And until that time occurred, my grandfather would remain president of the company.
That should’ve been damn good motivation to find a bride, but I’d yet to meet the right woman. Rob, in his capacity as my go-to guy for everything, had sought out a variety of socialites, and I’d dutifully gone out with them, but I hadn’t clicked with any. And Grandma seemed to have an endless amount of friends who had an endless amount of available granddaughters, but I didn’t have an endless amount of time. Or patience. Most of the women in my social circles bored me senseless.
To get my grandparents off my back, I’d told them I was dating someone. It was a harmless lie that I hoped would keep them happy for a while. Unfortunately, it had become their favorite topic of conversation lately.
“Come on, Ethan. Tell us something,” Grandma said. “We bought you your first bike. And your first computer. And we still feed you dinner every Sunday night.”
“And made you CEO of the company,” Grandpa added. They were each capable of guilt trips on their own, but they worked best in tandem.
While trying to think up something vague to say, I idly watched the brunette as she answered her own phone. Whoever was on the other end of the call said something that made her smile. Even from here it was a gorgeous smile. Her lips were full, pink perfection. I wondered if she was speaking to a man. Did she have a boyfriend?
“At least tell us her name,” Grandma said.
“I don’t know her name,” I said without thinking, then realized my error. “I mean, I’m not going to tell you her name. It’s too much pressure on a new relationship.”
“New? You said you were thinking of proposing!” Grandma’s normally pleasant voice had jumped an octave higher than usual.
Hastily, I backtracked. “New as in she’s never met my family. Isn’t it normal for women to be nervous about that kind of thing? We’re taking it slow, but yes, it’s understood that we’re going to get married. It’s definitely being discussed.”
“That’s great, son. What’s she look like?”
“Walter!” My grandmother’s tone was both exasperated and amused.
“What, Bridget? The woman’s going to be the mother of my great-grandchildren. Isn’t it natural to wonder what she looks like?”
“No,” my grandmother and I both answered at the same time, but Grandpa was adamant.
“Tell us just one thing.”
I sighed. The brunette had finished her call and was paying the barista. In another few moments, she’d head back to the elevator and back to her department—whichever one she worked at. I was tempted to walk down the hall to a quieter spot so that I could focus on getting my lies straight for my grandparents, but that would mean not seeing her walk away. And no way was I going to miss that. Not when she was wearing that tight pencil skirt.
She was smiling at the barista now, chatting with her. I sighed again. “She’s got light brown hair. It’s wavy, and it… it bounces when she walks, swirling around her shoulders.” The brunette stepped away from the cart, and for a moment, the light from the three-story high glass windows hit her fully. “In the sun, her hair looks almost bronze.”
“She sounds beautiful,” Grandma said.
“She is. She’s gorgeous.” There. I’d told them something. I shouldn’t have, but at least it would get them off my back for a while. And if somewhere down the road I got serious with a woman who wasn’t a brunette, I could always say she’d dyed her hair for a while.
That was the safest kind of lie—simple and straightforward.
Then the brunette lifted her hand to her chest in a familiar gesture, and for some reason, I opened my mouth again. “She wears this necklace with a blue pendant. And every so often she touches it, almost as if she’s just making sure it’s there. I don’t think she knows she’s doing it, but she does it quite a lot.” For some reason, it had always struck me as rather endearing that she did that. I didn’t know her name, her age, or pretty much anything else about her, but I knew that she clutched her necklace a lot. I knew her drink order. I knew her ring finger was bare—one day I’d ventured close enough to make sure. It wasn’t a lot to know about someone, but it wasn’t nothing, either.
My grandmother’s voice startled me out of my reflections. “Did you give her that necklace?”
Shit. What was I doing? I hadn’t meant to tell them anything about the made-up woman I was supposedly dating, and here’s I’d been describing a very real, very specific person. Which was very stupid, and it made me mad at myself. Plus… my grandmother’s question also made me wonder who had bought the necklace for the brunette. A boyfriend? A lover? I supposed it was naïve to hope that she’d bought it for herself.
“I’ve got to go, Grandma. There’s a meeting in a few minutes.”
“Make ‘em wait,” Grandpa barked. “You’re the CEO.”
I chuckled because I knew my grandfather didn’t mean it. He was all about courtly, old-world charm. Old-world. Old-school. Those phrases described my grandfather quite well, but there was nothing old about his mind. My grandparents weren’t idiots. Far from it. They’d worked tirelessly to make this company what it was. I just wished they could see that I was leading it in the right direction, something that required brains, skill, hard work, and talent—not a marriage certificate.
The brunette was walking away now, and that inspiring view made me pause. She moved confidently, even though she had on heels. Being a red-blooded male, that made me wonder how well she’d move if she were underneath me. It was fun to speculate about.
“How old is she?”
Grandpa’s question snapped me back to reality. As I watched, the woman of my dreams entered the elevator, which signaled the end of my daily obsession. Time to get back to work. “I’m not sure she’d like me telling you that, Grandpa. You can find out when you meet her someday.” We both could. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“You do that, son.”
I was about to say good-bye but then Grandma’s closing words reached me. “And Ethan… I’m really happy for you.”
Her sincere words hit me in the gut, but all I said was, “Thanks.”
Pocketing the phone, I strode across the lobby. I hated lying to them, but they were the ones who’d tied becoming president of the company to getting married. They’d brought this on themselves.
But I still felt like a piece of shit when I climbed onto the elevator and headed up to my office.
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Bad Boy Santa: A Second Chance Christmas Romance Page 8
