Grant (Riding Hard) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,32
if that’s what it takes.”
“Might defeat the purpose,” Carter said dryly. “Tell Christina what’s going on. She’s not stupid. She might be willing to help.”
“Yeah, right.” Grant got to his feet with restless energy. “You’re crazy. Think I’ll go on up to the house and find something to eat.”
Carter shrugged. Grant would have to come at this in his own way. He always did.
“Grant.” When Grant paused at the door and gave Carter an inquiring look, Carter said, “Don’t screw it up with Christina this time. I think it will be your last chance.”
Carter didn’t miss the pain in Grant’s eyes, a pain that ran deep. “Thanks, bro. You sure know how to make me feel better.”
“Hey, I got your back.”
Grant snorted something, banged out, and slammed the door.
Carter ate the sandwich, one of the best he’d ever had. He spent another hour finishing up the accounts, shut everything down, and carried the empty plate back with him to the house.
Grant had already gone—he pulled out in his truck as Carter left and locked the office. Grant lifted his hand in farewell, and drove away.
Grace Malory, on the other hand, was in the kitchen, doing the dishes.
Carter halted in the kitchen doorway, plate in hand, ready to fade silently into the hall and head for his suite in the back of the house. He’d get rid of the plate somewhere along the way.
But his daughter, Faith, sat at the kitchen table, doing homework. She heard Carter and looked up. “Hi, Daddy. I saved you a cookie.”
Grace turned around, wet to her elbows, and gave him her crinkle-nosed smile. “She wanted to wait for you.”
Carter made his feet move into the kitchen and head for the sink. Numbly he started to put the empty plate on the counter.
Grace reached for it and grabbed on to the edge. Carter felt the pressure of her hand through the plate, and the shy lump wedged itself in his throat.
Grace tugged, brows coming together when Carter wouldn’t release the plate. She tugged again, a little harder.
Carter abruptly let go, and Grace took a staggering step back. Carter reached out to steady her, but Grace had already turned nimbly away.
Faith giggled. “That was funny.”
“Plate dancing,” Grace said, her back to them as she scrubbed.
Carter moved to the table and sat down, out of breath for some reason. Faith was writing numbers on a piece of paper.
“Math homework?” he asked, for something to say.
“Trying to figure out how much we should sell the cookies and cupcakes for to make enough money for the youth group.” Faith bent her head over the numbers again, the kitchen light glistening on the dark ponytail that hung between her slender shoulder blades. Her small fingers worked the pencil over the paper. “Not so high people won’t buy them but not so little we don’t have any profit. We should also offer two for a little bit of a bargain, an incentive to buy more.” She looked up at Carter, her hazel eyes clear.
Carter blinked. She was his little girl all right. “Sounds good,” he said.
Faith pushed a plate of mostly crumbs over to him. On its center was one roundish chocolate chip cookie. “Three different kinds of chocolate in it,” Faith said. “I wouldn’t let Grace put the nuts in this batch. I don’t like them with nuts, and I know you don’t either.”
When Carter only looked at the cookie, Faith pushed the plate closer. “So try it.”
Carter lifted the cookie and took a bite. An amazing flavor sensation hit his mouth—buttery, chocolaty, sweet but not too sweet, with a hint of caramelized brown sugar.
“’S good,” he said.
“Told you.” Faith gave him a triumphant look. “I could only save you one, because the rest are for the bake sale. But Grace said she’d make more another time.” Faith tapped the notepad with her pencil. “I think she should open a bakery.”
Grace said from the sink, “Have to have money to do that. I’m fresh out, right now. But maybe someday.” Carter heard the sad resignation in her voice.
She wiped up all the counters, dried her hands, and joined them. “I’m heading home. Pick you up tomorrow, Faith, around nine?” Grace glanced at Carter when she said the time, making sure this was all right with Faith’s dad.
Carter was already rising to his feet. That’s what a gentleman did when a woman was leaving, Olivia had drilled into him.
“Yeah, that’s fine.” Carter said. He almost said, Wait, tomorrow’s school, before he remembered