He sent me a message yesterday on the HelpForHire site, demanding my number and telling me it was ridiculous that he had to contact “his woman” this way. He was being facetious, but it still made me tingle in places that, until recently, haven’t tingled in a long time. And then he sent me a text to say he’d only be able to stay a few hours because his brother arrives tonight.
“So is he all muscles and tan?” asks Sam, pursuing me out of the kitchen, clearly having decided that the dishes can damn well wait.
I roll my eyes and shove a couple of empty mugs at him.
“You’re so nosy!”
“So are you!” he contests. “Remember when I first started dating Drew? You didn’t stop asking me questions for three weeks. Three weeks, Allie. And now you’re starving me!”
He’s so dramatic. But he’s not wrong. I am starving him. Because this thing with Greyson, whatever it is, feels special. It feels right that only he and I know about it, and I don’t feel the need to gossip about it the way I have with other flings, back in the years before I inherited a couple of preschoolers.
“He’ll be here soon,” I say. “Ask him yourself.”
Sam’s jaw drops theatrically, and I snort a laugh as I push his chin back up.
“Here? Like, here here? In the diner?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “He’s coming to help us prep for tomorrow.”
“No shit,” says Sam, his brows raising in surprise.
“Yes shit,” I reply. “And he’s coming to Sadie’s for dinner tomorrow.”
Sam’s brows hitch up a little further.
“With his brother and sister-in-law and their kids.”
It’s too much. Sam’s eyebrows all but disappear into his hairline and his mouth makes no less than six different shapes before he manages to speak again.
“I can’t even with you,” he says, with (mostly) feigned disgust. “You’ve been holding out on me all day, when you could, at any time, have shared this treasure trove of gossip with me?” He shakes his head slowly, thoroughly disappointed in me. “You’ve changed, Allie.”
“I don’t think it counts as gossip if I’m the subject, Sam,” I grin back.
“It’s gossip if you’re having sex with some tall dark Adonis all over a mansion!” he says.
And then the sound of a clearing throat makes us both freeze. We spin around at the same time and sure enough, there’s Greyson, standing a little ways behind us, looking just absolutely divine in his long coat.
“Hey!” I say.
I don’t know the rules, and I suddenly find myself panicking a bit. Am I supposed to hug him? Kiss him? Elbow bump? What are the rules?
I don’t even need to look at Sam to know that he’s watching this scene unfold like a hawk.
Greyson breezes across the room, an amused look on his face, places his hand on my hip, and leans down to peck a soft kiss to my cheek.
“Hey yourself,” he smiles back warmly.
Oh. I guess those are the rules. I can definitely work with that.
Greyson goes to hang up his coat, and as soon as he’s not looking in our direction anymore, Sam clasps his hands together and makes an over-the-top “awwwwwwwwwww” face, like Greyson and I are just the sweetest thing he’s ever seen. I’d love to play it cool, but I can’t. I grin right back at him like a total dork, and we both have to quickly straighten our faces as Greyson turns back to face us.
“So,” says Greyson, rolling up his sleeves (hot). “Where shall I start? Dishes?”
“Apron,” I say, reaching into a drawer to pull one out. “Sam can handle the rest of the dishes, and Bet will be here in a minute to tell us all what to do.”
“Don’t worry,” says Sam. “She’s good at that.” He wipes his hand on his apron and holds it out toward Greyson. “Sam, by the way. Allie’s closest confidant, most hardworking colleague, and favorite in-law.”
“Oh, that’s right,” says Greyson, shaking his hand. “Sadie’s brother?”
Sam gives me a recriminating glare. “Has everyone in town met him before me?”
Greyson shakes his head. “Not at all. You were here the first day I arrived, with the French girl. Did she quit?”
Sam stares blankly at Greyson for a moment, then he glances at me and it clicks. He laughs, shaking his head.
“No, she still works here. But she keeps secrets and gossip to herself so we’re not friends anymore.”
