“Hey, buddy. I missed you, too.” He let Christmas lick his face, and her heart melted even more. Christmas gave him one last lick and trotted out to the yard.
Grayson followed her into the house. “Overthinking. That’s why you’re always making design changes. It’ll hold you back.”
“Like you know anything about that?” She wasn’t about to admit she’d constantly made changes so she could read more of his thoughts on designs and the process he went through to come up with the final products. Or that when he wrote about his family, every word seemed like it came straight from his soul. No way was she going there. Their emails felt intimate in ways she was embarrassed to admit.
He arched a brow. “Overthinking?”
“Being held back,” she clarified. There had been a brief time, as a teenager, when she’d been bitter and angry and wanted someone to blame for her landing in foster care. But there was no one to blame but Mother Nature. Eventually she’d moved past those ugly emotions and realized that at least she hadn’t been born to a drug addict who lived on the streets. But she heard a hint of that bitterness in her tone now, and it made her sick to her stomach.
She put down her bag, and when she turned, she smacked into his chest. His enticing scent filled her senses, making her even more aware of just how many things she liked about him. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.”
“No. I mean…” You’re not? That made her falter. “I meant I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m edgy because of Abe. I wish I could just forget that he was Bert’s brother and move on, but I can’t. He’s so unlike Bert that it’s hard for me to remember they’re family. But they were, and the things he said pissed me off. I didn’t expect to get so upset.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
“Don’t overthink it,” he said with the same calm confidence he seemed to do everything—except when it came to protecting her around Abe.
Or kissing me.
“You’re doing something that means a lot to you,” he reminded her. “But that doesn’t mean it means a lot to him. It’ll take time to break through to him, but you need to try.”
“Why should I bother?” She wasn’t sure she could go through another visit.
He looked at her for a long moment, holding her steady gaze before answering. “Because you care.”
He said it like it was a fact, and he was right. She’d never forgive herself if she gave up now, but that he knew that momentarily bewildered her.
“I’m going to leave these design ideas for you to look over.” He set the drawings on the counter. “Just give me a holler when you’re ready to talk about them.”
“You’re leaving?” She sounded as panicked as she felt. She was used to him being there, distracting her from missing Bert. And, okay, she liked him. A lot. A whole lotta lot.
He cracked a sexy smile that went all the way up to his eyes and simmered. “I do have a life.”
“Oh, right.” She waved a hand, feeling like an idiot. “Of course you do. I’m sorry. I’ll look these over and give you a call.”
“Great.” He turned toward the door, and the pit of her stomach sank.
When he turned back, hope sprouted in her chest.
“I know you’re going to overthink the whole Abe thing again, so I’ll say it once more so you don’t have to. We’re going back tomorrow because Bert was important to you, and you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t at least try to fix their mess.”
She crossed her arms and lifted her chin, pretending he hadn’t nailed her with his assessment. “You think you know me so well.”
He shrugged again, apparently his go-to answer. Or maybe it was his way of letting her know she’d never really given him the chance to get to know her, which stung, because in all those months they’d been emailing, she’d absorbed everything he’d given—which was a lot—and she’d closed off her most intimate secrets.
“You think you’re so smart, all stable, and wise, and in control.” And able to leave so easily. Shutupshutupshutup. She tried to laugh it off, as if she were teasing, but she didn’t want him to leave her alone in that big, empty house. And she didn’t want to go back and see Abe tomorrow. But he was right. She was going to, come hell or high water. No one had ever read her so clearly, except Bert, which made her even more anxious. But she couldn’t tell him all those things now. He had a life.
“Don’t you ever crack?” she asked more calmly. “Stumble? Drink too much and wake up not knowing how you got in your bed?”
He sighed, his massive pecs rising and falling and making her stupid mouth water. He slid one hand casually into his pocket and rolled his shoulder back, looking at her with a careful gaze. “It must be hard trying to figure out who you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged again. Of course he shrugged, goddamn him.
“Give me a call or shoot me a text if you want to go over the designs.”
Christmas came through the door again, and Grayson crouched to let him slurp his entire face. She wished she didn’t love that so much. And why did it make her a little jealous?
“See ya, buddy.” He gave Christmas one final pet, then pinned Parker with another sinful look that made her lips tingle. “I carried you up to bed, right after you started to take your clothes off.”
He disappeared into the garage, leaving her in another panic, wondering what else she’d done last night.
Chapter Five
GRAYSON LEANED OVER a drawing table at Grunter’s studying the design for the Texas office of the Collins Children’s Foundation. During the weeks of Parker’s radio silence, he’d completed designs for the two remaining sites, but he needed her approval on both the site designs and the railing before he could begin work. He’d come to Grunter’s to try to distract himself from thoughts of her, but here he sat, replaying every word they’d said, feeling her lush curves against him, seeing the look in her eyes when he’d finally found the strength to haul ass out of her house. He’d had a hell of a time leaving, but the fierceness that burned through them like an electric current every time they kissed made it nearly impossible to break the connection. If he’d stayed, he wouldn’t have been able to keep from taking more, and as much as he wanted her, she was still his client and she was dealing with some heavy shit. He needed her to have a clear head before he allowed himself to get lost in her. Plagued by a full-on mental Parker Collins invasion, needing her approval to move forward professionally and wanting it to move forward personally, he was damn near worthless.
