“Good.” He looked away. “That’s good.”
She crooked up an eyebrow, her expression so adorable he wanted to gather her in his arms, relearn the feel of her on him.
Double fuck.
Her gaze landed somewhere behind him. “You do realize it’ll cost me a fortune if you change the locks, right? And since I can’t afford it, I suggest you change it back.”
“Don’t worry. I cleared it with the apartment manager.” It helped that the two of them were pretty good friends, but Grant still had to pay a hefty fine for violating her rental agreement, and he owed the guy a couple bottles of bourbon. But she didn’t need to know that.
“You cleared it with him at seven a.m.?”
“Last night.”
A corner of her mouth quirked. “That’s got to be the most planning I’ve seen you do in, oh, I don’t know…ever.”
He scowled. “Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf.”
“No need to get so touchy.”
Touchy? When had he ever been touchy? He’d learned to roll with life from a pretty young age, so he’d allowed very little to affect him. He wasn’t touchy, was he?
He adjusted the knob. The sooner he finished this, the sooner he could blow this place and maybe then he could concentrate on getting his head screwed on straight.
“Grant?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you call before you came over last night?”
“I’ve never had to before, why would I last night?”
“Good point.”
“It’s the only kind I make.”
She lifted an eyebrow and her gaze narrowed slightly. “So how come you didn’t clean up the rose petals before you crawled into my bed?”
“How was I supposed to clean them up? I couldn’t run the vacuum in the middle of the night, your neighbors would’ve been pounding on the door. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to pick them up by hand.” It was a damned stupid thing to do, throwing rose petals on the floor.
Stacey tilted her head to one side. “And Ariana Grande? Why was her music on?”
“Look, I’ve had a long week and picked a random playlist because I was too tired to put a movie on. I figured I’d lie down for a bit, but didn’t expect to fall asleep.” But he had fallen asleep, and then Stacey kissed him awake. Kind of like Sleeping Beauty in reverse.
He paused, holding the screwdriver midair. Sleeping Beauty? What the—
Grant hadn’t thought of that particular Disney character since he and Stacey were eight and she first dressed up as Sleeping Beauty for Halloween. While he’d refused to go as a Disney prince, her costume had been part of their Halloween tradition for three straight years.
Fuck, he needed to get over it already.
“You free to come to the mayor’s brunch with me this Saturday? I’m on official distillery business,” he said, latching the last screw in place and securing it.
“This Saturday? But that’s your birthday.”
“I’m aware of that.” He’d realized the two coincided a few days ago, and had to squash the tide of emotion that had been on the verge of letting loose since.
Her tone softened. “You don’t have to read the letter this year, you know.”
“That’s an option.” He shrugged. “Who knows what I’ll do.”
But he did know. As with past birthdays, he’d pull the sheet of lined notebook paper he’d kept all these years from its envelope, smooth out the wrinkles, then read it. Every word. As if he hadn’t committed the entire thing to memory and could recite it in his sleep.
Stacey scooted across the floor and put a hand on his arm. “Hey. Your mother loves you, Grant. She did the best she could. She told you so in that letter.”
Right. As if the letter that’d been written by his mother when he was eight, then handed to him on his sixteenth birthday by Edward and Miriam Wilson, his last set of foster parents, was supposed to have been enough. Like it was all she needed to do to justify her actions.
“I don’t see how lying to an eight-year-old boy, then leaving him in a park with a social worker to be raised in the foster care system shows a mother’s love,” he gritted out. “Especially when she chose to keep her other son.”
“Fair enough,” Stacey said, scooting back to her original spot.
He rummaged through the bag of supplies he’d brought with him and tried to shove his past back into the old envelope where it belonged.
As a child, he’d been forced to live in the moment, to accept the curve balls thrown his way and that the future had no certainty. Life had made that abundantly clear. Stacey knew this. Which was why she was smart enough to change the subject.
“So how come you’re going to the brunch on your birthday?” she asked. “That’s not your thing.”
“I know.” As much as he disliked the idea of shaking hands and smiling at people he didn’t really care about, it also meant that he didn’t have to put a dime into the distillery to own a part of it. “But it’s part of the job now.” He glanced in her direction. “So, you coming or not?”
“You could’ve just texted me the invitation.”
“I didn’t decide until last night. Why text when I knew I’d be here?”
“Oh, right, when you realized you were on a date with a she-devil.” She grinned. “Poor Grant needs li’l ol’ me to protect him from big, bad, predatory women.”
“No, I just wanted to…talk about it,” he grumbled. “So will you come or not?”
“Maybe.”
He blew out a breath. She hated these things just as much as he did, both of them preferring to be outdoors communing with nature. But there was something in this for her, too. Dinners for Two needed exposure if she was going to make the business really work, and a good portion of the guests that day were her target market. “There’ll be a chance to network…”
She sat up straighter, her eyes taking on the excited gleam that never failed to excite him. “Well, I have big plans for my business, and meeting new people would definitely help. Of course, that’s just the bonus for helping you out…”
Grant chuckled. Yeah, he had her. He just wished she’d let him return the favor. “I still don’t get why you think you have to build up your company on your own.” He had some extra money, mainly because he didn’t need much, which was exactly the way he liked to live his life. “Let me help you.”