Greyson lets out a laugh, and I roll my eyes at both of them. But I can’t keep a smile from creeping onto my face as well.
“Oh, you must be Gary!” calls Bet, poking her head out from the kitchen.
“Greyson!” the three of us say in unison.
“All right, all right, keep your hair on!” says Bet, chuckling. “And come on through to the back, there’s a lot to get done.”
Sam was right—Bet definitely is good at telling us what to do. Carrots here, parsnips there, don’t put crosses in the wrong end of the brussels sprouts. It’s practically a military operation.
Sam puts on some festive music in the background and we all chat our way through the next couple of hours, until there are pots full of veg and pans full of sauce on every ring of every stove, and every oven has a turkey ready to start cooking tomorrow morning.
“Well, we’ve done it again,” says Bet, bringing in a bottle of sherry from the pantry. I’m pretty sure it’s the same bottle that she had when I first started working at the diner. She only ever brings it out the night before Thanksgiving, when everything is done. She pours us all a good measure while we peel off our aprons and put away the last of the cutlery.
“Here’s to us,” she says, lifting her glass. “And since I won’t see you tomorrow, I’m thankful for all your help. And for you two,” she says, looking at me first, then Sam. “For all the hard work you do here. I don’t know how I’d manage without you. “And you,” she says, turning to Greyson. “For whatever you did to Allie to make her as happy as she’s been the last few days.”
I feel my cheeks get hot as she says it. I’ve definitely noticed that I feel a little lighter and a little less haggard than before, but I didn’t realize it was that obvious.
“I bet it was filthy,” says Sam, eyeing Greyson up and down.
I see a wide grin appear on Greyson’s face as he looks right at Sam.
“The mansion?” asks Greyson, casually. “Yeah, it was pretty dirty when I first arrived.”
“What are you thankful for, Allie?” asks Bet, obviously trying to stop Sam from clarifying his meaning. I glance immediately at Greyson, then look away and give the same answer I’ve given for the last three years.
“I’m thankful for the girls, and for my family.”
It’s true. There were more than a few times, that first year, when I was woken up in the middle of the night by the horrifying thought that the girls could have been in the car as well. Losing my sister was bad enough. Losing the girls, too, would have broken me. There's a part of me that believes everything happens for a reason. Maybe Libby and Alex granting me custody is the only reason I'm still functioning after the loss of a sister who was also my best friend.
I’m suddenly aware that the air has become heavy. I’m so busy, day to day, that the time before the accident often feels like another lifetime, but it’s only been three years. It’s still so fresh, really, that whenever I mention my family it’s the first thing that pops into people’s heads.
Greyson reaches over and grabs my hand, giving it a tight squeeze.
“Well I’m thankful for Sherry,” Sam pipes up, lifting up his glass, and we all break out in grateful laughter that chases away the tension.
“And I’m thankful I’ll be seeing my brother tonight,” says Greyson, checking his watch. He looks down at me. “I’d better head off, they’ll be arriving soon if the traffic was good. Walk you to your car?”
“Sure.” I nod, and I head over to give Bet a tight squeeze. “I hope everything goes all right tomorrow. Call me if you need any
thing.”
“You go on,” says Bet, returning my hug and then shooing me away. “Enjoy your time with the girls. God knows you deserve it. And you, young man,” she looks up to Greyson. “You look after this one. She’s a good girl.”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Greyson with a nod. And even though it’s the only response he could have given, he looks very serious when he says it.
As soon as we’re outside, Greyson grabs my wrist and pulls me around, pushing me gently but firmly against the back wall of the diner. His lips meet mine instantly, and his warm hand cups the side of my face. He feels every bit as good as I remember. I kiss him back, grabbing the front of his coat with both hands and pulling him closer. It’s really some sort of cruel and unusual punishment that circumstances have kept us apart ever since our night (and morning) of passion.