Hunter barreled out of the office in a fit of laughter, with Clark, their business manager, on his heels. He and Hunter had grown up with Clark, and after college they had hired him to run the business. Grayson counted himself lucky to do what he loved, with people who meant the most to him. They got into each other’s faces sometimes, took each other for granted, gave each other shit. But that was part of any family. His mind traveled back to Parker, who had never known the love and loyalty that usually came with family. And yet she’d taken it upon herself to teach a bitter dying man the value of family. The knot in his gut tightened.
Clark hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m heading out for the night. Got a date with my gorgeous wife.” Last summer Clark and his wife, Nina, had gone through a rough patch. Thankfully, they’d found their way back into each other’s arms.
Grayson forced himself from his sour mood long enough to say, “Enjoy, buddy.”
Hunter peered over Grayson’s shoulder. “That for the foundation or for Parker’s house?”
“Foundation. Texas site.” Hunter and Grayson had both been awarded the contract last summer, but Hunter had just fallen in love with his fiancée, Jana Garner, who had been opening her own dance studio at the time. Grayson had taken on traveling for the project so Hunter could remain on the Cape with Jana. Parker had arranged for a smithy—a workshop—for Grayson to use near each of the sites, but there was nothing like working in the shop he and Hunter h
ad renovated with the help of their eldest brother, Pete, and their good friend Blue Ryder, both skilled craftsmen.
“What are you going for?” Hunter asked. They were both stubborn, talented designers. Hunter was known for his ability to create intricately detailed sculptures, while Grayson made his mark with larger, bolder statements of architectural art, like railings, gazebos, furniture, and hibachis that were sold all over the Cape.
“I’m not sure. The Texas office is purely minimalist.” Grayson ran a hand through his hair and looked up at his brother. He and each of his three brothers were tall, dark, and athletically built, but people often mistook Hunter for his twin. Hunter hated that, since he had a few years on Grayson, and Grayson had a hard time seeing the resemblance, given that Hunter wore his hair shaved military short, giving him a harder look than Grayson. Grayson had nothing but respect for his brother, so he chose to take the remark as a compliment.
“Minimalist? You need me in on this one. Shove over and let me in there.” Hunter elbowed him out of his chair, which he gladly gave up. He was too restless to draw anyway. Plus, Hunter was better at finite details.
Grayson paced, thinking about the woman he was trying so hard not to think about.
“How’d it go with Parker this morning? Did you nail down the designs for her railings?” When Grayson didn’t respond, he said, “Bro?” a little louder.
“Huh?”
Hunter’s face split into a knowing grin. “You want to nail Parker, don’t you?”
“Christ, Hunt.” He scrubbed his hand down his face, hoping to erase his confirmatory smile. Yeah, he wanted to get closer to Parker, but nail sounded wrong when connected with her. It was too cold, too harsh, and not at all indicative of the emotions he’d been feeling lately—or over the past few months.
Hunter crossed his arms over his chest, still grinning like an asshole. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re totally into her. Damn, Gray. All this time I thought you were frustrated because she was always changing her mind.”
“She can be a pain in the ass when it comes to design decisions, but so are tons of clients,” he said in her defense.
“And?”
“And she’s going through a tough time.” He told Hunter about Bert and the situation with Abe.
“So put the old bastard in his place. Make him be civil,” Hunter said. “It’s not like you to let a woman deal with that shit.”
“Can’t.” Grayson leaned against one of the workbenches and crossed his arms, mirroring his brother’s posture—another Lacroux trait, tying down the arms that wanted to hit something. “She needs to do this. I’m going with her, and if it gets out of hand I’ll step in. But I can tell this is something she needs to know she handled on her own.”
“Does she know that? Because women send all sorts of silent messages we’re supposed to pick up on.”
“I see Jana’s trained you well,” Grayson teased. Jana was every bit as stubborn as his brother, and somehow they made the perfect couple. He’d never seen Hunter happier or more at ease than he’d been since he and Jana had come together. “I don’t know if she realizes it yet, but she will.”
Grayson and Hunter’s phones vibrated at the same time. They whipped them out and said, “Pete,” in unison, then read the group text. The Beachcomber tonight? Seaside gang has babysitters.
Pete and his wife, Jenna, owned a year-round bay-front home as well as a summer cottage in the Seaside cottage community where Jenna had spent summers since she was young. She and her friends from the community each had their own families now, and they still spent summers in Seaside. Over the years the Lacrouxs had all become enmeshed in their close-knit group.
“Hell, yeah. Jana’s been wanting to go out.” Hunter lifted his eyes to Grayson. “You in?”
The Beachcomber was a waterfront restaurant and bar, the perfect place for Parker to chill out and let go of all the stress she was dealing with. Grayson wasn’t about to let her hide away in that big house on the bay. Not when he wanted to help her get through her grief and come out on the other side just as whole as she’d been when Bert was alive. Knowing his warm, funny friends would take to her as quickly as he had only made him that much more determined. Parker needed him. She just didn’t know it yet.
