by Annie Rains
Grace shook her head.
“So you’re going to tell me this has nothing to do with Jack?”
“No,” Grace said honestly. Then she backtracked. “Well, it kind of does, but it has to do with all of the Sawyers.”
Krista folded her arms on the table and leaned forward. “I’m listening.”
Grace sighed and met her friend’s warm eyes. “Okay, I guess I can tell you. I entered the East Coast fishing tournament because I want to win the money prize.”
Krista grinned. “Well, duh. What I don’t know is why you need the money. I mean I know your mom is sick, but…”
Grace pulled her lower lip between her teeth and bit down softly. She hadn’t wanted to tell anyone her plan. Not until it was a done deal. Not until she’d won the tournament and the money was hers. Until she’d handed it over to Garrison Tomlin. “I wanted to use the prize money to buy the Beatrice back for the Sawyer family.”
Krista’s eyes widened. “What? I thought no one even knew who owned it.”
Grace cocked her head to the side. “My mom knew. She just never wanted to tell Pete. She was mad at him for divorcing her, which he had every right to do, I guess. But my mom is different now.”
Kristen nodded and reached a hand out to touch Grace’s forearm. “I know she is. I’ve seen it for myself. So what’s the problem?” Krista asked. “The Sawyers will be thrilled to have the Beatrice back.”
Grace frowned. “The problem is that the owner is refusing to sell it to me.”
Krista’s mouth dropped open. “Really? Why? It’s not that great of a boat, is it?”
Grace shrugged. “I think it has more to do with the fact that it once belonged to the Sawyers. My mom says he didn’t like the Sawyer family much. Specifically Pete. I’m not sure why.”
“What are you going to do?” Krista asked.
Grace finally popped a piece of her muffin into her mouth and chewed. “I figure that everyone has their price. I’m going to go find Mr. Tomlin myself and talk to him. Make him understand that this boat means everything to me.”
“Don’t you think you’re acting out of turn?” Krista asked. “You haven’t even won the tournament yet.”
“I have two of the best fishermen in Blushing Bay on my crew,” Grace said proudly. “We have to win.” Because it was the only chance she had at mending the rift between their families. And the only chance she had at turning this thing she had going with Jack into something real.
—
After work, Grace followed the directions she’d printed out on Google Maps to the address she had scrawled on the back of a receipt. Jack had asked to come over tonight, but she’d told him she couldn’t. She’d lied to him, which felt more wrong than the typical white lie. She wasn’t hanging out with her mother tonight. Instead, she was on her way to see what she imagined was a lonely old man, who probably didn’t even like to go out on the boat anymore.
Garrison Tomlin lived about an hour’s drive from Blushing Bay. The mostly barren one-lane roads curved through expanses of trees. When Grace finally pulled into Mr. Tomlin’s driveway, it was after 6 P.M. A little wave of nervousness crashed over her. He didn’t have to let her in. He didn’t have to hear her out. There was no reason for him to do anything she asked.
She climbed the porch steps, reminding herself with every one that her mother had asked her to make things right. This was how she was doing it. Grace needed things to be made right just as much as, if not more than, her mother.
With a shallow inhale, she pressed the doorbell before she could talk herself out of it. Scuffling could be heard behind the door. A dog barking. Judging by the high pitch, she guessed it was a tiny dog. The kind with sharp teeth.
Grace cast a backward glance at her car. She could run now. She was sure she was faster than the little dog behind Mr. Tomlin’s front door itching to nip at her ankles.
Too late.
The door opened and an older man, just as she’d envisioned, stared back at her. The man, and a tiny teacup Chihuahua, looked her up and down.
Grace was too nervous to speak for a moment. Her entire fate seemed to hang on his agreement to her proposal.
“Yeah? What do you want?” he asked gruffly.
Grace cleared her throat. “Mr. Tomlin?”
He nodded.
“My name is Grace Donner. I—”
“You’re that girl who wants to buy the boat. I already told you. It’s not for sale,” he said, reaching for the edge of the door, presumably to slam it in her face.