“God, I wish I could bring you home tonight,” he says, his forehead pressed against mine when he finally breaks the kiss.
“Me, too,” I say, nodding.
“You know it’s going to kill me tomorrow, being with you all day and not being able to touch you?” he asks.
I do know. I’ve thought about him so many times over the last few days that I’m not sure where my memories of his sculpted body end and my fantasies about it begin.
“At least we’ll be together,” I say. “And it’ll be nice to meet your brother. I’m sure he’s got plenty of dirt on you.”
“Hey!” Greyson scolds, bopping me gently on the tip of my nose with the knuckle of his index finger. “No snooping!”
I laugh, and he pulls me away from the wall and takes my hand to walk me to the car. The way his fingers slide between mine, skin against skin, slotting perfectly, easily into place, is almost as intimate as the memory of him slotting between my thighs.
“See you tomorrow, then?” he says when we get to my car. He lifts my hand up and kisses it, then leans down to brush his lips lightly across mine again.
“Dinner at two,” I remind him. “Well, Sadie says that to get everyone there on time, but we normally eat closer to three. But don’t tell her I told you.”
Greyson grins and does a little two-finger salute. “Scout’s honor,” he says, and leans down to open the door for me to get into my car.
Chapter 14
Greyson
“Look who it is!” I grin as my brother and his wife, Emily, pull into the driveway and get out of their car. I keep my voice low—the kids are both in the back seat, fast asleep. “Welcome to the sticks.” I pull them both into a bear hug. I really have missed them.
“Wow,” says Ethan, looking up at the mansion with an appreciative nod. “The place is looking pretty good.”
“Yeah, it’s starting to come together,” I nod. “Can I get you two a drink? Tea? Water? Wine?”
Emily shakes her head. “Not for me. I’m going to get these two to bed and then turn in myself. Can you show us to our room, Greyson?”
“Sure,” I say, beckoning them into the house.
They each take one of the children from the backseat, carrying them gingerly into the house and up the stairs to their room. The kids barely stir—they must really be exhausted from the trip. Once the kids are tucked in and Emily has bid us goodnight, Ethan and I sit in the kitchen with two glasses of scotch.
“So how much work do you have left, you think?” he asks, looking around.
“Dunno,” I say, noncommittal, shrugging my shoulder. “A few weeks.”
Ethan eyes me across the table, one brow lifted, and then quietly sips his scotch.
“So you like her, huh?” he says.
Aaaaand now I remember what the downsides of having your older brother around are. They see right through your bullshit, even if you’ve managed to fool yourself. There’s no point in denying it or playing dumb, so instead my face just breaks into a wide grin.
“Oh man, you’ve got it bad, huh?” Ethan grins right back at me.
“She’s nice,” I say with a shrug.
“She’d have to be,” Ethan says. “I haven’t seen you this smitten since Olivia.”
As soon as he says that name, my smile drops.
Olivia was my first proper girlfriend. We were inseparable all through high school. She was beautiful and kind and funny and smart, and I ruined her. I know that sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth.
I didn’t have to go to college. Ethan had already started the company with some of our inheritance. I could have gone straight in after high school and started working my way up, stayed at home, stayed with Olivia. But I had this idea in my head that going off to college on your own was a rite of passage and a great adventure, and I wasn’t prepared to give that up. Not even for her. She begged me to stay. But I didn’t.
By the time I got back, Olivia was a shell of her former self. She’d fallen in with the wrong crowd, and all that was left of her was skin and bone, sunken eyes, and track marks. There was nothing I could do to save her. God knows I tried. For two long, soul-destroying years I tried. And then, after the umpteenth relapse and the umpteen-and-first tearful promise that next time would be different, I had to walk away for the sake of my sanity. Last I heard of her, she was living in some homeless shelter downtown and turning tricks for hits.
“G?”
I look up at him, snapping out of my reverie and forcing a smile.
