At the door, Charity gave Skye a tight squeeze. “This was so nice of you to do for me,” she said softly. As she drew back, she glanced at her mother. “I had no idea you’re both such good liars. And Sara too. I didn’t suspect a thing.”
“I’m glad we fooled you,” Skye answered. “I thought for sure I’d give something away before we got here.”
“Well, you didn’t, and it was great fun.” Charity moved through the open doorway onto the front stoop. “See you Tuesday night?”
“Yeah. See you then.”
Skye waited to close the door until Sophie’s Suburban and Charity’s Lexus disappeared around a corner at the end of the street. Almost at once, exhaustion swept over her. She dropped onto the sofa with a sigh, thankful the other ladies had insisted on helping clean up before they left. The shower had been a great success, which delighted her to no end. But what she wanted most now was a nap. She closed her eyes, and visions of white wedding gowns filled her imagination as she drifted off to sleep.
Grant had been invited to Sunday dinner with the Leonard family. During the summer, it always felt strange to be at the ranch and not be cooking for the guests of their glamping enterprise. Strange, but nice for a change.
Other than his dad, there wasn’t any man Grant admired and respected more than Chet Leonard. Nearly twenty years Grant’s senior, Chet had an easygoing way about him, even when life threw him curveballs. He also had a strong work ethic and an even stronger faith. It was the latter that had made him so important as a friend and mentor.
Grant had been a brand-new believer when he’d moved to Kings Meadow. Despite the best efforts of his parents, he’d known next to nothing about the Bible and forgotten whatever he’d learned as a kid in Sunday school. At twenty-six he’d been partial to beer, cigarettes, swearing a blue streak, and wild women—in no particular order. A lot of his sinful habits had fallen away the night he’d given himself over to God. A lot of them, but not all. He’d still been a rough-around-the-edges Christian when he met Chet. The older man had taken an interest in Grant and had been guiding him ever since.
Now, an hour after polishing off hamburgers, potato salad, baked beans, and cherry-topped cheesecake, the two men sat on the back deck, shaded from view by huge, decades-old trees. Both of them held open Bibles on their laps.
“I understand what you’re saying.” Grant leaned forward. “And I love the honesty of the psalmist. But this verse seems to be talking about killing babies. How can that be right in God’s sight?”
“The Bible is full of hard sayings, Grant. I believe God wants us to wrestle over the words we don’t understand and go to Him for answers.” Chet closed his Bible and moved it to a small table. “I also figure some things will remain a mystery, or we would have no need for faith.”
“And it’s impossible to please God without faith,” Grant said, feeling a pleasant calm steal over him.
Chet nodded. “Yep.”
Grant thought about asking another question, but realized he had his answers for now. Then Chet’s attention was drawn to the driveway leading to the highway. Grant’s gaze followed, and he saw a silver pickup approaching the ranch complex. He knew that pickup—and his pulse quickened. Unless someone else was driving it, Grant wouldn’t have to wait until tomorrow to see Skye Foster.
In unison the two men stood and reached for their hats. By the time the truck began to slow as it approached the barnyard, Chet and Grant had left the deck and rounded the corner of the house.
The driver’s side door of the Tacoma opened, and a moment later Skye dropped to the ground. Clad in boots and jeans, her hair covered with a straw cowboy hat, Grant thought her just about the cutest gal he’d ever laid eyes on. She kind of . . . sparkled.
Now there was a word he’d never before used to describe a woman.
Skye grinned when she saw the two men approaching. “Hey, Chet.” If she remembered Grant from their meeting outside the hair salon, she didn’t greet him by name, although she did nod at him. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. Kimberly said it was okay for me to come out this afternoon.”
“It’s fine, Skye.” Chet tipped his head toward Grant. “Have you two met? Skye Foster, Grant Nichols. Grant, Skye.”
“Yes, we’ve met,” Skye said. “Hi, Mr. Nichols.”
“Just Grant, please. Good to see you.” He touched his hat brim in her direction.
Her smile broadened before she looked at Chet again. “I’m thinking about buying another horse. For competitions. I was hoping you might have a good prospect for me.”
“You’ve retired Snickers, I take it.”
Grant noticed a flicker of sadness in Skye’s eyes.
“Yeah,” she answered. “He deserves to take it easier from here on out. He’s still got plenty of life in him, but his barrel-racing days are over.”
“What about your mare?”