Anywhere with You

Rachel’s friends had perked up. Good. They wouldn’t leave him alone for long.

Chancing a peek, Grace watched Ben head straight to the bar. He spoke with Sadie, his back to everyone. Damn, but the man knew how to wear a pair of jeans. The denim hugged his long legs and butt as though they might’ve been tailored for him. Even the plain black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders seemed anything but ordinary.

She wondered if he’d ever wanted to act instead of do someone else’s stunts. He certainly had the looks. But he’d also need the acting chops.

Digging into her pocket for money, she found lip balm and her room key. She tried the other pocket, deciding she needed to get more organized or start carrying a purse. Like that would happen. Finally she pulled out some bills and found a ten.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

She looked up.

It was the blond guy who’d been watching her. He smiled and touched the brim of his hat. “If you aren’t expecting anyone, I’d sure like to join you.”

“The lady’s waiting for me.” Ben set a frosty mug in front of her, his steady gaze and faint smile daring her to contradict him.

Her mouth opened, but she couldn’t think of anything fast enough.

The cowboy nodded at Ben, then returned to his table. Ben pulled out the chair across from her and sat down with his beer.

She raised her brows at him. “What makes you think I’m not expecting someone?”

“Sadie said you’ve been sitting here for quite a while.”

Figures. Grace looked toward the back. Nikki was taking forever. “Actually, I was just leaving.”

“You can’t have one beer with me?”

At his brusque tone, Grace stiffened. “Sure,” she said and met his detached gaze. She had the feeling her earlier error in judgment was about to take a bite out of her. Not that she had to explain herself to him. Damned if she’d do that.

5 (#u52eb26de-745a-52a4-bb6b-40e7da477beb)

BEN HAD SWORN he’d keep his cool when he saw Grace again. But he hadn’t expected it to be this soon after his visit with his mother. The whole time he’d been at the Sundance with her, she’d been doing something for someone. Filling a thermos, making sandwiches, keeping the floor swept. She never forgot she was the McAllisters’ maid even as she asked him questions, while avoiding his with a laugh or a wave of her hand. It made him want to run and never turn back.

And now he was looking at another reminder of where he was in the pecking order. Grace was already friends with the McAllisters and probably hadn’t said two words to his mom.

Okay, maybe Grace was different, but he wouldn’t bet on it. Already she was giving the family preferential treatment.

Still, she looked great in a plain button-down red shirt and jeans, though he wished she’d left her hair down.

He wondered who’d stood her up. “I heard you stopped Trace.”

“I did.” She took an unhurried sip of beer. “Thanks for this, by the way.”

“My pleasure.” He kept his voice even and waited for her to offer an explanation. Obviously, it wasn’t going to happen. “I’m curious about something...”

“What’s that?”

“Why is it that Trace received a warning, but I got a ticket?”

“You would’ve preferred I wrote up your friend?”

“Nice try.”

Grace sighed. “What do you want me to say? I won’t apologize for doing my job.”

“See, that’s the thing...I would’ve expected you to be more consistent.” He saw the moment she realized he’d pushed her into a corner. She blinked and glanced away. “And frankly, more fair.”

Her gaze shot back to him. “I don’t give locals a pass and zing out-of-towners, if that’s what you’re implying.”

“You know what I mean. I’m referring to the McAllisters. You’ve been here, what...two weeks...and already you’re bowing to them.”

“What?” She gaped at him. Her astonishment wasn’t an act. “What are you talking about?”

“I want to know why you let Trace off and not me,” he said, no longer sure he’d pegged her correctly.

She gave him a long, hard look. “Are you trying to get me to void the ticket? Is that what this is about?”

“No.” Leaning in, hoping to lighten things up, he asked, “Is it working?”

She smiled a little. “Look, Ben, let’s not waste each other’s time. I know your type.”

The words were like a slap in the face. He hadn’t been wrong, after all. He sat back, disappointed as hell. He’d been typecast most of his life. Nowadays, he didn’t run into that sort of ignorance much, and when he did, he took it in stride. But coming from Grace...

“Is that right?” he asked. “And what type is that?”

“Do I need to spell it out?” She stared him square in the eye. “Fine. The quintessential charmer. The consummate flirt. You think you can sweet-talk your way out of anything. And you’re probably quite successful at it. Not this time.”

Ben hardly knew what to say. He’d been wrong again. The only thing left was to hit the ball back into her court. “Guess we’re even, because I know your type, too.”

She held his gaze, waiting out the silence, then finally asked, “Which is?”

“You’d rather do a pole dance than tear up a ticket.”

Grace let out a loud laugh, then briefly covered her mouth. “You really underestimate me.” She cleared her throat. “How did you come up with that one? A pole dance?”

He smiled. “A man can dream, can’t he?”

“Pole dance,” she muttered, shaking her head. Someone drew her attention toward the bar, and she nodded.

“Your friend show up?”

“Who?” She frowned at Ben. “Oh, Clarence. No.” After taking another sip, she lowered her gaze along with the beer. “I think I let Trace skate because I was so relieved it wasn’t you.”

He thought for a moment, not sure what she meant. “Huh.”

She looked up. “Don’t make me regret admitting it.”

Ben smiled at the light blush spreading across her cheeks. “I’ll work on that.”