Claiming the Single Mom's Heart (2 page)

“Was there something else?”

An unexpected smile surfaced. “I'm waiting for you to make the call.”

Oh, she was, was she?

A smile of his own tugged in response to the one that had made his breath catch, and he pulled out his cell phone. He wasn't used to not being trusted to do what he said he'd do. But anything to keep the peace, right? And to keep Sunshine smiling like that. On Mom's behalf, of course.

Under her watchful gaze he put some distance between them, then punched the contractor's speed-dial number. “Ted. It's Grady. I hear you've got your crew working this weekend.”

“A deadline's a deadline,” the gravelly voice responded, his tone defensive. “I've never missed one yet.”

“That work ethic is certainly why you were picked for the job.” Grady cut a look at Sunshine. “But what do you say we extend it by a week and let you and your boys knock off for the rest of the holiday weekend?”

It would be cutting it close, but an extra week wouldn't be a deal breaker, would it?

After a long pause, Ted chuckled. “That pretty artist complained to you, didn't she?”

Grady forced a smile as he nodded reassuringly in Sunshine's direction. “You're welcome, Ted.”

“Pushover.”

Was he? “Glad I could help your crew out.”

The contractor chuckled again. “Be careful there, Grady. You're playing with fire.”

“Sure thing. You have a good one, too, bud.”

Pocketing his cell phone again, Grady moved back to Sunshine. “All done.”

From the wary look in her eyes, she clearly hadn't anticipated he'd willingly accommodate her. A sense of satisfaction rose, catching her off guard, throwing a wrench in her assumptions.

“Anything else?” He needed to get back inside. They'd be cutting the cake shortly and he'd promised a toast. “I know you'd once approached Hunter Enterprises about leasing the property next door to expand the Artists' Co-op, but we've long had plans for it. We'll do our best to be a top-notch neighbor.”

“It's true we could use the additional space, but it will be nice having a bookstore in town.”

He frowned. “Bookstore?”

“You're opening a bookstore, right?”

“No.”

“I heard it was going to be a bookstore.”

“It's not.”

“Then, what—” her words came cautiously, reflecting a growing dread in her eyes “—will be going in next door to us?”

Chapter Two

“H
unter Ridge Wild Game Supply.”

“When you say
wild game
,” Sunshine ventured without much hope, “I don't suppose you mean a place that sells video games?”

Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of Grady's deep blue eyes and she steeled herself against the engaging grin. This was Grady Hunter, ladies' man, and she'd do well to keep that in mind. He'd been unexpectedly accommodating about the renovation next door. What was he up to?

“No, I mean a store that sells equipment and supplies for processing wild game. You know, stuff for making elk sausage and venison steaks.”

Okay. Deep breath. She could handle this. Her great-great-grandfather had, according to her grandmother, been a marksman who'd put food on the table with his hunting skills. She herself wasn't any more squeamish about wild game than she was about buying chicken or a pound of hamburger at the grocery store. But some Co-op members might disagree.

“Not solely in-store sales, but online, as well,” Grady continued, a note of pride in his voice. “Once we pass inspection, we'll also be officially licensed to do processing demonstrations as well as process game donated for regional food pantry programs. That's what the ongoing renovation is about—to put in a commercial kitchen, freezers, the works.”

She stiffened.
Processing on the premises?
Services that meant hunters hauling their field-dressed trophies through the front door? On the other hand, how could she object to feeding the hungry?

She must have hesitated a moment too long, for Grady's eyes narrowed.

“You have a problem with that?”

Not wanting to give the impression she was opposed to the idea, she offered what she hoped was a convincing smile. As a candidate for town council, she had to weigh her words carefully. It wouldn't be wise, two months before an election, to give the majority of those living in a town catering to outdoorsmen the impression she had issues with that.

She glanced toward the parking lot where Tori was no doubt watching and wondering what was taking her so long. “I personally have no problem with it, but some gallery customers and Co-op members may.”

“That's unfortunate.” He didn't look concerned. “But your worries are unfounded. We won't hang carcasses in the window or mount a deer head over the front door. It will be low-key. Discreet.”

“You do understand my problem, though, don't you?” She looked to him in appeal. “Our members are trying to create a welcoming atmosphere for shoppers of the fine arts. The gulf between the two worlds might be disconcerting for some.”

“I know a number of hunters who appreciate the fine arts and who, in fact, are award-winning painters and sculptors of wildlife. Maybe the Co-op should expand its horizons and find a way to better serve the foundation that Hunter Ridge was built on.”

“Taxidermy?” She flashed a smile. “I don't think that would go over well with local artists who call this town home.”

