Miracle Under The Mistletoe (The Foster Brothers #1)

by Tracy Madison

  She’d barely settled on the couch with a book when the rumble of a vehicle turning into her driveway had her jumping up to look out the window. Shivers rolled through her when she saw Grady exiting his truck and heading up the front walk. What did he want? He almost never stopped by without some type of a prior warning.

  She gave serious thought to ignoring the doorbell when it rang. Her car was parked in the garage so she could easily pretend she wasn’t home. And even though Grady still had a key to the house, he respected her privacy. The bell pealed again. Samantha’s concerns reverberated in Olivia’s mind. Oh, what the hell. Maybe she and Grady could work some of this out now and get it over with. Before she made it to the door, however, she heard the unmistakable sound of a key turning in the lock.

  What in heaven’s name did he think he was doing?

  Grady waltzed in, caught sight of her hovering near the end of the hallway and gave her the widest grin she’d ever seen. That should have been her first clue. “Hi, honey,” he drawled. “I’m home.”

  “Wh-what?” He certainly didn’t appear to be a man with a broken heart.

  “I said I’m home.” He raised his brows in question. “I rang the doorbell twice. Why didn’t you answer?”

  “I was busy. And I didn’t know you were coming over.” She put her hands on her hips in an attempt to ignore the sinking sensation currently developing in the lower regions of her stomach. “And since when do you let yourself in? You don’t live here anymore, Grady.”

  “Oh, but I do. I’m moving back in until we get this divorce stuff worked out. As of now.” His stride ate up the floor between them in mere seconds. Leaning in close, he tugged a strand of her hair. “Won’t it be fun being roomies again?”

  “Wh-what?” she stuttered again. “You’re joking, right? You can’t do that!”

  “Oh, I can. I checked it out with my attorney.” Now he chucked her chin, as if she were a child. “This is perfectly legit.”

  “It’s Sunday.” She backed out of his reach and instructed herself to stay calm, to focus on the facts. “How did you hire an attorney on a Sunday?”

  “She…I mean he’s a friend of Jace’s. Nice fellow and a really smart guy. He gave me some great advice.” Grady winked. “Advice I’ve decided to take.”

  “He gave you crap advice if he told you that you can move back into a house you haven’t lived in for almost a full year!” No way was this happening. Uh-uh. Not if she had anything to say about it.

  “But I can. Did you miss that, Olly? I own this house as much as you do, and we’re still legally married, we were never legally separated, and none of our property has been divided. So yes, I’m moving in until a judge tells me I have to move out.” Grady’s grin widened. She sort of wanted to slap him. Hard. “I have some stuff in the truck, but I’ll be bringing more over throughout the week.”

  “No. I won’t allow this,” she said in a shaky whisper. He couldn’t live here with her. No, no, no. Talk about a compromising position. She barely had enough strength to deal with him when she had to, but his being here every single day? No. “Absolutely not.”

  “Want to help bring a few things in?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her.

  “No, I do not! Don’t move a muscle, Grady. I’m calling Samantha. She’ll tell you that you can’t do this!” She didn’t give him time to answer, just raced to the kitchen to grab the phone. When Sam answered, Olivia breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Sam?”

  “Hey. That was quick. What’s up?”

  “Grady’s here. He says that some crackpot lawyer told him he can move back into the house.” The front door slammed shut. Olivia ran into the living room and peered through the drapes. “Sam! He’s bringing in his luggage. You have to tell him that he can’t do this.”

  “Do the two of you still own the house together?” Samantha asked, her voice strangely calm.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then he can. He’s your husband and the house is his property, too, sweetie. It seems as if he’s staking a claim.”

  “So what am I supposed to do?”

  “At the moment? Nothing. But once you hire an attorney, you can ask the court to force Grady to move out for the duration of the divorce proceedings,” Samantha mused. “He hasn’t lived there for a while, so that might help you. But the facts will come out. He took the apartment to give you space in the hopes that you two could eventually work on your marriage. It’s a possibility that a judge won’t view that as property abandonment. And trust me, you’re better off if you and Grady can decide who’s getting what. Don’t let a judge make those decisions if you can help it.”

