.

Would Mom agree to a scheme like that? To deliberately not withdraw prior to the election, knowing full well she intended to resign? It wasn't illegal by any means, but somehow the proposal smacked of not quite right.

“Council rules don't allow for a permanent appointment in her stead,” Arlen inserted, “nor would a runner-up from the November election automatically slide into her empty spot. So you're right, there'd have to be a special election.”

“Which means,” Bo added, “we'd need a candidate the town would rally around. Someone sure to trounce Irvin and that Carston woman if they'd throw their hats into the ring again.”

The gazes of Mom's four supporters slid to Grady.

He held up his hands. “Hold on now. Don't look at me.”

“You're a natural,” Patti encouraged. “You've filled in admirably for your mother, thoroughly know her platform and people are familiar with your face now that you're not buried behind the scenes at the Hideaway. Voters will assume you'll represent them well, just as your mother would.”

He chuckled uncomfortably. “I appreciate your faith in me, but—”

“There's been a Hunter on the town council as long as there has been a town council,” Bo reminded. “How can you refuse to accept your responsibility to the community?”

His
responsibility? Since when?

Uncle Doug rose to his feet and leveled a look down at him. “Hunters have always stepped up to the plate, Grady. Done their civic duty.”

Uncle Doug had served several terms himself, but Grady wasn't into politics, wasn't interested in trying to keep an entire town pleased with him. Keeping the Hunter clan happy through the years had been hard enough.

He offered a placating smile. “I think there's plenty of family to keep the tradition going. I'm sure you could talk any one of the others into it.”

Patti frowned. “But we want you in that council seat, Grady.”

“Thanks, but in all honesty, I don't have time to serve on the town council.”

Even with Luke assuming more responsibility, his hands were full. The new business demanded time and attention. Then there was his long-dreamed-of plan to add a wildlife-photography element to the Hideaway's venue. He didn't want to shortchange that, to risk it failing. And what about Sunshine? Would she tackle the special election, too, and he'd find himself running against her?

“We believe you can handle it, boy.” Uncle Doug moved to confidently clap him on the shoulder, his voice low but uncompromising. “We want you in that special election—in the town council seat—and we won't take no for an answer. You owe it to your family and to this town.”

* * *

“Sunshine?”

Grady.

She frantically closed the lid on her laptop and stuffed the folder of telltale documentation underneath it. When Tori had left to take Tessa to the middle-school musical Saturday evening, Sunshine hadn't been able to resist opening her computer on the dining table and taking another look at the photos of Walter and Flora and the burgeoning folder of documentation Tori had accumulated.

Roots. For the first time in her life, she truly had roots. Right here in Hunter Ridge.

But Candy, working late downstairs to set up a special project, had obviously okayed Grady ascending the stairs, not bothering to give her a heads-up. With a quick breath to still her racing heart, she smoothed her skirt, then opened the door to a smiling Grady, who held out a bouquet of cream and bronze chrysanthemums.

“Thank you! I love the autumn colors.” She reached for them, then self-consciously spun toward the kitchen to look for a vase. She'd never received flowers from a man before.

“Tessa here?” He glanced around the apartment, then held up a decorative gift bag. “I brought her something, too.”

A contented warmth hugged Sunshine. “She'll be back in another hour. Tori was dying to see a musical she'd helped make the costumes for and borrowed Tessa for the evening.”

He set the bag on the counter and watched as she arranged the flowers. “You have a knack for that.”

She viewed it from all angles, then carried it to the coffee table in the living room. “So what brings you here bearing gifts tonight?”

“I hadn't seen you in a few days. Although we've talked on the phone, it seemed like a good idea to stop in and make sure you weren't a figment of my imagination.” He caught her hand and tugged her toward him, his eyes dancing.

A man who obviously had more kissing on his mind.

She cast him a flirtatious smile. That was all the encouragement he needed, for he immediately stepped in to gently raise her chin with his fingertips and graze his lips across hers. A happy sigh escaped her lips, but before she could slip her arms around his neck he stepped back with a satisfied smile.

“Nope, not a figment. But now that we have that issue resolved, I have something I want to show you.” He glanced toward the dining table. “Do you mind if I borrow your laptop?”

Her laptop?
With Tori's research folder wedged beneath it and the photo of her and Grady's great-great-grandparents set as the desktop image.

She could explain the photo, though, couldn't she?

“Help yourself.” She followed him to the table, where she picked up the laptop and nudged the folder out from under it. Then she lifted the cover and typed in her password. “There you go.”

He seated himself, then looked at her with a quizzical smile. “What do you know? My great-great-grands front and center. You're as bad as my mom about old photos.”

“I am. And speaking of your mother, how is she doing?”

His forehead creased as he reached for the mouse, then typed something into the web browser. “Not so good today.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She'd heard speculation around town, people wondering if Elaine would be up to fulfilling her current town council obligations, let alone a future commitment. “Do you think she'll take on another four years?”

Sunshine recoiled from her own words. Did that sound as though she was fishing to find out if she'd have smooth sailing herself with only Irvin to worry about?

“I honestly don't know.”

She wanted to ask how his mother was
really
doing and how the family was faring in the wake of her diagnosis. But although her concern for Elaine was genuine, any interest felt two-faced. Intrusive.

“Okay, take a look at this.” He turned the laptop so she could see the screen.

A background of subtle autumn colors set the tone, inviting the eye to explore, to take in the striking kaleidoscope of wildlife photographs. When she saw Grady's name in a bold, distinctive font, she gasped. “You have a website?”