Page 45 of A Jilted Bride for the Cowboy

No? Also, he didn’t want paid advice.

“You Sullivans talk a lot about God. About praying.”

Graham stilled. “Yes?”

“But do you actually do it? I don’t mean any offense. I’m only observing. There’s talk, and then there’s action.”

“We are honestly seeking God’s direction and trying to follow it.”

“Okay.”

But Weston’s voice didn’t sound like he believed Graham. “Why do you ask?”

The guy shrugged. “Your grandpa just barrels right along with his plans. Hard to believe he’s so in tune with God no course correction is ever needed.”

“He’s your grandfather, too.” Stupid thing to say. It was like Graham was avoiding the point.

“Yeah, well. My other grandpa took me fishing and taught me to ride and a whole lot of nature lore. Seems a mite more friendly than a dude who sits at the head of a conference table who blasts everyone and throws his weight and his dollars around.”

The nerve. Graham clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. Why should he defend Grandfather to Weston Kline? Walter Sullivan was a good man, a whole lot nicer than his mother’s dad, who’d died of heart failure years ago. Graham’s few memories were of a red-faced man cursing in his native Icelandic tongue.

It was a wonder Mom had turned out as well as she had, actually. Paul’s mother, Aunt Frances, seemed to take more after their father.

“Nothing to say?” Weston taunted.

Graham’s attention refocused on his newfound cousin. “There’s more to Grandfather than meets the eye.”

“Right. The dude knocked up his secretary.”

“That’s not what I meant, but okay. He’s human. I’m not excusing what he did, but that’s evidence he hasn’t always sought God’s will in everything he does. I can’t deny he’s on the controlling side, but he’s worked hard to make Sullivan Enterprises even greater than what he inherited from his own father. He’s changed with the times. How many eighty-year-olds do you know who are as technology literate as he is?”

“I don’t know many eighty-year-olds.”

Did that require a response? While Graham deliberated, Weston went on.

“But my seventy-five-year-old grandmother has no use for any of it. Mom bought her a cell phone, and Nana got all flustered and said she didn’t need it. The box on the wall had done her fine all her life and would continue to do so. No need for a pocket-size device that thought it was smarter than she was.”

“Right.” Graham managed a chuckle. “That’s probably more typical.”

“But you didn’t answer my question. About God.”

“You’re a Christian, right?”

“Yeah? But then I’m not pretending to be perfect.”

“Who is?”

Weston snorted. “All of you. Holier-than-thou and all that.”

“I don’t think—”

“Never mind. I shouldn’t have expected you might be open to hearing what other people see.”

“But I am.”

“Forget it.” Weston laughed. “It’s too complicated for a math nerd like you.”

Graham opened his mouth. Closed it. Watched his cousin saunter away. And knew he’d be thinking on what Weston had said.

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