  Olivia ran to the hallway and pointed to the door when it opened again. “Don’t do this, Grady. Please.”

  He grinned and deposited two large suitcases on the floor. “Any plans for dinner yet? I thought we could order a pizza,” he said, before heading back out to his pickup. Forget sort of. She wanted to see her hand mark in glaring red on his cheek.

  “You’re not eating here!” Olivia hollered after him.

  “Olivia? What’s going on?” Sam asked.

  “He wants to order pizza. To eat. Here. After he unpacks, I’m assuming.” She kicked one of Grady’s suitcases. Hard. So hard she probably bruised her toe. “He can’t stay here.”

  “He can, Olivia. You can stay with me until you can get a court date, but there’s always the possibility that a judge will order you to move out. Do you want to take that chance?”

  “No, of course not. I’d rather work this out with Grady. And I’m not leaving.”

  “Then you’re stuck with him living there for now.”

  “Great. Just freaking great.” Olivia pushed the end button on the phone. When Grady returned with a third and fourth bag, she picked the first two up and dragged them outside.

  “Thanks, babe. But that’s a little counterproductive. I’m trying to move in, not out,” Grady said. “Bring them back in, and I’ll get settled. Then we can order a couple of pizzas. Pepperoni and sausage sound good?”

  “I say no. Do you hear me Grady Foster? I say no!”

  He cocked his head to the side and appraised her as if she were the one who’d lost her mind. As if. “First the chicken marsala and now pepperoni and sausage pizza? You really have changed.”

  “I’m not talking about the pizza. You. Can’t. Stay. Here.”

  “If you’re uncomfortable, I’m okay with letting you live at the apartment while we deal with this divorce business.” Grady scratched his chin in thought. “A judge might see that as you not having any interest in the house, though. Is that the case, Olly? Are you giving me the house?”

  Oh, God. Samantha had been right. Grady had turned into a freaking lunatic. “Of course I want the house,” Olivia said. “And I am not living in your apartment.”

  Her soon-to-be ex-husband let out an exaggerated sigh. “Then I guess we’re right back where we started from. If you don’t want pepperoni and sausage, then what?”

  “I want you to leave. Please, Grady. Go home.”

  He gave her a look of false surprise. “You really don’t want me to stay here? I could come in handy…your sidewalks need shoveling, for one thing.”

  “No, actually I do. Every time I tell you to leave, I’m being coy,” she snapped. “No, no, no and no I do not want you to stay here.”

  He entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a couple of beers before sitting down at the kitchen table. Jasper, who must have heard the commotion, came in to investigate. Seeing Grady, he leapt into his lap with a meow.

  “Well, then let’s talk.” Grady scratched the area between the cat’s ears. Jasper purred like an engine going into overdrive and snuggled in. The traitor. “Maybe we can work something out.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Her husband was absolutely up to something, but damned if she could figure out what. She hated—oh, how she hated—when he had the upper hand. She almost grabbed her keys and left him there alone, but what would th
at prove? Only that he’d driven her out of her house. With her cat in his lap, no less. Uh-uh.

  Giving in, she took the seat across from him. “What do you want? Is it Jasper? Do you want my cat, Grady?”

  “Hmm. I hadn’t thought about Jasper, but yeah, maybe I do.” He slid a beer over to her. “Have a drink. Let’s see what we can come up with that will be beneficial to both of us.”

  She twisted the cap off the bottle but didn’t take a drink. “You obviously want something. Just tell me what it is.”

  “I think the first question to answer is what you want. So, what do you want more than anything else right at this minute?”

  Cody. Always Cody. Followed by Grady… Well, the normal Grady. Not this insane version of Grady. “You to get the hell out of this house. Now, preferably.”

  “See? Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s a reasonable want, and certainly doable.” He swallowed a gulp of beer. “Now, we need to figure out something that will get me to leave. So, Olly. What are you willing to do to put me back in my apartment tonight?”

