by Taylor Hart
Grant suppressed the familiar surge of anger. He glanced at Ari, not wanting her to hear this conversation. “That’s enough.”
“Stop,” Tom warned Will. “Grant’s fine.”
Thankful for Tom, yet simultaneously irritated because he didn’t need protecting, Grant chose to put the clamp back on all of that information. He focused his thoughts back on the present and away from the image of the president’s daughter lying on the ground beside him, a bullet in her chest. He blinked and left the kitchen. “Tell me more about the trip.”
Will and Tom followed at his heels. “You can guess who his favorite brother is,” Will said, “because he asked me to go.”
Tom nodded. “Yep, it had nothing to do with availability.”
Will angrily pointed at Tom. “Shut it. My shoulder’s fine, and everyone knows it. Cameron Cruz just wants to torture me by making me sit out of the game before the league break for Christmas.” He glared at Tom, then shrugged. “So it worked out I can go for a couple of days.”
Grant knew the topic of Will’s hurt shoulder and play time with the Storm was touchy at the moment, so he didn’t push it. He winked at Tom. “Try to have a good time.”
“Whatever.” Tom grunted and grinned at him. “So you’re meeting us on Sunday.”
Grant grinned back. “Probably.”
Will laughed. “And then Zane’s house for Christmas. You were planning that, right?”
“I’ll be there. So will Ari.”
Ari clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to hold little Lily.”
Grant thought about Zane’s new baby and smiled, thinking of the FaceTime chat with Zane the other day where he just oohed and ahhed with his little girl.
Will grunted. “Right, I hope the kid doesn’t puke on me. I hate kid puke.”
Tom pushed him in the shoulder. “Dude, shut up. You sound like a jerk.”
Grant ignored their antics. “Yep, I’ll pick Ari up at the airport Christmas Eve, and we’ll drive to San Diego and be on the beach for Christmas, baby. That’s all that counts!”
“True.” She frowned. “We’re kinda on the beach in LA too.”
He pointed at her. “No, Zane is right on the beach.”
“Dang straight.” Tom grinned. “Good thing I have all these rich brothers so I can live like a rich man.”
Grant laughed at the comment. “Hey, my money is your money, man. You know that if you ever need anything—”
Tom’s jaw hardened. “Stop.” Tom was a firefighter and did just fine for himself, but Grant had to admit it was nice to make millions.
Will slugged Tom in the shoulder. “You’re a mooch. You’ve always been a mooch.” He was kidding, but Tom slugged him back, and Grant noticed it had some bite to it.
Grant smacked Will’s good shoulder, feeling protective of Tom. “Who runs into burning buildings for a living? Give him a break.”
Will held Grant’s gaze for a second, his hand in a fist, ready to punch Grant, but then he shrugged, laughing. “Fine, I’ll give Tom a break. Too bad I won’t give you a break. I’m serious about the fake stuff, bro.” He pointed to the dreadlocks in his hair. “Why don’t you start with those and cut them? Maybe I’ll recognize someone who looks like the Secret Service guy I used to know. The guy Mama used to say was the best of all of us.”
The mention of their mother stung. It was true, though, and Grant wondered what she would think of everything that had happened with him the past year. It wasn’t just making movies. It was exactly what his brothers had said—fake relationships, fake image, fake social media. Still, he wouldn’t give Will the pleasure of seeing he had struck a chord. “Hey, the dreads are real.” He gave Will a taunting grin and jabbed at him, picking up a dreadlock and tickling him beneath the chin. “I got good hair.”
Will tried to grab for him but missed as Grant darted away.
Tom and Ari laughed.
The sound of hinges squeaking drew their attention. Mrs. Smith rustled through the kitchen door, carrying a bag of groceries. She was Grant’s housekeeper and cook. Since she’d also taken on the role of caregiver to Ari when he was gone, he’d fixed a suite of rooms for her so she could live with them.
Mrs. Smith smiled at him, and his heart warmed. “I’ll be. Half of the Kent brothers are here now to eat us out of house and home.” She put the bag down.
