The Hog-Tied Groom (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #3)
Page 9
“Well, yes, but I can’t imagine—”
“If you’ll just show me where they are, Agatha.”
Her lips moved, but no sound came out as she stood and went to a file cabinet at the back of the office. “Now, you can’t take any of this with you, you know. And I’m the only one who can make official copies.”
“I understand.”
With a final, curious look, she opened a big, heavy drawer.
“Thank you, Agatha. I can manage from here.” Using his greater height and weight, he edged her aside. He didn’t want her to know which specific record he was checking, and certainly not why.
He thumbed through the files until he came to the May births seven years ago. In a town the size of Grazer’s Comers, there weren’t all that many. He found the one he was looking for easily enough.
In a quick glance, he found the entry he needed but not the answer he wanted: “Father unknown.”
Unknown? How the hell could that be? Charity wasn’t promiscuous. In fact, though she hadn’t said so, he’d suspected she’d been a virgin until that night they’d made love. He’d been so damn proud that he’d been her first lover, and so careful to make sure she enjoyed the experience fully as much as he had.
So what happened? In the next couple of weeks, had she gone to bed with so many guys she couldn’t guess which one had gotten her pregnant?
That didn’t make any sense. She’d never been that kind of girl.
He shoved the record back into the file folder and slammed the drawer shut. Something screwy was going on here, and he was going to get to the bottom of it. He might not be the best candidate for father of the year, but he’d never been known to shirk his responsibilities.
Chapter Seven
Garrett rounded a corner in the grocery store aisle, and another cart slammed into his wobbly-wheeled one, shoving it into a shelf full of cat food.
“Well!” Charity huffed. “I hope you’re satisfied.”
Suppressing a smile at the sheer pleasure of seeing her, he cocked his head. “I think you were the one who was going too fast here.”
“I don’t mean this.” She waved vaguely at the cans rolling around on the floor. “I got a call from the high-school principal this morning. From now on, I’m going to have to bid to do the pictures for the school annual. That’s the steadiest source of income I have.”
He did a double take. She was obviously mad as hell. But why at him? “What’s that got to do with me?”
“Your father is on the school board, in case you’ve forgotten. That’s what it has to do with you. And there isn’t a chance in Hades that I’ll get the contract if he has anything to say about it.”
“Now, wait a minute—”
“No, you wait.” She tried to shove her cart out of the way but got hung up on a can of chopped liver and chicken. “Your father’s also trying to get Bud fired from his job at the factory. He’s furious Hailey decided to marry somebody other than his high-and-mighty football-hero son. So he’s going to get even any way he can.”
Garrett couldn’t believe his father would stoop that low. Or maybe he could believe it, but he didn’t want to. “It still doesn’t have anything to do with me.”
She yanked her cart to the side like she was training for a bulldogging event “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got shopping to do. I haven’t been able to get into town lately. Houseguests, you know.”
She wheeled around him with the speed and precision of a race car driver, her blue denim skirt swirling around her calves, her sandals flapping angrily on the linoleum floor. He would have laughed except for the crawling feeling inside his gut.
His father had not been pleased with the botched marriage. Being vindictive about the whole thing fit Douglas Keeley’s definition of getting even. Garrett would have to check it out.
The fact that he spotted Charity talking to Homer, the butcher, a few minutes later didn’t alter Garrett’s need to talk with his father. But it sure as hell twisted a knot in his stomach.
Her Saturday date with the man was coming up soon. Garrett didn’t even want to think about it.
He completed his shopping, dropped the groceries off at his house and headed for the chocolate factory. His grandfather had founded the Fun House Candy Company north of town because of the proximity to almond, walnut and pistachio groves. In fact there were those who said Grazer’s Comers was the nut capital of the world. More than once, Garrett had wondered if they were talking about the almond groves or the residents.
The cloying, bittersweet scent of chocolate struck him in the parking lot as he got out of the car. As much as his family depended on chocolate to produce its income, he’d learned to hate it the one summer his father had made him work on the production line. He’d never wanted to look at, much less eat, a Fruity Tootie Nut Bar since.
The receptionist, a woman in her fifties with blond hair and a surprisingly youthful complexion, preened as he entered the small lobby.
“Hello, Garrett, how are you? I was so sorry to hear about—”
“I’m fine, Arabelle. Is Dad in?”
“I think so. I’d be happy to check for you.”
He waved her off. “I’ll just go on up. Thanks.”
“Well, now, you just let me know if I can help in any way at all. Now that you’re a free man again, I mean. Any way at all, you hear?” With that provocative invitation, she buzzed him through the security door.
Garrett didn’t imagine he’d take her up on the offer. For as long as he could remember, women had been making offers like that, most of which he’d turned down. Not that the tabloids would believe it. Nor did he much care one way or the other.
His father had chosen a second-floor corner office with a view of almond groves in the foreground and the Sierra foothills beyond them. In spring and fall, it was a striking landscape, with the trees either in colorful bloom or covered with golden leaves that contrasted with the snowcapped mountain peaks in the distance.
When Garrett entered the office, Douglas Keeley looked up from the computer printout he’d been studying.