  “I’m willing to not murder you. How’s that sound?”

  “An awful lot like a threat. I wonder what a judge would say to that? Shall we call Samantha again and get her opinion?”

  “No, we shall not.” She stared at Grady, trying to read his body language, wishing she could read his thoughts. The only thing she could determine was that he was in this—whatever this was—full throttle. And that meant there was no swaying him. Holding her hands up in defeat, she said, “Fine. Why don’t you tell me what will put you back into your apartment tonight?”

  “I’m not ready to divorce you,” he said, as if that were news to her. “But…”

  “I’m ready to divorce you.”

  “Yup. So you can see the problem here. We’re at odds. What do you say we reach a compromise?” Grady angled his chair to the side so he could stretch his legs out. Apparently, the movement annoyed Jasper, who jumped down and haughtily stalked off. “I give a little, you give a little. Something for me and something for you.”

  “Okay, smart man. I know what a compromise is.” She wasn’t going to like this. But if it would get him out of her house now, then how bad could it be? “Go on.”

  “For all of this time, I’ve done what you’ve wanted me to do. If you said to leave you alone, I left you alone. You said you needed distance, so I gave you that.” Grady’s gaze soaked into her. “Now, it’s time for me to call the shots. For a little while.”

  “Go on,” she repeated. “Just spit it out and tell me what you want.”

  “To start, we put all talk of divorce on hold for another six weeks.”

  Ha. She wasn’t falling for this. “Nope. You already agreed to the divorce.”

  “Well, then let me start unpacking, darling. Why don’t you order the pizza? Oh, and we’re about out of beer. Feel like making a run to the store?” He started to stand, but kept his eyes level with hers. Damn him and his attorney and the horse they rode in on.

  “Fine! Six weeks! What else?” She downed a large swallow of beer and waited for the rest of the ax to fall.

  “I get six dates with you. My call on when, where and the duration of each date. You can’t back out, Olly. If I say we’re spending the day bowling in our bathing suits, then you’re going to nod, agree and wear a damn bathing suit.” He had the nerve to wink. “I’m partial to that purple bikini of yours.”

  “And if you plan a sex date, do you think I’ll just climb in bed with you because you say so?” He wouldn’t. She knew that, but he didn’t need to know that she knew that.

  “Any sex between the two of us will be consenting. Like the other night.” He continued to stare at her in that irritating, steady way of his. “What I’m asking for is simple. You give me six dates and six weeks. Then, at the end of those dates and that time frame, if you still want a divorce, I’ll sign on the dotted line without one word of dissent. You can have the house and the cat and anything else you want. See how this works? We both win.”

  Six dates and six weeks, huh? Not such a huge thing to ask, but she didn’t want to give it to him. Being cornered pissed her off. Big time. She tried to think it through, tried to reason out what he might be planning to prove to her by doing this, but she came up blank. If three years hadn’t changed anything, a month and a half wouldn’t, either. “Six weeks is fine, but I only want three dates.”

  “Nope. But I’m willing to haggle. How about five?”

  Five might as well be six, and if she agreed, he was still getting his way. The child in her needed to win on something if she was going to go through with this. “Four dates, Grady. And that’s my final answer.”

  “Four is two less than I was aiming for, sweetheart.”

  “Take it or leave it. I’m not backing down on this.” She mentally crossed her fingers that he wouldn’t see through her false bravado. If he pushed, she’d give him the six.

  He seemed to consider it, and for a minute, she thought he was going to say no and go about unpacking his things. In her house. But then a satisfied gleam flashed into his eyes and over his features. That’s when she knew she’d been had. Damn it! He’d wanted four dates all along.

  “All right,” he said. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” He stood from the table and threw his empty beer bottle away. “Four it is. Now, how about that pizza?”

  “Sure. I could eat.” She gave him a slow, sensual smile, hoping to shake the pleased-as-punch look off of his face. “Then we’ll be down to three dates. Sounds good to me. Grab me the phone, and I’ll order.”

  A loud burst of laughter erupted from his chest. “Nice try, but pizza tonight is not our first date. You’re not getting off that easy.”

