I Hope You Dance Read online

  At last, they entered the resort town. His friend, Andy Davidson, had given Grant clear directions to the restaurant’s location. Easy to follow—a right, a left, and another left. After the last turn, at the end of a short road, he saw the sign on a new building: THE SUNDOWN.

  “There it is,” he said to Skye.

  “Good. I’m famished.”

  After parking the Jeep, Grant hopped out and hurried around to open the door for Skye. He offered his hand, and she took it without hesitation. As if they’d been holding hands for years. He was sorry when she let go.

  “How do you know the owner?” she asked as they walked toward the entrance.

  “Andy’s from Montana too. We met at the university in our freshman year.”

  “And you bonded over your common interest in food and cooking?”

  Grant chuckled. “No. He was a business major. He planned to be a CEO of one corporation or another by the time he was thirty. But the first business he invested in was a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant, and he found he liked running it. So he bought a place that was bigger and better and liked it even more. Then he inherited this piece of property from a relative and decided to tear down what was on it and build the Sundown.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Not surprised.” He pulled the restaurant door open and waved her inside. “It just opened a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Has he tried to steal you from Ultimate Adventures and the Tamarack Grill?”

  Before Grant could answer in the affirmative, Andy appeared, walking toward them with an arm outstretched.

  “Great to see you.” Andy shook Grant’s hand with gusto. “Have you thought about my offer?” Without waiting for an answer, Andy looked at Skye. His eyes sparkled with appreciation, and his voice deepened as he said, “You must be Miss Foster. A pleasure to meet you. I’m Andy Davidson.”

  “It’s nice to meet you too.”

  “Was good of you to drag Grant out of Kings Meadow. I’ve been after him to come up to McCall for months, but he’s always busy.”

  Skye glanced in Grant’s direction. “This was all his idea. I had nothing to do with it.” She smiled, and the warmth of her gaze made him feel like a hero out of one of his sisters’ romance novels.

  After a period of silence, Andy cleared his throat. “I’ve got the best table in the house all ready for the two of you.” He motioned for them to follow.

  Andy hadn’t lied. It was a great table. At the back of the restaurant, up five steps, then up another five, the table looked out over the lake. Sunlight glimmered off the water in sparks of gold and silver. Waves created by breeze and boat motors lapped at the shore below them.

  “It’s beautiful,” Skye said.

  Andy grinned at them both and then walked away. Moments later, the waitress came to take their beverage order.

  As soon as the waitress was once again out of hearing, Skye leaned toward Grant. “So he has tried to steal you away from Kings Meadow,” she said in a hushed tone.

  He shrugged, liking that she’d overheard Andy’s question. Not that he wanted to be prideful, but still . . .

  “You aren’t going to leave, are you?” There was earnest concern in her voice now.

  He matched her posture, his gaze holding hers. “I’ve got a few good reasons not to leave.” A slow smile curved his mouth before he added, “At least I hope so, Skye.” Another few heartbeats. “Do I?”

  The room seemed to spin. Skye’s heart raced. The conversations of other diners dimmed.

  “I’ve got a few good reasons not to leave . . . At least, I hope so, Skye . . . Do I?”

  She found it hard to draw a breath as the words repeated in her head. Was he asking about her? About her feelings? Was she one of those good reasons for him not to leave Kings Meadow?

  Before she could think of what to say, the waitress arrived with their beverages. Skye felt a sudden and strong dislike for the girl and her lousy timing. Oblivious, the waitress asked, “Are you ready to order?”

  Skye glanced at the menu, settling on the first thing she saw. “I’ll have the lemon-crusted chicken.”

  “Any sides?”

  She shook her head. Hurry up. Go away.

  The waitress looked at Grant.

  “I’ll have the pan-seared trout, please. Garlic mashed potatoes for the side.”

  The waitress smiled. “I’ll have these right out.” She walked away in the direction of the kitchen.

  Skye feared the interruption had ruined the mood, but when Grant’s gaze returned to her, the intense look in his eyes made her pulse gallop a second time.

  He drew his chair closer to hers. “Skye, I’ve never known anyone like you. Never felt this way before. There’s something . . . something special going on here.” He pointed to himself, then to her. “Between you and me.”

  She swallowed.

  “Do you feel it too?” he asked, his voice low.

  Yes, she mouthed, but no sound came out.

  He didn’t smile, as she’d expected him to. Instead, his dark brows drew together in a frown. “There’s something you should know about me, Skye.”

  “What’s that?” she whispered.

  “I . . . I haven’t always lived the way I should. I partied hard for a lot of years. Wasn’t very respectful of the girls I dated. Never thought it mattered because I didn’t have any intention of settling down.” He ran a hand over his hair. “God got my attention a few years back, and I’ve been trying to live right since. It’s one of the reasons I came to Kings Meadow. To move away from the man I used to be. I didn’t come here to . . . to get into a serious relationship. I never had plans to fall in love with anybody.”

  Serious relationship? A warm thrill passed through her. Fall in love?

  He reached across the corner of the table and took hold of her hand. “I don’t know for sure where this is going. Maybe it won’t go anywhere. But I’d sure like to find out. Wouldn’t you?”