“No, no, no. Please, don’t do that,” she said. “I just want five minutes of your time. I want to explain to you why that boat is so important to me. It’s important to the healing of two families.”
The ankle biter in Mr. Tomlin’s hands growled low in its little throat.
“Fine. But five minutes is all you get, and the answer is still going to be no when you’re done.”
“Thank you.” Grace shut the door behind her and followed the old man inside the dark house with a TV blaring from the front room. She looked at all the photographs on the wall as she passed through. They were of happy, lively people in sharp contrast to this man. People who didn’t live here, Grace assumed. Maybe they weren’t even in Mr. Tomlin’s life anymore.
He sat on a worn recliner and reached for the TV’s remote. With a push of the mute button, silence punctuated the room.
Grace sat on the edge of the couch and folded her hands in her lap. She’d served drinks to guys who looked and acted just like Mr. Tomlin for years. She knew how to get along with anyone. “Here’s the thing. My mother never had any right to sell that boat to you.”
“Your mother?” he asked, interest piquing his curiosity now.
“Yes. She’s the one who sold you the boat all those years ago. It didn’t belong to her, though. It belonged to my stepdad.”
“I know your stepdad,” he said with a healthy dose of irritation. “Pete Sawyer.”
Grace nodded. “That’s right.”
“He stole my girlfriend in high school. Did you know that?”
Grace shook her head. “No.”
“I loved that girl and Pete snatched her right out from under me. Literally,” he said, casting an image in Grace’s mind that she’d probably never rid herself of.
“I’m not sure I understand.” She wrung her hands in her lap nervously.
“My girlfriend’s name was Beatrice. She was mine before she was Pete’s.”
Grace’s lips parted. Ohhhhhh. Things were starting to make sense now. “And that’s why you wanted the boat. You knew my mother was selling it without Pete’s permission.”
“It was dirty and underhanded. And I’ve never felt better about anything in my life,” Mr. Tomlin said, surprising Grace.
The Chihuahua in his hands barked in agreement.
Grace’s body tensed. “Pete Sawyer is a good man.”
“He stole my girlfriend, then married her. Then he let her die. I bought his boat fair and square, and I’m keeping it.”
Grace took a breath. “My mother sold a lot of things of Beatrice’s. It led to the breakdown of her marriage.”
“Not my problem.”
Grace swallowed and continued. “My mother is sick now. She has a lot of regrets. I was hoping you’d understand what it means to regret something.”
Mr. Tomlin eyed her coldly.
“I want to help her resolve some of those regrets. That’s why I want to buy that boat back for the Sawyer family.”
“Not for—”
Grace held up her hand. “Everything has a price, Mr. Tomlin.”
“You can’t buy back a man’s pride, and that’s what Pete took from me. I finished up my senior year in high school watching the girl I love kissing Pete in the corner. It hurt like hell. Now,” Mr. Tomlin stood up, “your five minutes are up, sweetheart.”
Grace stayed rooted on the couch for a moment longer, unable to believe that this was the result of her visit. Finally, she stood
, no arguments left in her, and headed back to his front door.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” Mr. Tomlin said, with only the slightest fragment of sincerity.
Grace turned and added one more thing. “What if I paid you twenty thousand dollars for that boat?”
Mr. Tomlin’s eyes widened just a touch. “It’s not worth but half that.”
“It is to me.” It would take all the tournament’s winnings. But it’d be worth it. “I’m in a fishing tournament next weekend. If I win, that’s how much I bring home. It’s all yours.”
“If you win.” Mr. Tomlin laughed. “Well, if you do, come talk to me then.”
There was a little hope threaded in those words. And judging by the light behind Mr. Tomlin’s eyes when she’d mentioned the money, she doubted he’d refuse to sell the boat after she did in fact win that tournament.
“I will,” she said, heading down the steps and back to her car.
