by Robyn Neeley
He was proud of what they’d been able to accomplish. They were quite a team. A team. He let those words soak in while she pulled a large, rectangular box out of her locker.
“Have a seat,” she instructed, pointing to the bench.
He narrowed his eyes, but did what she said. What was she up to?
“So, earlier tonight, Tangie called and asked for your shoe size.”
“Right.” He’d forgotten all about the call. He glanced down at the cheap rubber-soled shoes Meg had given him. “Are these against regulation?” he asked.
“No. Not at all.” She handed him the box. “I just thought you might enjoy these for when you’re not working.”
She’d bought him a present. Why? “You bought me shoes?”
“You’ll see. Open it.” She sat down next to him. “Go on.”
Grayson smiled and shifted on the bench, pulling up on the box’s lid. His eyes widened as he pushed back the tissue paper to see a pair of black leather cowboy boots. “These are for me?”
“Yes.” She clapped her hands. “You’ve done so much for me—for all of us here—in an incredibly short amount of time. I wanted to say thank you.”
Grayson eyed the boots. No one he’d worked with had ever given him a gift before, with the exception of Eleanor, who always gave him one of her fruitcakes for Christmas. Becca’s thoughtfulness warmed him inside, and for once, he was completely speechless. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
She pulled one boot out and handed it to him. “Try them on. If they don’t fit, we can return them and get another size.”
He slid off his shoe and she gasped.
“What?”
“Why are you wearing Grayson’s socks?”
Crap. He’d put on his normal avocado socks. “Um … busted. I haven’t gotten around to doing my laundry this week. Grayson lent them to me. Did you know the guy has a pair for every day of the week?”
“Yeah, I learned that recently. Not that I know anything else about his undergarments.”
“Of course not.” He couldn’t help but notice that her cheeks were turning pink.
She grabbed a boot and scooted onto the floor. “Here, let me help you.”
Grayson did his best to hold back the desire that pulsed through him as Becca helped him try on the pair. Finally, he stood. Wow. They were surprisingly comfortable, nothing like the ones Meg had given him. He could actually move around easily in these, which he proved by walking from one end of the break room to the other. Good-bye, Prada loafers. These were amazing.
“Do you like them?” she asked, smiling down at the boots.
“You know, I do.” He did a couple of heel-toes. “I’ve never tried a pair”—he corrected himself—“other than the really cheap ones I’ve had for years.”
He sat down and so did she, both staring at their feet. “Maybe it was time we both tried on new shoes.”
That got a light chuckle. “Maybe you’re right.”
He stood and offered her his hand. “Give the heels a try. Two weeks from now, you’ll have five more pairs just like them stacked in your closet.”
She let him help her up. “Somehow I doubt it.”
Her soft hand lingered in his for a few seconds. Before he knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you for everything, Coop. I would have never had the courage to do this alone.”
He hugged her back. What he was about to do was wrong on so many levels, but he needed to feel her lips on his. He lowered his mouth to hers, closing his eyes.
“Coop.” She pulled away. “I’m so sorry.”
He stepped back, rubbing his beard and shaking his head. “No, I should be the one apologizing.”
“It’s not that I don’t like you. I mean, you’re great.” She moved the shoe box and took a seat. “It’s just, I’m—”
“You don’t owe me any explanation.” Truth be told, he was grateful that she had moved away. Sure, he could fake an accent, but he wasn’t quite sure how he’d kiss differently.
“Remember the guy who sent me flowers?” she asked.
He took a seat next to her. Where she was going with that question could be quite good. “The ones you wanted to throw away?”
“Yeah.” She played with her top for a few seconds before looking over at him. “I sort of like him.” She looked up at the ceiling and blew out a breath. “I mean, I like him. Like, really like him.”
She likes me? That revelation caused his heart to race. “Why do you sound like it’s the worst thing in the world?”
She stood and went over to her locker, opening it back up. “It’s complicated. Like, seriously complicated.” She pulled out her purse and slid it over her shoulder. “Plus, he doesn’t feel the same way.”
Like hell I don’t. How could she possibly think—after the incredible kiss they’d shared—that he wasn’t into her? Did she think he casually made out with just any Guac Olé employee? “Have you talked to him?”
“No, and I don’t even think there’s a point, really. I’m not his type.” She smiled and pointed to his boots. “I do hope you like your present.”
“I love them, and I’ve loved my time here.” He meant each and every word of that response. “I don’t know who this guy is, but if you have strong feelings for him, you should tell him.” He added, “He probably feels the same way about you.”
“Maybe.” She pulled her keys out of her purse. “Well, I guess I should get going. I’ll see you Monday in the Legacy conference room at ten a.m.”
“I’ll see you Monday. I promise to wear a suit.” That last part wasn’t exactly a lie, since he would definitely be in a suit. He’d also be sitting in his usual seat at the head of the boardroom table.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, his fingers feeling the key chain. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled it out and called out Becca’s name.
“Yes?”
“I wanted to give you this. I got it as a good luck charm for you on account of the strawberries in your guacamole and all.” He doubted that was the reason his father had given him the key chain, but it was a remarkable coincidence, and the perfect re-gift. He handed it over.
