Chapter 7
"Damon." Grace felt her brows hike up at the sight of the handsome man on her doorstep. He wore khaki pants—not camouflage—but the biceps bulging from the sleeves of his snug-fitting brown T-shirt made him look every bit like the Ranger he was. The sight also made her heart race. "You're early."
Like really early.
"I know." His lips turned up in an amused grin as his gaze roamed over her.
Heat filled Grace’s face. She'd just climbed out of the shower when she heard the doorbell, so she'd thrown on the first thing she could find before hurrying to the door; a short bathrobe.
Damon shrugged one shoulder. "I thought I could visit with your mom while you get ready."
That was both sweet and disconcerting. She wasn't sure she wanted her mom telling him embarrassing stories from her childhood.
"Is that Damon?" Mom's voice came from behind her.
"Yes, he came early so he could visit with you while I finish getting ready." Grace stepped back to look at her mom, opening the door wider.
"Oh good. I was hoping I'd have the chance to get to know him better."
Grinning from ear to ear, Damon stepped past her and greeted her mother. "It's good to see you again, Mrs. Rivera."
"Please, call me Marisol."
Grace stared at the two of them as Damon took a seat on the sofa near her mother's recliner.
"Close the door and your mouth, Mija. You're letting in the flies."
Grace snapped her jaw shut and closed the door, but she continued to stare at the two of them.
"Finish getting ready." Mom waved a hand. "A bathrobe is not appropriate attire for riding four-wheelers."
Feeling out of place in her own home, Grace hurried down the hall to her bedroom.
Her mom's words followed her. "Don't worry, I won't tell Damon about how you wet your pants during your fourth birthday party."
Oh brother.
Grace rolled her eyes as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a white T-shirt.
Then she stopped and thought about her shirt choice.
White was probably not the best color if they were riding ATVs on dusty dirt roads.
She pulled off the T-shirt and rocked from one foot to the other as she weighed her options.
She was tempted to wear the light blue blouse that complimented her tanned complexion and made her eyes stand out, but it was too dressy for riding four-wheelers. Besides, she didn't want to look like she was trying to impress Damon.
Why do I want to impress him?
Sure, he was good looking, friendly, and fun.
She had a blast with him on Saturday. He was the kind of man she could talk with about anything, and she had.
From her father's desertion to her mother's cancer. She’d been tempted to tell him about the other things she kept hidden, but he was leaving in two weeks.
Less than that. If she let herself get too attached, it would only hurt when he left.
She finally pulled on a pale pink T-shirt and hurried to the bathroom to do her hair and makeup. She left the door open, hoping to hear her mom and Damon's conversation. Unfortunately, they spoke too quietly for her to catch more than the occasional snippet.
She stuck with the basics and only applied mascara and lip gloss after brushing through her hair. She studied her reflection before leaving the bathroom, then decided to pull her hair up in a ponytail.
There. Nothing about my looks says I'm trying to impress him.
Forcing herself to slow her steps, she walked into the family room. "I'm ready."
Her mom and Damon both looked up in surprise.
"That was fast." His lips turned up after studying her attire.
She gave a casual shrug. "Riding four-wheelers and shooting guns don't require much effort."
"They do however require shoes." Arching a single brow, Damon looked pointedly at her feet.
Grace hurried down the hall again, this time with her mom and Damon's chuckles following her.
She'd been in such a hurry to cut their conversation short that she forgot an essential accessory.
Deep down, she knew her mom would never tell Damon the one thing she didn't share with anyone—the one thing she feared would send him packing—so she wasn't sure why she was so worried about him talking to her mom. But she was.
She hurried back to the living room after putting on her tennis shoes. "Okay, now I'm ready."
Damon got to his feet, then bent and squeezed her mom's hand. "Marisol, it was nice to visit with you. I look forward to doing it again." He looked at Grace as he motioned toward the door. "Shall we?"
She turned to her mom. "I'm not sure when I'll be back, but there's some leftovers and your protein drinks in the fridge that you can have for lunch."
"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Mom shooed her toward the door. "Have fun."
A twinge of guilt hit Grace as she closed the door behind her. She looked forward to experiencing something new today, but she felt bad about leaving her mom again.