“Please.” She waved him off. “That’s cheating and you know it.”
He eyed her from the top of her tousled brown hair to her purple and pink painted toenails. Amazing how she could morph from girl-next-door cute to sexy as fuck. He beat the thought back. “Look, we’re friends. Friends take care of each other. What’s so wrong with that?”
“Nothing. But you know I can’t take it. All four of my sisters made it without anyone’s help. Why should I be any different?”
She had a ton of determination, he’d give her that. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“You know something?” she said, tilting her head to one side. “It’s so hard to stay pissed at you.”
“You can’t help it. I’m adorable.” He grinned and attached a screw. “You also know I’m right.”
She gave him a long-suffering sigh. “Why aren’t you taking the woman you were out with a couple of weeks ago? What was her name? Lucy?”
“Jill.”
She frowned. “Which one was Lucy?”
“She’s long gone. And, yeah, no way am I taking Jill with me. As soon as she found out I was a part owner at the distillery, she was practically planning our wedding.” He grimaced. That would never happen.
Not that women wanted to hear stuff like that, which was why he tended to keep his relationships brief. In the end, this worked out best for everyone.
“Right. Commitment issues.”
This was what he liked most about Stacey. She never judged, and simply accepted him for who he was. The way he figured it, Stacey and his foster brother Aidan were the only pe
ople who knew everything about him and still stuck by his side, and even then, Aidan kind of had to stick around. Stacey didn’t have any familial obligation to him, and yet she hadn’t walked away like everyone else he’d stupidly let into his life.
“So are you coming or not? There’s bound to be some eligible bachelors there, too. You know, since Cleo wasn’t ‘the one.’”
He said the words but a part of him protested at the thought. What a dumb-ass. Stacey deserved her shot at finding her idea of Mr. Perfect, so if that guy was at this shindig, then she should have at him.
Because as much as he wanted to kiss Stacey again to see if he’d dreamed up the chemistry between them, losing her wasn’t worth it.
Chapter Four
For the umpteenth time Stacey glanced at her phone. Where was Grant? She frowned. A better question was why was she concerned? The guy was always late to Therapy Tuesday. This shouldn’t feel any different.
She sipped from the Chinese teacup and glanced outside the restaurant window. This late in the afternoon, a blanket of crisp, chilled air had replaced the pockets of sunshine, and the fact summer was almost here was the only reason butterflies had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach. That’s all it was.
In the distance, the top of Chinaman Hat was shrouded in the glow of the setting sun. Rays of light bounced off the mountain’s slightly rounded peak. Maybe her offering hadn’t helped with the Leo situation, but surely it’d work eventually? It had worked for Aidan Ross, Grant’s foster brother, and it’d worked for her sister, Carly, too. Both examples added to the claims of others in the area who’d sworn they, too, had found their one true love.
She might still be waiting, but there had to be something to it.
Grant slid into the seat across from her and reached for her hand. “Sorry I’m late.”
How come she never noticed how hot he looked when he smiled? Or how good his hand felt on hers when he squeezed it in greeting? He’d done it countless times before, only this time her heart hammered and she was left fighting like hell to bring it under control.
“You say that like it’s the first time instead of a weekly thing.” Thank God her voice was steady. Carefully, she set her cup down and reached for the teapot.
“Hey, Therapy Tuesday’s supposed to be laid-back,” he protested as she poured his tea. “This is cheaper than real therapy, remember? Besides, when have I ever not shown up?”
Steam wafted out of his cup. “Yeah, yeah.” She pushed it toward him and set the teapot down. “Lucky for you this isn’t an official therapy session. I’d be charging you extra for being late all the time.”
He snorted. “Like you haven’t kept me hanging, too.”
“Oh, please. I’ve rearranged my work schedule to be here every week.”
Their weekly dinner at The Chinese Stop was their answer to long workdays and bad dates. It was a chance to touch base with each other, and, honestly, was something Stacey looked forward to. Sometimes they’d even head back to her place for a movie, complete with popcorn and a bowl of miniature candy bars.
Her cheeks flamed at the memory of the last time Grant was in her bed, at the way she’d kissed him, straddled him, all set to…
Yeah, a movie was probably not something she should plan on tonight. In fact, they should probably stay away from her bed altogether. At least for a little while.
Stacey tapped her open menu, determined to bring their friendship back onto firmer ground. “Are you going for the duck or the special? Mei-Ling swears the special tonight is particularly good.”
Right on cue, the Chinese hostess appeared at their table. “She right,” she said, lifting her chin in Stacey’s direction. “The special is good.”
Grant looked dubious. “Can’t you give us a hint? One tiny hint?”
“No.” Mei-Ling clucked as she wiped at a spot on the dark table. The dragon-shaped ornamental pin at the top of her perfectly coiffed hair shone in the shaft of afternoon light. “You know my son. He say special just that. Special. He make whatever he want when someone order. You order before. It’s good.” She nodded her head as if willing Grant to admit it was good.
“It was, but I don’t know. I’ve had enough adventure this week,” he muttered, reaching for the battered menu off to one side.