Grant moved to her, hugging her.
She pulled back, smiling. “We missed you.”
“Hey, we want sugar too.” Will moved next to them and hugged her.
“Do you need help?” Grant asked her.
She shrugged. “I have a couple of bags and won’t say no when I have such fine strapping men around.”
Tom moved in front of Grant, slapping him on the shoulder. “You stay. We got this.”
“Yeah.” Will was already headed out the door. “But I’m eating the Oreos by myself if you have any.”
Mrs. Smith laughed. “I have some.”
Grant nodded, thinking of how his brothers could be polite. His mother had raised all of them that way.
The sixty-something woman squeezed his cheek. “You look good.” Her eyes misted, and she gestured to the table. “The girl’s had us in a mess.”
Again, he noted all the bottles Ari was messing with. “Tell me again what you’re doing with all of this?”
Ari sighed. “I’m actually making a love potion for all the geeky drama guys on my team. The kind of geeky drama guy your brothers have spent the last hour telling me you used to be.”
Grant laughed. “I was not a geek.”
Will poked his head in. “He was a huge geek.”
“I was not geeky.”
“Was too,” Tom said, coming back in and using his leg to shut the garage door. “Used to walk all over the house with a scarf around his neck, quoting Shakespeare.”
As they put the bags on the counter, Will said, “There was that one time where you only spoke in Old English for like a week.”
Mrs. Smith began unloading them, handing the Oreos to Will. “Here ya go.”
“Nooo,” Grant protested. “I want some.”
Will was already hunched over them possessively. “You gotta get ’em from me first.” He ripped open the container and put a whole one in his mouth, crushing it and grinning.
“Let’s tag-team it,” Tom said, nodding to Grant and circling.
Grant grabbed Will in a headlock. “Get ’em!”
Tom snatched the Oreos, running back into the kitchen. “Touchdown, baby!”
Will looked like the Hulk about to burst.
Grant let go and dashed away.
“You’re both getting it!” Will called out.
Tom slammed the sliding door open and rushed outside. “Time to swim.” He ripped off his shirt and cannonballed in.
Will let out a scream and pulled his shirt off before leaping after him. “I can still take you down in the water! Cannonball!”
“Get out here!” Tom called out.
Ari and Grant and Mrs. Smith all laughed.
What could Grant say? He loved having his brothers here. “Coming!”
“Wait.” Ari cleared her throat. “Are you sure I should go next week? I mean, I hate being gone while you’re home.” She frowned. “Are you going to Maui?”
He thought of the acting camp she’d wanted to go to in New York; he’d bought her a spot in it for Christmas. “Do you not want to go to camp?”
“I do.” She cracked a large grin. “I can’t wait to go. I just don’t want to leave you after everything with Tracy.”
He shrugged, appreciating this sweet cousin. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll meet up with the bros, and maybe I won’t. Either way, I’ll be fine.” The truth, he realized, was that he had looked forward to being home and chilling with her. He’d kinda forgotten about the acting camp. “You go have fun.”
Holding up one of the little bottles, she pushed it to his nose. “Smell this.”
For a second, he resisted, but then he
gave in to her. The smell that assaulted him was lemony. “Hmm,” he said, not really convinced but intrigued.
“Lemon zest.” She put it down, looking altogether too satisfied as she explained. “Lemon zest is the oil of cheer or joy. This blend inspires faith that life will work out and helps you have faith that you can overcome anything.” She dabbed some on her fingers and rubbed it on his neck.
“Aww.” He hated when people did crap like that, but it was Ari, so he wouldn’t say so.
She wiggled her nose. “Just try it.” With a little gasp, she snapped her fingers. “You could wear it tomorrow and come to the school and help with acting camp.”
“I’m confused.” He picked up a paper towel and tried to wipe the smell off his neck. “I thought you left for camp on Friday.”
“No. Not that camp.” She rolled her eyes. “I told you on the phone last week about my teacher, Ms. Olympia, and how she was hosting an acting camp for inner-city kids Thursday and Friday after school, remember?”