"What did you and my mom talk about?" Grace asked as soon as they were in Damon's rental car headed toward the ranch.
"You, of course."
Grace's stomach clenched. "What did she tell you about me?"
"Not nearly as much as I would have liked, since you got ready so fast." He laughed when she scowled. "Actually, she kept asking me questions about myself, so we didn't get to discuss you very much."
"Good."
"Why is that good?" He gave her a lengthy glance before shifting his gaze back to the road. His voice turned teasing. "Do you have skeletons in your closet that you don't want me to know about?"
She'd never been one to talk about herself, but ever since she made such a huge mistake in high school, she'd been guarded. It was easier to keep from sharing certain things about her life if she kept to herself.
When she didn't answer, he looked her way again. "Why does it bother you so much that your mom might tell me something about you?"
"It doesn't." She had to force the words out, because it did bother her, but she didn't understand why.
Was it because she feared he'd learn something about her that would make him not like her? Conflicting emotions swirled inside her, making her nauseous. She'd made it a point to not impress him, but she couldn't seem to stop worrying about what he thought of her.
She gave a small shrug. "It's not fair that you get to hear about me from my mom, but I don't get to do the same."
He laughed. "I'm sure my mom would be all too happy to tell you what a hellion I was as a child.
I was never diagnosed, but I'm pretty sure I had—or rather have—ADHD.
I could never sit still for long and was always getting into trouble.
" He held up a hand. "Not serious trouble, like with the law or anything, but I was always making messes and getting chewed out. "
What would Damon think if she told him she was arrested for under-age drinking? Would he judge her for what happened that night at the party because she'd been stupid enough to get drunk?
Deciding it was best to change the subject, she asked, "So do I get another driving lesson in the truck before we ride 4-wheelers?"
"Sure."
They spent the remainder of the drive to the ranch chatting about interesting things to do in a small town. After practicing driving a stick shift again, Damon gave her a safety lesson on ATVs and showed her how to drive one.
He had her ride with him for a while as he demonstrated how to drive the ATV. Sitting behind him with her arms around his waist, her hands against his washboard abs ramped up her attraction, stirring a swarm of butterflies in her stomach.
“Okay, your turn to drive,” he finally announced.
“What? No, I’m not ready yet.”
“You got this.”
He climbed off, and she scooted forward.
Her breath caught in her throat when he climbed on behind her.
“Let’s make sure you’ve got the hang of it before I let you ride solo.”
The attraction she felt while riding behind him was nothing compared to the surge that ricocheted through her when his firm chest pressed against her back, and his hand rested on her thigh.
A sense of safety enveloped her as though he sheltered her from danger.
Her body, however, felt like it was on fire.
She struggled to breathe normally as she followed his instructions.
Relief filled her when he declared she was ready to ride solo. She spent the next thirty minutes grinning as she followed him across the varied terrain of the ranch to a shooting range, where she got another safety lesson—on guns this time.
She was less eager to tackle this new challenge, but before she knew it, Damon pointed out three targets down range. "Go ahead. Give it a shot."
"Haha. Very funny."
"I thought so." He chuckled. "I've been waiting all morning to use that pun."
Grace rolled her eyes and lifted the gun. Her first shot hit the dirt four feet in front of the closest target, sending up a plume of dust. She squeezed her left eye shut and tried again. The bullet sent dirt flying again.
"Wait a second." Damon stepped behind her and put his arms around her.
"Brace the butt of the gun tight against your shoulder and lift this front arm higher.
That way, you're looking straight down the barrel without craning your neck so much.
" His warm breath brushed her cheek, making her heart skip a beat.
She turned her head to look at his face, which was mere inches from hers. Her breath caught when his gaze dropped to her lips. Moisture filled her mouth at the thought of kissing him.
No, I can't kiss him again.
She pulled her gaze away from his and looked down the barrel of the gun. Kissing him would only complicate their friendship. And friendship was all she could give him right now.
That's why I don't want him to talk to my mom.
He would ingratiate himself too deeply into her life and heart. Then it would be impossible to keep from falling for him.
He cleared his throat as he lifted her left arm. "Keep this elbow up too. It'll keep your aim straight."