Chapter 15
“Seriously, Mom.” Grace tapped her fingers on her desk. The catch of the day had already been assessed and sent on its way with the delivery crew. She’d run the numbers, twice, and now she was on the last to-do of the workday. “I’m busy. I don’t have time to talk about Mrs. Smith’s imperfections.”
“You’re my daughter. I have stretch marks to prove it. That means you owe me.”
“About that.” Grace stopped tapping. “I went to see Mr. Tomlin last night.”
“Grace Bree Donner.”
“Uh-oh. You don’t use my middle name unless you’re serious.”
“I am serious. I told you to give up that notion of buying back that boat. Don’t tell me you’re still doing that tournament next weekend, too.”
“Of course I am,” Grace said, jaw tightening.
“Right. Because you always do the opposite of what I ask.”
“Not true and not fair. I’m doing this because you asked me to.”
“I asked you to fix things for me, which I never should’ve done. That was wrong of me. It’s not your problem to fix.”
“I want the world to know that you’ve changed, Mom. You’re kind and generous, funny, giving.”
“No, that’s you,” her mother said.
“It’s you, too.” Grace swallowed back her sudden emotion. She hadn’t realized just how much shining a new light on her mother meant to her. “Hey, I have work to do, but how about you come over to dinner at my place tonight?”
“What? You want your mom over after a long day at work?”
“Yes, I do. I miss you. I’ll make your favorite,” she said, trying to bribe her. “I can have my friend Joey come by and bring you over.” And she’d pay Joey for his time. It benefited both of them.
“Well, okay,” her mom said. “But only if you’ll let me complain about Mrs. Smith’s annoying habits tonight. All of them.”
Grace laughed. “Sure, Mom.”
The door to the office opened and Jack walked in.
“Got to go. Love you.”
“You, too.”
Grace replaced the phone on the receiver and smoothed her hair self-consciously—even though the way Jack was looking at her told her there was nothing to be self-conscious about. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He crossed the room. “Are we, uh, alone?” he asked, voice dipping.
She nodded and smiled. “For the time being.”
“Good.” He bent and kissed her mouth, lingering there for a long moment that sent her toes curling inside her shoes. “I missed you last night,” he said, pulling away.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I was thinking.”
“Be careful,” she said, smoothing her hands over his expansive chest, unable to help herself. “Thinking can get you in trouble.”
“Right. But I think you’ll like these thoughts of mine. My place tonight. I’ll cook you dinner.”
Her lips parted. “I, um…” She’d just made plans with her mother. But Jack thought she’d been with her mother last night instead of with Garrison Tomlin. This was kind of…a perfect predicament. “How about you come to my place and I’ll make you dinner?” she asked, doing exactly what she’d warned him against. She was thinking and it just might get her in trouble. But if Jack sat down with her mom tonight, he’d see she wasn’t the evil ex-stepmother he thought her to be.
Jack stood. “You have a look in your eyes.”
She lowered her gaze guiltily. “You got me. I think it’s extra sexy when the woman cooks for the man.”
As if she’d short-circuited everything inside him—sex apparently did that to men—he smiled. “Is that right? Well, then I’d be happy to come to your place tonight.”
She felt like twirling around in her office chair. The two people she loved the most in the world would be seated at the same dinner table.
Love? No. No, that wasn’t how she felt about Jack.
Was it?
—
Jack sang along with Marvin Gaye as he drove to Grace’s apartment later that night.
“Let’s get it on. Ahhhh, baby. Let’s get it on.”
He’d been alternating fantasizing about getting his hands on Grace and gettin’ it on all afternoon.
He parked in the back of her complex’s parking lot—just in case Noah paid her another brotherly visit—and climbed the steps. He should’ve brought flowers. Although he wasn’t sure if Grace was the kind of woman to even want flowers. He’d bring some next time and see. He wanted to know every little thing about her.
A shot of adrenaline ran through him as he rang the bell. As soon as the door opened, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Grace’s waist. “Hey, gorgeous,” he whispered in her ear.
