Betting on Grace Read Online Free PDF Page B

with the
local police.
    Figuring it was best to get while the gettin’ was
still good, Grant pressed his hat back on his head and turned toward the door.
“Sorry, Dad. Ain’t got money to loan. But I’ll be more than happy to check
around and see who’s hirin’.”
    “Fuckin’ worthless piece of shit,” Darrell mumbled
beneath his breath.
    Yep, Grant had heard it all before.
    Had people been required to get a license to have
children, Darrell and Sandy Kingsley would’ve been shit out of luck.
Unfortunately, there wasn’t a law governing who could and couldn’t procreate.
    “I’ve gotta get back to work, Dad,” Grant called as he
moved toward the door.
    From experience, he knew exactly where this was going,
and he damn sure didn’t have the wherewithal to put up with any of his father’s
abuse today, verbal or otherwise.
    When Darrell began his rant, Grant double-timed it to
his truck, never bothering to look back until he was safely inside. By the time
he was backing out of his parents’ driveway, Darrell was on the front porch,
his fist flying as he tossed whatever verbal obscenities he felt were necessary
to get his point across.
    Grant could’ve saved the old man the energy. He’d
already heard every damn one of them.
    But the good thing was — if anything could be
considered good in this fucked up situation — the fact that seeing Darrell
served as an appropriate reminder of exactly why he had no intentions of having
kids. After all, what the hell did Grant know about being a father? Look who
his role model was, for fuck’s sake.
     
     
    ■□■□■□■□
     
    “Have you seen Grant?” Hope asked Lane as he made his
way to the main house.
    He had bypassed a shower in lieu of getting some grub
before heading over to Gracie’s as he had promised her he would. In fact, the
possibility of seeing Gracie, having dinner with her, was what got him through
the day, the one and only thing he was truly looking forward to besides seeing
Grant.
    “The technical answer to that is yes, I’ve seen him.
If you mean now, then no,” Lane retorted as he continued on his trek. He had
spent the last two hours with Hope snapping at him for one reason or another,
and if it was all the same to her, he just wanted to get the hell away from
her.
    It was after six, and Lane was desperately searching
for food. And Grant. But he didn’t bother to tell Hope that.
    “Thanks, smartass, but you know what I meant.”
    Yes, he did. He knew exactly what she meant, but he
wasn’t in a talkative mood, and being stopped for a chat by the woman who’d
made his day a living hell was not high on his priority list at the moment.
    “He went into town this morning,” Lane offered,
keeping his hat low and his eyes focused on the big ranch house that was
blessedly only a few yards away. So freaking close he could smell the food that
wafted through the open screen door.
    “I know that. But he was back before noon.”
    Really?
    Now why should he be surprised by that?
    “Have you checked his cabin?” Lane asked, trying his
best to sound as though he didn’t give a rat’s ass that Grant hadn’t bothered
to let him know he was back. Instead, Lane devised the fastest route to
Gracie’s house in his head while he waited for an answer from Hope, praying she
didn’t want to draw out this conversation any longer than necessary.
    “I did. He didn’t answer the door. Damn it, Lane,
stop!”
    Shit.
    Lane drew up short and turned to face Hope. His
stomach grumbled an immediate rebuttal to stopping in his tracks. Knowing he
would only prolong the suffering if he didn’t talk to her, Lane gave up.
“What’d you need him for?” he asked, growing more and more curious as to why
Hope would’ve been searching for Grant after hours in the first place.
    Not that they had a set work schedule. At Dead Heat
Ranch, time was irrelevant. When things needed to be done, they did them. Sleep
be damned.
    But it wasn’t like Hope to seek Grant