He didn’t. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”
The look on her face told him she didn’t believe him. “Anyway, I’m going to give the kids some oil to help them.”
Grant was mystified at how different girls and boys were. Boys would never think about this stuff. At least, he and his brothers wouldn’t. He reached out and picked up a different bottle, smelling it.
“That’s rosemary. That’s the love oil. You could attract a woman if you put it on.”
Acting like it was dynamite, he put it down. “I have no interest in women right now.”
Ari winked at him. “Well, the geeky drama kids need it.” She covered her mouth and shook her head, her curly hair bobbing back and forth. “Oh my gosh, do you think you could come help with acting camp tomorrow and Friday? My theater teacher was just saying we’re short-staffed.”
This took him by surprise. “Tomorrow? Uh …” He didn’t think he had anything, and he thought about all the times he’d missed helping out.
“C’mon.” She put her hands together. “Please? I know she would love the help, especially from you. It’s for a good cause.”
“You really need the help?” For some reason, he felt shy about helping, like he might not live up to all of Ari’s expectations.
Ari put her hands into begging mode. “Please help! It would be like a present for these kids. A great way to get into the Christmas spirit!”
Just at that moment, Tom walked in, all wet and shaking out his hair. “Christmas spirit?” He pointed at Grant and laughed. “Mr. Scrooge doesn’t know what it means to have Christmas spirit.”
Immense irritation spiked inside of him. “Get out! You’re dripping all over my house.”
“Sorry.” Tom froze, putting on an expression of exaggerated shock. “Who is my brother helping?”
“Shut up.” Grant rolled his eyes.
Ari must have sense this was her chance, because she pounced. “He’s helping my drama class. We’re having a camp for inner-city kids.”
Tom cocked an eyebrow. “That’s cool. You should. Mom would like that. Remember what she always said about serving at Christmas.” He winked and turned back. “Come get in, bro.”
Grant’s heart raced. Tom had said it so casually. “Remember what she said about Christmas.” Well, yeah, he knew what his mother had said. She’d pounded it into them over and over. “Christmas is a time for service.”
And he’d failed at it. For a long time. Was he Mr. Scrooge?
“So you’ll come?” Ari’s face was hopeful.
Mrs. Smith nodded at him. “Do it,” she mouthed.
“Fine, I’ll come.” He puffed out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Ari clapped happily. “Sweet! Everyone will be so excited.”
Grant shifted, uncertain. “Yay,” he said in a mock falsetto.
Ari laughed and hugged him. Mrs. Smith gave him a thumbs-up. It did feel good to think of helping others.
Ari turned back to the table, picking up one bottle and pouring something into it. She laughed. “Ah, just to warn you, my teacher did call you a hack the other day in front of the class, though.”
“What?!”
Ari focused on the bottles. “My drama teacher, who is amazing, just so you know. She literally should have been in movies. She’s way good. So good at teaching us stuff like accents and how to act and make it so it doesn’t seem like you’re acting.” She shrugged, not realizing Grant was upset about this.
“What did she say?” Grant asked, feeling stupid he cared what some teacher had said.
“Ya know that scene in the last movie when you had to act like you had a Brooklyn accent?”
He nodded. Of course he knew.
“And you were making a deal with the mobster, and you were saying, ‘Give me a quarter. Give me a quarter, and I’ll throw it up for you.’” She mimicked his voice, exaggerating the Brooklyn accent. “She thought you sounded like a hack.”
Grant frowned, wondering how Ari could be so dismissive about it. “O-kay.”
“What?” Ari put the bottle down and put a lid on it. “I don’t know. It made me think you might have been a bit nasally in the scene.”
The thing that annoyed him the most was he had hated that scene, had even tried to get the producer to take it out. “Shouldn’t you be telling me how happy you are that I’m coming?”
Ari practically dropped the bottles and rushed over to throw her arms around him. “Thank you!”
His gaze met Mrs. Smith’s. “What can I say? I am the epitome of Christmas spirit!”
She laughed. “Yes, you are, Mr. Kent.”
