Just remembering Grant’s words sent a shiver through her body. And like striking a match, her sex burned. She hadn’t slept at all last night, tortured with guilt over leading him on, shame that she didn’t have the courage to step out of her safe little box, and loneliness when she realized that she could have had a warm, sexy man beside her all night.
“Speaking of Grant, what’s new with your Hockey Hottie?”
Faith rolled her eyes. “He’s not mine and nothing’s new. He didn’t even come in today. I told you he’d bail when he figured out I wouldn’t jump in bed with him.”
“His loss. I have to say, I’m disappointed. After seeing how well he handled that high school team and all those notorious troublemakers, I had higher expectations for him.”
Faith didn’t blame the guy. It was no fun to want someone and not be wanted back—she’d learned that with Dillon. No fun to physically want someone and go without—she’d learned that last night.
She cleared her throat. “I’ll take Caleb through the Dairy Queen drive through on the way home.”
“Are you sure? You should probably just fall into bed.”
Fall into bed—alone. Again.
Faith laughed, but she felt hollow. “Like that’s going to happen. I have lots of work still ahead of me. I’ll grab dinner while I’m there.”
“Please tell me it’s going to be something other than ice cream.”
“No promises.”
Emma groaned, but said, “Thanks, I owe you.”
“Good. Let’s get started on this video thing.” Anything to distract herself from Grant.
Emma sighed. “Yeah. Okay.”
Faith knew then that her hopes for that particular revenue stream was going to have to be put on hold. Emma had her hands full with her business and Caleb. “Don’t worry about that now. I’ll drop Caleb home in half an hour.”
She disconnected, grabbed the keys to her father’s ancient Ford F150 from the cash register and bundled up to head outside. In the storage shed-slash-garage out back Faith climbed into the cab and turned the key.
The old motor chugged, chugged, chugged, and died. She hadn’t used this thing in over a week, and every time she did, she always said a prayer that it would start for her. “Come on, baby. Caleb’s waiting.”
On the third try, the engine revved and Faith breathed easier. The drive to the outdoor arena was short drive, and she could see the lights glowing in the darkness long before she approached. But when she turned into the parking lot, she found it empty—except for one black Range Rover.
Her stomach lifted, twisted, then fell.
She parked a couple spots away from Grant’s SUV and looked past the lot to the rink, where only two figures remained on the ice. Grant and Caleb. In fact, they were the only two people anywhere. The rink was deserted except for the two of them.
Faith shut down the engine but stayed in the truck watching the two skate. She cracked the window to catch their voices carrying on the quiet night, and Grant’s low timber filled her gut with longing.
She tapped out a text message to Emma. Did you set this up?
On the ice, an orange traffic cone sat at one end in front of the goal. Grant picked up two more cones and spaced them out in the middle of the ice, then added another at the opposite end, mirroring the first. Caleb collected a pile of hockey sticks in his arms and skated them out to Grant, where he laid them perpendicular to the length of the rink. It looked like a mini obstacle course. He and Caleb skated to the opposite end of the rink where Grant placed a hockey stick across the two cones in the center all while talking to Caleb. Faith couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Caleb was rapt and kept nodding his head. And Grant used his hands and body to explain whatever he was talking about. Then he nodded, Caleb imitated him, and Grant patted Caleb’s helmet, a hockey-approved show of affection.
Emotion welled in her chest, making it feel tight.
Grant was a good guy. If he was like his brothers, he would have been out at the bar every night, not fixing up his parents’ house. He would have been sleeping around with any number of single, willing women in town, not dogging her just to be rejected. And he certainly didn’t have to be spending extra time on the ice tonight for Caleb.
Her phone buzzed with Emma’s response. What do you mean? Are you getting paranoid?
Faith laughed and typed, Did you buy extra training for Caleb?
I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d call you but I have the woman on Skype.
Faith smiled. Never mind.
On the ice, Grant took a hockey stick from Caleb and started through the course in super slow motion while talking to the boy where he skated alongside, watching and nodding. Grant circled the first cone and glided toward the pair he’s placed at the center of the ice. He picked up speed and for a moment Faith thought he was going to jump the stick lying atop the two cones. What terrified her was having Caleb attempt that jump.