Here With You Read online

“The British.”

  “Did you like it? Living in Italy and France?”

  Talking about her time in Europe would only remind Brady of how far apart their lives, their worlds were. Which could be a good thing. They weren’t right for each other, and acting on the chemistry sizzling between them would be stupid.

  Things wouldn’t work out, and Alexis would blame her for ruining Brady.

  “I did.” For the most part. Up until the last year. “The wine was amazing in Italy.”

  “Your parents had said you were touring vineyards and learning from the best. Did you enjoy it?”

  “Some of it.” She measured the baking powder and dumped it in the bowl. “The sampling, yes. I didn’t like working in the vineyard at home and didn’t care for it in Italy either. Dressing up and playing hostess and barmaid was more my thing.”

  There. Take that, lust. Tuck those gorgeous eyes away, and stop looking at me like I’m a brownie bowl and you want to lick me.

  “So when did you decide fashion was your thing?”

  Was that genuine interest in his voice or small talk while he waited for pie?

  “I attended school in Italy. I guess you could compare it to an online vocational school. Majored in liberal arts. I’m not one to commit to anything, you know?” She looked up from the brownie bowl, anticipating a condescending brow. Nothing. Poker face. She continued scraping the batter into the pan. “A few classes here, a few classes there. I gave Italy my all, but it wasn’t anything I wanted to do long term. Enter Paris.”

  “I can picture you in Paris.”

  “Yeah?” She licked the rubber spatula and tossed it in the sink. Eyeing the oven, she realized she forgot to preheat it. Eh. She’d just tack on a few extra minutes to the cooking time. She set the temperature and placed the brownie pan in it.

  “Sure. It looks good on you.”

  Wiping her hands on her sweats... oh God. Her sweats. Grace looked down at her shirt where Paris was written out in all caps under the Eiffel tower. Two pebbles beaded out on either side of the tower.

  Shit. No bra. Brady looking so sexy and smug across the kitchen. She crossed her arms, tucking her hands under her armpits and dashed off to her bedroom.

  The full-length mirror laughed at her reflection. Hair a mess, headlights shining their high beams at anyone who passed—who happened to be Brady—and the most unflattering sweats she owned. She had no butt in them, lost under the baggy folds of soft material.

  To change now would only make it looked like she cared, which could go one of two ways. Brady would remember how shallow and superficial and totally wrong she was for him, or he would think she was dressing up for him.

  Neither appealed to her. Grabbing the nearest bra, she strapped it on and tugged her shirt over her head. The temptation to fix her bun was at the tip of her fingers. Tucking her loose strands behind her ears instead, took a closer look in the mirror.

  She gasped in horror and ripped the zit strip off her nose. Completely mortified, she contemplated not leaving her bedroom. Instead, she took a few calming breaths and strolled to the kitchen with the pretense of being cool, calm, and collected.

  Brady had two plates and two forks on the table. “I helped myself to your cabinets. Don’t tell my mom. She’d be ashamed of my manners.”

  Not wanting to bring up the painful topic of his mother, she continued with distracting him. “I don’t have a real pie server or ice cream scoop. A knife and a spoon will have to do.” She handed him each and turned to the freezer for the ice cream.

  “Works for me. Do you want your pie warmed up?” he asked as he sliced through the perfect looking crust.

  “Duh.” She took the plates from him and put them in the microwave. “I’m assuming you want yours warm as well.”

  “Warm is good. Hot is better.”

  Oh, it was definitely getting hot in here. His comment didn’t seem to affect him in the least. Sweat broke out across her back and under her arms. Attractive and dignified she was not.

  The microwave dinged, and she took out their plates. Brady topped them with healthy scoops of ice cream and slid one across the table in front of the empty seat.

  “Thanks.” She cut her fork into the pie and slid it through the melting ice cream. “Ohmygawd,” she said around a mouthful of amazingness. “Thisissogood.”

  “They sell like crazy. Carter and I have to hide some in the freezer or she’ll put them all out for customers.” He took a healthy bite and nodded. “Good.”

  “Can’t she just make more?” Grace dropped her fork and covered her face with her hands. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “It’s just... I don’t know your mom very well, but any encounter I’ve had with her over the years she’s always been so... strong.” Strong-willed and sharp-tongued as well.

  “I know.” She heard the clink as Brady dropped his fork. He rubbed her forearms and spoke softly. “I think that’s why this is so hard. My mom has been our rock. She’s not one to let a cold slow her down. Being helpless is killing her.”

  Grace dropped her hands and gasped. “She’s not—”

  “Bad choice of words. On a positive note, her doctors see no reason why she won’t make a full recovery. They believe they caught the cancer before it spread, but she’ll need to have a lot of follow up appointments.”

  “How many more chemotherapy treatments does she need?”

  “She’s scheduled for five more.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. She thinks she’ll be back to her full strength by spring planting.”

  “Will she?”

  He picked up his fork and played with his pie. “Knowing my mom, yeah. I guess it depends how bad this kicks her spirits. Last week she fought through the pain. Yesterday and today?” Brady shook his head.

