I paused, ready to tell her it didn’t—or rather, shouldn’t—matter. He was off limits regardless, wasn’t he? “No,” I grumbled.
She clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! So, you’ll ask him if he’s still married, and if he is, that’ll put an end to it. If not…” she trailed off, waggling her brows like a teenager who just found out something scandalous.
“If not nothing,” I snapped. “There’s no universe in which Grady Wilde?—”
“Oh, this outta be good,” came a smooth, deep voice that made me want to melt. We both looked over, noticing the man in question standing right in front of us. He had an amused smile tilting up his lips, and I hated how much I loved it. “What am I, or am I not, doing in this universe?”
“Noth—”
Lennox pulled me tighter. “She thought you’d show up empty-handed, and it looks like she was right! Didn’t your mom ever tell you good guests bring dishes to dinner?”
At the mention of his mom, Grady’s smile faltered a touch. We hadn’t spoken about Marsha’s passing at all since he’d been back; it’d never come up. Now, I was kicking myself for staying silent as years of grief and pain flashed in his eyes.
“Marsha was actually the best host,” I said, meeting his gaze. “I’m sure Grady has something in his truck.”
“Y—yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Made some mac-n-cheese. It’s kind of my specialty. Although” he paused, looking around, “I don’t think I’ve made enough for everyone.”
Lennox, who didn’t appear to catch the ripple of unease, continued as though nothing had happened. “We’ll hide it in the house so we can keep it to ourselves. Cleo can show you where to drop it off.” Lennox waved at someone behind Grady. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She flitted off before I had a chance to beg her to stay.
“I’m sorry about her,” I rambled, glancing at my feet. The words kept tumbling out before I could stop them. “She’s never had a filter, and she said the first excuse that popped into her head, which isn’t always the best one. Lennox didn’t know about your mom, and she wouldn’t have brought her up if she had?—”
Two large, warm hands fell on my shoulders, moving up to brace my face. Grady tilted my head up, forcing me to look at him. “It’s okay, I’m not worried about it. Breathe for me.” I did as he said, letting my eyes drift close as I sucked in a deep breath and held it for four long seconds. “Let it out,” he said smoothly. I did, opening my eyes to find his trained on me. His thumb grazed my cheekbone, and I was lost to his touch, thoroughly grounded in the moment by him. “Better?”
“I’m sorry. I just?—”
“Why’re you apologizing?”
“Daddy! Are you and Miss Cleo going to kiss?”
We both jumped apart at the sound of Charlie’s voice. She was staring up at us with a popsicle in one hand and a smile on her face.
“What? No!” I said quickly, smoothing out the wrinkles in my t-shirt. “Of course not.”
Charlie’s brow furrowed. “You don’t wanna kiss him?”
“Oh my god, what is happening?” I muttered under my breath as Grady howled with laughter.
“Yeah, Cleo? Don’t you want to kiss me?” he asked, turning to me with the smuggest grin I’d ever seen.
I was going to kill him. Lennox would be my accomplice. She always said how many good spots there were to dispose of a body. Maybe it was time to give her a chance to find out just how good.
“That would be inappropriate,” I said back, ignoring how wrong it felt to say out loud. And then, just for the sake of putting everything out there, I said, “I bet your mom wouldn’t like that too much.”
“Mommy?” Charlie asked, scrunching up her little nose. “She wouldn’t care. She always says she hopes Daddy finds someone to give him kisses the way he deserves.”
“Charlie,” Grady warned, but it was too late. The truth was out, spilled straight from the lips of a child, whether I wanted it or not.
I turned to Grady, suddenly connecting dots I’d been too stupid to put together before. I mean, he’d literally driven across state lines to bring his daughter to a one week horse camp, made sure his father was out of town so he could have the house to himself, and was constantly making flirty digs about wanting me back. Would a married man do that? He could, theoretically. Married men did stupid shit all of the time. But I knew Grady better than that, didn’t I? Despite the years between us, despite the fact we’d grown from clumsy sixteen-year-old kids to adults who didn’t have their shit together, I still knew him.
“What, Daddy?” Charlie asked, tilting her head to the side. Her lips were tinged blue from the sweet concoction currently melting all over her hands. “It’s true.” One of the kids called her name, and she took off running in their direction, leaving us alone with the weight of her confession.
He looked away, giving me a full view of the muscle feathering along his jaw. Was it from irritation or embarrassment?Maybe both? If the roles were reversed, I’d probably feel some type of way, too. Grady didn’t know it, but Charlie’s revelation had given me the motivation I needed to ask the one question that had been consuming me since he showed back up on my ranch a week ago.
“So, you and your wife?—”
“Ex,” he said, shifting his gaze back to me with a careful assessment. “We’re separated. The papers are being filed next week.”
Oh. For some reason, that wasn’t what I was expecting. I would’ve assumed they were already divorced, or in the middle of some heated custody battle, not on the eve of filing. Was that why he got out of town so quickly?
