Grant (Riding Hard) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,46

duster with pistols beneath it, the bandanna loose around his neck. He’d been too distracted to take them off.

He grabbed the key. “She in there?”

“Yes, dear. Crying her eyes out.”

“Shi— I mean, shoot. Thanks, Mrs. Kaye.”

“You need to marry her,” Mrs. Kaye said, giving him a serious look. “I know young people think it’s old-fashioned, but a commitment like that can keep you strong, even when things look very dark. Mr. Kaye and I were married sixty years¸ and we were as much in love the day he died as the day he proposed.” Her brown eyes shone with tears.

“Yeah,” Grant said quietly. “I think you’re right.”

He took a breath, unlocked the door, and strode inside.

“I know I am, dear,” he heard Mrs. Kaye say before the lady closed the door for him and left them alone.

Christina heard Grant let himself inside—locking the door and not answering didn’t send a clear enough message, she guessed.

“Christina!” His deep voice boomed through the house.

Christina, sitting on the edge of her bed, didn’t answer.

Grant charged through the living room and straight into the bedroom. He halted on the doorstep, all delectable six-foot four of him, made more delectable by his movie clothes. His black shirt and butt-hugging jeans emphasized his athletic body, and the worn duster and revolvers gave him a dangerous air.

When Grant saw her, he softened his abrupt tone. “Baby, what is it?”

Christina couldn’t tell him. She could barely accept it herself. To be lifted up in such great hope, only to be dashed to the ground, hurt worse than any pain she’d ever experienced in her life.

She knew, though, that telling Grant she didn’t want to talk about it would only make him stay and stubbornly try to pry it out of her.

She opted for straight truth.

“It was a false alarm,” she said in a quiet voice. “I’m not pregnant.”

Grant went motionless for a few heartbeats. His hat, which he must have automatically taken off when he walked into the house, hung at his side.

“What do you mean, you’re not pregnant?” he asked. “Did you think you were?”

Christina nodded. She felt the tears come, tried to stop them, and gave up. “That’s why I went to Dallas. I didn’t want anyone knowing until I was sure.”

She’d been stunned when the doctor had called her back in. “Home tests are sometimes inaccurate,” the woman had said, “which is why it’s good to verify the results. But you’re not pregnant.”

She’d said it as though Christina should be relieved.

The doctor hadn’t known—Christina hadn’t confided in her—that her dream of having a child had just been ripped away from her once more. Maybe for the last time.

Grant was staring at her. Christina wiped her eyes. “I was so scared about telling you I didn’t know whether it was your baby or Ray’s, but now … it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck,” he said.

Christina swallowed. “I guess it wasn’t meant to be.”

She waited for him to start yelling. What do you mean, my baby or Ray’s?

Grant dropped his hat to the bed and sat down next to her. He smelled good—dusty, full of sunshine and warmth.

“Sugar, I’m so sorry.”

Grant’s voice was hushed, all anger gone. Christina glanced at him and saw tears sparkling in his eyes, rendering them the deepest lake blue.

“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I was so worried about how to break it to you. Even when I found out it wasn’t going to happen … I still couldn’t decide whether to tell you …”

“Karen called me and told me to come.” Grant slid his arm around her shoulder. “I’m glad she did.”

Christina gave him a wry smile. “I never thought Karen would be the one to hold my hand when I got the bad news.”

Grant’s arm tightened around her, and Christina sank into him. He was so strong, his strength comforting, no matter what the ordeal.

She thought over what Karen had said about men being fragile. She supposed Grant could be fragile—for all his strength. He’d nearly fallen apart when they’d broken up, after month after month of hoping a child would come and finally giving up. They’d both been a wreck for a long time.

Even now, Grant had just heard he’d yet again lost the chance to be a father. But he said nothing, only held her.

“I wanted this to be real,” Christina said softly. “For you and me both. I wanted it so bad. When I got into the car after the appointment, I couldn’t stop crying. Poor Karen.”

Karen stopped at a convenience