"Ready for the big day?" Grayson asked as they strolled out together. Behind Claire's back, Elle Crabbe winked at him. He gave her a thumbs up as they exited the firm, into the sunshine dappled lane. The Bradford pear trees lining the street boasted pale green leaves unfurling on their branches, just in time to celebrate St. Patrick's Day.
"Dreading it, more like." Claire answered as they climbed into his car. "If I ever get married, I'm not bothering with all this fuss."
"Won't your girlfriends kill you?" Grayson asked, settling in for the drive. He punched in the pre-programmed address into the GPS.
"If my mother didn't first." Claire nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. "And why aren't you married? You're not, are you?"
"Fine time to ask me but no, I'm not." Grayson laughed and shook his head. "I thought about asking the girl I was dating before I came here. She wanted a ring."
"But?" Claire asked when Grayson didn't elaborate.
He took his time merging into traffic, considering his answer. In the end, he went with the truth. "Because I didn't see forever with her. I didn't see the love that my parents have. If I can't have that, I'd rather be alone."
Claire stared at him. "Wow, an idealist."
"I know it exists since I grew up with it." Grayson said. "Your parents are still together, aren't they?"
"Yes. Nearly thirty years now."
"Well, then you must have seen it too." Grayson shrugged.
She chewed thoughtfully as the development and sprawl of Ashford Falls gave way to rolling farmland, dotted with winter fluffy sheep and placid cows under the perfect sky, the color of Texas bluebonnets. A patchwork of sunshine lit the rolling hills, very different from the landscape near his childhood home. Grayson enjoyed the magnificent views as Claire finished her sandwich. Finally, she rolled up the paper neatly and said, "I suppose. I think they were always most united in a common goal—running the Shamrock."
"Building a family business takes love."
"Perhaps." Claire shrugged. "They're not demonstrative or anything but they were solid, stable. I know they loved both my sister and me. My mother and I have been at war for years. She thinks it’s a crime that I’m not married with a baby on the way. By the time she was my age, she’d already been married for eight years and had both me and Maggie.”
“You don’t want marriage and kids?”
“Someday, I suppose. I wanted a career first though, which bewildered my parents. They can’t understand why I don’t want to run the Shamrock.”
“You’re okay with your sister taking over?”
“Oh yes. If I inherited, I’d sell it before the funeral was over. I grew up here and was just totally unsuited for life at a B&B."
"How so?"
"All those new people in and out. Having to make small talk all the time.”
“With your sunny personality?” Grayson said and she laughed.
“It’s just an endless cycle of chores and more chores. You’re always tied to it. Maggie and I were conscripted a lot. I hated it. Resented it. I wished we could have stayed in Ireland. I think I viewed it as this magical, far off fairy land, like a combination of Disney World and Avalon."
"Have you been?"
"Twice." Claire said. "I liked Dublin quite a lot, seeing the Book of Kells, all that. And the countryside is lovely but it's rather too full of sheep for my liking."
Grayson laughed and she smiled impishly at him. "Duly noted. Not too fond of sheep. Is the Shamrock Inn likely to have them?"
"No, we don't keep livestock."
"We?"
"They, I mean." Claire shook her head, still smiling. "What about your hometown? Lots of sheep there?"
The smile faded from Grayson's face. "Not so much. It doesn't really exist anymore."
"Your hometown?"
"I grew up in a tiny town in Texas, called Devastation, right on the Gulf Coast near Galveston. About ten years ago, a hurricane hit. My brothers and I were off at school but we all came home when we got the news. We struggled through the ruins, searching for our parents."
"They didn't evacuate?"
"No. I think they'd just lived through one too many false alarms." Grayson shrugged, his fingers tightening on the wheel. "Devastation lived up to its name. We walked through town, trying to help people where we could. But the world had just been flattened. Our grade school, the field we used to play on as kids, all the old landmarks were just gone."
"What happened?" Claire laid her hand on his arm in concern, just a brief brush of her fingers, but it rocked through Grayson. He'd gone into this attempting to reach a working partnership with Claire, the only other person in the firm close to his own age. But now, he was starting to like his make-believe feisty Irish girlfriend. And that could be infinitely more dangerous.