“I can relate.” Stacey had definitely had a bunch of memories in the surprise column the past few days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t up for a couple more. “But I’ll take the special.” She stared at Grant. “And if you’re good, I’ll give you a bite.”
“I’ll end up with half of it, anyway. Same as always.”
“You aren’t complaining, are you?”
“Of course not.” He looked a tad offended.
“Didn’t think so.”
“I’ll take the number five combination,” he said, closing the menu.
Mei-Ling chuckled. “When you two gonna marry?”
Stacey nearly choked. To cover her reaction, she grabbed her cup and took a sip, the tea burning its way down her throat.
“Well,” Grant drawled. “I imagine that Stacey will get married when she finds ‘the one.’”
“Hey.” She frowned as she cradled the teacup in her hands. “There’s nothing wrong with searching for the right guy.”
“There is if it means dating idiots like Cleo.”
“Leo.”
“Whatever.” Grant went back to studying the menu like he hadn’t already ordered.
Stacey shot the hostess a small smile. “And I imagine Grant’s never gonna tie himself to a woman.” For more reasons than one, but she decided to keep it light. “You never know when one will expect him to at least know how to boil water. Which, come to think of it, is most women. Judging from his cooking skills so far, he’s not going to find anyone anytime soon.”
“Oh yeah? Dennis teach you.” Mei-Ling pointed across the crowded restaurant toward the kitchen. “He very good.”
Grant smiled and leaned forward, capturing Stacey’s gaze. “You can’t cook, either. Maybe that’s why you haven’t found him yet.”
“I can, too.” She straightened in her seat. “I just don’t do it a lot.”
“Whatever.” He raised his head and waggled his brows at the older woman. “But if I learned how to cook, or heaven forbid, found a woman to cook for me, I wouldn’t come here very much, and that means I wouldn’t get to see you, Mei-Ling.”
Stacey rolled her eyes and held up a hand to shield her face from him. “Not gonna happen,” she said to the older woman in a stage whisper, pointing in his direction with her free hand. “Commitment issues.”
Mei-Ling laughed, the sound pure and strong even in the noise surrounding them. “Like you two already married.” She shook her head and walked away, her thin frame belying the strength that emanated from her. “I get this going for you,” she said over one shoulder. “You relax.”
The satisfaction Stacey felt soon disappeared when she caught the sexy half smile on Grant’s face. A thrill shot through her and she breathed in deeply, biting down on her lower lip.
Relax.
Right.
…
When was he going to settle down?
Before the other night, with Stacey, it’d have been an emphatic never. Now…
Grant frowned. What the hell was he thinking? It was still a never.
He glanced at his best friend as she stared out the window and sipped her tea. The woman might be petite, but she had balls of steel and didn’t mind taking on people and situations way bigger than she was. She was also obstinate about finding some perfect guy, a fact that annoyed the hell out of him. That kind of love wasn’t realistic or guaranteed, so why bust your ass trying to find something that might not exist?
The hell of it was, as much as she obsessed over finding “the one,” he wouldn’t change a damn thing about her. No, as far as he was concerned, Stacey was perfect.
His attention was drawn to her hands when she set her teacup down. Even now he rememb
ered the way they skimmed over his body the other night… He gave himself a mental shake. Why relive something that’d only torture his dick?
“Julian wants a dinner at Chinaman Hat,” she said absently. “Soon, he said. I wonder if it’ll be too cold for him?”
“Let me guess,” he said smoothly. “Julian’s your new boyfriend.” The words came out easily, but felt…wrong. He frowned. Wrong because she’d just broken up with Cleo/Leo the other night. Otherwise, he didn’t give a rip as long as she was happy. He smothered the taunting voice in his head that insisted the whole thing was a load of bull.
“Unless you think I’m desperate enough to pursue a nearly octogenarian who, by the way, has been happily married for sixty years, then sure.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, and he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. She had full lips, pouty lips, and damn if he didn’t want another taste. “But, sadly, I don’t think Julian would trade Martha for someone like me.”
He sucked in a deep breath and forced his brain into gear. “Sixty years? Do people really still stay together that long?”
“They’re living proof. Anyway, Julian’s one of my best clients.” She leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. “He’s been with me since I quit my waitress job at the resort last year, and he’s been pimping Dinners for Two to everyone he knows. He’s better than any ad I could place.”
Dinners for Two. He understood the concept behind it—putting together romantic dinners for guys who didn’t have a clue how to impress a woman on their own—he just didn’t get why. What kind of guy made such a big fuss over planning a simple meal? Grant preferred throwing a couple of steaks on the grill or ordering takeout. Both were easy to execute, and both tasted pretty good.
Still, he nodded but said nothing. That was the beauty of their relationship. He didn’t have to make small talk, didn’t have to fill voids in conversation with her. She made everything easy. And he’d fight damn hard to make sure none of that changed.
“He sent a text just before you got here. He wants to meet to discuss the next few dinners, but he wants the very next one at Chinaman Hat.” She sighed, the sound soft and wistful and very feminine. “So romantic.”
The Best Friend Incident (Driven to Love) Page 3