“Hello, son. I didn’t know you were going to stop by.”
“There are a couple of things I want to talk to you about.”
Douglas removed his reading glasses and set them aside. At sixty, he was as tall as Garrett but leaner with hair that only now was shifting from blond to gray. The former UC Berkeley quarterback kept himself fit by working out three times a week, almost as though he was still expecting an NFL team to give him the call that had never come in his youth. The closest he’d come to achieving his dream of a pro-football career he’d accomplished vicariously by having Garrett make it to the big time.
And now Garrett had lost it. Or so everyone thought.
“I hope you’ve come to tell me you’ve decided to spend some time learning the candy business,” Douglas said.
“I play football, Dad. And my degree’s in history. Handling accounts receivable isn’t exactly my thing.”
“I could use your help, son. I’m not getting any younger, you know. Not that I doubt for a minute some team will pick up your option. You’re too damn good for them to overlook you. But eventually you’ll need something to fall back on. This is a family business, son.”
“I’m still thinking about it, Dad.” But not very eagerly. “I wanted to talk to you about the Ardens.”
Leaning back in his leather chair, Douglas laced his fingers together and tented them in front of his chin. “The Ardens?”
“Don’t play dumb, Dad. You’ve been making waves.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re trying to undermine Charity’s job at Grazer High taking photos for the annual. She depends on that job for her livelihood.”
“Now, listen to me, son. All I did was suggest to the school superintendent that contracts like that ought to go out for bids. If she can’t be competitive—”
“And if she is?” Garrett planted his hands on h
is father’s desk and leaned closer. “Would she get the job?”
“That would be out of my hands, of course. It’s strictly a business decision the superintendent and school board will have to make. And I really don’t see how it concerns you.”
“It concerns me, okay? If you’re mad at Bud Arden for marrying Hailey, don’t be. He probably saved me from making a big mistake.”
Shoving his chair back, Douglas stood. He’d never liked being backed into a corner. “The Ardens are nothing but trash. Pig farmers, for God’s sake. You need to stay as far away from them—both of them—as you can. In fact, if I could, I’d fire Bud in a flash. He’s always been a troublemaker.”
“Really? Because he helped form the union?” And he was still a union steward, making his job especially secure.
“My employees don’t need a union. They never have. Certainly not one Bud Arden has anything to do with.”
Garrett had heard differently. Since the union arrived on the scene, paid vacations and a decent retirement plan had been negotiated, benefits the mostly seasonal workers would never have received if they’d waited for management to make the offer.
Idly Garrett picked up the Fun House Candy Company gift catalog from the corner of the desk and thumbed through it, glancing at the photos. He didn’t want his father to know just how much he cared about Charity’s well-being—and her son’s. Douglas could be unpredictable if he thought his will was being thwarted, and he certainly was expressing a lot of animosity toward both of the Ardens. Garrett couldn’t help but wonder why. A canceled wedding hardly seemed like sufficient cause for a vendetta.
As he studied the catalog, an idea came to him. An idea that wouldn’t exactly please his father.
“Maybe you’re right, Dad. Maybe I should get more involved in the company.”
His father beamed with pleasure, the biggest smile Garrett had seen in a long while. “Just give the word, son, and I’ll have an office arranged for you right next to mine.”
“Will I be able to make some management decisions on my own?”
Douglas frowned. “Within limits. I don’t want you making any radical changes until you get to know the business.”
A smile tugged at Garrett’s lips. “You have my word.”
CHARITY DIDN’T RECALL Arsenic and Old Lace as quite so boring. But perhaps she shouldn’t blame either the actors or the playwright. Her restlessness might be due to the man sitting next to her.
Poor Homer! He was doing everything he could to impress her. He’d planned a family dinner with his girls that turned into a disaster—blackened chicken au burned tea towel presented to the accompaniment of the smoke alarm.
Donnie had been at his worst and would get a sound lecture from her in the morning.
Meanwhile Homer was wearing a cologne that was no doubt intended to seduce, but he’d used too much and the fumes wafted around the playhouse in a poisonous release that was probably making everyone within six rows seriously ill. Any moment now, the playhouse management was likely to call a hazardous-materials decontamination team to ventilate the place.
She sighed, and he squeezed her hand in the darkness.
The truth was she wanted to be—anywhere—with Garrett.
Closing her eyes against the glare from the stage, she wondered why she couldn’t settle for a perfectly nice man like Homer. She could have his babies. They’d all be a family, albeit a blended family with his, hers and their kids. That wasn’t such a terrible thought.
Except that wasn’t what she wanted.
Instead of settling for Arsenic and Old Lace, she wanted The Sound of Music. She wanted heart stopping, soaring passion with a whole lot of romance thrown in. Face it, she wanted Garrett. She always had. Some women never outgrew their adolescent fantasies.
She simply couldn’t get him out of her imagination—the sensual shape of his lips, the way his hair curled and waved, wayward locks slipping across his forehead. His taste, which she’d savored all too recently. The tapered length of his fingers. The breadth of his shoulders.