  She nodded.

  He leaned in slowly, his gaze on her mouth. Unable to breathe, she waited for their lips to meet. The sensations, when it happened, were delicious. She wanted it to last forever. It ended in seconds. But brief as it had been, she knew she would never be the same.

  Skye was still asleep the next morning when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “You were supposed to call me when you got back yesterday.”

  “Hi, Mom.” She pushed hair off her face. “I . . . forgot.” It was the truth. Her mind had been in a muddle after Grant brought her home late in the afternoon.

  “So . . . tell me about your young man.”

  “It’s a little early to start calling him that.”

  “Is it?”

  She remembered the brief kiss in the restaurant. She also remembered the second, slower kiss they’d shared, standing on her doorstep.

  “Skye?”

  With her free arm, she drew a pillow to her chest and held it close. “Oh, Mom. He’s really special. I know nobody’s perfect, but I think Grant’s perfect for me.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  Eyes closed, she launched into a litany of all she’d learned about Grant since the moment they first met. Every wonderful, thrilling, fascinating, charming thing she knew about him.

  “My goodness,” her mom said when Skye fell silent at last. “He does sound perfect. Doesn’t he have any flaws?”

  Trying to sound more serious and less starstruck, she answered, “He isn’t a very good dancer.”

  “Hmm.”

  “But we’re working on that.” Eyes open again, she laughed. She couldn’t help it. She was too happy to hold it in for long.

  “Your dad and I would love to get to know him. More than to just say hello in church. Could we have you two over for dinner sometime soon?”

  “Sure. That’d be great.” Skye shoved aside the pillow and sat up. “Sundays and Mondays are his days off. He’s pretty busy the rest of the time. Working two jobs and al
l.”

  “Well, how about next Sunday after church?”

  “Okay. I’ll ask him if he’s free and let you know.” She glanced at the clock and quickly counted the hours until she would meet Grant at the dance studio. Anticipation caused her insides to spin.

  Her mom deftly changed the subject, and they chatted for a few more minutes before saying good-bye.

  After dropping the phone back into its cradle, Skye was tempted to fall back into bed and pull the sheet over her head. Going back to sleep sounded like the best idea, but something told her it wouldn’t happen, even if she tried. Not with Grant’s image planted firmly in her mind. She would blame her mom’s call, except she’d been dreaming about him when the phone rang.

  Smiling, she got out of bed and headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later, wet hair wrapped in a turban, she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in her underclothes, and applied makeup. Normally, she was in too much of a hurry to care. A little eye shadow. A bit of mascara. A quick brush of mineral foundation. Even when competing, she’d never been one to primp too much. But today she didn’t want to look normal or even settle for pretty. She wanted to look beautiful. For Grant.

  Is it real? Can this be happening?

  She lowered her hand, still staring at her reflection.

  God, I think Grant’s the one. I hope he is. Did You bring us together so we can build a future together?

  A husband. A home. Babies. Meeting Grant, loving Grant, could mean all of that.

  Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of the children of his youth. Isn’t that what You say, Lord?

  There was that luscious swirl of sensations in her midsection again.

  “Mmmm.”

  She dropped the makeup brush into a bin in the middle drawer, then reached for the blow dryer. If she didn’t hurry up, she wouldn’t be ready for that lesson with Grant this afternoon.

  Grant stood by the river, skipping smooth, flat stones across the surface of the water. He’d come here to think, not long after the sun was up. It was a quiet setting. Far from any homes or ranches. Far from the road that wound its way east. Most fishermen didn’t come to this spot, although Grant didn’t know why. He’d seen fish swimming near the banks. But he wasn’t about to ask any fishermen. He liked knowing he could come here and be alone, to think and to pray.

  This morning, his thoughts and prayers were all about Skye Foster.

  It wasn’t often that he felt as unsure of himself as he did right now. BC Grant had been arrogant and impudent. The new version of Grant was more levelheaded, more of a clear thinker, more prudent.

  Prudent? He skipped another stone. Not exactly what I’d call what I said and did yesterday.

  Maybe not, but he’d meant it. All of it. He wanted to find out where things might go between them. And he’d meant that kiss too. Those kisses. He was more than attracted to Skye. It wasn’t merely the desire of a guy for a beautiful gal. There was more to his feelings than that.

  “But can I trust my feelings? The heart’s deceitful. Right?”

  He tipped his head back and looked beyond his hat brim at the cloudless blue sky, as if expecting to find the answer written in the heavens. It wasn’t.

  Skye was special. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he was afraid he would. This was new territory for him. He’d never expected to meet a girl who could change his mind about love and marriage. Not that Skye had changed his mind. Especially not about the latter. Not yet anyway.

  But what if she did change it and then he discovered—too late—that he wasn’t cut out to be one half of a whole? What if he was meant to be a whole all on his own? Hadn’t the apostle Paul written that it was better to be single? Grant didn’t have to be like the rest of his family, rushing into love, rushing into marriage, rushing into having kids.