Well, he’d cross those bridges when he came to them. He rushed through the doors, taking off his shirt and yelling, “Clear out, I’m coming in!”
Chapter 2
Jewel Olympia sorted through some paperwork in the theater room and tried to keep all the details of the camp in order. Minutes ago, she’d prepped the volunteers who were helping with acting camp and sent them to their rooms. Then she’d greeted the kids and registered them and sent them to their rooms. At the moment, she felt nervous and jittery, thinking of the email she’d gotten a half an hour ago—the one from the private eye she’d hired last year. After twenty-five years of not knowing who her birth mother was, there might be some news.
She hadn’t read it. She couldn’t yet. She had to focus on all these kids and this camp for the next couple of hours.
They had been bused in from a school located in downtown LA. She’d worked it out with the principal a couple of months ago. These kids didn’t have the resources like the ones at her school, so she’d gotten donations. Okay, fine, she’d paid for some things herself, but who cared? Someone had to give these kids opportunities.
Her own students were donating their time, and she had other drama teachers from schools helping out, plus other volunteers. It would be great. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to stop the way her heart beat erratically just thinking about finding out about her mother.
Focus, she commanded herself. The trouble was, she was short one teacher, so she would have to go fill in and teach stage fighting in the art room. She turned to some of her students, who were still waiting for their assignment. “Okay, kids, come here, and let’s get to where we need to go.” She clapped her hands to get their attention.
“Oh my gosh.” One of the boys pointed toward the door at the top of the theater stairs. “I can’t believe he showed up.”
Glancing back, her eyes fell on Grant Kent, who was strolling down the aisle. The thing that distinguished him the most was the horrific dreadlocks he still wore from his movie. Maybe they were real; maybe they weren’t. She didn’t know, but she wanted to. Dang, why was she even thinking this?
He was dressed in a leather jacket, a blue T-shirt, ripped jeans, and flip-flops. Man, he was hot without trying. Just like his character in the movies.
It was just plain stupid that she felt like a teenager. Like she wanted to grab the permanent marke
r on the registration table and ask him to sign something—her shirt, her forearm, anything. She was a huge fan of the Raced and Wrecked movies, and he was the guy. That guy who broke into the family as an undercover FBI agent and fell in love with the daughter and then went all native with the mob family. Sure, the plots weren’t fabulous—okay, they were downright predictable—but they were on movie seven now.
Jewel remembered hearing Ari say he would be done soon and be home. Not that Jewel had really paid attention. Ari had promised her today that he would be coming, but whatever. If Jewel had learned anything about being a teacher in the last five years, it was that she had to count on her own resourcefulness for everything. Which reminded her she needed help jumping her car. She’d tried to leave for lunch and it hadn’t started. This had been happening lately. She texted her neighbor and asked if he could help her.
Right then, Ari popped out of the group of kids and rushed toward him. “Grant!” Squealing ensued as she threw her arms around him.
He took her into a hug. “Hey.”
Ari grabbed his hand and pulled him down the aisle toward everyone, but mainly Jewel.
Jewel’s heart fluttered, and she tried not to notice he was just as gorgeous, maybe more so than he was on camera. Wasn’t that the opposite of how it was supposed to be?
When he tugged off his Top Gun sunglasses, she noticed that his eyes were just as ocean blue as they looked on the screen. She tried to not act weird or funny or in any way that said “crazy fan.”
Ari squealed again as her friends swarmed around them. “Ms. Olympia, this is my cousin Grant Kent. He’s here to help.”
Jewel quelled the nerves inside of her and plastered on an unimpressed face. She had adopted a policy since living in Los Angeles: she would not be impressed by actors. Even though she’d wanted to be an actor at one time, she’d found there were too many around that were far from impressive. Nodding to Grant, she gave him a stiff smile. “You’re late.” She sounded like an old schoolmarm, and part of her hated herself for it.
His eyes opened a bit wider. “Oh.”
Lost in his eyes, she wondered if he wore contacts to make his eyes that blue. “And that hair … wow.” Why had she said that? Dang, dang, dang.