“Then, it sounds as if folks should have researched Hunter Ridge more closely before coming here, doesn't it?” He quirked a persuasive smile of his own. “You
could
move the gallery, you know. If not to another town, there are empty buildings that I imagine would be suitable.”

“Unfortunately...” Sunshine drew in a resigned breath “...the Co-op recently signed a three-year lease.”

Which had been her doing. She'd been proud of convincing their out-of-town landlord, Charlotte Gyles, to give the Co-op a lower monthly rental rate in exchange for committing to a three-year contract. But look where it had landed them now. Member Gideon Edlow, who'd give anything to unseat her as manager of the Co-op, would gleefully cry, “I told you so.” Being booted out of the position would mean losing the apartment above the gallery and being forced out of town before she'd had a chance to verify her grandmother's story.

She couldn't allow that to happen.

“Even if relocation isn't an option, you don't have anything to worry about.” Grady tugged at his loosened tie, and she couldn't help but wonder how he'd looked in the full regalia at that morning's nuptials. “This is to be an unobtrusive, word-of-mouth and online operation. We have a good-size customer base of hunters who have been asking for this type of service for years. Word will get around without fanfare.”

She couldn't help but laugh. “That's what I'm afraid of, Mr. Hunter. Word getting around.”

“Grady, remember?” Twinkling eyes held her gaze a bit too long. “There's no cause for worry.”

Easy enough for him to say. She'd taken a huge risk coming to Hunter Ridge in pursuit of the truth of her grandmother's tale and in accepting the nomination to run for town council on behalf of the artist community.

“Everything will be fine,” he concluded. “Trust me.”

Trust a Hunter? Like her great-great-grandfather had? Like she'd trusted her ex-husband to stick around after Tessa's birth? “I guess we don't have a choice, do we? That is, unless
you're
willing to relocate?”

Startled brows raised, then his eyes warmed as if charmed by her impertinence. “Not a chance, Sunshine. But if it would put your mind at rest, why don't you come out to the Hideaway this week and take a look at the architectural drawings. I think you'll be satisfied with what you see.”

He was inviting her to Hunter's Hideaway?

It wasn't likely that he'd spread the blueprints out on a picnic table under the trees or on the porch, was it? Surely she'd be welcomed beyond the public areas and into the more private ones?

A ripple of excitement danced through her. Right when she'd almost given up hope of a closer look at the property, Grady had unknowingly opened the door to an answered prayer.

She nodded, hoping a carefully casual response wouldn't betray her eagerness. “If I can find the time, I might do that.”

* * *

“Don't tell me you're thinking of making more changes to those plans, Grady.”

With a grin, he looked up from where he'd spread the blueprints across the heavy oak table he used as an office desk. Her silver-gray hair upswept and secured with decorative combs, eighty-year-old Grandma Jo stepped into his office. It wouldn't be long before her signature summertime attire of jeans and a collared shirt gave way to wool slacks and a turtleneck.

“No, no more changes. Sunshine Carston went into a tailspin when she found out we're opening a wild game supply next to the Artists' Co-op.” She'd have probably freaked out had he mentioned bow hunters were currently combing neighboring forests for mule deer and that elk season was getting underway. “I made the mistake of inviting her to look at the plans and see for herself that she has nothing to worry about. She called a while ago to say she's on her way.”

“That sounds proactive. Why is inviting her here a mistake?”

“Just is,” he said with a shrug. He wouldn't admit to his grandmother that the manager of the Artists' Co-op had been on his mind more than she should be. “I guess by going this extra mile to disarm her fears, I almost feel as if I'm fraternizing with the enemy. I mean, she
is
Mom's opponent.”

“Nonsense, Grady.” Grandma joined him to gaze down at the blueprints. “I have the utmost confidence in you as a guardian of this family's best interests. Don't let that previous situation you found yourself in undermine you. We all make mistakes, and trust those who aren't worthy of our trust. But don't let that weigh on you. Nothing came of it.”

Except his own broken heart and the humiliation of the betrayal. Not to mention letting down Jasmine's daughter when things had fallen apart, and how he'd unwittingly risked his family's reputation.
Don't forget that, Grandma.
He hadn't.

Since Hunter had grown up on stories of how his great-great-grandfather had almost lost the Hideaway due to misplaced trust, and seeing with his own eyes the repercussions of Aunt Charlotte's nasty divorce from Dad's younger brother, you'd have thought he'd have been more cautious about where he placed his heart. But he'd been head over heels for Jasmine—who'd falsely given others the impression that he and his family endorsed a controversial land-development project she was orchestrating behind the scenes. One that, had she succeeded, would have resulted in filling her pockets with a lucrative kickback. Thankfully, the ring was still in his pocket when everything came to light. But it had been a close call.