"We were walking down our street. Hudson—that's my older brother—found the street sign so we knew it was our street. Bluebonnet Way. And Peyton—that's my younger brother—he said, 'Who's that old guy in front of our house?' Weirdly, our mailbox, which I'd dented when I learned to drive, still stood, though little else did." In his mind's eye, Grayson saw it all, the unrelenting ruin of the scene. The house that he'd grown up in reduced to nothing more than planks and timbers, scattered everywhere. And the hunched, white-haired old man standing next to the battered black mailbox, staring at all that remained.
"Who was it?" Claire whispered.
"My dad." Grayson answered, thinking again of the silvery tear tracks on his dad's face as he turned to see his three sons, the relief in his steel-gray eyes, the joy as they'd all embraced. "Mom was already off organizing a soup kitchen and blanket brigade."
"Fierce." Claire nodded.
"Exactly." Grayson agreed. "So after that, my parents moved to Florida, in a little condo overlooking the ocean. My brothers and I pay the mortgage, though they don't know that."
"Nothing more important than family." Claire said. "I understand."
As they rounded a bend in the road, a valley spread out before them like Lady Bountiful's skirts, just beginning to burst into verdant bloom. A silver ribbon of river streaked beside them and reflected the perfect cerulean sky. In the distance, a large blue stone house sat, tucked into the rolling hills. Another bend in the road brought them beside a gleaming white fence, running parallel to the road as they drove along.
"Turn left at the break in the fence." Claire directed and Grayson turned beside a carved wooden sign proclaiming the entrance to the Shamrock Inn. Claire blew out a breath and squared her shoulders.
"Nervous?"
"Not really. Just..."
"Preparing for battle?"
"Something like that." Claire tapped her fingers on her legs and shrugged. "You know how you described your mother?"
"Tiny and fierce?"
"My Gram could have been the origin of that quote."
"So you come by it honestly then?" Grayson asked. She flashed a full, brilliant smile back. His breath caught as his heart skipped a beat. When she smiled at him like that, Grayson wanted to give Claire the world. He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, slowing the car as they bumped down the long gravel lane. Grayson swung the car into a space in a parking lot hidden on the side of the house. From the front, the bluestone house looked like a simple farmhouse. It proved cover for the long addition attached to the back. "It's a beautiful place."
"It is. It's just not for me." Claire said.
Grayson looked over at her, their eyes meeting in the dim interior of the car. The long annex of the inn threw the car into shade, casting shadows across Claire's gorgeous face. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and then back up to his, a clear challenge in them. Grayson leaned toward her, their breath mingling, a fraction of an inch from tasting her when a sharp rap on the window made them both jump.
"Claire Kathleen! So you finally showed up." A woman's voice, thick with Ireland, shrilled from the far side of the car. Claire groaned and opened her door.
"Hello, Mam."
"Hel
lo yourself. You should have been here an hour ago."
"I told you I'd probably get caught up at work." Claire began as Grayson stepped out of the car. Across the roof, an older version of Claire stood, her dark hair shot with gray and her face more lined, as she embraced her daughter. Over Claire's shoulder, she eyed Grayson, with sharp eyes the color of the finest espresso, and raised a single brow before releasing Claire. Absently, she stroked a hand over her daughter's hair before smiling at Grayson.
"Well, you did well for yourself, my girl. Introduce me."
"Mam, meet Grayson March." Grayson walked around the car to shake Claire's mother's hand.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy." He didn't look at Claire and instead stood awkwardly next to her. The surprising surge of desire he'd felt during their near kiss still leaving him shaken.
"Call me Bridget. I'm meant to be your future mother-in-law." Bridget O'Shaughnessy pressed her callused hand to his briefly, stepped back and squinted at the pair of them. She tutted and shook her head, crossing her arms over her mid-section. "Well, you two could at least look as though you've met."
"What's that mean?" Claire tossed her long hair over her shoulder, not looking at Grayson. Perhaps he wasn't the only one startled by the depth of the lust between them.
