Taming McGruff (Book 3, Once Upon A Romance Series)

by leclair, laurie

  She jerked her head up to look at him. Her eyes, wide and teary, melted him. “What?” she asked in wonder.

  “You may be her biological child,” he reached out and swiped a fast falling tear from her cheek, “but you are not your mother’s daughter. Everything that is good and pure in you is all you with a dose of Charles King, your father, to guide you.”

  More tears fell, but her smile told him they were happy tears now. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You don’t know what you’ve just done for me.”

  The words swept through him, taking his breath away. He wished she’d look at him like that for the rest of his life. Deep inside, he knew she never would again.

  ***

  Later that day, after Priscilla assured him she was better and had left to finish his living room, Griffin called a brief meeting with Charlie. Looking up as she entered his office, he stood, saying, “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

  “I heard. We have a problem.”

  Dawning slipped in. “Peg.” It wasn’t a question. “And it’s my problem.”

  She held up her hands. “You’re part of King’s. You’re family, so this is our problem.”

  That only made his guilt increase. “I brought this on King’s.” In his mind, he added and so much more than you know. “I’m going to release a statement to the press.” He handed her his official statement.

  Remaining silent, she read, looked up from the print, and then back down again. “You’re going to quote King’s sales figures—they’ve increased by thirty percent from last year at this time—thank the employees for their devotion, thank the loyal customers, and you’re going to thank the entire King family for giving you the privilege of heading King’s Department Store. Oh, yeah, you’re going to donate all your salary this year to charity, one of the King family’s choosing.”

  “It’s the least I can do.” He meant it.

  “What better way to preempt a character assassination from the Barracuda? I like it.”

  “She wants to take down King’s.”

  Charlie frowned. “And start with you?”

  He nodded, unable to reveal the entire truth. “She couldn’t get her way with selling the store out from under you or try to destroy it by her insinuations about Marcus and Francie weeks ago. Now, her target is the top dog, who just happens to be her new son-in-law. Although, I’m sure she wouldn’t admit that to anyone’s face.”

  She sank down in a chair, rubbing her back, and then her rounded belly. “Why? That’s something I’ll never figure out, Griff. She was so happy when my father was alive. After,” she shivered, “it’s like every sign of it vanished.” She closed her eyes, shaking her head. “I can’t even begin to tell you all the threats she made.”

  Now he sat, facing her.

  Opening her eyes, she could barely focus on him. “I was just a kid, but the havoc she wreaked. I couldn’t stop her. I tried. I even snuck out of the house and went to see Daddy’s lawyer at his office. He was the only one who stood up to her.”

  Something cold and hard dropped in his middle. “What happened?” he choked out.

  “He was devastated, too. But he vowed he’d get to the bottom of it, stop her.” She shook her head. “I really didn’t understand at the time, but he held a press conference. King’s was an iconic store then, so the reporters came in droves. He said as my father’s best friend, he would do everything in his power to fulfill my father’s legacy of keeping King’s open and make certain the store would provide for his daughters so they too could take their rightful place at the helm of King’s when the time came.”

  Griff couldn’t recall the exact words; however, she’d given him the pieces to some of the holes in his own memory of that speech. “That was the moment of his downfall.”

  “How did you guess?” she asked. “Stepmother fumed. I remember she threw a bottle and broke a window. Glass shattered everywhere. Thank goodness for Dolly. She gathered Francie, Prissy and me and kept us in her room until the worst of it blew over. But, he didn’t fare so well. She went after him with a vengeance I will never forget. She tore him apart. I never saw him again. Later, Dolly told me he’d died in squalor.”

  That was the shortened, condensed version of his father’s slow, sad demise.

  Charlie cleared her throat. Getting up, she said, “You do whatever it takes, Griff. As the owner of King’s, I stand behind you one hundred percent. In fact, that’s the statement I will release to the press along with yours. I’ll give it to Peg.” At the door now, she looked back at him, asking, “What’s your favorite charity?”