  “She’s lucky to have you and Carter by her side.”

  “I feel bad.” He took a bite of dessert and swallowed. “I’ve always been a homebody. The walls never felt like this. Like they’re closing in around me. Even in winter when I can’t be out on the fields, I enjoy coming home after a day or night of plowing and sitting back in our old-fashioned living room with a book.”

  “You read?”

  “I am literate.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “I know. I’m kidding.”

  At least she got the glimmer back in his eyes. Wait. That wasn’t her intent. She didn’t want to see him sad over his mother either.

  Remembering the brownies—and that she’d forgotten to set a timer—she got up and checked on them. They seemed cooked enough, so she set them on the stove and returned to her seat across from Brady, enraptured by his stories.

  “Besides plowing for the town, what else do you do when the ground is frozen and covered with snow?”

  They talked over pie—seconds for her and thirds for him—and laughed at silly tales he told her from growing up on the farm. When her laugh turned into a yawn, Brady stood, picking up their plates.

  “I didn’t mean to keep you up so late.”

  Grace squinted to read the clock on the oven. Almost midnight and they hadn’t left the kitchen. She couldn’t remember a time she sat across from a sexy man and talked the night away.

  “I’m not the one who has to be on call all night.” Noticing the brownies on the stove, she took out some foil and covered the pan. “Here. Take these with you.”

  “I couldn’t...”

  “I was planning on bringing them over with dinner tomorrow night anyway.”

  “You’re coming over for dinner?” Brady paused, one arm in his coat sleeve, the other holding on to the zipper.

  “Bringing you dinner.”

  “You’ll need to stay. Eat with us.”

  Grace worked her bottom lip between her teeth. “That wasn’t my intent.”

  “Don’t make me eat another meal alone with my brother. You’d be doing me a favor.”

  She remembered the w
alls closing in remark from earlier in the night. All night they bounced from one topic to another, never digging too deep in one direction.

  Grace read between the lines. He was lonely. And sad. And emotionally drained. She recognized the vacant and sad stares, the exhausted shoulders. The way he easily perked up with the mention of company. She’d done the same when Lily, Hope, and the girls befriended her.

  “I suppose I can stay. I’ll make sure to sample dinner before bringing it over.”

  “I’m sure whatever you make will taste amazing. We’re grateful you’re helping us out.”

  Grace handed him the brownies and followed him to the door. “Thank you for the pie. I’m not going to even attempt to make one. Hopefully, my brownies didn’t turn out like crap. You’ll have to let me know.”

  Brady leaned in, brushing his lips across hers. “We’ll sample them together tomorrow night.”

  “You don’t have to wait.”

  “It’ll be worth it.” He kissed her softly again. “Apple and vanilla. Much better.” With a wink and a chuckle, he let himself out of her apartment.

  Grace touched her lips with her fingers. Apple and vanilla. Yes. Much, much better.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  THE LAST PERSON GRACE expected to see knocking on the glass door to The Closet was her sister. Not only did Alexis have no time for her, but she was a tomboy at heart. Jeans, flannel, and sweatshirts were her go-to outfits.

  “I went to your apartment first.” Ah. That explained it. Not the visit, but why her sister stood in the middle of a boutique.

  “I’m not technically open today. Needed to get out of the apartment though. I feel more inspired when I’m here.”

  “Sure,” Alexis said with a shrug, sounding like she didn’t understand or care what Grace meant.

  “Hey. How’s my favorite niece?” Grace stepped around the counter and knelt in front of Sophie. Despite Alexis’ effort to sway her from all things girly, Sophie was a princess at heart.

  “I’m Cinda-lella today.” She twirled around, her poofy tutu style skirt billowing around her tiny frame.

  “And Cinderella never looked so beautiful. Come give your auntie some love.” Grace opened her arms, and Sophie leaped into them.

  Ah. The smell of baby shampoo and Goldfish. “What are you and Mommy doing today?” She’d have better luck talking to an almost three-year-old than to her sister.

  “Mommy and me are going to wunch.”

  “Are you having lunch at Hope’s restaurant?”

  Dark curls bobbed up and down. “I’m having mac and cheese.”

  “Which is why we don’t go out to eat all that often. It costs me sixty-five cents if I make it at home.”

  “I’m sure Hope gives you a friend discount.”

  “I don’t mooch off my friends.” Alexis hiked the diaper bag higher on her shoulder. “Sophie’s naptime will be here before we know it. I only have a sec. I need to talk to you about something.”

  Of course, she didn’t come by for a social visit. “We wouldn’t want to mess with Miss Sophie’s nap.” Grace rubbed her nose against her niece’s and set her down when she started to wiggle.

  If Alexis mentioned anything about Brady, she’d... kick her out. Not that there was anything to discuss.

  “Ben’s surprised me with a quick family getaway.”

  “That’s good. You never leave the vineyard.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s only for two days, and Mom and Dad won’t be back until Christmas.”

  She couldn’t be asking Grace to help out at the vineyard. She didn’t know anything about it.

