She felt the corner of her mouth curl. “You wouldn’t want the help?”
“I don’t want them in my way,” he said. He lifted a big shoulder. “I want to do this my way. Having you here works out really well.”
Of course he would want to do this his way. He wanted to do everything his way. She shook her head but was smiling. “Well, I still feel like a burden.”
“You’re not a burden, Josie.”
Her eyes met his. He’d called her Josie two other times. Both when they were having sex. He called her Jocelyn almost always, but twice, when they were as close as two people could get, and he was coming undone, it had been Josie.
She didn’t comment on it, but she definitely made a note of it. She wet her lips. “Okay, good. I’m hoping for a quick recovery here.”
Not really. The faster she recovered, the sooner she wouldn’t need him. Already he’d fulfilled his part of their deal. He’d turned over his insurance card.
But she was definitely grateful that he wanted to take care of her in these next couple of days. And she didn’t mind not having her mom, sisters, grandma, or friends here with her.
Not as long as she had Grant.
That should have been a red flag. Grant could replace the people who were closest to her? Who comforted her and made her feel the most loved?
That was weird. And probably a great way to get her heart broken.
But hell, she was this far in. She was pretty sure she was going to have her heart broken anyway. And she wasn’t even going to be able to drown her sorrows in cupcakes or ice cream.
No one had ever recovered from a broken heart by eating salads and oatmeal. Those were two of the main things on her list of approved foods. Anything that was high in fiber and low in fat.
Ugh. This broken heart was going to especially suck.
“Let’s get you settled. You look tired,” Grant said.
“Okay.” She was, of course.
He escorted her into the apartment with a hand on her lower back.
The apartment was gorgeous. Way too big for a single guy to be living in. The living room had floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over downtown and the lake. Much as the hotel had. Everything was sleek gray and granite. The floor was a dark gray wood. The only light color was the white stone fireplace and the light gray area rug under the enormous dining room table.
Honestly, the table was big enough to seat one of Maggie McCaffery’s dinner parties with seats left over. What was Grant doing with a table that size?
There were touches of home though. A stack of books on the table next to the couch. Earbuds on the coffee table. Tennis shoes next to the breakfast bar.
“Bedroom or couch?” he asked.
She wondered how many bedrooms he had and if he meant his bedroom or a guest room. They’d slept together without sex the night he’d been worried about her, but she was fixed now.
“Um… what are you going to do?” she asked, looking up at him.
“I have some work I thought I’d look over. But only after you’re settled and napping or whatever,” he said. “I can make you something to eat. I can run out and get whatever you need.”
“Would you…” She shouldn’t ask. She shouldn’t get more attached. She shouldn’t make more memories that would make her sad later. But then again, why not? Why not have memories at least? Why not be able to look back fondly on the few days when she was married to a man she was in love with?
That thought made it seem even more like she should make these memories.
He shifted closer, his hand on her back bringing her against his side. “Anything.”
“Would you sit on the couch with me?” she asked. “Could you look over your work there?”
It was dumb. He could sit wherever he wanted to in his apartment to do his work. Of course.
“Absolutely.”
It was also dumb how hard her heart flipped when he agreed.
“In fact, if you want to watch a movie or something, the work can wait.”
She stared at him. He was offering to watch a movie on the couch with her. That was sweet. Huh, after the whole thing at the table last night.
She nodded. “That would be really nice.”
He smiled. Almost looking relieved. “I’m going to change clothes quick, then. You pick a movie. I’ve got Netflix, Hulu, all of them.”
“Okay.”
He started down the hall to the right.
“Hey, Grant?”
He turned back. “Yeah?”
“Which bedroom am I using?” She could use a brush and maybe some ibuprofen.
He lifted a brow. “My bedroom.”
“You sure?”
“Am I sure that my wife will be sleeping in my bedroom with me?” he asked. “Yes, Jocelyn, I’m sure.”
That sucked all of the oxygen out of her lungs and all she could do was nod.
“Come on.” He tipped his head in the direction of the bedrooms.
She followed him into the huge master suite at the end of the hall.
“There are two other bedrooms,” he said. “Only one is set up as a guest room since my family and friends all live close and don’t really need to stay over. The other I use as an office.”
She nodded, her wide-eyed stare taking in everything about his room. This room was warmer than the living room, dining room, and kitchen areas. He still, apparently, preferred cooler colors but in here they were darker gray and blues.
His bed was enormous. That was the main thing she focused on. They would not have to cuddle in that bed the way they’d been practically forced to in hers.
That was too bad.
Grant sat down on the end of the bed and started removing his shoes. “Bathroom is through there,” he said, gesturing toward the wide doorway leading off the bedroom. “Or there’s another down the hall. This one has the best shower though.”
He tossed his shoes toward the closet, almost making them land inside the partially open door.
Josie grinned at that. He wasn’t totally put together and organized every single second. That was nice.
