Kiss the Bride (21 page)

At last, they entered the resort town. His friend, Andy Davidson, had given Grant clear directions to the restaurant's location. Easy to follow—a right, a left, and another left. After the last turn, at the end of a short road, he saw the sign on a new building: T
HE
S
UNDOWN
.

“There it is,” he said to Skye.

“Good. I'm famished.”

After parking the Jeep, Grant hopped out and hurried around to open the door for Skye. He offered his hand, and she took it without hesitation. As if they'd been holding hands for years. He was sorry when she let go.

“How do you know the owner?” she asked as they walked toward the entrance.

“Andy's from Montana too. We met at the university in our freshman year.”

“And you bonded over your common interest in food and cooking?”

Grant chuckled. “No. He was a business major. He planned to be a CEO of one corporation or another by the time he was thirty. But the first business he invested in was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and he found he liked running it. So he bought a place that was bigger and better and liked it even more. Then he inherited this piece of property from a relative and decided to tear down what was on it and build the Sundown.”

“I've never heard of it.”

“Not surprised.” He pulled the restaurant door open and waved her inside. “It just opened a couple of weeks ago.”

“Has he tried to steal you from Ultimate Adventures and the Tamarack Grill?”

Before Grant could answer in the affirmative, Andy appeared, walking toward them with an arm outstretched.

“Great to see you.” Andy shook Grant's hand with gusto. “Have you thought about my offer?” Without waiting for an answer, Andy looked at Skye. His eyes sparkled with appreciation, and his voice deepened as he said, “You must be Miss Foster. A pleasure to meet you. I'm Andy Davidson.”

“It's nice to meet you too.”

“Was good of you to drag Grant out of Kings Meadow. I've been after him to come up to McCall for months, but he's always busy.”

Skye glanced in Grant's direction. “This was all his idea. I had nothing to do with it.” She smiled, and the warmth of her gaze made him feel like a hero out of one of his sisters' romance novels.

After a period of silence, Andy cleared his throat. “I've got the best table in the house all ready for the two of you.” He motioned for them to follow.

Andy hadn't lied. It was a great table. At the back of the restaurant, up five steps, then up another five, the table looked out over the lake. Sunlight glimmered off the water in sparks of gold and silver. Waves created by breeze and boat motors lapped at the shore below them.

“It's beautiful,” Skye said.

Andy grinned at them both and then walked away. Moments later, the waitress came to take their beverage order.

As soon as the waitress was once again out of hearing, Skye leaned toward Grant. “So he
has
tried to steal you away from Kings Meadow,” she said in a hushed tone.

He shrugged, liking that she'd overheard Andy's question. Not that he wanted to be prideful, but still . . .

“You aren't going to leave, are you?” There was earnest concern in her voice now.

He matched her posture, his gaze holding hers. “I've got a few good reasons not to leave.” A slow smile curved his mouth before he added, “At least I hope so, Skye.” Another few heartbeats. “Do I?”

The room seemed to spin. Skye's heart raced. The conversations of other diners dimmed.

“I've got a few good reasons not to leave . . . At least, I hope so, Skye . . . Do I?”

She found it hard to draw a breath as the words repeated in her head. Was he asking about her? About her feelings? Was she one of those good reasons for him not to leave Kings Meadow?

Before she could think of what to say, the waitress arrived with their beverages. Skye felt a sudden and strong dislike for the girl and her lousy timing. Oblivious, the waitress asked, “Are you ready to order?”

Skye glanced at the menu, settling on the first thing she saw. “I'll have the lemon-crusted chicken.”

“Any sides?”

She shook her head.
Hurry up. Go away.

The waitress looked at Grant.

“I'll have the pan-seared trout, please. Garlic mashed potatoes for the side.”

The waitress smiled. “I'll have these right out.” She walked away in the direction of the kitchen.

Skye feared the interruption had ruined the mood, but when Grant's gaze returned to her, the intense look in his eyes made her pulse gallop a second time.

He drew his chair closer to hers. “Skye, I've never known anyone like you. Never felt this way before. There's something . . . something special going on here.” He pointed to himself, then to her. “Between you and me.”

She swallowed.

“Do you feel it too?” he asked, his voice low.

Yes
, she mouthed, but no sound came out.

He didn't smile, as she'd expected him to. Instead, his dark brows drew together in a frown. “There's something you should know about me, Skye.”

“What's that?” she whispered.

