Skye had dreamed of marriage, a husband, and lots of children since she was a girl in pigtails. But she’d longed for all of that under God’s covering and blessing. Was it beginning to come true at last?
The service passed in a blur. Skye had a difficult time concentrating on the words spoken and the songs sung. She tried to focus, but it seemed an impossible task.
The congregation rose for Tom Butler’s closing prayer, and when he said “Amen,” the sanctuary buzzed with voices as people began to depart. Friendly invitations to Sunday dinner were spoken. Hugs were given. Laughter erupted from small groups.
“So,” Skye said to Grant, “what did you think?”
“I liked it. Tom’s a good preacher. Figured he would be.” He stepped backward out of the pew, then waited for her to exit and walk with him.
Skye felt warmth color her cheeks. So strange. She didn’t blush easily. Why now? Why this? Before she could answer her own questions, her mom’s voice intruded.
“Skye, you are here.”
As her parents approached, Skye answered, “Yes, I was running late, so we sat in the back.”
The word we drew her mom’s gaze to Grant.
“Mom. Dad. This is Grant Nichols. Grant, my parents, Midge and Rand Foster.”
The two men shook hands and exchanged a greeting while her mom turned questioning eyes upon Skye. She returned the look with a small shake of the head. A shake that said, Don’t pry.
“So,” her mom said, as if she hadn’t understood the silent warning, “what are you two doing for Sunday dinner?” Her gaze took in both Skye and Grant.
Skye wanted to sink into the floor.
Grant didn’t look bothered. He answered, “Mrs. Foster, I was planning to ask your daughter to go for a drive. It’s a fine summer day. I thought we’d get something to eat up in McCall.” He glanced over at Skye. “Interested?”
The embarrassment over her mom’s question vanished as she nodded to Grant.
“Well, you two have fun,” her mom said. Then she leaned in to kiss Skye’s cheek before whispering, “Call me later.”
Grant once again cupped Skye’s elbow, and they followed her parents out of the church, all of them pausing long enough to speak to Tom Butler before passing through the open doors. On the sidewalk, her mom and dad said good-bye to them and walked toward the church parking lot.
Grant tipped his head in the opposite direction. “I’m parked down thataway. You ready? Do you need to go home first?”
“No. I’m ready.”
“Great.”
He stepped around to her left side so that he walked closest to the street. Skye wondered if he treated all women with this much care and respect. But as soon as the thought came to her, she knew the answer was a yes. He was that kind of man. It was obvious that was how he’d been raised.
She glanced at him, curious to know more about that. “Have your parents come for a visit since you moved to Kings Meadow?”
“Nope. Not yet. You know how hard it is for a rancher to get away for any length of time. Dad takes care of most of the ranch work himself. I’ve got brothers who pitch in, of course, but they’ve got other jobs, and all but one have families of their own.” He gave a slight shrug. “So I go home for visits when I can.”
They arrived at his Jeep, and he held the door for her as she got in. What was it about his polite actions that made her feel pretty and feminine? And so very eager to know what would come next.
Northbound traffic was light on this summer Sunday afternoon, and Grant was content to drive in silence with Skye at his side. The windows were down, and the wind tugged at their hair. The air smelled fresh and sweet. He glanced to his right and saw a smile curve the corners of her mouth.
That’s a good sign.
When he had to slow down for a series of curves in the winding road, he said, “I’ve got a friend who recently opened a restaurant in McCall. I thought we’d eat there. Unless you’re too hungry to wait that long.”
“I can wait,” she answered. “There’re not a lot of choices between here and there anyway.”
He sensed her gaze upon him. It was insane, the way it made him feel. The way she made him feel. And it surprised him how eager he was to dive headlong into the insanity.
“Okay to have some music?” she asked, already reaching for the audio control.
His Jeep was over twenty years old, but he’d had a new stereo system put in the previous year. Even with the windows down, the speakers put forth a great sound. The playlist was a mixture of classic country and hits by current recording artists, and he knew he’d chosen well when Skye began to sing along. Soon Grant’s voice joined hers.