She thought of her house and the multitude of colors and décor styles. There was no one “color palette” or “theme.” It was a house. A home. It was full of stuff that mattered to her and that made her smile. It was a bit like the house at the end of Main Street that functioned as a mini-museum for the town, but her house was a collection of the history of her family. She loved every creaking floorboard, every mismatched throw pillow, every cluttered curio cabinet—and she had three. And the pile of shoes by her back door was a little ridiculous.
Grant stood and shucked out of his pants. In boxers only, he crossed to the dresser and pulled out a pair of gray sweatpants.
Josie liked that he was comfortable enough to undress in front of her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it all before. And she just stood, appreciating the scene.
He pulled the sweatpants up and then took out a long-sleeved black t-shirt. He unbuttoned the dress shirt he’d worn to the hospital and shrugged out of it. It was as he was tossing it toward the hamper in the corner that he noticed her watching him.
He lifted a brow. “You okay?”
“Very much so.” She let her gaze wander over his naked shoulders, chest, and abs.
He pulled the shirt over his head, tugging it down over all those glorious muscles and inches of skin. “Be good,” he told her, running a hand through his hair.
“Good?” she asked. “You’re the one stripping in front of me.”
“I was just changing clothes.”
“Stripping,” she said.
“I didn’t know you’d be ogling me.”
“Of course I’m going to ogle you, Grant,” she said with a light laugh. “One of the perks of married life.”
For a second they both stopped and just stared at each other.
He’d called her his wife earlier. It was, as always, hot when he’d said it. Hell, just an hour ago, she’d had to sign her
discharge papers at the hospital, and he’d quietly reminded her to sign Lorre instead of Asher just in time.
So why did this moment feel different?
Was it the term married life? Because it wasn’t going to be a life and they were both realizing it?
He coughed after the moment had dragged a little too long. “Good point,” he said. “I don’t suppose you need to change clothes?” He added a roughish grin that worked to lighten the mood.
She shook her head with a smile. “No and even if I did, not so sure the big bandage on my stomach is that sexy.”
He crossed to where she was standing and looked down at her. He didn’t touch her, but she felt his affection when he said, “There’s nothing that could make you not sexy to me.”
She was sure that wasn’t true but she appreciated the sentiment. On impulse, she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his chin. That was as high as she could get without him leaning over. But it did the trick.
Almost instinctively, Grant’s hand settled on her ass and he pulled her in for a little hug. He kissed the top of her head and Josie felt her heart melt.
“Movie time?” he asked.
She nodded against his chest. “Movie time. After I brush my hair and take some ibuprofen.”
He shifted back. “Do you need something stronger?” The concern was back in his eyes.
“No. I’m just a little achy. And the pain pills make me tired.”
“Are you su—”
She put her hand over his mouth. “I will take pain pills when I need them. I promise. Ibuprofen is enough for now.”
“Fine.” He squeezed her butt and let her go. “You get the brush and I’ll get the pills.”
They met back in the middle of the room a minute later and headed for the living room together.
And when he tucked her up against him rather than on opposite ends of the couch, she smiled. And when he watched not only Roman Holiday but also Only You without pulling out any work, she felt her heart melt a little. And when he got up and came back with popcorn with chocolate and cinnamon on it—and admitted he’d looked up a recipe for it—she fell a little more in love.
“So, me telling stories about us at the reception yesterday made you tense,” she commented as she helped herself to the popcorn in the bowl balanced on his lap.
He stiffened for a second, then sighed. He looked over at her. “Yeah. A little.”
“Why?” She put a piece in her mouth and munched.
“Because these women are there to learn about being happy and content without a man,” Grant said. “And then you were there, not just telling romantic stories, but about me—someone that had just spent the day coaching them to be their own person—but also made-up stories.”
She thought about that and took another piece of popcorn. She gestured to the bowl. “Not made up now.”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“So you didn’t want them thinking romantic thoughts right after you spent the day telling them that they were fine alone,” she said.
“Right.”
“But that’s not what you were telling them.” She shifted on the couch cushion, propping her elbow on the back of the couch. “You were telling them how to be confident and independent with their money, but you never said that they shouldn’t have relationships.”
He frowned and didn’t respond.
“That’s what you want them to take from your seminars?” she asked. “Really? You want all of these women to walk out totally content to be single?”
“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate.
Josie felt her eyes widen. “But… it’s natural for people to want to be in couples. It’s what we’re designed for.”
“It’s what women are taught from birth to think they’re designed for,” he said.
“You think that falling in love happens because girls are socialized to think that’s what they’re supposed to do?” Josie asked, a little appalled.
They’d just watched two of her favorite romantic movies. And now her husband was telling her that romantic relationships were figments of girls’ imaginations?
“Not just girls,” Grant said. “But yes, society puts a definite emphasis on marriage and coupling up. Women who don’t have a partner are seen as lacking somehow. Even nowadays when we should be so much more evolved.”
