Tom chuckled. “Even the dance lessons. But we’re all sorry you can’t be there the same night as the rest of us.”
“It’s okay. Skye and I found a time that works for both of us.” He schooled his features, trying not to sound overly interested. “She goes to your church, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she does. All the Fosters do. Good family.”
Grant nodded as his gaze drifted out the window at the passing terrain. His thoughts drifted too. Back to Kings Meadow. Back to Skye. It had only been three days since he’d gone with her under the pretense of helping unload her new horse, but those three days had seemed extra long.
Why didn’t I pick up the phone and call her?
He’d wanted to. It almost scared him how much he’d wanted to. He’d never felt this way before, as if he were headed over a waterfall in a raft, not knowing if he would survive the drop but willing to take the risk because of what he might find at the bottom. Skye liked him. He was fairly certain of that. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her by moving too fast. By coming on too strong.
By kissing her too soon.
Her image filled his mind. Did she look like the kind of gal who would spook that easy? The question made him grin.
Not on your life.
On her knees, Skye scrubbed the shower grout with a toothbrush. Attacked it, more like. Frustration had been building in her for the past three days, and she was letting it out with a fit of cleaning.
She’d been certain Grant would call her. But her home phone hadn’t rung on Thursday or Friday. It had been just as silent this morning.
Maybe I misread him.
No. No, she hadn’t misread Grant. He was attracted to her. Maybe she was a little out of practice. She hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in a while. But she hadn’t lost her senses completely. She knew when a guy was interested. Grant Nichols was interested.
Maybe he’s shy.
No, that didn’t make sense either. He wasn’t shy around her. Not at all. He was friendly and inquisitive. And when he looked at her—
Pleasure skittered up her spine at the memory.
Skye sat back on her heels, and with the back of her rubber glove she pushed her bangs off her forehead.
“I like him so much,” she whispered. Then she straightened, eyes widening. “Maybe he doesn’t know I like him.”
As if in response, the long-awaited ring of the telephone came to her from the other end of the house. She shot to her feet, yanking off the rubber gloves and dropping them in the sink before rushing out of the bathroom and down the hallway to the kitchen. She grabbed the phone without even taking time to check the caller ID.
“Hello?” She squeezed her eyes closed and held her breath, hoping.
“Hi, Skye.”
Disappointment sliced through her at the familiar voice. “Hi, Charity.”
“I was wondering, would it be all right if Mom and Dad joined our group on Tuesday nights? I know they didn’t sign up for the lessons. They go dancing all the time as it is. But now Mom says it sounds like we’re having too much fun without them.”
“Sure. They’re welcome to come. Everybody can get better with a few lessons, even if they know what they’re doing.”
“Terrific. And while I’ve got you on the phone, can I just say thanks again for the bridal shower? It was so much fun. Buck says the bride’s the one who gets to have all the fun.” Charity laughed softly. “I gave him a couple of twenties and told him not to party too hard while he and the guys are in Boise.”
What guys? Skye pressed the receiver tighter against her ear. “What’s he doing in Boise?”
“Today’s the day they all get fitted for their morning suits.”
“Grant too? I thought he worked on Saturdays.”
“Mmm. I guess Chet gave him the day off. I’m glad, ’cause it will be good to mark this off the wedding to-do list.”
Skye’s entire body seemed to lighten. Grant was with Buck and the other groomsmen. He couldn’t or wouldn’t call her when he was down in Boise. Of course, that didn’t explain away the silence of the phone on Thursday and Friday, but Grant worked two jobs. Perhaps he’d tried to call her when she wasn’t in. Some people didn’t like to leave messages. Maybe he was one of them.
“Skye? Are you still there?”
“What? Yes. Yes, I’m still here. Something was . . . about to boil over on the stove.” She winced as the lie slipped off her tongue. “Sorry.”
“Sounds like you’re busy. I won’t keep you any longer. See you Tuesday.”
“See you Tuesday. Bye.”
Skye returned the handset to the phone cradle but didn’t move away from the kitchen counter. There wasn’t much point hanging around the house, waiting for the phone to ring again. Not with Grant in Boise for what sounded like at least several hours.
The grout could wait. She needed some fresh air.