Nothing about Garrett had been lost from her memory, not how he had touched her eight years ago, not how he had looked at her only days ago. She was a conflicted mass of wanting and denial, an emotional and physical mess. If she had any sense at all, she’d bury her head in the sand and block out all the sensations that were butting against her good reason.
But no woman had that much strength. Not when it came to Garrett Keeley.
“That was great, wasn’t it?” Homer said as they exited the theater with the rest of the crowd.
“Wonderful,” she agreed, grateful for the breath of fresh air when they reached the outdoors.
“Gene Linfield is wasted as a meat cutter,” Homer said of his co-worker. “He shoulda been an actor.”
“I’m sure his income is a little more secure here in Grazer’s Corners than it would be in Hollywood.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” He slid his arm around her waist. “So how ’bout stopping for ice cream? It’s not too late.”
“Gee, Homer, I’m awfully tired. Would you mind terribly if I gave you a rain check?” At least she wasn’t lying about being tired. She actually felt drained, pressed down with the knowledge that she couldn’t settle for something less than she wanted deep in her heart. “I think I’d better pick up Donnie and head on home. Sorry to be such a party poop.”
“Hey, no problem. We’ll do it another time.”
He was hugely apologetic about keeping her up too late, of serving a meal that left a great deal to be desired, about driving a car that had seen better days. Her heart ached for a man who was trying so hard. He deserved to find love. But she wasn’t the one. The most she could do was wish him well. Anything else would be as unfair to him as it was to her.
Less than an hour later, she climbed into her bed, incredibly weary and feeling so alone her breastbone throbbed with it. Donnie was tucked under the covers in his own room; the newlyweds were likewise tucked in for the night.
Charity drifted off into slumber, wishing...
And that’s when he came to her.
The first brush of Garrett’s kiss was like thistledown across her lips, a tentative touch filled with promise and overflowing with memories. How was it she recalled so distinctly the flavor of him, the texture of his skin, his musky, masculine scent? Did the recollections come from today—or had they always been with her? A part of her psyche?
Warm night air caressed her bare arms. Or was it his breath she felt skimming over her flesh? Her passion built, making her ache for him to kiss her there, on her breasts where her nipples pebbled. Kiss her everywhere. Her skin hummed with each flowing stroke of his palm, like warm water cascading over a mountain cliff, powerful in its journey, churning the depths of her need.
She sighed, turning to gain better access to his hard body, his long, powerful limbs, that part of him designed to give her such pleasure. Her heart thrust against her ribs. Her soft moans rose in volume. Or perhaps the sound was his cry of pleasure.
Then suddenly he was gone. Evaporated. She couldn’t find him. She thrashed from side to side.
But he had to be there. She’d touched him, kissed him. Tasted him.
Panic spiraled through her chest. She twisted on the bed in search of the solid breadth of his body, his heat.
“Gar...rett,” she sobbed.
At the sound of her own voice, she shot upright.
Morning sun flooded her bedroom; the sheet was tangled around her body, capturing her. Sweat dampened her skin.
From the adjacent room, she heard feminine moans and Bud’s more guttural response.
She covered her ears and lowered her head to rest on her upraised knees. “Oh, God...please. I don’t want to hear.” Her body still pulsated with the memory of Garrett. Of the dream. Of the past.
Of the bleak expanse of her future.
Even worse, she didn’t want to consider that Hailey had once made those sounds of pleasure in Garrett’s arms.
She’d gotten a call yesterday—a week after Bud’s return from his honeymoon—saying that Mr. Keeley wanted to see her. She was scarcely in a position to refuse his request. If she didn’t get her contract renewed for next year with the school district to handle the senior pictures, there’d be no budget for the new car she needed. Just paying the insurance on the old one would tap her out. No doubt about it, Douglas Keeley was the key to landing that contract. Certainly Maynard Grazer, president of the school board, would be no help, not with the distraction of his daughter, Jordan, having skipped out on her wedding and still listed among the missing.
The receptionist at the front counter glanced up. “May I help you?”
“Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Keeley. I’m Charity Arden.”
The blond woman’s brows rose ever so slightly. “Would your appointment be with Douglas Keeley... or Garrett Keeley?”
“Garrett’s here? Working?” she asked in surprise.
“I believe he is. Would you like me to check?”
“No, that’s all right.” Seeing Garrett now, or anytime, was not a good idea. “I’m sure my appointment must be with Mr....the senior Keeley.”
The receptionist sniffed disdainfully. “I’ll speak to his secretary.”
While she waited for the receptionist to grant her entry to the inner sanctum, Charity fidgeted with her purse, then studied a broken fingernail, her thoughts wandering. Poor Hailey was trying desperately to be a good farmer’s wife, but Charity found her sister-in-law had few domestic skills and little practical experience. Bud seemed perfectly happy, however. Apparently whatever was going on in the bedroom between them was enough to keep a smile on his face.
She sighed. At least she hadn’t had a repeat of her own all too vivid dream of Garrett making love to her.
But she remained uncomfortable and on edge living in the confines of a house where two lovebirds reigned in supreme happiness. If she ever won the lottery—an unlikely possibility since she never bought a ticket—she’d spend the money to build a separate house for Bud and his bride.