Josie took a breath and blew it out. “So underneath all the money stuff and all the you can do it stuff you teach about loans and taxes and investments and entrepreneurship and everything, your message is you don’t need men and you should be happy single?”
“Yes.” Again, no hesitation or even further explanation.
“Wow.”
“I’m not saying that people shouldn’t have partners and get married,” he finally said. “I’m just saying that women—people—shouldn’t feel that that is the ultimate way to be secure. They should choose to share their life with someone else rather than doing it because they have to or because all other choices are somehow worse.”
Josie sat back on her cushion. She felt the impact of his words directly in her chest.
She was married to him right at this very moment because she had to be. She’d needed something from him that wasn’t love or companionship or friendship. It had been money. They hadn’t chosen to spend their lives with each other. They’d made an agreement to spend a few weeks together so that she wouldn’t be burdened with medical bills.
Wow.
They were the perfect example of what not to do, according to Grant Lorre’s seminars.
“Like us,” she said softly. “People shouldn’t do things the way we did.”
He met her eyes. He didn’t jump to deny what she’d said. “I don’t think that most people get married the way we did,” he said. “But I do think that there are marriages—or at least relationships—of convenience out there. The people involved are may not be aware of it at the time. They think they’re in love or have feelings for one another at least. But the idea of moving in together to cut expenses in half or getting married for a tax benefit or someone supporting someone else while they go to school… those are all very real scenarios.”
“And you don’t think two people meeting and falling in love and wanting to be together forever is a real scenario?” she asked softly.
“I think it happens,” he said. “But I think it’s better when it happens if each person is independent and strong on their own, and they come together because they want to live together rather than because it’s cheaper than having two places.”
She nodded. She didn’t know what else to say.
“Where did the story about reading to each other during foot rubs and the chocolate-cinnamon popcorn and the whole homebodies who love the simple things come from?” he asked after a moment.
“My grandparents and parents,” she said. “I could have gone on and on with stories. Sweet, romantic, in-love stories from both of them. None of them ever had a lot of money, but they’ve always been madly in love.”
Grant nodded. “Ah.”
“You’re thinking all my romantic ideas make sense now, right?”
He nodded.
“Just like all of your ideas about relationships make sense,” she added. “I do admire that you’re such an advocate because of your sister and grandma.”
“My mom has been a happy single parent for most of my life too,” Grant said with a wry smile.
Josie nodded. “We come from pretty different places.”
“In almost every way.”
“Yeah.”
Yeah. She was still a romantic, but she was starting to think that the opposites-attract thing was kind of a bunch of bullshit.
16
“If you ever put zucchini, or any other vegetable, into one of my baked goods without my permission, I will never speak to you again.”
Josie stepped into the kitchen at Buttered Up completely unnoticed.
Her sister, Paige, and Zoe were squared off across the c
enter island, a plethora of baking pans and utensils between them. One bowl was definitely full of some kind of batter. Some kind of green batter. A green that was not created by food coloring.
“You put carrots in your carrot cake,” Paige pointed out.
“And whole lot of sugar and butter and cream cheese,” Zoe said. “It is not gluten free, nor is it low carb or paleo or anything else.”
Paige nodded. “I know. Which is exactly why you need sugar-free, gluten-free zucchini muffins on the menu.”
“No.”
“They sold out yesterday.”
“There were only twelve, and you took six to the yoga studio,” Zoe pointed out.
“Still, the other six sold,” Paige said.
“And Renee Wagner called me later and asked what the hell was wrong with them.”
“It’s not my fault Renee Wagner doesn’t understand that almond flour tastes different from white flour.”
Zoe took a deep breath. “Just make the lemon poppy seed, Paige. There, lemon. That should make you happy. It’s fruit.”
“They use lemon juice. That hardly counts as a fruit.”
Zoe rubbed a finger up the middle of her forehead. “If you do it and you’re good, I’ll let you do the apple cinnamon too. Those do use actual apples.”
“Fine,” Paige said. “But you should let me do some low-carb lemon too. We’ll do a taste test and see what people think.”
“They’ll think the low-carb lemon muffins taste weird,” Zoe said.
“Different,” Paige said. “They’ll think they taste different. But we can educate them on all the health benefits. You can have a whole new line of healthy muffins and bars.”
“The bakery is called Buttered Up,” Zoe said to Paige. “That doesn’t exactly scream healthy and low carb.”
“Oh, but butter is low carb!” Paige said, almost excitedly. “You can have butter and cream cheese, even bacon on a low carb diet. Did you know—”
“Hi, girls,” Josie said, deciding this was a good time to cut in.
They both swung to face her.
“Josie!” Zoe exclaimed. “You’re back early!”
“Yep.”
Making Whoopie (Hot Cakes Book 3) Page 22