She stared down at the tiny charm. “Thank you,” she said, smiling shyly. “This is so thoughtful. Have a good weekend.”
She said one last good-bye and left the break room, her heels clicking as she exited the building. She’d forgotten to shut her locker, so he walked over to close it. His gaze fixed on a picture of Becca with whom he assumed was her mom and dad. They appeared to be at some July Fourth celebration.
She likes me. That was great news. He should be fist-pumping the air, but there was one problem. His eyes shifted to a year-at-a-glance calendar with September first circled in red.
How was she going to feel if she ever found out that he’d duped her?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Becca pulled out of the assisted living home, driving in the direction of her studio apartment on the east side of Sweet Ridge. Rolling down her window and cranking up her radio, she decided to take the back roads and enjoy the fresh evening air that, thankfully, wasn’t as oppressive as it normally was this time of year.
It’d been a good day. Her mother seemed happy and continued to adjust to her new surroundings and different routine. The transition was smoother than Becca had expected, and that made her sleep better at night. Her mom was getting the care and attention she needed. The move this summer had been the right thing to do.
She slowed down at the road’s fork, glancing at the beautiful two-story house high on top of the hill. She’d come this way with her mom earlier when she brought her home after a day in town getting her hair done, strolling the shops along Main Street, and dinner at the diner.
Becca stared hard at the white house with black shutters, not making a move to go any farther. It wasn’t like there would be anyone behind her to blow a horn if she stayed put for a minute or two.
It was in this spot that her mot
her’s overall good mood had done a one-eighty, and she began to cry.
What was it that had made her so sad? Whatever it was, her mom had forgotten about it by the time they pulled into the assisted living home, and they enjoyed the homemade apple pie that Betty Lou had sent home with them.
She hit the accelerator and turned right, passing the house. She knew exactly who lived there. It was the house Jack Cooper had left to Charlotte in his will. It was also the “scene of the crime” fifteen years ago, when she’d catered Grayson’s graduation party. That humiliation came rushing back.
Stop it, she scolded herself. It was a long time ago.
Still, the memory of bursting through the trailer and fleeing to her room wasn’t one your pride forgot easily. That dreadful night, her mom had come in with two bowls of cookie dough ice cream and stayed up with her for hours, drying her tears. Maybe that’s why her mother had lost it earlier. Could she have been remembering how horrible that evening had been for her daughter?
Heading down the hill, a noise jolted Becca, and she took her foot off the accelerator for a second. Blue Baby had never made that sound before. She put her foot back on the gas, immediately feeling the loss in power.
Just great. She’d filled her gas tank at the Whistle Stop only this morning, so that wasn’t the problem. This would be a good time for her check engine light to work, but that had gone out two years ago. She brought the truck to a safe stop along the side of the dirt road, turned the engine off, and jumped out, inspecting her tires with the light from her phone. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t blown a tire.
What do I do now? Throwing her hands up, she leaned against the driver’s side door. If she walked back in the direction she came, she could probably get to her mom’s in an hour, but she wasn’t eager to do that in flip-flops and in the dark.
She sat back down in the driver’s seat and searched her phone for the town’s tow company. All of a sudden, lights flashed behind her, causing her pulse to race.
Crap. She was alone on a deserted road. This was always how those horrible horror flicks on cable started. She searched madly inside her purse for her Mace, clutching the blue bottle. Because she worked so many late nights at the factory, Chuck had gotten pepper spray for both her and Tangie and showed them how to use it, aiming for the eyes. God, she seriously hoped she wouldn’t be pulling the trigger. Her thumb touched the release button and her breath quickened.
The door of the car shut, its lights still bright and on her. Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared. Her grip tightened on the pepper spray.
“Becca, is that you?”
She recognized the voice immediately and sighed in enormous relief. “Grayson.” She held up her Mace.
“Whoa.” He shielded his face with his hands.
“I’m sorry.” She pulled her hand down and tossed the bottle back in her purse. “My truck died a few minutes ago. I was about to call a tow.”
“What are you doing up here?”
“Visiting my mother.”
“Mind if I take a look?” It was hard to see him in the dark, but she could make out that he was dressed casually in jeans and a black button-down shirt. She inhaled his fresh musky scent as he passed her.
“Sure, although I’m sure my Blue Baby is nothing like your Mercedes.”
“Blue Baby.” He seemed amused by the pet name she’d given her truck. “I know a few things about trucks. My dad always drove one and so does Gavin. Pop the hood.”
“Right.” She bent down and yanked up on the lever.
“I bet it’s your transmission,” he said after a few minutes, shutting the hood. “I can give you a lift.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary. I’ll just call for a tow.”
“Like I’m going to abandon my company’s primary shareholder on a dirt road in the middle of the night.” He came up beside her.
“Is that to say that if I didn’t have the shares, you would leave?”
He grinned at her flippant question. “Of course not. Come on. I have to stop at Gage and Charlotte’s and feed their cat. We can wait there until the tow service comes. It’ll only take me a minute to bring you back once they get here.”
