Her gaze lifted to meet his, but she didn’t speak. After a few seconds, her eyes widened and her smile faded.
It was hard not to focus on her mouth, harder still not to lean down and kiss her. He hadn’t known her long enough to do that. The old Grant wouldn’t have cared that it was too early in their relationship. If he kissed a girl and scared her away, no worries. He would meet someone else soon enough. But the man he was today cared a lot. He wanted to do everything right, and he sure didn’t want to risk losing her before he’d had a chance to see where these feelings of his might go.
Clearing his throat, he took a step back. “Shall we get River unloaded?” He returned the iPhone to his pocket.
“Yes. Let’s.” Her reply had a breathless quality.
For the second time, he had to fight back the urge to kiss her.
Looking at the ground, she hurried past him. Had she sensed his desire? Had he blown it already?
Skye didn’t wait for Grant to join her before lowering the gate and stepping into the trailer. River came out with the same ease as he’d entered. The blue roan might be young and have lots of training still ahead of him, but he had intelligence and a calm nature. That boded well for both horse and rider.
Grant went to the pasture gate and unlatched it while Skye led her new gelding toward him. “Snickers,” he said. “Milky Way. Get back. Get back now.” He slowly swung the gate inward, keeping his eyes on the two horses. But they seemed willing to wait until River was set free before crowding in to inspect him.
Skye led the blue roan several yards beyond the gate before stopping, patting his neck, and saying something Grant couldn’t make out. Then she turned the horse loose. He trotted a short distance away. Head high, he whinnied. Snickers replied and walked toward the newcomer. Milky Way held her distance.
“Looks like they’re gonna get along fine,” Grant said.
Skye glanced in his direction and nodded.
“Do you own this property?”
“No,” she answered as she returned to the gate. “I rent it. Dad and Mom used to have some land south of town where we kept our horses when I was growing up. But they had to sell it when the economy took a downturn. That time was hard on a lot of folks around here.”
“Your mom’s a beautician—”
“Stylist,” she interrupted. “If you call Mom a beautician, it makes her feel old.”
He grinned at her. “Stylist. Sorry. Definitely don’t want to make your mom feel old. She wouldn’t like me much. What does your dad do?”
“He teaches history at the junior high school and coaches track-and-field.”
“So you’re a teacher like your dad?”
Her expression said she was pleased by the comparison he’d made. “Not quite like my dad. He had to get his college degree to do what he does. I just took dance lessons every year from the time I was six until I was seventeen.”
“What kind of dance?”
“All kinds. Tap. Ballet. Ballroom. Country. Miss Cooper taught everything.” As she spoke, she walked to the back of her truck and began to unhook the trailer. “My dance teacher was really great. I was never going to be a prima ballerina or anything, but she wasn’t after perfection from her students. She simply wanted to impart the joy of dance.”
“From what I’ve seen, she succeeded.”
Grant stepped forward to help lift the trailer off the hitch. When his hands landed on the bar beside hers, she looked up, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. Surprise and something more. Their heads were close. To kiss her, all he needed to do was sway forward a few inches. But before he could take action, she looked down again. With a strong yank, she freed the trailer from the hitch without his help.
Next time, Miss Foster. Next time I get the chance to kiss you, I’m taking it.
On the following Saturday, the groom, best man, and four groomsmen—including Grant—climbed into Ken Malone’s minivan. They were on their way to be fitted for morning jackets and all the accessories—trousers, shirt, waistcoat, pocket square, and cravat—for the wedding. Grant had been in enough of his siblings’ weddings to know what to expect once they got to the men’s store in Boise. But none of their weddings had been quite as formal as the Anderson-Malone wedding would be. Wearing tails would be a first for Grant.
The Malone brothers sat in the front of the automobile, Ken driving and Buck in the passenger’s seat. Behind them were Grant and Tom Butler, the Methodist minister. Buck’s soon-to-be brother-in-law, Rick Jansen—who’d driven to Kings Meadow from Sun Valley that morning—had the third row of seats to himself. From all appearances, Rick planned to sleep until they reached their destination.
Once on the highway, with Ken and Buck talking baseball, Grant said to Tom, “I guess you don’t find yourself serving as a groomsman very often.”
“It’s a first, actually. I’m enjoying the experience.”
“Even the dance lessons?”