Making the Play (16 page)

 

Chapter Sixteen

G
RANT HADN
'
T FELT
this content in years. Bethany was tucked into his side, her hand resting over his stomach. He inhaled the scent of her, his fingers brushing the side of her arm lightly as he traced patterns on her smooth skin. James was sound asleep on the living room floor, wrapped up in the old quilt Bethany had informed him had once belonged to her Great-­grandmother. Grant had laughed when James asked to be rolled up in it like a burrito from the waist down and Bethany obliged, turning him so that he faced the television. Now he snored softly as the end credits played on the television.

“I should probably get him upstairs,” she mumbled, sounding sleepy.

“I'll help you,” he offered, but neither of them moved and he smiled into her hair, more content than he could ever remember being.

His heart swelled with longing. As much as he loved football and his career was his life, in this moment, he could honestly say that he didn't care if he played again. He finally understood what his mother had been wanting for him all along. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine each and every night like this with Bethany and James. He could visualize tucking James into bed, taking Bethany into his arms, into their bed . . .

She released a long sigh but instead of the relaxed sound he'd expected, it was a regretful exhale.

“What's wrong?”

Grant wasn't sure he really wanted to know. He didn't want to ruin this moment of domestic bliss. It was something he'd never considered worth letting go of his career for, at least not for many years to come, until he'd met her.

When she didn't answer right away, Grant tipped his head down to look at her. “Bethany?”

She bit her lower lip and he felt desire kick him in the chest before sliding straight to his groin. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain control of the yearning racing through his veins, touching off a wildfire of desire.

“When do you leave for camp?”

He laid his hand over hers, twining their fingers together, pressing his palm to hers. “Do you really want to talk about this now?”

“Do you
not
want to talk about it?” Her voice was tentative, hesitant and wary.

“Okay, you're right. We'll talk, but let's get James up to bed first.” She nodded slightly and rose from the couch. Grant immediately felt a chill in the air as it replaced the warmth of her body against his. He followed her, wishing they could go back an hour in time, before he had to tell her the truth about his future, or lack thereof. He had to admit to her that he had no clue what would happen.

Bethany slid the battery packs from James slim arms and pulled the magnetic pieces from over his ears. “If you lift him, I'll pull the blanket off.”

Grant did what she asked, wrapping his arms around the limp warm body, still sound asleep. At least that was what he'd thought until James stirred, his arms going around Grant's neck and his legs, now untucked from the blanket, wrapping around Grant's waist, clinging to him like a monkey.

Parental love and devotion swelled inside him for the boy, taking Grant by surprise. He liked the kid, more than liked him, but the desire—­no, the burning
need
—­to protect him and keep him safe, to keep
both
of them safe, rushed over him like a tidal wave. He could understand the fierce protective instincts Bethany had shown because he felt the same way. It didn't matter that James wasn't his son by birth, or that he'd only known them a short time. These two had filled an emptiness in him that he had never realized existed.

He followed Bethany upstairs and tucked James into bed, feeling oddly bereft when she pulled the door nearly closed behind her, leaving it open a crack. He stood peering through the doorway at the sleeping child, unwilling to leave just yet, and she paused at the top of the stairs, just outside her bedroom doorway.

“Are you coming?”

He made his way to where she stood, uncertain he should move any farther. There would be no going back if he did. “Have you ever thought you wanted something badly enough that you'd give up everything for it, only to realize it would have been a mistake?” His hands found the indentation of her waist, splaying over the narrow curves.

She frowned up at him, her eyes worried and confused, unsure whether she wanted to answer. Then she nodded. “I thought I wanted my marriage to work. For years I'd have given up anything to bring Matthew back, to let him be a father to James.”

Grant felt a stab of jealousy at the mention of the other man. He didn't know what had ended her marriage, wasn't sure if she'd even be willing to tell him, but he wanted to know her, to know everything about Bethany and James. “What happened?”

Her eyes widened, surprised by his question. She gave a sadly bitter laugh. “That's a story that deserves its own Lifetime movie. Let's just say, when the going gets tough, some guys would rather run out than face the difficulties.”

“He left you?” Grant couldn't fathom anyone leaving Bethany. She was the kind of woman men dreamed of finding, the kind a guy would only find once. It was something that had plagued him the past few days when he'd worried he might be forced to make a choice between her and his career.

She lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug, twisting her mouth to one side. “A week after James' diagnosis. The morning after the appointment when the doctors told us what we could expect in the first few years.” Bethany moved to the stairs, taking them quickly but not before Grant saw the hurt shadow her eyes. Either the rejection still stung or she wasn't yet over James' father.

“Do you still love him?” He steeled himself to face the truth she was about to hit him with. If she still loved her husband, he couldn't stand in the way.

“Matthew?” She turned at the bottom of the stairs and looked back at him incredulously. “No! The man ran out me and our son. He quit his job so he wouldn't have to pay child support and asked to terminate his parental rights during our divorce. He didn't even have the guts to show up in court. He left me to figure out how to raise our child alone.”

“But you said—­”

“I said, for years I thought that my marriage was what I wanted. But it would have been a mistake. Matthew didn't love James, he obviously didn't love me. Not the way we deserved to be loved, the way he
should have
loved us. I'm not sure he ever knew how. He wasn't evil, but he was just a bad husband and father. James and I have been better off without him, even through the struggles we've faced. It hasn't been easy, but James has only been surrounded by ­people who love him.”

She slipped her hand into his and pulled him back into the living room, shutting off the television as they walked back to the couch. She folded her legs beneath her and patted the seat beside her, urging him to sit. “What are
you
thinking about? You're the one who seems troubled.”