  “Then we’re done for now, aren’t we? Go home, Grady.”

  He hesitated for a second, but then nodded and turned to leave. On his way out, he said, “I’d keep your schedule clear. You never know when bathing-suit bowling will strike my fancy.”

  She didn’t bother responding. Once she was alone, she drank down the rest of her beer while waiting for the multitudes of tremors racking her body to cease. In all likelihood, she’d just made another mistake. It probably would have been far smarter, not to mention safer, to have given up the house and stayed with Samantha for a while. Grady probably would’ve returned to his normal, sane self after a couple of weeks.

  But he’d pushed all of her buttons and her innate stubbornness had kicked in. Beyond that, in a weird and maddening way, she found herself looking forward to the next six weeks. Neither the time nor the dates would change anything. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that happen. But the Grady who had strolled into her house was not the Grady she’d known for the past ten years. And yes, he’d frustrated her. Annoyed her. Angered her, even. But he’d also ignited her curiosity.

  Who was this Grady? Could there possibly be more to learn about a man she thought she already knew every facet and angle of? Maybe. A tiny amount of excitement thrummed deep within at that thought. And what in the hell did that say about her?

  That she was as crazy as her husband. That was what.

  Chapter Four

  Two days later, Olivia’s momentary excitement had vanished under the thick smog of nervousness. She couldn’t concentrate, which left her woefully behind in both her transcription duties and the billings for the medical office she worked for. Her employers—a quartet of doctors—hadn’t yet noticed her decline in output, but they would if she didn’t get her act together soon. Not only that, but she couldn’t sleep, eat or focus on anything except for the four freaking dates she’d agreed to.

  They held more weight than they should. She blamed Grady for that. Maybe she blamed herself a little, too. She shouldn’t have given in so easily. The rat hadn’t contacted her since Sunday, so she had no idea what his plans were for their first date. And that annoyed her, because without that information she couldn’t mentally prepare herself. Samantha’s advice, after she’d finished chuckling a
t Olivia’s predicament, was to simply phone Grady and ask. Sound advice, perhaps, but also entirely impractical.

  Showing her husband the extent of her nerves would only make her more vulnerable, so no—calling Grady was out of the question. Something had to be done, though. After dwelling on the problem all day, she’d decided there was only one avenue left to take. Suppressing a sigh, she turned her compact car into Grady’s parents’ driveway, parked and turned off the ignition.

  Was this a mistake? Maybe. Grady was extraordinarily close to his parents, but she’d kept her distance ever since Cody’s death. Not that hard, really. She lived and worked in Beaverton, a suburb of Portland, while John and Karen Foster lived in Northeast Portland. Jeez, when had she last talked to John or Karen, anyway? She thought hard, trying to remember. Dear God, it had been almost two years. How had that much time gone by?

  Ugh. She knew how. She’d avoided her mother-in-law’s phone calls until Karen had finally given up, and John tended to follow his wife’s lead in family affairs. In the beginning, Olivia’s actions had been more about survival than anything else. Barricading herself away from others had made sense, especially when dealing with her own emotions took every bit of energy.

  Staying away from her family had been easy. She didn’t have any siblings and her relationship with her parents was distant, at best. They traveled extensively, and most of their contact came in the form of postcards from various locations around the world.

  Grady’s family was different. They were the Waltons in living and breathing full color. Grady had pushed for a while, trying to involve her in his family’s events, but he’d eventually started visiting his parents alone. Later, after he moved out, avoiding the Foster clan became all that much easier.

  So, yeah, even though eradicating Grady’s family from her life had basically happened by accident, she doubted she’d be greeted with warmth. Truthfully, she wondered if she’d even be invited in.

  Well, she was here now, and while she hoped to gain information that would settle her nerves, she also owed her in-laws an apology. She ignored her trembling fingers and unsnapped her seat belt. Her stomach somersaulted when she walked up the path that led to the Foster’s pale-green-shingled Victorian, and by the time she reached the wide front porch, the back of her neck crackled with apprehension.