Chapter 2

Grant

But maybe there’s something I’m missing, because even though I’m a sworn bachelor, every once in a while I get a glimpse of a different world. A place that’s warm, and safe, and tender, and full of love.

What is it about me, about my life, about the way I grew up, that makes me so afraid of love? What is it that makes me shudder at the very thought of marriage? Losing it, that’s what. Losing love.

Can you imagine a greater pain than the pain of losing the one you love? Because I can’t.

I’ve said my share about weddings, but the day Jackson and Faith tied the knot was different.

Jackson looked happy. As much as it pains me to admit it, the man had a smile on his face like he’d pulled off some secret coup. He looked happier than I’d ever seen him, and we’d been through it all together.

He waited a long time for that day, and he was about to marry the woman of his dreams, the woman who’d given him a child, the woman who’d been faithful to him for twelve long years. She was so loyal even her name was Faith. And they were finally tying the knot.

Even I could admit it was a good story, painful and difficult, full of danger and despair, but full too of hope and joy, laughter and tears, and most important of all, love.

Maybe I was getting soft, but it touched me.

Jackson was the best friend I ever had, and he was finally getting the happiness he deserved. The happiness he’d earned. It was almost enough to make me forget myself and shed a tear.

Almost.

I mean, like I said before, weddings aren’t exactly my thing.

The bride was beautiful. You have to say that. You can’t say anything else about a bride, but Faith truly was beautiful. She looked the way only a bride could on that one day when she marries the man she loves.

When I saw her I thought she was an angel, dressed all in white, the light on her silk dress making it glow like it was on fire. She’d waited twelve years for that day, and it pulled at my heart strings to watch it all come together for her. It gave me hope for the future.

Sam looked better than I’d ever seen him. He was doing so well since Jackson’s return. It made me realize the importance of a father in a boy’s life. Now that his parents were getting married, he looked like all his dreams were coming true. He was a good kid and I was proud to call myself his godfather. I almost teared up when I saw the look of amazement in his eyes when he saw his mother in her beautiful dress.

Almost.

Like I said, I’m not the type.

But looking at the way Sam loved his parents, and seeing that he would now have the family he’d always wanted, it was almost enough to bring me to tears.

Sam helped his dad fix up the old hacienda. He worked hard on it. We all did. And the three of them would be happy in that house. I knew it.

And Jackson? I swear to God it was the first time I ever saw him nervous, and I’ve known him a very long time. I nodded to him reassuringly as we stood with the priest, waiting for the bride.

Yes, sir. The day of Jackson’s wedding was the happiest of his life.

But would you believe me if I said it was also the happiest day of my life?

Crazy, right?

Unbelievable.

I’d have said the same thing.

I’m no pushover. I’ve been around the block. I’ve seen and done things that would give most men nightmares. I live my life on the edge, skirting the law, making my own rules. I’m not the kind of guy you’d expect to get emotional at a wedding. I won’t bore you with the statistics, we all know them, but I think it’s clear that you’re more likely to get hit by lightning, or win the lottery, than end up in a happy marriage.

A good marriage is a lot harder than most people realize. A strong relationship takes everything, and it’s rare to find someone willing to give everything these days.

So I tend to look at weddings as just one more fairy tale, left over relics from a time when people were simpler and more naive.

True love and devotion for a life time? Please. It’s about as common as a prince rescuing a princess from a dragon.

So why was I tearing up?

Why, as I stood there next to Jackson and the priest, romantic music serenading us, did I feel like I was about to burst into tears?

Let me give you some background.

I’m not a small man. I’m what you might describe as husky, or brutish, or gruff. While some men’s bodies seem like they’re chiseled from marble, mine looks more like it was hewn from solid wood. While some men might write you a love poem, or sing you a song, I’m more likely to cut you down a tree, or maybe haul rock.

I’m big. I’m course. I’m rough.

I’ve got muscles that sometimes cause my shirts to rip.

I’ve got tattoos that get me kicked out of fancy restaurants.

When a cop sees me on the highway, I get pulled over. I always get pulled over.

When I walk into a bar, everyone goes silent.

My mother knew it the day I was born. She said that instead of naming me after something sentimental, she named me after the land deed from the State of Montana granting our family the ranch.

Grant. Grant Lucas. Tough, bold, lawless.

All of which is to say, when Lacey Eden came walking down the aisle ahead of Faith, dressed in a light blue silk dress, her blond hair shining like it was made of pure gold, the tears in my eyes surprised me more than they surprised anyone.

Naturally, everyone assumed I was crying at the bride. She was beautiful. I’m not kidding, Faith looked beautiful.

But Faith wasn’t the reason I was crying. Hell no. She was Jackson’s girl.

The reason my eyes were full of those ridiculous tears, the reason I suddenly couldn’t hold myself together, the reason I looked like a bumbling idiot in a suit and tie picked out for me by women, was Lacey.

It was always Lacey.

She was doing what she’d always been able to do to me. Taking my breath away.

And I felt as if she was coming down the aisle toward me.