"I mean you two look as uncomfortable as a pair of hedgehogs in a barrel. Stand closer. Hold hands. Something to suggest you might have met."
"Why do we need to hold hands in front of you? You're in on the secret, aren't you?"
"There are eyes everywhere." Mrs. O'Shaughnessy glanced around and leaned closer to whisper. "What do you suppose your Gram will do to me if she discovers I've fibbed, just to ease her mind a bit, about you being single and alone so far from home?"
"Mam, I'm twenty-six."
"What's your age to do with anything? You're a hopeless spinster and we all know it—or everyone except your grandmother knows it."
"I have a successful career. I don't need a man. And you talk like you're from the last century."
"Your grandmother actually is from the last century. She's older than dirt and thinks that way too. No need to upset her at her advanced age, is there?" Claire's mother answered, in a tone that indicated this was clearly an old argument with her eldest daughter. "Now, what did you have to bribe poor Grayson with to endure the O'Shaughnessy clan for a weekend?"
"You don't want to know." Claire smiled sunnily at her mother, who eyed Grayson again.
"Perhaps you're not a fool after all, Claire, my girl." With that parting shot, Mrs. O'Shaughnessy turned and headed for the inn. Grayson brushed his hand over his face to conceal a smile as Claire turned to him. Now he saw where Claire got her spitfire ways.
"You sure about this, March? Last chance to escape. You can take me with you."
Grayson barked out a laugh. "Texans don't scare easily, O'Shaughnessy."
Their gazes met again and lingered just a few seconds longer than necessary. Grayson swallowed hard, aching to lean forward and taste her tempting mouth. Pink stained her cheeks but she turned away, swinging her bag up onto her shoulder. "It's showtime then."
Chapter Four
Claire led Grayson around the side of the inn, onto the wide front porch with white rockers creaking softly in the spring breeze. How many times had she and Maggie raced over this same porch, dashing in from a long day at school or out to play? She swung open the wooden front door, inhaling the comforting, homey scents of lemon furniture polish and beeswax candles. They stepped into the lobby, bright with sunshine pouring in from the leaded glass windows along the front of the inn.
"You've got the bluebird room." Bridget passed a set of keys to Grayson over the ornately carved front desk that her parents found in an out-of-business bar and scrimped for months to buy. Claire still couldn't eat mac-n-cheese after those months of sacrifice. The dark wood gleamed in the sunlight, as always, polished by her dad daily.
"That tiny room under the eaves? Look at him, Mam. He's over six feet tall."
Bridget glanced at Grayson. "Remember to duck then."
"I'm sure it'll be fine." Grayson said. "And where is Claire staying so I can take her bags?"
Bridget just raised a single eyebrow at him and shook her head. "The inn is full. You two can share."
"Mam." Claire grabbed her mother's forearm over the desk, her heart hammering against her chest like a frightened hummingbird. After that moment of weakness in the car, when she'd nearly given in to her desire to discover what Grayson tasted like, she wanted to get as far from him as possible. "We can't stay in the same room."
"And what do you suppose your grandmother will think if she discovers you aren’t in the same room?”
“But we’re not married. Surely she’ll disapprove…”
“Even if I wanted to give you another room, Claire, I couldn’t. We’re full. You’re free to sleep on the couch over there if you like. But don’t let your grandmother catch you.”
“Mam…” Claire pleaded.
“You'll be fine, my girl. Now, go put your bags upstairs and get down to the kitchens. You can oversee the floral delivery." With that, Bridget rounded the desk and disappeared into the depths of the inn, as always more interested in the inn than her daughter. Claire's shoulders slumped and she rubbed at the headache brewing behind her temples.
"Don't worry, O'Shaughnessy. I won't tell anyone if you snore."
Claire huffed out a laugh. "Let me show you the way and then I guess I'd better help with the flowers before I never hear the end of it. No doubt it's bedlam down there."
Grayson glanced around the deserted lobby, calm, serene, and elegant. "Doesn't look it."
“It’s all a carefully crafted illusion.”