  He shrugged. “I give mainly to veteran’s organizations. Soldiers and their families. Why?”

  “Those are the ones I’ll donate your salary to. Give Peg the names and we’ll print it, too.”

  “Thank you.” How could he ever expect her to forgive him after she learned of his deception in all this? Did the end really justify the means anymore?

  ***

  “It’s my house. Why can’t I see?” Griff asked Priscilla as she shielded him from the front of the house. “It’s been days. And you have this blocked off.”

  With her arms outstretched, she tried to stand in his way. “Nope, not yet. Tomorrow you get to see, right before they take pictures.”

  He placed his hands around her tiny waist and lifted her.

  She shrieked, laughing. “Griff.” She clutched his shoulders now. “You can’t just move me aside.”

  “And here I thought I was helping you fly, Pixie,” he teased. Finding her mouth, he gave her a quick, hard peck, and then set her down.

  Jabbing him lightly in the ribs, she said, “I’m not puny, see? I can fight with the best of them, McGruff.”

  This time he laughed. “Remind me to get someone to teach you self-defense.”

  Looking into her sparkling eyes, he felt like he was the one floating on air. Since she began remodeling his house, she beamed with joy. It was infectious.

  A sense of disquiet nudged him. For the most part, she’d stayed busy the last few days, holed up in the other rooms, unpacking, moving, and shifting things around to her liking. She’d been immune to his press release on Friday. So far, her mother hadn’t fired back. Not publicly at least. It was only a matter of time.

  Now, he filled with pride. Priscilla’s little hints and tips on design placed on King’s website brought in a flood of responses. She had the customers and him waiting with bated breath on the big reveal. It seemed that Priscilla had found her niche.

  “And what do you think, I’m going to run into the big bad wolf someday?” She huffed, putting her hands on her hips.

  Shaking his head, he said a little too seriously, “Maybe you already have.” Her smile faded and his heart tugged. Reaching out to take her small, soft hand and draw her into his study, he said, “If you won’t show me, then at least tell me what your plans are for the website.”

  “You may not like it.” She winced, looking up at him.

  Griff sighed.

  She pulled away from him and hurried to her ottoman, shifting her papers to a neat pile on the floor, and then plopping down on the cushion. “Here,” she patted the seat of her chair, “sit and I’ll explain.”

  “I don’t think I like the sound of this,” he murmured, but he did come around and take a seat, sitting so her knees were between his as he faced her.

  “Well,” she gulped, “I want to include you.”

  “Me?”

  “Pictures. Stories. What better way to show our loyal customers that, after all we’ve been through, Charles King’s daughters have triumphed in the end? They’re invested in our family. They want the best for us. They want to see that dreams can come true.”

  “This is getting personal.” Too damn personal.

  “I know this is hard for you.”

  “This isn’t a show-and-tell,” he said, “nor the latest reality show.”

  She blanched at that. “I don’t want that either.”

 
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” Visions of camera crews knocking down his drunk father flashed through his mind. No matter his pleas, they never relented.

  “No videos.”

  Leaning forward, Griff came within inches of her beautiful face. He reached out and brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “How necessary is this, Priscilla? Do you really want our lives on display?”

  She searched his stare. “It’s not like we’re not already. The employees gossip about us. I hear some of the things they say.” She shrugged. “The papers. The speculation. I’m surprised my mother isn’t calling me, badgering me about our marriage even more than showing up out of the blue the other day.”

  Should he tell her? “She’s called me. Left messages.” Each message became more frantic, more threatening. He saved every one of them.

  Frowning, she asked, “How did she get your number? And what is she saying?”

  He evaded telling her all the details. “I blocked her number on your phone.”

  “You blocked her number,” she said slowly. “Without asking me?”

  I want to protect you.

