“Grant,” Homer bellowed across the table, waving his spoon in the air. “Almost forgot. You got a phone call from your brother in Houston.”
“Was I supposed to call Ty back?” Grant asked, startled and wondering if it had anything to do with the Cupid pin.
“Nope.” Homer dug back into his stew, shoveling a spoonful into his mouth.
“Ty gave you a message, dear,” Nell prodded. “Remember?”
Homer grunted and continued chewing.
Nell pursed her lips and shook an arthritic finger at her husband in a gesture so familiar through the years to Grant that it made him smile.
“You were to tell to watch for a special package.”
“I’ve got it,” Grant muttered, ready to strangle his brother.
“Is it something important?” Nell asked, her voice wavering.
“I hope not,” Grant said, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought.
Jami glanced curiously at Grant. Why did that silly piece of jewelry disturb him so? What a strange thing. She shook her head in puzzlement.
Becca hurried back into the dining room with a tray full of desserts, deftly serving generous slices of gooseberry pie.
“What’s this?” Toby asked, poking at the pale green gooseberries filling the flaky pastry. “Grape pie?”
Grant’s deep chuckle rumbled across the table. “No. Gooseberry, a special treat at Frost Lake.”
“They’re a tad sour,” Homer warned with a wink at Becca.
“Tart,” Nell corrected, stabbing a forkful with the enthusiasm of a starving trucker instead of a tiny old lady.
Becca bustled around the table, clearing empty plates to refill her tray. “Try a bite and if you don’t like it, I’ll find you a peanut butter cookie instead.”
“Peanut butter cookie?” Grant quizzed with interest as he blatantly angled for an extra treat along with Toby.
“Can’t I have both?” Toby coaxed as he happily chewed his first taste of gooseberry pie.
“Sounds reasonable,” Grant said. “We’re growing boys, you know.”
“Boys?” Jami teased, laughing at both of them.
“You haven’t been a boy, Grant Carrington,” Becca razzed, swinging back toward them as she reached the kitchen doorway, “since I was a girl.”
“Don’t remind me,” Grant replied, his words punctuated with a good-natured laugh.
Jami studied Becca with new eyes, thinking the bird-boned, blue-eyed brunette past her thirties and a bit older than Grant. Becca obviously inherited her petite stature from her mother, while her blue eyes and long nose came from Homer. Had Becca known Grant when they were young? Had she been one of Grant’s conquests? None of your business, Jami scolded herself, admitting that the relaxed friendliness between Grant and Becca seemed devoid of any sexual undercurrent. Jami couldn’t fathom how any woman could see the man without feeling some sensual cravings.
“Miss Rhodes?” Nell was saying in a tone that suggested she had been trying to capture Jami’s attention.
“Please call me Jami.”
“Jami, is the presidential suite to your liking? Becca tells me that you and Grant are there together.”
“We aren’t exactly together.” Jami felt that hated blush warming her face.
“The room’s great,” Grant interjected. “Certainly beats the old days of bunking with Ralph in that junk heap he called his bedroom.”
Homer guffawed with a belly laugh while Nell tittered into her hand.
“Ralph?” Jami questioned, feeling like an outsider.
“That boy of ours used to keep his room as neat as the county dump,” Homer informed her. “Now Ralph runs a string of business accounting firms from Boise to Salt Lake to Denver.”
“Ralph and I roomed together all through college,” Grant told Jami, casting a warm smile at Homer and Nell as he spoke. “We split holidays and summer vacations between Frost Lake and the ranch in West Texas.”
“Why a ranch in West Texas?” Jami asked, intrigued. She had imagined Grant to be a Houston businessman right down to his Gucci loafers, though he did do wonderful things for the jeans and tan pullover he now wore.
“I grew up on the Circle C, our family ranch. After I got my business degree, the best job opportunities were in Houston.”
“Oh,” Jami murmured, digesting this new information as she tried to picture him on a dirty, dusty ranch.
“A real ranch with cowboys?” Toby asked, his eyes drooping even as excitement colored his voice.
“Used to be a cowboy myself,” Grant drawled with an exaggerated accent as he leaned back in his chair and pretended to quick draw and twirl a gun.
“You were a cowboy?” Jami and her son asked together. She knew her eyes must be as big around as Toby’s as she stared at Grant. What other surprises did her Cupid match have in store for her before the night