One More Night

by Jennifer Mckenzie

  “For what?” She lifted her hands. “What’s left to say? You don’t want to get married.”

  “Stop saying that.”

  “Then stop acting like it.” Grace grabbed for control, calmed her breathing, her rattled nerves. Saying yes when he hadn’t fully bought in to marriage would be an epic mistake. One she might never get over. She was doing both of them a favor by refusing. Even if he couldn’t see that. “I think I should go.” Because she didn’t think she could last another minute here without losing her grip on her emotions. She swallowed and tried for levity. “You’ll thank me one day.”

  Owen’s answer was immediate. “No, I won’t.” His hand shot out to catch hers. “And if this is your version of the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, it sucks.”

  He wasn’t wrong, but Grace shrugged it off. She had no other choice. Not one that she could see. Oh, sure. She could be swayed by her own longing, her own wants. She could choose to buy in to the fantasy that Owen really did want to get married. But she knew what would happen. He’d wake up at some point in the future and realize that she’d been right all along. That he hadn’t been ready for marriage, and then what?

  She couldn’t risk it. But as she opened the office door and walked away, it felt as if that deeper hurt she was saving them both from had already burrowed deep into her soul.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A WEEK AGO, a month ago, Grace’s rejection would have been enough for Owen. He wouldn’t have been happy, but he’d have brushed it off and moved on. But not anymore. He was tired of brushing things off, of going with the flow, of not fighting for what he wanted, for what he deserved.

  He slammed a fist on his desk so hard that the locked drawers rattled. It didn’t make him feel better, but it did distract him slightly from the hurt in his heart. She was right. He wasn’t acting like a man who wanted to get married.

  Where was the ring? The planned proposal? Hell, he hadn’t even gotten down on one knee. Well, if she needed proof that he’d changed, he’d find a way to give it to her. In fact, he’d find a way to give it to everyone in his life. Because Grace wasn’t the only one in his life who seemed to think he couldn’t be serious, that he was merely a laid-back, easygoing sort who could be counted on for fun but not much more.

  It was time to show everyone they were wrong.

  Owen yanked his keys out of his pocket, jamming one into the lock on his top drawer. It gave a mighty crash when he yanked it open and everything inside rattled and spilled over. He didn’t care. He needed only one thing and the green folder was easy to find.

  He plucked out the folder and slammed the drawer. The old Owen wouldn’t have bothered to lock it or the door. But he was changed, so he spent the few seconds required to make sure everything was secure, then headed for the back exit of the bar, which opened onto a plain hallway. There, he took the stairwell that led to the company offices on the top floor of the building.

  As he climbed the stairs, he planned. He knew Donovan was up there, working away, the perfect hardworking son. But Owen was a hardworking son, too, and he was tired of being treated like the second son, even though he was. He wanted more. He’d proven himself the past year since his father’s heart attack. He’d stepped in at Elephants, increased sales, streamlined waste and made Elephants even more popular than it had been—and since Elephants had always been popular, it was something to be proud of.

  Now he was going to do it for the rest of their locations. Owen had pitched the idea to Donovan a few months earlier at the meeting his brother had promised for filling in at that first session with Grace, but nothing had come of it. Owen was going to change that.

  He found Donovan in his office, his head bent forward as he studied his computer screen.

  Owen paused in the doorway only long enough to snap, “We need a meeting,” before he continued on to the big corner office, the one that had been their dad’s, the one that would soon be his. Because he’d decided that it was time to make his mark on the company and on his own life. He was as much owner of the Ford Group as Donovan and Mal, and it was time he started acting like it.

  Owen took the seat behind the desk, the captain’s chair of power, and laid the folder in front of him. He didn’t flip it open to look over the reports or refresh himself on the details. He didn’t need to because he’d spent the past year studying them.

  Donovan appeared in the large office a moment later, a frown on his face. “What’s this about, Owen?”

  “Have a seat.” Owen gestured to the large chair across the desk, pleased when Donovan, still frowning, did as requested. “I’m here to talk shop.”

  “Talk shop?” Donovan raised one dark eyebrow.

  “I’m bringing eighties slang back. Get used to that, too.”

  Donovan nodded slowly. “All right, then.” He folded his hands over his knee. “Tell me what’s so important that you walked away from Elephants to stomp up here and demand my attention.”

  His voice was calm and cool. Controlled. And Owen felt some of his newfound confidence slip. Was this really the best way to go about things? Storming up here on a whim and demanding to be heard? He took a breath and shoved down all the old thoughts. It wasn’t a whim. The thick folder on the desk between them proved that.

  Maybe Owen had once been the kind of employee satisfied with limited or no role, had tried to do as little work as possible and had grown itchy and anxious at the very idea of responsibility. But no longer. He’d changed and he was here to show his brother just how much. “I’d like to take on a larger role in the company.”

  Donovan didn’t move. “Such as?”

  Owen swallowed his nerves, his fears, his worries that Donovan might point out something he’d missed, some obvious flaw that he should have seen, and told him. His vision to bring what worked at Elephants to their other locations, how they could streamline inventory and purchasing at all locations. How he planned to oversee this, spending time at each location while changes were applied and remaining until they were just part of the process of doing business. His end goal was to oversee all locations from head office. He’d still work a lot of evenings, be on call for issues, but he wouldn’t be installed at the bar anymore.