  He shook his head as he scuffed his boot against the hard ground. He’d been sure of himself yesterday morning. Why all the doubts now?

  Maybe because there’s already more between us than I know what to do with. Maybe because it scares me, not knowing what’s going to happen next.

  He released a deep breath. Scared or not, confused or not, he would be with Skye this afternoon. He would hold her in his arms while the music played and while he tried not to step on her toes.

  And if opportunity allowed, he would kiss her again.

  Skye came around the corner of her dance studio at a quarter before the hour. The Jeep was parked at the curb. Grant leaned his backside against it, his legs braced, ankles crossed, face shaded by his hat brim.

  Add a guitar and it’d make a great album cover.

  “You’re early again,” she said with a smile.

  He straightened away from the vehicle. “Guess I’m eager to get the footwork right.”

  Heart tripping, she put the key in the lock and turned the deadbolt.

  “Tell me something,” he said from nearby.

  “What’s that?” The words were nearly inaudible, even to herself.

  “You park in the back lot, but you don’t go in through the backdoor. How come?”

  Well, that wasn’t what she’d expected him to ask. It left her disappointed, to say the least. She faced him. “Habit, more than anything. And the lock on the backdoor sticks sometimes, so coming around to the front is easier than fighting with it.”

  “Mmm.” He pulled on the bar to open the door. “Maybe I should look at the lock and get it to stop sticking.”

  “Sure. If you want to.”

  Skye led the way inside, Grant following right behind. The interior of the studio was bathed in shadows. It was tempting to leave it that way. More romantic. But she forced herself to open the blinds and let in the sunlight. Best if she remembered why they were here. She’d promised Charity the entire wedding party would be the best dancing bunch this valley had ever seen.

  “We’re going to work on the two-step today,” she said, heading for the stereo. “This is the Two-Step Dance Studio, after all.”

  “What about that waltz we did last week? I didn’t master that yet.”

  She smiled at the uncertainty in his voice. “You will. We still have time. I want you able to do at least two dances at the wedding. So we’ll get the basics of the two-step down this week, and next week we’ll start perfecting it and the waltz.”

  He shook his head slowly but said nothing.

  Skye selected a Josh Turner album from her collection of music on the iPod. Punching the control, she fast-forwarded to the last track, “Why Don’t We Just Dance.” Josh’s deep voice came through the speakers.

  “Great song,” Grant said.

  She turned toward him again. “Just listen to it. Get a feel for the tempo. Count it out. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” She patted herself near her collarbone for several bars. “Feel that beat. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Feel it on your insides.”

  “Okay. I’m feelin’ it.”

  “We’re going to dance to those six beats.” She paused the player, plunging the studio into silence. She returned to stand before Grant. “For the man, the first step always starts with his left foot. So put your weight on your right. We’re not going to move at first. Just step in place. There are two quick steps, followed by two slow steps.”

  “How quick?” Unmistakable dread filled his voice.

  She couldn’t help herself. She took hold of his hands, then rose on tiptoe to kiss him lightly, almost playfully, on the lips. “You can do this. Relax. Okay? Relax.”

  “Easy for you to say,” he muttered—but he was smiling again.

  She squeezed his hands before releasing them. “Left is one. Right is two. Left is three, four. Right is five, six. Quick. Quick. Slow. Slow. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” He took a half step forward. “But when do we get to the part where I get to hold you?”

  She laughed. “When you earn it.”

  “Knew there had to be a catch.”

  Her mom had always said that falling in love was exhaustin
g because of all the highs and lows involved, but that being in love for the long haul was like a good fire on a cold winter night, full of comfort. Skye wasn’t sure about the second part, but the first part was wrong. She found falling in love exhilarating. It was all highs so far.

  “Teacher?”

  “Hmm.”

  “I don’t think I can wait.”

  And he didn’t. He grabbed the brim of his hat, pulled it off his head, and tossed it aside. Then he placed his index finger under her chin, tipped her head back, and lowered his mouth to hers. Skye felt the kiss all the way down to her toes, and she was grateful when he wrapped his arms around her, lest she crumple into a helpless heap at his feet.

  I love you, Grant. I know it’s happening fast, but I love you.

  He ended the kiss and drew back, though not far. His breath still warmed her cheek. She opened her eyes to look up into his.

  “Miss Foster,” he said, voice low, “I’ve completely forgotten the steps.”

  “Strange, Mr. Nichols. So have I.”

  On matters of a romantic nature, Grant would have preferred to talk to Buck Malone. A year ago, Grant’s good friend had been a lot like him when it came to thoughts of marriage. Although for different reasons than Grant, Buck hadn’t been interested in settling down with one woman. Meeting Charity had changed his mind.

  But Buck was in the backcountry for the next week with a large group of riders, and Grant couldn’t wait until his return. He needed advice now. When he arrived at the Leonard Ranch on Thursday, he went looking for Chet. Grant found his boss in a stall in the barn, doctoring a wound on a yearling’s chest.

  “Mornin’,” Grant said as he leaned his arms on the top rail.

  Chet glanced up, then returned to his task. “Morning.”

  “What happened to this young fella?”