She nodded. “You heard right.”
“You couldn’t get a better man. He’ll do you proud. Don’t you doubt it.”
She heard the sincerity in his voice and saw it in his eyes. “You know,” she said softly, “I think you just may be right.”
He nodded. “But we’re going to have to teach you how to ride and how to be a ranch wife.”
She tried to smile but couldn’t quite make it. “Do I have to?”
“Sure. You’re going to be a Carver. You gotta know your way around ranching.”
Hold it just a minute there.
This wasn’t what she’d signed on for. She gazed at him, a little worried.
“Did Jan do it?” she asked, and the moment the words left her lips she wished she could pull them back. This was none of her business. Why was Jan on her mind so often?
But Will didn’t seem bothered by the question.
“No, as a matter of fact, she did not. And believe me, that was a problem now and then.” He looked as though he was about to launch into a fuller explanation, but he caught himself and stopped, staring at her.
“To me, you look like a smarter gal,” he said instead. “I think you probably understand that compromises must be made in all parts of life, even when wrasslin’ cattle. One person can’t always be the one to win. You got to develop an instinct for where to give in and where to stand firm. Just like Grant’s been doing out there right now.”
Grant called to him and he responded in kind, but Callie stayed where she was, thinking over what he’d said. One thing she hadn’t expected was a lesson in life from a cowboy. But she had to admit, Will had a few home truths to convey. She was glad he seemed to take to her. He might be an important ally in the future.
Grant came back to her looking a bit worse for wear, but very pleased with himself.
“I can still hold my own,” he proclaimed proudly. “Hell, I could come back here and take over running this ranch and have it doing twice as good as it’s doing now.”
That last was for Will’s benefit, and they argued good-naturedly for a moment or two. Grant slung an arm around Callie’s shoulders and began to lead her back to the house, still ragging on his friend. But when Callie glanced back, she caught Will giving Grant a thumbs-up that was obviously meant to convey approval of his marriage choice. That gave her a glow that matched the one Grant was riding on.
Back in the house, Grant washed up while Callie wandered around, admiring the rustic but strangely elegant furnishings. He came out looking freshly scrubbed.
“Rosa says she’ll lay lunch out in half an hour,” he told her.
“What will we do until then?”
He thought for a moment, then had an idea.
“Come on,” he said with a lascivious wink that was pure mockery. “I’ll take you up to my bedroom.”
CHAPTER SIX
FEIGNED suspicion filled Callie’s dark eyes and she dug in her heels.
“Why?” she demanded to know.
Grant grinned and tugged on her hand. “Just to show you.”
She frowned. “Show me what?”
“I don’t know. All my trophies. How’s that?” He laughed. “Come on. Follow me.”
She wasn’t seriously reluctant, so she did follow him and they ended up in a large room overlooking the back garden. A huge bed took up most of the middle of the room.
“Wow. This bed looks big enough to have a party in,” she said.
She colored when he laughed and she realized how that could be taken.
“Too bad I was such a shy guy I never thought of that myself,” he said sadly.
She threw him a skeptical look. “Shy guy” just didn’t fit with the man she was getting to know. “Right.”
Lowering herself to sit on the edge of the bed, she looked around at the furnishings. Basketballs, baseball gloves, a snowboard, a racing bike, trophies and banners. There was no doubt this room had belonged to a male child. She had a quick vision of all the friends and fantasies that must have passed through this room over the years.
“You know, this is just crazy,” she said softly, looking up at him. “How can I marry you? I don’t really know you. I don’t know what sort of person you really are.” She studied him, frowning. “I don’t know if you’ve been a solid citizen or a womanizer. I don’t know if you cheat on your taxes or…or rescue little donkeys from the snow. Who are you?”
He stared at her for a moment. “It doesn’t usually snow in this part of Texas,” he said at last. “At least not when the donkeys are out.”
She bit her lip. She refused to laugh. Instead she rose and began wandering about the room, looking at the artifacts of his growing up years.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” she said, picking up an endearing picture of a young Grant in a soccer uniform. He was trying to look tough and fierce for the camera. “Tell me what you were like as a child,” she said, setting it down.
“As a child?” His shrug was nonchalant. “I was a boy genius, of course.”
“Really.” She perused the titles in his bookcase-mostly old textbooks. “Tell me more.”
“Well, let’s see.” He struck a pose as though harkening back in time. “Naturally I was a Boy Scout. Helped my share of old ladies across the street. Won all my badges.”
“What else?” she asked, assuming he was only half-serious. There was a mocking tone to his attitude that let her know he wasn’t going to reveal any more than he had to.
“There’s not much more.”
She gave him a look. “Come on. Make an effort. I need to know.”
He shrugged and his voice took on the timbre of a radio announcer.
“I was a studious lad right from the start. Top honors in recitation. Walked miles through the snow to get to school.”
“I thought you just said it didn’t snow around here.”
“Snow in the metaphorical sense, of course.”
She sighed, losing hope of getting anything honest out of him now. “I should have known.”
He went on. “When I wasn’t studying, I was collecting things. Coins, stamps, butterflies.”
“Girlfriends?” she suggested casually, finding a stack of annuals and taking one up to flip through.
He scowled at her. “Never.”
“No kidding.” She raised an eyebrow as she found a page in his annual signed by lots of girlish sounding names.
“Of course. I was the model student. Summers I spent at science camp. I wrote journals and was president of the entomology club. Advisor to Student Scholars. Champion at one-hour chess. I had no time for frivolous things like girls and parties and…”
“Hmm. Then I guess this yearbook must belong to some other guy named Grant. Here’s a note from someone named Snookie. ‘My dearest Grant,’” she read from the page, glancing up to see how he was taking it. “‘Thanks so much for giving me your picture. I keep it under my pillow so I can kiss you good-night every night. I pretend I’m your one and only girl, even though you explained to me how you don’t believe in going steady…’” She looked up at him, aghast. “You cad!” she cried.
He shrugged and tried to look innocent. “Snookie? Never heard of her.”
“Here’s another one. ‘Grant, you hottie! I saved you a seat in assembly but you didn’t show up. I’m looking forward to Friday night. You are so hot! Love, Mimi.’”
Grant’s innocent act was beginning to fray around the edges and he was looking a little shifty-eyed.
“I don’t remember any Mimi, either,” he said before she had a chance to make a comment.
“I’ll bet she remembers you.”
He frowned, shoved his hands down deep into his pockets and looked at her sideways, trying a new direction.