  Donovan listened, asking a few questions, but mainly just absorbing. When Owen finished, he sat quietly for a moment. “You’ve given this a lot of thought.”

  “It’s important. To me and to the business.”

  Donovan nodded slowly. “Your ideas are good.”

  Owen felt his lungs release the breath they’d been holding. “My ideas are great.” He also didn’t believe in false modesty.

  Their eyes met, brown on brown, the same dark chocolate color. “You know, I think you might be right.”

  Owen glanced around in search of someone, anyone. “Can I get a witness? The mighty Donovan Ford has acknowledged that I was right and he was wrong.”

  “I didn’t say I was wrong.” But his lips twisted when he tried to hide his grin.

  “It was implied,” Owen told him. He shifted forward in his seat. “I’ve developed a six-month plan. But depending on other factors, we could shorten or lengthen that.” If he could either train the management he had or bring in some experienced people, he believed he could speed up the process. He’d be able to spend less hands-on time at each location, simply giving them the tools and guidance they’d need, which would give him more time with Grace. Because he’d win her over to his side, too. Whatever it took.

  Donovan sat back in his seat. “What brought this on?”

  Owen sat back, too, lounging in the clear seat. It felt good to be here, bonding with his brother, being taken seriously. “A couple of things. Mostly Grace.”

  “I knew I liked her.”

  “I love her.” When Donovan lifted an eyebrow, Owen nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t expect it, either.”r />
  “It sneaks up on you sometimes.” Donovan got a swoony look on his face. Owen would have pointed and laughed except he was pretty sure he got the same look when he thought of Grace.

  “More like a punch to the chest.”

  “That, too.” They were both quiet for a moment, thinking. Then Donovan cleared his throat. “What are you going to do about it?”

  To Owen, the answer was obvious. “I’m going to convince her to marry me.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.” Owen thought he would have come to that conclusion on his own, but seeing Travis had clarified things for him. He loved his sister and he loved his friend, but he didn’t want to end up like them. Drawn to each other, but refusing to act on it. It was a sad way to live and he worried for them. Would they move on, past each other, or would those feelings always linger, the what-ifs, the one who got away? “And as my best man, you’ll be responsible for my bachelor party. I want strippers.”

  “Have you met my wife?”

  Owen grinned. Julia would kill Donovan and him. “Okay, fine. A trip to Vegas.” Which had been his goal all along—he was just practicing some of his new business negotiation tactics. Asking for more than he wanted so that when he pitched his real desire, it sounded reasonable.

  “Done. Has she said yes?”

  “Not yet. But she will.” Owen was sure of that. “Book something for a couple of weeks from now.”

  “You think things will move that fast?”

  Owen didn’t see the point in waiting. “I’ve decided to start going after what I want.”

  “I’m beginning to see that.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll remind you if you forget.” He crossed his legs and leaned a little farther back in the seat. “Any questions?”

  “No.” Donovan smiled at his brother. “I think you’ve answered them.”

  And for the first time in maybe forever, Owen thought he had, too.

  * * *

  BEFORE SHE EVEN got back to the table and lied to Garrett, claiming she had a headache and needed to leave, Grace had already decided that she wouldn’t be seeing him again. Instead, she started working longer and longer days, arriving at the office before the sun was up and not leaving until long after dark. Even though it was the slow season and the number of weddings she had booked over the next two months was two.

  But even though there wasn’t a whole lot of work to keep her busy, working was preferable to dating. All she had to do was look at the fiasco with Garrett to know that success was not on the horizon. Garrett had been perfectly presentable. Handsome, smart, kind. All the things she was looking for. And she didn’t want to see him again.

  Grace had tried to tell herself that it was just a lack of attraction, that they were missing the zip that woke up the butterflies in her stomach. But that was only part of the answer. Because when she’d gone in to meet with her personally assigned matchmaker to select other dates, ones that might provide that missing zip, she discovered that not only was she not attracted to good-on-paper Garrett or his blindingly white teeth, but she also wasn’t interested in meeting Jason of the green eyes who was an investment banker. Or Magnus with the big shoulders who climbed mountains and kayaked. Or Tom with the dimples who enjoyed wine tasting and fine dining.

  Since she knew each one of those men had potential, good jobs, good genes and had been screened by the matchmaking service, there was clearly only one reason for her lack of interest. It was all Owen Ford’s fault.

  Sadly, knowing the root of her problem didn’t bring her any closer to solving it. And so she thought it best to put a temporary hold on the process until she was in a better mental space. One that didn’t involve comparing every man she met to Owen. It was time to take a break from the next step in her grand life plan and suspend her matchmaking account.

  So she filled her time by researching new vendors, visiting potential location sites and taste-testing caterers. Even now, alone at the office after giving her team the afternoon off, she stayed and worked. Categorizing and subdividing her lists of suppliers according to various factors: time of year, number of seats, style of bride and groom.

