to a slow Garth Brooks tune about heartache and pain. Grady appeared through the shadows, as if the song had summoned him, and he asked Jessie’s current partner if he minded if he cut in.
The pass-off was amicable enough.
The way her pulse raced like a caged hummingbird’s was not.
“What’re you doing, Grady?”
“Seems obvious, Jess.” His breath smelled familiar and sexy and laced with just enough beer that she credited Budweiser for any sweet-talking rather than him. “I saw the prettiest girl in the room and claimed her.”
“Oh, you did?”
“Hell, yeah...” He leaned his head low, nuzzling her neck, downright stealing what little strength remained in her knees. “And now I’m gonna kiss her.”
“And just how do you figure on doing that when she wants nothing to do with you?”
“She might say that.” He backed away just far enough for her to catch his sloppy wink. Sadly, this wasn’t him talking, but too much beer. “But deep down, there’s no hiding the fact that we share unfinished business.”
“Oh?” She gulped.
He skimmed her hair back behind her ears, then framed her face, brushing her full lower lip with the pads of his thumbs. “See, I know a secret. She happens to love makin’ out on dance floors.”
Lord help her, but from the jukebox Brad Paisley and Carrie Underwood launched into “Remind Me,” and Jessie was reminded of just how good it had once felt being held in Grady’s arms. As for the possibility of him kissing her? The thought turned her all hot and achy and wanting. And she hated it almost as much as she craved even more from him. But being held by him was the emotional equivalent of letting a flame lick too close and then burn. No matter how beautiful and seductive Grady’s flame was, she couldn’t risk being burned again.
“Y-you don’t know anything,” she somehow managed, nudging him a safe distance from her. “And anyway, it’s late, and I have to be back at school in the morning.”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a buzzkill?”
Mainly just herself.
* * *
GRADY HAD A tough time opening his eyes the next morning.
Complicating the issue was the fact that not only had he made a drunken pass at the woman he’d sworn to steer clear of, but she now stood at the head of his bed, hands on her hips, scowling. “Get up.”
He groaned, giving himself a leisurely scratch as opposed to leaping to attention like Miss Bossy Pants would have no doubt preferred. He could deny it all he wanted, but last night at that bar, they’d shared a moment—until she’d gone and dumped the verbal equivalent of ice water on his head.
“I mean it.”
“What’s the problem, and why the hell are you in my room?”
“Technically, it’s my parents’ guest room, and trust me, this is the last place I want to be.”
He’d just now gotten around to noticing the background soundtrack of the wailing mystery baby and winced. “Your mom still hasn’t found her folks?”
“No, and I’m due at what used to be my school in five minutes. In what I’m sure is another stupid matchmaking scheme, apparently you and I have been left to play parents all day, but I’m not falling for it.” She charged from his room and presumably into the nursery just as the crying stopped.
After using the heels of his hands to give his eyes a good rub, Grady rolled out of bed, only to cup his throbbing forehead. How many beers had he had? All he remembered was wanting Jessie more than he’d wanted his first pickup truck, and then her shooting him down, and then the night pretty much turning south—way south, as in straight to hell—from there.
He groaned and wandered into the bathroom to relieve himself, then cautiously made his way to the nursery.
The baby had switched into high gear, and her supersonic wails no doubt had dogs barking clear to the next county.
Cotton was doing a bang-up job.
“Hush,” he said to the yippy dog, plucking him up, only to gently set him out in the hall before closing the nursery door.
“Give me that baby.”
“Why?” Jessie snapped. “You couldn’t take any better care of her than Cotton could.”
“If that’s what you believe, then how come you woke me in the first place?” He crossed his arms.
“I don’t know...” She jiggled and rocked and cooed, but the little lady wasn’t having it.
What Jessie didn’t know was that Grady held not just one ace, but a good half dozen up his sleeve. “Give me that kid.”
This time, he wasn’t taking no for an answer.
Just like he’d been taught over years of pulling babysitting duty for his friends and their wives back in Virginia, he first swaddled the infant nice and snug in a receiving blanket, then held her extraclose, tucking the downy-soft crown of her head beneath his chin. “There you go,” he crooned. “I know you’re scared, but we’re gonna find your momma and daddy real soon.”
He paced the length of the room nice and slow, and when her cries settled into whimpers, and then tiny huffs, and finally peaceful breathing, he couldn’t help but feel a small rush of victory. Hot damn. He still had his touch.
Jessie’s gaze narrowed.
Hands on her hips, she asked, “Where in the world did you learn how to do all that?”
He shrugged. “Must’ve picked it up from watching a movie.”
“Uh-huh. Tell me the truth.”
“For a few years, I was low man on the totem, which meant whenever the older guys on the team opted for a night out on the town with their wives, me and my pals, Wiley, Rowdy and Marsh, always seemed to get pulled for babysitting duty. Well, shoot, after a while, we started making a competition out of it—you know, seeing which one of us the kids liked best. Marsh was the clear winner—especially once he had his own kid. Rowdy was a disaster, but we gave him points for trying. Wiley was so-so, but I did all right. My specialty was the babies. Maybe because they didn’t realize I was faking it.”
“What you just pulled off wasn’t faking it, Grady, but a God-given skill. You were the same way with horses. Chickens, on the other hand...” She winced.
He laughed—but not loud enough to wake the baby who slept in his arms. “I still have a scar on my calf from where Mom’s old Rhode Island Red nailed me.”
“Could you blame her? I’d have pecked you, too, if you’d tried snatching my chick.”
“How was I supposed to know which one was hers? We had about sixteen that year, and I needed the extra credit for science.”
Now Jessie was laughing. “Who could forget the great chicken maze? I’m shocked NASA didn’t recruit you for that one.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re just jealous because it beat your mushroom collection.”
“Whatever.”
Lord, he’d missed this. Just the sheer, simple pleasure of their banter. Didn’t she miss it, too? What was wrong with her that she couldn’t see how perfect they were for each other in every single way? What was wrong with him that since being home, he’d thought of nothing else? “Why wouldn’t you let me kiss you last night?”
“Wh-what?” She coughed.
“You heard me.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Stop. Don’t deny you didn’t feel