Grant (Riding Hard) - Jennifer Ashley Page 0,2

would have tried to come home sooner.”

Christina laughed. “No, you wouldn’t. The day you leave a rodeo early is the day you’re done.”

Ray had to grin. “How about a beer to celebrate? Hurry it up, barmaid. I tell you, the service in this place is terrible.”

“You’re a shit.” Christina felt better as she turned to pour him a beer. At least somebody was interested in talking to her. She didn’t have to giggle and jiggle to catch Ray’s attention.

The warmth vanished as soon as Grant threw his head back and laughed.

Christina loved the way Grant laughed. He opened himself all the way, no holding back. He was a warm-hearted man, liking everyone, wanting the world to like him. Not a mean bone in him.

Yet, he could fight with the best of them. He didn’t take any shit from anyone, and his arguments with Christina had been loud, long, and passionate. The making up afterward had been just as passionate.

One of the young women managed to straddle Grant’s lap, and now she took his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth.

The bottom dropped out of Christina’s world. She set the beer down. Ray said something to her, but she couldn’t hear. She could only see the young woman with short hair kissing Grant, and Grant’s big hands coming around her waist, holding her steady, just as he’d held Christina for so long, never letting her fall.

“Christina.”

Christina dragged her attention back to Ray, who wasn’t smiling anymore. He’d turned his head to follow Christina’s line of sight, then looked at her again, his mouth a grim line.

“Why don’t you call me when you’re over it?” Ray shoved a bill onto the bar—way over-tipping, as Grant had—and got himself off the stool.

Christina’s heart squeezed with remorse. “Aw, come on, Ray. Wait.”

“Listen, baby, I don’t need to worry about who you’re thinking of when you’re with me. You give me a call when you decide.” Ray swept up his beer and walked away, raising his hand to friends across the room.

“Damn it.” Christina forced herself not to look at Grant, but the double-kick of Ray walking away had her gut clenching.

Ray was a good guy—he didn’t deserve to be hurt. He was also very attractive, with his dark hair and sinful green eyes.

But in the end, he wasn’t Grant. He’d never be what Grant had been to her, and Ray knew it. Damn, damn, damn.

“You need to go,” the other bartender, Rosie, said to her. Rosie’s eyes twinkled. “Your sister’s party, remember? Go—have fun. I got this.”

“Thanks, Rosie. Here.” Christina gave Rosie the tab and money from Ray. “Keep the tip.”

Christina signed herself out on the computer, gave Rosie a brief hug, and took up the change she’d left for Grant.

On her way out, she stopped at Grant’s table. The short-haired woman, still on Grant’s lap, looked triumphant, but the other two were waiting to cut her out. Grant seemed indifferent—if Christina and the rest of the world wanted to watch him with other women, it was their problem.

“You left your change,” Christina said to him. She dropped it on the table between the drinks. “Y’all have a good night.”

She walked away. If she swayed her butt a little on purpose, gaining the attention of every male in the place, who cared?

Grant sure didn’t. Christina’s heart ached. They were done, had been done, and there was nothing more to it. She had to get on with her life.

No matter how freaking hard that was going to be.

Chapter Two

Grant had to explain that a bachelor party meant men only, and that Callie—the short-haired girl—and her friends couldn’t come.

The three ladies made the expected disappointed noises and pouted, but they decided to stay at the bar when Grant left. He doubted they’d sit alone for long.

Grant had come across the young women from San Angelo hitchhiking when he drove into town for the spice he’d run out of for his famous chili, which he was cooking up in Adam’s honor. He knew them slightly from the rodeo circuit and figured he’d drive them into Riverbend before they got themselves hurt or worse. Once there, they’d insisted on a drink, and Grant, always the gentleman, obliged.

He hadn’t realized Christina would be there tonight. Tomorrow was Adam and Bailey’s wedding. Christina should be home with Bailey, trying on dresses or opening presents or drinking shots off a male stripper’s body—whatever women did the night before.

But there she’d been, dispensing beers and not holding back with