  She no longer thought about her own wedding. That was too painful and too far in the future. Especially since she wasn’t even dating. Maybe in another month, though she’d already been dateless for just that long. But April was when the spring buds began to pop. Yellow daffodils reared their heads announcing new life had begun. Maybe at that point, Grace could shut away her old life and start her new one.

  She was still playing with her lists, renumbering and adding colors, when the phone rang. She was grateful for the interruption. She’d renumbered and colored her lists so many times that even she was beginning to grow confused. “Grace Monroe Weddings.”

  “Hello, Grace.”

  She knew his voice even before her body flared to life at the sound. Owen Ford. She sucked in a cool breath. Oh, God. Why was he calling? What did he want? But her throat was too tight to ask.

  “How are you?” She still didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop him. “I hope you don’t mind me calling.” She did, but she couldn’t find her voice to tell him so. Instead, she clutched at the receiver like a lifeline, as though it could stop her from drowning in the wave of emotions. “I’m managing all the family properties now.”

  Grace swallowed. Why was he telling her this? How did this matter? But even as her lips buzzed with questions, she pressed a finger to them for silence.

  “But that isn’t why I called.” Why did his voice have to rumble through her like that? Why did she have to feel the pull of desire? Why was he calling her? “I wanted to ask you out.”

  She grabbed hold of her voice then and used it. Self-protection. Instinct. Something else. “Owen, I’ve moved on.” With her work and eventually her five-year plan. When she could force herself to get around to it.

  “I’ve changed, Grace.”

  Sure he had. “Congratulations.”

  “Let me show you.”

  “No.” She sucked in another long breath, wished she’d never picked up the phone.

  “You said you loved me.” Grace squeezed her eyes shut, yearned to shut out his words as easily as the familiar sight of her office. But Owen would not be denied. “If you meant that, just give me one chance to show you and if you don’t believe me, I’ll never bother you again.”

  Was that what she wanted? Her legs felt wobbly and she was grateful she was sitting down. To never be bothered by Owen again? Never see his smile? Hear his voice? It was how she’d lived her past month, which had been far from a resounding success. And yet maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she’d wondered, held on to some foolish hope that one day he’d drop in or call or insist that he’d meant it when he said he cared for her, loved her, wanted to marry her.

  “Grace?” For the first time, he sounded uncertain and it pierced her heart in a way his confidence couldn’t. “Are you still there?”

  “I’m here.” She swallowed. She could say no. Cut this off before it ever started. Slice open her heart all over again. Not that it had ever healed. She exhaled. She couldn’t say no, couldn’t deny her own need to see him again, even if it was likely to end in more hurt. Maybe that was what she needed. One final stab to the heart to put this and Owen behind her. “Fine.” Her throat was tight. “When?”

  “Are you free tonight?”

  * * *

  OWEN PRACTICALLY CHEERED when she said yes. If she’d said no... Well, he wasn’t going to think about that because she hadn’t and so his plan was still in effect. “When will you be ready? I can pick you up in one minute.”

  “One minute?” She sounded dubious.

  “I’m right outside your office.” He grinned, unable to slow the spill of hope racing through him. “I couldn’t stand the thought of waiting.”

 
Grace murmured something potentially unflattering but she didn’t hang up or tell him she’d changed her mind, and she only kept him waiting five minutes. “This is completely abnormal,” she said when she stepped out of the office and turned her back to lock up.

  “I’ve been called worse.” He ached to touch her, to hold her and kiss her, but reminded himself not to rush her. Not yet. He led her down the sidewalk to his silver convertible.

  She shot him a questioning look. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m surprising you.” He helped her into the passenger seat and refrained from pressing a hard kiss to her lips. Barely. “You’ll be pleased to hear I have a plan.”

  She sniffed, but allowed him to shut the door behind her. “Just so long as I end the night the same way I started it.”

  In fact, he was counting on that not happening. But that wasn’t something she needed to hear yet. “I’m going to refrain from acknowledging that statement so I don’t incriminate myself.”

  “Incriminate?” Her fingers edged toward the door handle, gripping the smooth leather as he pulled away from the curb. “Owen, where are we going?”

  “I promise it’s nothing illegal. Nothing dangerous. And something I hope will make you happy.” If not, well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He pushed down on the accelerator and headed toward his future.

  * * *

  “A FLOAT PLANE?” Grace stared as Owen proudly pointed out their next form of transportation. “I don’t think so. What does this have to do with showing me you’ve changed?” In fact, he seemed the same fun-loving, not-serious man who’d stolen her heart. As though it sensed her thoughts, her heart gave a solid thunk.

  “Consider it expanding your horizons.”

  “I don’t need my horizons expanded.” Nor did she need to get on a plane to who knew where with only the clothes on her back. “Owen?”

  He touched her, for the first time all night, the first time in weeks, he touched her. His hand capturing hers and bringing it up to his chest. “This is one of those things where you’re just going to have to trust me.” His fingers flattened hers. She could feel the beat of his heart. “I know I haven’t earned your trust.” She felt his pulse quicken. “But I’m going to ask you for it anyway.”