Olivia was a long time ago. And maybe I’m starting to convince myself that it doesn’t have to be that way again. Maybe I do deserve to be happy. Maybe I’m not just destined to hurt people. I sure as shit don’t believe for a second that I’d ever hurt Allie or the girls.
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Yeah, she’s pretty special. It’s nothing official, though. We’re just getting to know each other, you know?”
Ethan nods. Much to my relief, he doesn’t press it any further.
“So I guess you won’t be back in the city until Christmas?”
“Probably not,” I say.
“Did you call Peterson yet?”
A wave of irritation rises in my gut at the mention of his name. At myself, that is. It’s not like me to put things off the way I’m putting off talking to Peterson, but every time Allie pops into my head, ten other things seem to fall out.
“No. I’ll do it.”
Ethan frowns at me a little. “He’s starting to get real impatient and he’s our biggest client, Greyson. I know he’s an asshole, but—”
“I’ll do it,” I insist again. Ethan pauses for a moment, giving me an uncertain look, and then changes the subject to football.
“Morning!”
Emily breezes into the kitchen the next morning and pecks a kiss on my cheek.
“Hey,” I grin. “Have a seat.”
“Something smells good,” she says, taking a deep sniff through her nose as she perches on the other side of the breakfast bar.
This kitchen may not be great for cooking a full Thanksgiving meal, but nobody can cook as much breakfast food in a single pan as me. They might as well crown me King of the Bachelors.
“It’ll taste even better, I gar-on-tee!” I say the last bit in an over-the-top French accent, and immediately smile as Allie pops back into my head. “Ethan and the kids coming down?”
“Yeah,” she says. “He’s helping them through an existential crisis about which socks to wear. They’ll be down in a sec.”
I laugh at the thought of Ethan wrangling the two kids upstairs. It’s so great to have them all here.
“So…” Emily continues, “We’re going to Allie’s for dinner, huh?”
“Is that your new girlfriend?” calls Leo, my nephew, entering the room. He’s seven, and the grin on his face tells me he finds this whole girlfriend thing hilarious.
“Morning, squirt,” I say.
“Greyson’s got a girlfriend! Greyson’s got a girlfriend!” he sings, skipping around in a circle.
His sister, Riley, is three. She doesn’t understand why Leo is so excited, but as soon as she sees him skipping around in a circl
e, she joins in.
“Come on,” says Ethan, entering the kitchen behind them. He looks just the way you’d expect a man who’s just refereed a sock battle to look. “Sit down at the table.”
He moves behind Emily and leans down to kiss the top of her head.
“Morning, sweetheart.” He looks up to me and nods. “Morning.”
“What, no ‘sweetheart’?” I grin back.
“Greyson’s got a girlfriend!” sings Ethan.
“Leo, Riley, sit at the table, please,” says Emily. “And stop singing.”
I turn to the stove and start moving things around with my spatula. There’s hash browns, sausages, tomatoes, and in a separate pan, I’m scrambling some eggs.
“So you do have a girlfriend?” asks Emily.
I turn around to stare at her, deadpan.
“Et tu, Emily? I thought you were on my side!”
“I’m on the side of the truth,” she grins, and I shake my head.
“Well it’s none of your business,” I say. “Any of you.” I point my spatula at Leo. “Especially you.”
He pokes his tongue out at me and blows a raspberry.
I start loading the food onto plates and flick the coffee machine on.
“We’re going to dinner at Sadie’s house,” I say. “That’s Allie’s sister-in-law. She invited me over when my flight was canceled, and then Allie asked if she could take a few more when I found out you guys were coming up.”
“That’s really nice of them,” says Emily.
“They’re nice people,” I say, and I mean it. It’s different here than in the city. And I mean, completely different. I get smiles from some of these people just passing them on the street that are wider and brighter than I’d get from neighbors I’ve seen every day for five years back home.
“So who else is gonna be there?” asks Ethan.
My Smalltown C.E.O. Scrooge: A Festive Romantic Comedy Page 10