Claire led Grayson up two flights of stairs and to the end of a narrow hallway. A wide picture window highlighted the rolling hills surrounding the inn, smudged with blue along the horizon, where the foothills of the Blue Ridge began. Outside, the clouds darkened the budding green trees, creating a shifting canvas of light and shadow. A padded seat nestled in the window, done in shades of green and gold.
"This was always my special spot. I loved to sit up here and read as a child." Claire commented, not sure why she was confiding anything to Grayson March. Perhaps they were becoming friends. "I begged Mam to let me have this room as my bedroom."
She unlocked a glossy wooden door bearing a sign painted with bright blue birds hopping along a spring branch. Grayson followed her into the room. The far wall sloped down to a small sitting area. The cozy bay window highlighted the rolling mountains beyond. Across from the window, a large four-poster bed sat, covered in blue bedding. Claire hung her dress garment bag in an armoire along the far wall and stepped back, smoothing a hand over her hair.
"I'll sleep on the floor." Claire said. "You're the one doing me a favor, after all. Besides, I've done it before..."
"I think the bed is big enough for both of us." Grayson smiled at her, far too near in this tiny room. He edged closer, setting the bags on the floor next to the wardrobe. "Unless you're afraid you can't keep your hands to yourself?"
Claire twisted her fingers together. After that near kiss in the car, that was exactly what she feared. Why couldn't she catch her breath? Had the stairs winded her? This close, a tiny scar on his chin became visible. She wanted to press her lips against it… She forced herself to step back, but only slammed into the armoire. This room was way too intimate for both of them. Maybe she could bunk with Maggie.
Claire swallowed hard and slid around Grayson to the door. "I'm going to go help with the flowers. There's always plenty of stuff for the guests to do."
"I'm sure I can amuse myself, O'Shaughnessy." The purring way he said her name, especially his accent honeying the vowels, made her shiver. Their gazes locked across the room. Before she could do something that she'd very much regret, she bolted downstairs, sure she could hear Grayson's husky chuckle behind her.
Late that afternoon, Grayson climbed up the stairs to
their garret at the top of the eaves, balancing a small cheese tray and two soft drinks that he'd swiped from the kitchens when he went looking for Claire. He hadn't seen her since they'd parted this afternoon. He knocked on the door and, hearing no reply, opened it to find the room washed in the rose and peach glow from the sunset, but no Claire.
He placed the cheese tray and the drinks on the bedside table before heading in to the bathroom to shower and dress. He missed Claire's vivacious sparkle though he wasn't lonely. He'd walked over the surrounding hillside, admiring the bucolic setting for the inn and sitting to enjoy the spring sunshine by a rushing creek bordering the property. He struggled to imagine his quiet, bookish Claire growing up here.
When he emerged from the bathroom, Claire stood in front of the full-length mirror, wearing a blue dress that fluttered around her shapely legs. Though she'd applied more makeup than she normally wore, she looked tired and drawn. She fiddled with her earring and picked up her wrap before sinking onto the bed, rubbing at her eyes.
"Tired?"
"Weddings are always exhausting. So many extra people around." Claire said. "Even if they are mostly family. Did you have a nice afternoon?"
Grayson stepped over and opened the soda. He pressed it into her hand before placing a slice of Brie on a cracker, topping it with fig jam, and handing it to her. "I did. The inn is lovely."
"I don't have time to eat. I've gotta get downstairs..."
"Take a minute to rest." Grayson instructed, sitting next to her on the bed, and making another cracker. This one topped with Brie and honey. When she ate that, he handed her a grape.
"You're actually a nice guy, aren't you?" Claire narrowed her eyes at him before reluctantly accepting the grape out of his hands.
"I try." Grayson beamed at her. Their eyes met again. This close, her irises became a kaleidoscope of blues and violets, ringed with dark lashes. She tilted her chin in a clear challenge. They sat less than an inch apart on the bed, even closer than they'd been in the car. He caught the sweet scent of honey as her warm breath blew over his cheek. Just as he bent to capture her mouth, a booming knock sounded around the room.
Cupid's Coffeeshop Set One: Boxed Set: Books 1-4 Page 12