  Chapter 19

  A sliver of unease dropped into her middle. Priscilla gulped hard. “If I did that to you, blocked a number from your phone without telling you, would you be angry at me?”

  “Yes,” he said without hesitation, surprising her.

  “What else have you done that I don’t know about?” she asked. When he wouldn’t meet her gaze, another warning bell went off.

  A muscle along his clenched jaw jumped. “I have a lot of things I’ve done I’m not proud of.”

  “Before or after we met?”

  “Both.”

  “Griff,” she whispered, shaking her head. “Why?” A part of her didn’t really want to know the what, so she didn’t press that issue.

  He held her hands. “At the time, I thought it was the right thing to do.”

  “If you could go back and change things, would you?”

  “Most everything.”

  That sucked the breath out of her. “Us?”

  “No.” His answer came out fierce and fast, easing her fears.

  She leaned her forehead against his. “You had me worried. I know neither one of us wanted this, but now that we are an us, I…I don’t want to give it back.” Not this. Not the feelings I have for you.

  He moved away, gently kissing her on the forehead and drawing his hands away from hers. “There may come a time when you want to give it all back.”

  Looking at his face, so serious and stony, she wondered why he always pulled away, put up the walls. “Griff, I’m here now.” She sighed heavily. “Next time, ask me first before you get all heavy-handed about blocking calls or numbers or both. For the record, I would have done it myself weeks ago if I knew how to. But, as you say, it’s lady’s choice, all right?”

  He nodded. “Point taken.”

  “And what do you say about your picture on the website? And a few, not too personal, stories about us?”

  “I’m sure I’m going to regret this, but yes. Very limited, though. The whole point is to showcase you, not me.”

  “What if we showcase King’s together?” She scooted away from him, and then stood. “Maybe it is time to show you the remodel.”

  A few minutes later, Priscilla led Griff out the back door and around to the front of the house. She tugged on his hand. “We couldn’t just walk down the hall?” he muttered.

  “You can’t get the full effect that way. Now, don’t look.”

  “How can I see where I’m going?”

  “I’ll direct you.” She positioned him on the walkway. “You can open your eyes.”

  He did. It took a few seconds for him to comment. “I like it. I’m not a flower person, but it makes all the difference.”

  Priscilla grinned. The flower pots filled with colorful bouquets on the side of each step leading to the newly painted white door brought the entrance to life. “Ready to go in?”

  At his nod, she linked her arm through his and walked to the house. She slipped the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door.

  “Close your eyes again.”

  He obeyed.

  “Step over the threshold. That’s it. Now a few more steps, so I can close the door and put the light on,” she instructed. “All right, you can look.” Her voice rose with excitement and anticipation.

  Griff whistled, low and long, as he took in the details. “It’s incredible.”

  “Do you like the color?”

  “Yes. I never thought I’d like blue or is it blue green?”

  “Both. Would you like to see the living room?”

  “Try to stop me,” he said, smiling at her.

  With just a few steps and sweeping aside the temporary curtain, Priscilla ushered him into his new living room.

  He strolled into the room, apparently taking it all in. He halted in the center of the room and slowly turned.

  Priscilla held her breath, wondering if the same shade of blue on the two facing couches and the hints of it, along with dashes of tangerine, in the larger pillows on the white upholstered chairs would please him.

  The chocolate brown edging on the walls carried into the fabrics and rug. The blue glass vases with a hint of glitter on them stood on side tables and she’d highlighted two of the black and white framed photographs with a touch of the same shade and a splash of orange, making the landscapes pop with color. The mix of candles and frames along with fresh white roses dotted the mantel.

  She’d found a colorful coffee table photography book to display on the low table in front of the couches. She kept the room as simple yet cozy as possible, knowing he would hate anything too cluttered and fussy.

  “As my wife would say,” he turned to face her, his eyes filled with light, “wow.”

  She giggled.

  “It’s amazing,” he said as he walked toward her. He cupped her face in his hands, saying, “You, Priscilla King—”

  “Don’t forget the James.”

