I wanted the best for my daughter. I always had and I always would. Every decision I’d made had been tied to that reason.
After a few minutes, I accepted that the novelty of swimming in a fountain was not going to wear off anytime soon, so I took a seat on one of the front steps and let Charlie enjoy herself. Mrs. Kent came back a couple of times to check to see if I’d like a drink or anything to eat, but I thanked her and said I was good.
Another half hour had rolled by when a truck came passing through the gate at the street. Unlike the old one he and his dad had worked on restoring back in Texas, this truck was newer. It wasn’t anything flashy or lifted or anything like that—it was just a simple, everyday type of truck.
I guessed it was Grant since he said he’d be finishing up practice about this time, but I wasn’t sure until I saw him stick his head out the window when he broke to a stop in front of me.
I was upset at him. At least a little. And I had some big things to work out with him. But damn if I couldn’t help my smile when his formed.
“If I wasn’t sure before, now I know she’s my daughter.” Grant checked his rearview mirror, chuckling as he watched Charlie spray a stream of water from her mouth like she was one of the marble fish spitting water into the fountain.
“She’s all you,” I said.
“So?” Grant’s brows lifted as he shoved out of his door. “What do you think?”
I cleared my throat. “I’m still trying to decide what I think. Especially when there’s so much to ‘think’ about.”
His forehead creased into a couple of lines. “Okay, I think I remember that tone. Actually, I could never forget it. That’s your I’m-pissed-but-I’m-trying-not-to-show-it voice, right?”
“You remember.”
Grant closed the truck door and started toward me. Slowly. “Impossible to forget.”
“Why didn’t you tell me the address you gave me was your home?” I scooted over to give him space to take a seat beside me on the stair. My voice sounded more tired than pissed.
“Because I figured you wouldn’t be happy if I did. I was right.” He lifted his arm at where I sat when he paused at the bottom of the stairs.
“It’s not that I’m not happy. I just feel kind of tricked.”
“I wasn’t trying to trick you.”
My eyebrow arched. “Then what were you trying to do?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish look cast over his face. After a minute, he sighed. “Okay, fine. I was trying to trick you. A little.” He sighed again. “Do you not want to be here?” His gaze shifted to where Charlie was still splashing around in the fountain, oblivious to who had just pulled into the driveway.
“I don’t think I have enough mental capacity to arrive at an answer to that question yet. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that you bought me a car. A nice car.”
Grant nudged me. “That car’s pretty badass, right?”
“The car. The house.” I nudged him back, but he barely budged. The result of him being a wall of muscle and brawn. “Not too shabby for some kid from The Clink.”
He chuckled. “There are still mornings I wake up and don’t have a clue where I am or how I got there. Feels like I fell asleep in one world and woke up in another some days.”
“I know the feeling.”
We sat like that for a minute, smiling as we watched Charlie having a grand time. Then Grant turned so he was facing me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that the place I arranged for you two to stay was my home. I should have, and I knew I should have . . . but I didn’t.” His eyes drifted toward the front doors. “When I bought this place, I always imagined that one day I’d be able to enjoy it with my family. You and Charlie, you’re the only family I’ve got, Ryan.” His jaw popped as he worked it loose, still staring at his house like he was seeing something I couldn’t. “I let the idea of you guys being here with me get ahead of my better judgment. If you want to go somewhere else, I’ll understand. Or at least I’ll pretend to understand. Shit, I’ll even act understanding.” When he peered at me, his half-smile was in place, the storms of contemplation having passed.
“How big of you,” I teased, sliding out of the cardigan I’d slipped on earlier, anticipating it being cool up here in New York City, but it had turned out to be a warm day.
I didn’t miss the way Grant looked at me, the way his throat bobbed when I slid my hair over my shoulder. I also didn’t miss the way my stomach felt when I realized he was watching me that way. The way I remembered him looking at me when he’d wanted me. The way he’d admired me, taking his time looking before touching. God, it had been years since I’d felt that stomach-bottoming out phenomenon I was now. Years since I’d been looked at the way Grant was appraising me right now, because no one could look at me and make me feel the things he did. No one in this life at least.