Joanna's Highlander (Highland Protector #2)(41)
She spotted Grant standing beside his Jeep in the parking lot. Crap. He’s already here. Well…I’m not that late. Joanna waved at Grant and pulled the bus into the overnight lot of the car wash/truck stop. She pressed a hand to her chest, softly smiling at the fluttering uptick to her heartbeat and the pounding rush of I’m so glad to see you surging through her senses. Damn, I’ve got it for him bad. But what exactly was “it”? She was almost afraid to define her feelings for Grant—afraid if she did that this contentment, this sense of peace that she’d never felt before, might pop and disappear like a delicate soap bubble.
She swallowed hard, shut down the bus, and set the parking brake. Deep down she knew what this feeling might be, but she didn’t dare say the word—not even in her thoughts. Yet she couldn’t write off this burning need for Grant as nothing more than pure lust. This was more than craving some hot skin-on-skin bonding. She needed to hear his voice. See his smile. Watch the emotions flash in his eyes. She wanted to know his thoughts, hear his memories, find out all that Grant MacDara was and wished to be.
She’d never felt like this before and it scared the living shit out of her. He’d easily accepted her in all her jacked-up glory. No questions asked. Maybe it was that fact alone that touched her battle-scarred heart. Was this what love really was? There. She’d actually used the “L” word. Maybe not out loud, but she’d thought it. But could this be for real? If it was, then she and Matthew had totally missed the mark. Thank goodness, she’d escaped that messed-up yellow brick road straight to hell. They would’ve been miserable even if Matthew hadn’t turned out to be an abusive asshat.
A light tap on the bus door’s window pulled her from her internal interrogation. Grant smiled up at her. She wiggled out from behind the wheel, opened the door, and bounded down the steps. She landed in front of Grant with a hop and smoothed her hands up the hard, muscular chest she couldn’t resist.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said. And she was sorry. Any time away from Grant had become totally unacceptable. Tiptoeing, she snuggled up against him and gave him a quick kiss. Damn. The man felt like a slab of pure heaven sculpted into her own kilt-wearing fantasy made real.
Grant gathered her up into a tight hug, pressed his cheek against the top of her head like he always did, and held her as though he’d never let her go. He didn’t say a word, just slowly rubbed one hand up and down her back as though attempting to memorize every sensation, every second in her presence.
Something was wrong. Joanna felt it as surely as she felt Grant’s strong muscles flex and shift beneath her hands. Gently, she eased back and searched his face. Trouble…or something…darkened the blue ice of his eyes and drew his sandy brows together.
“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly. Maybe if she talked really low, he wouldn’t answer and whatever was wrong would just go away.
“Nothing,” he answered just as quietly and barely shook his head. He forced a strained smile that came off more like a tensed grimace he was struggling to control. “I’ve a lot on m’mind, is all. Family business, ye understand.” He stepped back, ducking his chin as he scooped her hands up into his and pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles. “Forgive me for troublin’ ye with it.”
“Are you sure?” He was lying. Joanna would bet her favorite pair of running shoes on it. She squeezed his hands and repeated the question. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Aye.” Grant avoided her gaze, laced his fingers with hers, and headed them toward his Jeep, parked in the automobiles-only section of the truck lot. “The day was so fine, I took the top and the doors off the Jeep. Better to enjoy the fresh air. Come. Our adventures await.”
Joanna buckled herself in and fastened the straps of her backpack around the seatbelt across her waist just in case the off-road ride got rough. “I brought all the supplies I could remember from my hiking days. You know: water, flashlight, nylon ropes. Stuff like that.”
Grant smiled and nodded but remained silent as he steered the Jeep out of the parking lot and roared up a gravel side road that was barely wider than a dirt path.
Grabbing hold of the roll bar overhead, Joanna gritted her teeth and attempted to concentrate on the wilderness around them as they sped through the woodlands. Whatever the hell was bothering Grant squatted between them like an eight-hundred-pound gorilla. Fine. I’ll wear him down. He has no idea what a pain in the ass I can be when I know someone’s trying to hide something from me.
The rough ride through the backwoods to the base of the cliffs on the river’s edge in front of Grant’s house was accomplished with no conversation. Not because Joanna had nothing to say, but because the rutted-out gravel road winding around trees and through creeks and gullies made speaking impossible.
Just when Joanna had decided her teeth were about to rattle loose, they finally jerked to a stop in front of a secluded wide beach in the bend of the river. Smooth round rocks, weather-bleached into muted shades of white and sandy browns, covered the stretch of land just beyond a line of scraggly overgrown bushes just now greening up with the kiss of the warm spring sunshine. Rippling fingers of blue-green water with white lacy edges danced and bubbled across the surface, gently lapping against the shore, painting the rocks and scattered driftwood a darker glistening shade.
The unmistakable scent of muddy banks, washed-out shoreline, and river water brimming with every stage of life from algae to catfish filled the air. Joanna pulled in a deep breath. This part of the world smelled new. Pure. Unspoiled. She looped her arms through her backpack and hitched it up high across her shoulders. Time to get to what was bugging Grant. “It’s gorgeous out here. I didn’t really appreciate its beauty from the house. You’re a very lucky man to have such a view, Grant MacDara.”