“Oh yeah,” he said to Hunter. “Plus one.”
**
PARKER TRIED EVERYTHING to keep herself from thinking of Grayson, but she was beginning to think there was no distraction big enough for the job. It had been easier when she was on location filming for twelve hours a day, when she couldn’t see his face, fall under the spell of his rich, sexy voice, or get lost in his eyes, which said he wanted to take her and take care of her in equal measure. She’d already gone for a walk on the beach with Christmas, which had been a good distraction for a while. Her curious dog had decided to chase a bird. He’d broken his leash and scared five families by barreling over their towels and knocking over their umbrellas. By the time he’d finally given up on the bird, Parker had apologized a dozen times, signed a few autographs, and sworn she was going to kill her dog. But when Christmas ambled back to her, his tongue lolling out the side of his smiling mouth, murder went out with the tide. She’d fallen to her knees and chided him as any good mom would, then loved him up, getting nice and sandy with him. Once the families he’d scared saw how sweet the big oaf was, they’d also wanted to give him love, which Christmas soaked up, and Parker did, too.
She’d showered and changed into a pair of old cutoffs and her comfiest black tank top with graffiti-style writing that read, Mustache Rides $5. A leftover from her teenage foster care days, it had been washed so many times it was soft as butter. She’d bought it for a buck at a consignment shop after being caught in a downpour, and together with her favorite shorts, she was wearing the perfect outfit for another night of horror movies and junk food.
She’d wandered through the house, sat on the deck, and looked over the designs Grayson had drawn up, which, as expected, were gorgeous. Like him. That thought had sent her reeling back to their mind-blowing kisses—and she’d been stuck there ever since.
Now she was camped out on the media-room floor, consuming mounds of candy and determined to get through at least four horror movies. She wasn’t overly sad, but she was nursing a pretty strong bout of jealousy over Grayson and his very full life that didn’t include her. Chicken dog was sleeping with his head beneath a pillow. She was halfway through A Nightmare on Elm Street and three-quarters of the way through a giant bag of pretzel M&M’s. She’d have to spend a month getting back into shape before her next film, which reminded her that she needed to call her agent, Phillipa Grace. She picked up her cell and scrolled through the messages. Phillipa had left more messages than an obsessive teen, and by the multitude of messages from Luce, it appeared Phillipa had pulled her public-relations rep into her obsessive loop.
She sent Luce a quick text. Still alive. Missing Bert. Have my back for a while? I promise to behave.
Luce texted her back immediately. Always. Want to talk? Get loaded? Pretend you’re normal for a while?
She smiled at Luce’s response. She always knew exactly what Parker needed. And now Parker felt guilty, because she’d told Grayson she didn’t have anyone, and that wasn’t really true. She’d just been too upset to think straight. If she had one true friend who would tell off someone or hold her while she ugly cried, it was Luce. They didn’t see each other that often, since Luce split her time between California and New York, but Parker knew Luce would come running if she asked, just as she would for her.
She sent Luce a reply—I’m in Wellfleet. Already got loaded. Knee-deep in pretending. Thank you. Will call when I’m sane.
Scrolling through her contacts to Grayson’s number, she hovered her thumb over the green phone icon. She’d looked over the designs and debated using them as an excuse to call. Nearly everything he did threw her for a loop, from his caring nature to his unwillingness to let her go see Abe by herself. She’d felt his mounting
tension as Abe became more and more disrespectful, and when Grayson had finally snapped on her behalf, her first reaction had been to stop him, which she’d acted on solely because she’d been groomed by the industry to nix anything that could tarnish her reputation. That had never been a problem before. The guys she knew had reputations to think about, images to protect, and they’d never put that at risk. Grayson didn’t seem to worry about any of that. She wasn’t used to selfless people, which made it a little harder to accept him at face value. But the more time she spent with him, the easier it became.
Grayson had already put her ahead of himself in so many ways it blew her mind. And she was surprised at not only how good it felt to be protected like that, but also by how much she enjoyed being with him. He was stubborn and defiant, but so casual about that defiance, she found it alluringly seductive. She wished he were there now, but apparently she was the only one without a busy social calendar. She’d been careful over the months they were emailing not to ask if he had a girlfriend, telling herself it was to keep from having to share the details of her nonexistent private life or her past, but she knew better. She hadn’t wanted to think about him with any other woman. But after those kisses, how could she not? He said he kissed his special friends like he’d kissed her.
And he had a life.
If he has a girlfriend, then he shouldn’t have kissed me at all.
She set the phone down, tapping a frustrated beat with her foot. He was probably out on a date right now, kissing some other special friend. She shoved her hand in the M&M bag and put a fistful of the crunchy treats into her mouth. Staring at the movie, she tried to get into it again, but all she saw was Grayson’s dark eyes and his scrumptious lips as they came down over hers. She rested her head back against the couch and groaned. Christmas’s head popped up from beneath the pillow with a whimper. He licked her arm and scooted closer.
Seaside Lovers: Grayson Lacroux (Love in Bloom: Seaside Summers) Page 5