Was it really a good idea to go anywhere alone with Grayson? Coop’s advice to tell the guy she liked how she felt rang in her head. There was no way that was happening tonight.
Still, she’d rather be anywhere than stranded alone along the side of the road in the dark. Who knew how long the tow service would take? “Okay.” She grabbed her purse and locked her door.
Walking over to the passenger side of his Mercedes, she opened the door and got in. The soft black leather interior was a gigantic step up from the worn fabric seats in her truck that were dotted with coffee stains. She buckled her seat belt. “Nice car.”
“I like it.” He hit the gas and shifted gears. “I’m sure it has nothing on Old Blue.”
“Blue Baby,” she corrected.
“Right. Do you think Blue Baby might actually be reaching retirement?”
“Probably, but I love that truck. It was my first purchase.” She sighed, highly doubting this Mercedes was Grayson’s first car, or even his second.
“Gage and Charlotte’s house is just down the road. They went to Houston overnight. Good thing I forgot to come this morning to feed the cat, or I might not have been your knight in shining armor.”
She glanced over at him. “I don’t need a knight.”
“Don’t I know it.” He shifted his stick into third. “Not when you have pepper spray at the ready.”
She laughed sarcastically, imagining Grayson sprawled out on the ground, shielding his eyes. “You’re just lucky I’d recognize your voice anywhere.” Oh, Becca. Why did you have to go and say that? More than embarrassed, she turned her head toward the passenger window. Why don’t I just tell him I want to tear off his clothes while I’m at it?
Grayson made a couple of turns and in no time pulled into the paved driveway. “Welcome to the Gage and Charlotte homestead.”
Becca tried to shake off the bad memory. It was fifteen years ago, after all. “Do they have plans to live here full-time?”
“Yeah. Well, eventually. They come down for weekends with their cat. Apparently, they went on some day trip, but they should be back tonight.” He parked the car and they both got out. “Gage will kick my ass if he finds out that I forgot to feed Oil Slick. He loves that critter.”
Becca walked along the paved driveway onto a pebbled path leading to the front of the house. “So, this is what Jack left to Charlotte?” she asked, already knowing the answer. The town had not only been abuzz about her inheritance but it had broadcasted Charlotte’s and Macy’s, as well.
“Yep. The house and all the land.” That got a laugh that had more than a little sarcasm weaved into it. “Guess he thought Charlotte would have preferred an old house and a few acres of land over running an entire company. Lucky for Gage.”
“Lucky, indeed,” she muttered and stepped up to the porch. Was he suggesting he wished Charlotte had gotten the Guac Olé shares or that she’d been chosen for him instead of Gage? Probably both. Charlotte was beautiful and a businesswoman. Not like Becca, who’d bought a suit two days ago and rehearsed all morning for Monday’s meeting yet still wasn’t ready.
He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a key chain, unlocked the front door, and flipped on the foyer light.
She stepped in, her gaze resting on the beautifully stained wooden staircase that spiraled to the second floor. The house was both modern and homey. “It’s gorgeous,” she said, admiring a lovely arrangement of colorful lilies.
“They like it here. They’ve done quite a bit of remodeling this summer. Can I get you something to drink?” He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen. “My brother always has a stocked fridge, and I bet I can scrounge us up something to snack on, too. What would you like—beer, soda?”
“Beer would be great,” she said, taking in every feature of the mode
rn kitchen. With its yellow walls, hanging pots and pans, and huge granite-top kitchen island, it definitely felt more used than just the weekends.
While she pulled out her phone and found the number for a tow service that, admittedly, she kept on speed-dial due to Blue Baby’s age, Grayson popped open two beer bottles and reached back into the refrigerator, holding up a small round container. “Bingo.” He opened the lid and grabbed a bag of chips from the counter. “Although it’s not guacamole.”
She made her call and then took the beer he offered. “They said it would be over an hour.”
“That long?”
“Yeah.” She motioned for the door. “You know, I don’t want to inconvenience you any more than I have. If I could get a lift back to my truck, I can wait for them there.”
“With your Mace.” He smiled. “I think it’s my duty to protect the next poor schmuck who innocently pulls up to offer assistance.” He opened a couple of cabinets until he found what he was looking for, pulling a glass bowl down and filling it with the chips. “Plus”—he held up the dip container—“if you leave, how do I know that you won’t run to town and spread the gossip that I was eating anything but guacamole?”
“I can understand your dilemma.”
“Take one for the team—hang out with the CEO.”
“I suppose I could this once.” She rather enjoyed the silly banter they had going on. The last time they’d joked like this, it had led to his lips on hers. She took a long sip of her beer and reached over and grabbed a chip, swirling it in the creamy white dip and then handing it over. “How about we call an avocado truce for tonight?”
“I’d like that.” He took the chip and his eyes locked with hers. For some reason she felt he was talking about more than food. He broke contact, popped the chip in mouth, and picked up the bowl and dip. “Let’s go outside. It’s so nice tonight we can sit on the porch. Can you grab my drink?”
“Lead the way.” She picked up his beer with her free hand, and they headed back through the foyer and onto the dimly lit porch.