  He sucked in a breath. “You, Priscilla King James, are simply amazing.”

  She hoped he’d still say that once she put his pictures and stories of them on the website tomorrow.

  ***

  Weeks had gone by and Griff’s house slowly transformed; each room displayed his wife’s talents and love of design. Simple. Chic. Elegant.

  Only one of the four bedrooms remained to be finished. Of course, he already declared his study off-limits. Now he wondered if he should have barred her from touching that room.

  The house once, not so long ago, had been dark and empty. Now each room had its own character and appeal. Most importantly, it was filled with light again.

  And the store benefited. Interest on the website increased daily. She’d limited his pictures and edited some of their stories to feed curiosity, yet shield their privacy. Priscilla’s design tips had now blossomed into an exchange between viewers and herself.

  Also, she’d run a contest, asking customers to submit a video clip of a short do-it-yourself project using one of King’s products. The winner each week would receive a hundred-dollar gift card to the store. A flood of entrants filled the email box. She’d assembled a team, including Rico, to view them and select the overall winners.

  “Another home run,” he muttered, coming back into the kitchen.

  “You talking baseball, Mr. G.?” Dolly asked, plunking down her overflowing handwritten cookbook on the counter.

  “I was talking to myself. Priscilla’s done an incredible job on the house and at King’s, hence the home run comment.”

  “Oh, my, ain’t she something? I love this kitchen.”

  He smiled, looking at the small, but amazing changes to the once bland room. The aqua blue and chocolate brown glass back splash complimented the dark wood cabinets and granite countertops. The same blue color with a sliver of the tangerine in places carried through to the linens, the dining ware, and the coz
y banquet. He beamed with pride at her accomplishments. “Let me help you unpack all your bowls and pans. It’s the least I can do since you agreed to make her favorite chocolate ganache cake as a surprise.”

  “Ah, shucks, any excuse to spoil my girls, I say. And you’re a fine one, thinking of her and knowing just what she loves.”

  Within minutes, he’d had the large stand mixer, ingredients, and utensils out of the boxes and lined up for her. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should ask her. “So did you get to spoil them a lot when they were growing up? You have been with the family for years, right?” He knew she had.

  She chuckled as she tugged on the apron over her head and turned to him. “Do me up, will ya?” He did, liking her friendly, down-to-earth personality. “I was hired the day Charlie was born.” She waved off that, saying, “But that’s a whole other story. Oh, the first Mrs. King, what a peach. Sweet, kind, loving. My Charlie sure did turn out a lot like her momma. Mind you, she’s got a lot of her daddy in her, too. Loves that store.”

  When she pointed for the sack of flour, he fetched it and handed it over.

  “But, once the first Mrs. K. got sick,” she choked up, “never the same again. Mr. K. tried, but he was trying to keep everything going while taking care of her. I did my best with Charlie. My little helper.” She brightened up, saying, “Mr. K. had his King’s family, too. They rallied around him, visiting, taking Charlie for an outing with their kids, sitting with Mrs. K. so he could work at the store. You know, everybody pitched in.”

  “It sounds like quite a family,” Griff said softly, admiration for the Kings and their employees growing even more.

  “Yes sirree, but the one who impressed me the most was his lawyer friend.” She stirred in some baking powder, and then a pinch of salt as she talked.

  Griff’s middle clenched. “How so?”

  “Day or night he’d come, sit with Mr. K. and listen. Sometimes I’d find them wiping away tears, others chuckling. But, that ain’t all. He paid for a lot of the bills. Mr. K. wasn’t there to pump up the store, bring in the sales, so things got slow. And he had to pull money from the store more than he should have for all those doctor bills.” She shrugged. “You do what you gotta do. So his friend steps in and takes over paying things at the house, sometimes at the store. I remember once he covered the whole week’s payroll when King’s was short.”