his chest, but he put on a smile. “Sure, be happy to.”
They walked through the small depot, thanking the guys in the historical society once more. Grant dropped a twenty into their fund-raising jar, then followed Karen and Carter out.
Carter said good-bye and headed for his truck. Karen started toward the BMW she’d driven the night of the wedding. Grant had ridden out here with Tyler, who was already gone, so his choices of transportation were drying up fast.
“Hang on a sec, ma’am,” Grant said to Karen. “Just got to remind my brother of something.”
Karen nodded, unworried, and unlocked her car. Grant quickened his stride to catch up with Carter.
“What the hell are you doing, throwing me to the wolves?” Grant asked him.
Carter turned around, his hazel eyes cool. “I really do have another meeting. I know she’s a man-eater, but suck it up. Don’t blow this deal, Grant. We need the money.”
Grant let out his breath. He was used to women chasing after him, but the buckle bunnies were usually starry-eyed and a little sweet, even the most determined ones. Predatory women were not his thing.
He gave Carter a curt nod. “All right, I got this. But you owe me.”
“Sure.” Carter was done with the conversation. He pointedly got into his truck and slammed the door.
Karen was already in the car by the time Grant reached it. She smiled at him when he got in and tugged on his seatbelt.
The sedan was cushy, top of the line, with leather seats that cradled Grant’s butt, individual climate control for each passenger, and a state-of-the-art sound system, the whole works. The doors locked with a loud click, a sound Grant didn’t like.
“Let’s go to that cute restaurant you have in Riverbend,” Karen said. “I’ve been dying to try it. Real down-home food, right? Tell me it’s not so down-home that it’s all roaches and rats and chicken-fried steak.”
“Mrs. Ward keeps her place clean,” Grant said. “We have health inspectors even out here. But she does make a mean chicken-fried steak.”
“I’ll have to be guided by you on my menu choices then.”
Grant knew damn well that if he walked into Ward’s Family Restaurant with this woman on his arm, it would be all over town by mid-afternoon.
But what the hell? He hadn’t heard from Christina all week, hadn’t seen her since she’d pulled up outside the feed store the morning after the wedding. He’d been there because a whole pile of hay bales at the ranch had spoiled. Grant had called the owner, asking the man to open up for him, even if it was a Sunday.
He’d heard a car stop, and there had been Christina, just woken up and still in her wedding clothes. Something sour had bit his stomach, and he’d turned away, unable to look anymore.
He knew from Grace Malory that Christina had moved out of her apartment and into Bailey’s house, now that Bailey would be living with Adam, but that’s all Grant knew. Grant had kept away from town, staying at Circle C and working until he drove home and fell into bed. He didn’t want to go to the bar and see Christina, so Grant’s social life had narrowed to his family.
If the good folks of Riverbend wanted to think Grant Campbell had become the boy toy of a rich city woman, let them.
“All right,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “You bet.”
Chapter Seven
As Grant led Karen into the restaurant, he felt a distinct chill around him. People glanced up, watched him go by, eyes stony.
Their looks weren’t knowing or amused. These were the hostile gazes of unhappy people.
Oh, come on. Everyone already knew about the Campbells starting a new stunt riding project, and how Karen had come out from Houston, staying in Fredericksburg while she watched the shoot. The woman had come to the wedding reception, for crying out loud. Grant hadn’t noticed hostile looks then.
They couldn’t be mad at him for Christina’s sake, either. The whole town had watched Grant and Christina date other people since their breakup, and they’d already picked a side.
So what was going on?
Grant ushered Karen into an empty booth and took the seat opposite her. Karen, oblivious of the scrutiny, took the menu from its slot on the table and opened it.
“This place is so cute,” she said, glancing around at the potted plants, the white curtains, the photos on the walls of Riverbend through the years. She liked that word—cute. “I can see why you all come here.”
“It’s