“Grady?” His twenty-year-old sister, Rio, appeared in the doorway, sun-streaked blond hair cascading down her back and her expression troubled. “Sunshine Carston's here. She says you're expecting her, but I asked them to have a seat while I tracked you down.”

“Them?” Sunshine brought someone else along? He hadn't counted on a third party.

“Her kid is with her.”

Tensed muscles relaxed. “Thanks, I'll go get her in a minute.”

Rio departed and Grandma Jo returned to the door.

“This is a smart move, Grady, to put Sunshine's fears to rest. Don't let the past cause you to second-guess yourself.”

But had his motive for inviting her been entirely untainted? Since that last disaster in the romance department, he'd rededicated himself to safeguarding the Hunter clan in both business and personal dealings—going to excessive lengths to ensure he didn't make the same mistake again. But had his invitation, ostensibly on behalf of family business, been influenced by a subconscious hope of spending time with the attractive woman?

Now alone in the room, he moved to the window facing the forest behind the Hideaway and adjusted the wooden louvers. Rearranged a chair. Straightened a crooked lampshade.

Then, tamping down an inexplicable sense of anticipation, he paused again to appraise the room—and uttered a silent prayer that his spiritual armor would remain securely in place.

* * *

“Come sit by me, sweetheart.” Sunshine patted the leather sofa cushion next to her, relieved that Tessa seemed less clingy this morning than she'd been in recent weeks. She'd slept somewhat better last night, too, only calling twice for her to banish something lurking in the shadows of her closet. Now enthralled with the animal heads on the log walls, the half-barrel end tables and an antler-designed chandelier above, it was almost too much to expect her raven-haired kindergartner to anchor herself to one spot.

Maybe she should have waited to come until after Tessa was in school for the afternoon. Having a five-year-old in tow wouldn't make sleuthing for clues easy. But after the holiday weekend, Tori had had to make a quick trip back to the thriving Arizona artists' community of Jerome. Then she'd return tomorrow to help with Tessa and, somewhat reluctantly, with the historic record research Sunshine intended to do.

“Look, Mommy.” Tessa pointed to a wide staircase that ascended to an open-railed landing. “Can I go up there?”

“I'm afraid not. We're not guests.”

But how tempting to look the other way while Tessa wandered up the carpeted flight, then hurry up behind her to bring her back, giving herself a chance to look around. This building, of course, may not have existed at the time her great-great-grandparents had been here. Probably hadn't. But could there still be something of value to lend credence to Sunshine's grandma's stories?

“Good morning,” a familiar male voice greeted. “I'm glad you could make it here today.”

She stared into Grady's smiling eyes as he approached from a hallway beyond the staircase, looking at home in the rustic surroundings. In jeans, work boots and a Western-cut shirt, he exuded a commanding confidence.

She rose from the sofa, a betraying flutter in her stomach. But was that at the prospect of exploring private areas of the historic building? Or spending time with Grady? “I hope you don't mind that I brought my daughter. She won't be in school until this afternoon.”

“No problem.” Still smiling, he held out his hand to the little girl. “Hi, I'm Grady. What's your name?”

“Tessa.” She shyly shook his hand.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful young lady.” Grady looked over at Sunshine. “She looks like you.”

Sunshine's face warmed. She'd heard that comment before. She'd wildly, foolishly, loved Tessa's father, Jerrel Carston. But she was grateful not to look into a miniversion of his face on a daily basis.

“Is this your house?” Tessa asked, again drawing Grady's attention.

“This is where I do business. I live in a cabin not far from here.” He glanced at Sunshine. “Would you like to come back to my office? I can walk you through the plans.”

“Thank you. Come on, Tessa.”

They followed Grady through a shadowed hallway, Sunshine taking her time as she tried to absorb everything around her. Old photographs, paintings and sketches on the walls. An antique mirror. Faded framed embroidery work.

Up ahead Grady waited outside an open door, watching as she paused to study the faces in one of the yellowing photos.

“Is this your family?”

He laughed, and the sound unexpectedly warmed her. “Who knows? Mom's been known to rescue historic photographs from garage sales and antique shops, and they can pop up anywhere—guest rooms, cabins, hallways.”

Disappointed, she gave the image a lingering look as Grady beckoned her and Tessa forward to usher them into his office.

Inside the sunlit room, he motioned for them to take a seat off to the side, his gaze touching apologetically on her daughter. “I'm afraid I don't have any fun kid stuff, Tessa.”

But as always, Tessa's eyes were wide, taking in her surroundings with interest. The book-lined shelves, wall groupings of photographs from an earlier era and striking black-and-white photos of wildlife. Elk. Deer. A fox.

“Don't worry. Books, paper, crayons. We're set.” Sunshine held up a tote bag, then almost laughed at the relief passing through Grady's eyes.