“Gorgeous?” She laughed nervously and pulled away a little quickly for his taste. Almost as if someone else was in the room watching them.
Jack looked around, his gaze landing on an older version of Grace. The intruder had long dark hair with some gray threaded through. Her skin was pale and wrinkled versus Grace’s smoother complexion. The woman had brown eyes that were not as large or as full of life.
“Jack, I invited my mother to dinner tonight, too.”
He nodded slowly, processing this change of plans. “I see that.”
“Hello, Jack,” Tammy Donner said, her voice a little shakier than he remembered, but fifteen years had passed since the last time they’d spoken. “I didn’t expect to find you kissing my daughter tonight.”
“I didn’t expect to be kissing her in front of you,” he said, disappointment crushing him.
“Is there something you want to tell me, Grace?” Tammy asked.
Grace sucked in a breath. She wrung her hands nervously and her gaze skittered around restlessly. He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but he also wanted to lay into her. What she’d done tonight wasn’t fair. If he was going to have dinner with Tammy Donner, it would be by choice. He hadn’t chosen this. He wouldn’t choose this. At least not tonight.
“I made your favorite,” Grace said, putting on an exaggerated smile. “As promised.”
“This is more than you promised,” he said. “I’m not staying.”
“Jack.” Grace reached for his arm. “Please.” Her eyes pleaded with him. The same eyes as her mother, but different. There was so much love in Grace’s eyes. So much heart, toughened by an unfair world. “I know I should have told you,” she said quietly while her mother still sat on the couch, “but you never would’ve said yes. And I need this. Just dinner, that’s all. Please.”
He focused on the woman in front of him. He never wanted to disappoint her. He had feelings for her, and not the kind that one harbored for a sister. He felt a whole hell of a lot more than sisterly love for Grace. He looked at her mother and back, nodded, and against his better judgment shut the front door behind him.
“Okay,” he said.
“Mom?” Grace said, looking back at her mother. “You’ll stay, too, right?”
“Of course.” Her mother offered a smile to him that h
e didn’t return. And he couldn’t even be bothered to feel like a jackass about it. He’d be staying for dinner, but it didn’t mean he had to make nice.
“Great.” Grace pressed her hands together in front of her chest, almost in a prayer position. “Okay. First thing’s first. I’m making drinks for you two while I finish cooking. Lucky you, you have an ex-bartender at your beck and call tonight.”
“Make mine nonalcoholic,” Grace’s mother said.
Jack noticed the tremor in Tammy’s hand as she raised it to get Grace’s attention.
“I can’t mix alcohol with my meds.”
“Right.” Grace nodded. “Nonalcoholic for you.” She headed behind the kitchen counter. “Just make yourselves comfortable,” she called to them across the room.
Jack was still standing. He looked between his sitting options, wanting to take the one farthest from Tammy. He chose a stiff chair and sat.
“How long have you been dating my daughter?” Tammy asked after several minutes.
Jack looked up. “A little while.”
Tammy laughed quietly. “You always did give as little information as possible when it came to me. I remember when I first met you. I asked how old you were and instead of telling me, you held up ten fingers.”
Jack nodded, getting away with no words this time.
“They say Parkinson’s will start to affect my memory at some point, but I still remember everything just like it happened yesterday.”
An ache resonated over Jack’s chest, right above where his heart was beating.
“Parents aren’t supposed to have favorites, but there’s no such rule for stepparents. I always liked you best.” Tammy leaned back awkwardly into the couch cushion. Her movements weren’t fluid and graceful the way he remembered they’d been when she’d first come into their lives. She was right. He’d been ten years old, almost eleven. He remembered thinking she’d looked like a queen with her long, flowing hair. Jack hadn’t wanted a new mother, but he’d liked Tammy. He’d wanted her to stay. Maybe not forever, but for a while at least.
Grace appeared back in the room and handed them both a drink. “A Coke for you, Mom. And a rum and Coke for you,” she told Jack.
