“My guess is he’s headed back to our ranch.” Maren nodded toward the Friar property, nudging her chin that direction. “When it would storm really bad like this, he and Dad would wait it out in the old potting shed. Something they used to do together. Getting away from the other horses seemed to calm him.”
“We should go there and check on him,” Grady said, feeling responsible for this horse he’d only had a day. He noticed Maren’s gaze fall from his face to his bare chest and something about that made heat creep onto his neck and cheeks. He fumbled with the shirt buttons and began fastening them.
Maren swallowed and shifted her feet. She averted her eyes. “I’ll text Josie and have her check to see if he’s there.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and typed on the screen. “It’s late. You don’t need to be out in this.”
“You don’t either,” Grady said. In the short time they’d been standing under the open skies, Maren’s top had become drenched, heavy with water. “Come up to the loft with me?”
Her eyes went wide.
“We can get you dried off and warmed up.”
“I can just head home…” Her voice trailed off before she squinted her eyes and looked up at him and said, “You know what? Let’s do that, actually.”
Taking her hand into his, Grady guided Maren through the shadows toward the barn. When they came up to the ladder leading to the loft, he stayed a few rungs below as she ascended it. Once at the top, he hoisted himself into the hayloft and walked over to open the trunk he had stocked with his clothes. He grabbed an old high school sweatshirt and passed it her way.
“I’m going to head into the house to make us some hot tea to warm up. You can change into this in the meantime. I’ll be back in a few minutes. You okay out here by yourself?”
“I’ll be fine. Take your time.”
Arms crossed over her body, Maren took in the surroundings that had once been so familiar to her. She nodded and offered a small, guarded smile.
“I’ll be right back.”
As quietly as he could, Grady filled and placed a teapot on the stove to warm. He waited, staring at it so he could snag it from the burner before it began to whistle. It was a quarter past ten and he didn’t want to wake Kiley who was sleeping soundly down the hall. He retrieved two mugs from the cupboard and filled them to the brim. Then he found two packets of chamomile tea, opened them, and dropped the bags into the water to steep.
Negotiating the loft ladder with two cups of hot liquid in his grip was no easy task, but he managed.
“It’s pretty warm, so you might want to let it cool a little first.”
Grady bent down and settled the mugs onto the trunk. When he stood, he caught sight of Maren standing by the hayloft window, now dressed in his well-loved sweatshirt, her hair wrapped in a messy topknot on her head. The hoodie was noticeably oversized on her, hanging loose in the arms and around the neckline, but something about seeing Maren in it made Grady’s heart stutter in his chest. His mouth fell open.
“Thank you,” she said, turning and stepping toward him to take the cup. Her slender fingers curled around the ceramic. “Josie just texted back. She found Remy right where I figured he would be. She’s going to stay in the shed with him for the night and bring him back over in the morning.”
“Should you go?” Grady almost hated to ask the question. He was afraid to hear the answer.
“No. Josie’s become quite the horsewoman. A better one than I’ve ever been. She can take care of things on her own. She’d prefer it that way, I think.”
His eyes dropped to the small cut on Maren’s lip which had already healed nicely. “I know you two are like oil and water, Mare, but I’ve been lucky enough to see her grow up these last few years. I know there always has been—and likely always will be—a strain between you two, but she loves you. You have to know that.”
Looking up from under dark lashes, Maren stared straight into Grady’s eyes and said, “The funny thing is, sometimes I think that strain exists because of that love.”
17
Maren
Grady looked like he was about to say something, but instead lifted his mug to his mouth and drowned whatever words tempted to make their way out. Wisps of steam rose up between them. Maren pressed her lips to her mug and savored the drink before swallowing it down. She loved chamomile. It always calmed her, living up to the claims on the package.
But tonight, that calm eluded her. She’d buzzed with nerves when she saw Grady spin around, his flannel shirt hanging open, his rain-slicked chest highlighted in the headlight’s glare. She’d seen him without a shirt many times before. In fact, Grady typically spent most of the summer without one.
But he was a man now and nothing about his body resembled the one in her memories. He was strong and masculine and possessed a quiet confidence that made her knees unhinge. She’d never met anyone quite like Grady. Sure, he was undeniably gorgeous on the outside, but the whole of who he was—his character deep within—that attracted her the most.
She loved him for their shared past, but she loved him even more for the man he had become. The man who stood before her right now.
The fact that he was so attentive to Kiley should’ve made him less desirable, but oddly, in Maren’s eyes, it did the opposite. His steadfast loyalty was everything. For Grady to be anything less than completely upstanding would fly in the face of the very person she always knew him to be.
Breaking their gaze, Maren pulled in another long sip of tea and then placed the cup onto the ledge of the trunk. She slunk her hands into the front pocket of her sweatshirt and turned back toward the open window to watch the rain fall just outside. Grady’s farmhouse stood tall and proud. When she was a young girl, she often dreamt of moving in there. In fact, when she was around eight-years-old, she’d packed her pink suitcase and trudged the long way over to Cutter Ranch. She’d had a fight with Josie over dishwashing chores and had stormed out of the house in a huff.
When Grady’s mama opened the door, Maren announced that she had run away and needed a place to crash for the night. His mama graciously played along, even going so far as to tuck Maren into bed in the guest room just after dusk. A few hours later, Maren felt her daddy lift her out from underneath the covers. She remembered the weight of her small body drooping against her father’s protective chest, her legs dangling languidly beneath her as he placed her into the truck and drove her back home.
Yes, she’d pretended to run away from home, but in reality, it felt just like running from one home to another. There had always been a tangible hope that someday she’d have a permanent place within the Cutter residence.
With Kiley now sleeping soundly within those walls, Maren knew that hope had slipped through her fingers, once and for all.
Behind her, Maren could hear Grady discard his empty mug, too. Footfalls at her back sent a shiver rippling down her spine. She became aware of every creak of the old, knotty floorboards beneath them with each step he took, and she felt every tick of her pulse thrumming in her neck as he lessened the space between them. Before she could release the breath she’d been holding, his arms came around her.