“I’m sorry to hear it.”
She frowned at his words, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have. “Don’t be,” she said quietly. “I’m glad it’s over. And I’m glad to be home.”
“I didn’t realize you still considered Cedar River home.”
Her shoulders straightened some more. “I was born here...raised here...just like you. And you seem to have adjusted to calling it Cedar River.”
He shrugged. “The merger is good for the town. And I know you were born here, Marissa...but I also know you left.”
He saw her expression narrow, and the glasses on the bridge of her nose fell a little. Funny, he never knew she wore glasses. For some reason it pleased him. He couldn’t figure why. Maybe because it made her less perfect. Vulnerable. Because he always felt as though he was under a kind of microscope whenever they were together. As though she was looking for flaws, some reason to dislike him. In a way he couldn’t blame her. Their relationship had always been brittle, and for a long time he’d wondered if she knew he’d wanted to date her back in high school and disliked him for it. Liz swore she’d never said anything about it, and he certainly believed his wife. But there was something between them, a kind of mutual resentment that went deeper than simple dislike. Because it wasn’t that he didn’t like Marissa. He just didn’t like to be around her. She put him on edge. And he didn’t know why.
For years he hadn’t thought about her as anything other than Liz’s friend. He’d loved his wife. They had been devoted to one another and their family. But now Liz was gone and Marissa...well, she wound him up in a way he couldn’t quite fathom. And he didn’t like the feeling. Not one bit.
She crossed her arms and glared at him. “So, about this bull of yours?”
“It’s because of Delilah.”
She frowned and came down the steps. Grady caught the scent of her flowery perfume on the breeze and he tensed automatically. How long had it been since he’d noticed perfume? Years. Too long.
“Delilah?”
“Miss Violet’s Guernsey cow,” he explained and stepped closer. “She bought her a couple of months ago.”
“I don’t understand what that means.”
“Well, Earl has a hankering for Delilah,” he said and bit back a grin when he saw her frown deepen.
“A hankering?” she echoed.
“Yeah,” he replied quietly. “You know, when-a-boy-likes-a-girl kind of thing.”
She didn’t look the least bit amused. “Right. So where is this cow now?”
“Miss Violet would sometimes keep Delilah in the backyard, but a neighbor has been looking after her since your aunt went to the hospital.” Grady shrugged casually. “I guess Earl didn’t know that. He drops over from time to time.”
“Can’t you keep him tied up or something?” she suggested. “I mean, how hard is it to keep him corralled or whatever it is you do with a bull?”
“And stand in the way of true love?” Grady put a hand to his chest. “That’s not very neighborly.”
“I’m not in the mood to be neighborly when the blasted animal is eating my aunt’s flower bed.”
Grady smiled to himself. Marissa was so uptight she looked as though she was about to pop. “I’ll take him home,” he said easily and turned back toward the truck. By the time he’d opened the side door and extracted a halter and lead, Marissa was directly beside him. “You planning on helping?”
“Not a chance,” she replied and peered inside the truck. “You’re the cowboy. Nice rig, by the way. New?”
He nodded. “Yeah,” he said and immediately pushed down the irritation climbing up his spine.
It sounded like a criticism, as if she had an opinion about him buying a new truck and horse trailer. And she wouldn’t be the first. He’d seen the same look on Liz’s father and brothers. The same skepticism, the same query...as if they were looking for ways to question his integrity. Since he’d inherited Liz’s money upon her death, there were plenty of people looking to see what he’d do. Sell out? Buy a bigger place? Add more cattle to the herd? He hadn’t done any of that. Instead, he put the money in trust for the girls and got on with running the ranch as he always had. Business was steady and he made a good living. Good enough to run the ranch at a profit and take care of his family. The O’Sullivans thought way too much of their own opinions, and they’d never believed him good enough for Liz.
But he’d loved her. She was kind and caring and had been an incredible mother to the girls and an amazing wife to him. She was what he’d needed when his dad died and he took over the running of the ranch at just twenty. Liz supported and understood him. And he didn’t regret one moment of the years they had together.
“Grady?”
Marissa’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Right, the bull. I’ll see he’s out of your way.”
“Sure,” she said. “Can I see the girls soon? I have a few gifts for them. I missed being here for Breanna’s birthday last month.”
He knew Marissa was generous. And seven-year-old Breanna adored her, as did five-year-old Milly. Tina, who was only two and half, also seemed to light up whenever Marissa came to visit. And since he loved his daughters more than anything, Grady would do whatever he could to make them happy.
“Of course,” he replied. “I had Cassie come around this morning after you called to watch them until I get back.”
Her brows shot up. “Cassie?”
“My neighbor, remember? She’s married to Tanner McCord.”
Tanner was his closest neighbor and friend and was recently married with a baby and another on the way. Cassie McCord had been a godsend in the past few weeks.
She nodded as though her memory was kicking in. “Oh, right. What happened to Mrs. Cain?”
“Left last month,” he said of his former housekeeper. “She moved back to Deadwood to be with her daughter.”
“So the girls are eating your cooking?” she asked, widening her eyes provocatively. “Poor little things.”
Grady grinned and curled the halter and lead in his hand. “They don’t mind it. As I recall you’re the only one who objects to my skill on the grill.”
She gave a brittle laugh. “Skill? It’s always raw. That’s searing, not cooking.”
He shut the door. “Let’s not get into another argument about how to best serve steak, okay?”
Because he liked it rare. Marissa liked it well-done.
They never agreed on anything. Never had. Never would. The only link they had was Liz, and since his wife’s death only his daughters had kept their association alive.
“Agreed,” she said and followed him down the path and through the side gate. “And your bull busted some of the fence palings, by the way. So they’ll need to be repaired. You can send someone over to do it if you like.”
Grady got the message. Someone. Not him. “You’re not much of a morning person, are you?”
“What?”
“Seems like you left your manners on the other side of the bed this morning.”
She stopped in her tracks. “I did not. And I’m being perfectly—”
“Obnoxious,” he said, cutting her off. “Give