“I . . . I haven't always lived the way I should. I partied hard for a lot of years. Wasn't very respectful of the girls I dated. Never thought it mattered because I didn't have any intention of settling down.” He ran a hand over his hair. “God got my attention a few years back, and I've been trying to live right since. It's one of the reasons I came to Kings Meadow. To move away from the man I used to be. I didn't come here to . . . to get into a serious relationship. I never had plans to fall in love with anybody.”

Serious relationship?
A warm thrill passed through her.
Fall in love?

He reached across the corner of the table and took hold of her hand. “I don't know for sure where this is going. Maybe it won't go anywhere. But I'd sure like to find out. Wouldn't you?”

She nodded.

He leaned in slowly, his gaze on her mouth. Unable to breathe, she waited for their lips to meet. The sensations, when it happened, were delicious. She wanted it to last forever. It ended in seconds. But brief as it had been, she knew she would never be the same.

Skye was still asleep the next morning when the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“You were supposed to call me when you got back yesterday.”

“Hi, Mom.” She pushed hair off her face. “I . . . forgot.” It was the truth. Her mind had been in a muddle after Grant brought her home late in the afternoon.

“So . . . tell me about your young man.”

“It's a little early to start calling him that.”

“Is it?”

She remembered the brief kiss in the restaurant. She also remembered the second, slower kiss they'd shared, standing on her doorstep.

“Skye?”

With her free arm, she drew a pillow to her chest and held it close. “Oh, Mom. He's really special. I know nobody's perfect, but I think Grant's perfect for me.”

“Tell me about him.”

Eyes closed, she launched into a litany of all she'd learned about Grant since the moment they first met. Every wonderful, thrilling, fascinating, charming thing she knew about him.

“My goodness,” her mom said when Skye fell silent at last. “He does sound perfect. Doesn't he have
any
flaws?”

Trying to sound more serious and less starstruck, she answered, “He isn't a very good dancer.”

“Hmm.”

“But we're working on that.” Eyes open again, she laughed. She couldn't help it. She was too happy to hold it in for long.

“Your dad and I would love to get to know him. More than to just say hello in church. Could we have you two over for dinner sometime soon?”

“Sure. That'd be great.” Skye shoved aside the pillow and sat up. “Sundays and Mondays are his days off. He's pretty busy the rest of the time. Working two jobs and all.”

“Well, how about next Sunday after church?”

“Okay. I'll ask him if he's free and let you know.” She glanced at the clock and quickly counted the hours until she would meet Grant at the dance studio. Anticipation caused her insides to spin.

Her mom deftly changed the subject, and they chatted for a few more minutes before saying good-bye.

After dropping the phone back into its cradle, Skye was tempted to fall back into bed and pull the sheet over her head. Going back to sleep sounded like the best idea, but something told her it wouldn't happen, even if she tried.
Not with Grant's image planted firmly in her mind. She would blame her mom's call, except she'd been dreaming about him when the phone rang.

Smiling, she got out of bed and headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later, wet hair wrapped in a turban, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in her underclothes, and applied makeup. Normally, she was in too much of a hurry to care. A little eye shadow. A bit of mascara. A quick brush of mineral foundation. Even when competing, she'd never been one to primp too much. But today she didn't want to look normal or even settle for pretty. She wanted to look beautiful. For Grant.

Is it real? Can this be happening?

She lowered her hand, still staring at her reflection.

God, I think Grant's the one. I hope he is. Did You bring us together so we can build a future together?

A husband. A home. Babies. Meeting Grant, loving Grant, could mean all of that.

Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of the children of his youth. Isn't that what You say, Lord?

There was that luscious swirl of sensations in her midsection again.

“Mmmm.”

She dropped the makeup brush into a bin in the middle drawer, then reached for the blow dryer. If she didn't hurry up, she wouldn't be ready for that lesson with Grant this afternoon.

Grant stood by the river, skipping smooth, flat stones across the surface of the water. He'd come here to think, not long after the sun was up. It was a quiet setting. Far from any homes or ranches. Far from the road that wound its way east. Most fishermen didn't come to this spot, although Grant didn't know why. He'd seen fish swimming near the banks. But he wasn't about to ask any fishermen. He liked knowing he could come here and be alone, to think and to pray.

This morning, his thoughts and prayers were all about Skye Foster.

It wasn't often that he felt as unsure of himself as he did right now. BC Grant had been arrogant and impudent. The new version of Grant was more levelheaded, more of a clear thinker, more prudent.

Prudent?
He skipped another stone.
Not exactly what I'd call what I said and did yesterday
.

Maybe not, but he'd meant it. All of it. He wanted to find out where things might go between them. And he'd meant that kiss too. Those kisses. He was more than attracted to Skye. It wasn't merely the desire of a guy for a beautiful gal. There was more to his feelings than that.