“I have an appointment with my doctors early next week. If all goes according to plan, I could be heading for spring training right after.” He studied her face, watching for any reaction, any indication of her feelings about his revelation. He didn't mention that he probably wouldn't be playing in Memphis, that there was a possibility he'd be on another team, that he might not be playing at all.

“I see.” She folded her hands in her lap, staring at his face but looking through him. She shrugged stiffly. “You have a job to do, a life there. I get that, Grant.”

Grant reached for her hand. “But I'm not sure I want it. I mean, I do, but that's not
all
I want anymore. I thought it was but . . .” He ran a hand through his hair. Everything he said was coming out wrong.

“Hey, it's okay, Grant. I understand. You like me and you like James, but you have a job and responsibilities. Those things have to take precedence and—­”

“No, they don't,” he interrupted. He couldn't stand the idea that she might think he put anything above how he felt about her.

She gave him a patronizing look, tipping her chin down, and he could easily read the doubt in her eyes, even as her voice was quietly empathetic. “Grant, you barely know us.”

Pain radiated through his chest as her words hit home. “Is that how you feel about me? Like you barely know me? Like this is just some fling? Some short-­term experiment to jump back into the dating game?” He clenched his jaw, trying to stop the words that spilled out. He didn't want to hear her answer, didn't want to know that he was nothing more to her than a way to test the waters after a long dating drought.

She pinched her lips together, her eyes misting. “You know it's not.”

Hope flared hot and bright in his chest. “Then why would you think that I feel that way?”

“Because.” She started to rise from the couch, to run away from the conversation, but he wasn't about to let her and pulled her back to his lap. Bethany refused to look at him, her body rigid in his arms.

“Bethany?”

“Because you're Grant McQuaid.” She said it as if it should be self-­explanatory.

“So?” He breathed the word against her neck and felt her shiver in his arms.

She glanced backward, looking at him over her shoulder. “You could have you pick of women anywhere. Why would you give up everything to stay here?”

“You mean, with you?” She nodded, unwilling to speak. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip. “Bethany, look at me.” He ran his finger along her jawline, turning her to face him. “You are amazing. An incredible woman. Any man would be an idiot not to give his right arm for you.”

Before he could finish what he wanted to say, she turned in his lap, her legs to one side, and captured his mouth. She didn't wait for him to finish telling her that he wanted to stay, that he wanted to be there for her in a way James' father had never been. She didn't hesitate or wait for him to guide her to him. For the first time since he'd met her, Bethany took what she wanted because
she
wanted it.

Her hands cupped his face, her fingers covering his ears as her tongue plunged between his lips. She tasted salty, like the popcorn they'd had during the movie. But sweet as well. The hand that had been at her jaw, plunged into her hair, dragging her closer, their breath mingling seamlessly. Her kiss was innocent and dangerous, seductive and sweet, every puzzling contradiction that made up the woman in his lap. The fingers of his free hand moved to her back, sliding her down his legs and pulling her upper body against his chest. It was an awkward position that didn't allow him the freedom to hold her, to touch her, but he was afraid that if he moved, she'd run away again.

“Grant,” she whispered, her lips against his, “I might be out of practice but I think there are at least twenty other positions that would be more comfortable than this.”

He smiled against her lips. Her practicality knew no bounds. Just one of the many things he adored about her. “I guess which position we choose depends on who wants to be in control.”

She stood up and pressed her hand against his shoulder, urging him to lie back before lying down beside him on the couch, one of her legs between his. “My house, my rules.”

She gave him a wicked grin that made him wonder how out of practice she could possibly be. The woman was a natural seductress, sweet innocence with just a hint of spice.

“Bethany,” he warned as she leaned over him, pressing her lips against his.

“Shh, we'll figure out logistics later. Stop trying to ruin our first real date.”

He was helpless against her allure and, yet, he found he didn't mind one bit.

B
ETHANY KNEW
HOPE
was a dangerous thing. She hadn't missed the regret in Grant's eyes when he talked about leaving. It would happen, regardless of what she'd hoped for. She accepted that his job was just a part of who Grant was. She would have to pick up the pieces, again. The way she had when Matthew left, the way she had when her mother had practically forced her to move out last year. At least this time, it was only her heart on the line. But, oh, how thoroughly it would break.

Oddly, it didn't make her pause now the way it should have. She'd been alone for a long time and Grant had made her face the loneliness, and what she'd kept both herself and James from experiencing over the past six years due to her fear.

James had missed having a man in his life. It was obvious from the way he practically worshiped the ground Grant walked on. While being his favorite football player might have initiated the devotion, the respectable man Grant had proved himself to be had only fueled James' adoration. Even when he ignored her rules, Bethany could see that Grant had done it out of genuine concern for James' well-­being.

It was going to hurt when he left. Maybe even more than Matthew's betrayal. She'd known Matthew behaved like a spoiled child, that he had always expected her to be the responsible one. But Grant was a man, a gentleman through and through. He'd reached into her soul in a short time to find the aching places, the never-­before-­touched places that whispered words of future love.

She liked him, a lot. Not just as a person, but as a man. He stirred things in her. Not just desire. But a deep yearning for what should have been. Long buried images of white picket fences and more children running in the yard tried to surface, but Bethany couldn't let them rise up. Hope was one thing, but when it had no basis in reality, it was nothing more than a dream, and dreams were folly.

“You okay?” Grant's question drew her back to the present. With his hand at her waist, her t-­shirt rode up over her stomach slightly and his thumb brushed over the sensitive flesh, making her insides quiver with dizzying delight.

“Yes.”

He didn't look convinced and arched a brow in question. When she didn't say more, he sat up. “I should probably go.”