  “We’re leaving next Wednesday and will be back Friday night. Ben promises the vineyard will be fine for a few days without us there.”

  Phew. Narrow escape. “Have fun. Where are you going?”

  “Not far. Canada, near Niagara.”

  “Is that where those vineyards you like so much are? The ones that showed you how to make ice wine?” See? She paid attention. She could be a decent sister.

  Alexis looked at her with surprise. “Yeah.”

  “Need me to watch Sophie?” That could be fun. Auntie and princess sleepover for a few nights.

  “No. She’s coming with us.”

  “Well... have fun.” What else could she say?

  Alexis blinked and jerked her head. “You’ll be... okay?”

  “Sure.” It wasn’t like she’d even notice if her sister had gone on vacation. The only time they saw each other was at book club meetings and when their mutual friends had get-togethers.

  “We’re not meeting next week anyway because—oh. It’s Thanksgiving.” So now her parents and sister would be away. They hadn’t talked about the holiday yet. Had Alexis been around, Grace wasn’t sure she’d be invited to her Thanksgiving table anyway.

  “I didn’t know if you had any plans.” Alexis shifted the bag again. Could it be she actually cared about Grace?

  “I hadn’t thought about it yet. Don’t worry about me though. You three have a good time.”

  Alexis darted her gaze around the store, her fingers intertwining and playing together as if nervous to be with Grace. They had their issues, more than the usual sister issue crap.

  Besides being totally opposite and having none of the same interests, Alexis seemed to despise Grace. Similarly to how Brady used to look at her. He’d gotten past whatever his beef was with her, but Alexis still snubbed her nose down—or up, since Grace was five inches taller—at her.

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Mad?” No. Disappointed, yes. “Were you expecting me to have a hissy fit or something? I’m not a toddler upset about missing out on mac and cheese. No offense, Sophie,” she said to her niece, who was playing obliviously with a pair of four-inch stilettos.

  “Turkey and stuffing is a far cry from mac and cheese.”

  “Mom’s mac and cheese or the boxed stuff?” This elicited a smile from her sister. “There’s always work to do. I can conference call with my girls since they don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

  “Lily? She’ll be with Ty’s family. Hope has—”

  Grace’s voice hitched. “Not them.” Wow. Alexis interpreted my girls as their mutual friends. Maybe she didn’t hold her in content. “Arianna, Kendall, Lacey, and Maria. They’re my top designers and live overseas. No Thanksgiving for them.”

  “Oh. I didn’t realize.”

  Because she never listened. Grace had explained the situation a few times over dinner at their parents’ house. Alexis was there. So was Ben. He listened, asked questions, offered tips.

  “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’ll keep busy. You guys have fun.” She turned her back on her sister to scout out her curly topped niece. “Bye, princess. Eat lots and lots of mac and cheese, okay? Next to Gramma’s, Hope’s is the best.”

  “I want mac and cheese now.”

  “You don’t want to keep a toddler in waiting.” Grace took Sophie’s hand and led her to the door.

  “Toddlers need to learn to wait,” Alexis said from behind. The edge wasn’t as sharp in her voice, but it was still there.

  “Waiting is good. Teaches you patience.”

  “Since when have you had patience?” And here came the claws.

  Keeping her tone even, Grace held the door for her sister and her niece. “I’ve changed a lot over the years, Alexis. I’m not the same girl I was when I left Crystal Cove. Maybe someday you’ll see me for who I am today.”

  She turned away and went back into her store, hoping her sister would see the light and take the time to get to know the new Grace.

  With her creative mojo now in the crapper, she powered down her laptop and zipped up her winter coat. She needed to start the prep work for dinner anyway.

  An hour later, she sampled the most amazing chicken tetrazzini. It wasn’t a dish her mother had ever made, so she didn’t have to worry about measuring up there, not that her parents or sister were around to sample.

  Hopefully, Mrs. Marsha
ll didn’t have this on her repertoire. If she cooked like she baked, there’d be no impressing Brady. Or Carter.

  Her meals weren’t supposed to be about impressing; they were to help out a family in need. In emotional need. Not something easy to assist with. If food helped, and by the look on Brady’s face it seemed to, she had no problem providing the support.

  His kiss last night was anticipated yet unexpected. All night she oscillated between wanting to push him away and wanting to bury him under the covers with her and cuddle forever.

  It was loneliness that drove him to her, and she didn’t want to take advantage of that. What else could he find attractive in her?

  Needing to put some distance between them, she sent Carter a text asking if he had time to take a look at her website tonight. He texted back immediately with a thumbs up emoji.

  Carter could play interference and babysitter all in one. Satisfied she wouldn’t manipulate or take advantage of Brady’s weakness anymore, she covered the tetrazzini and added it to the tote bag with the rolls and bagged salad.

  Ten minutes later she stood on the Marshall’s back porch and knocked on the door. No one came. She rapped her knuckles again.

  Nothing.

  It was too cold to leave the dinner on the porch, but she didn’t want to not leave it. Trying the doorknob, she paused when it twisted. Should she let herself in? The lights were on upstairs and down the hall where Mrs. Marshall slept.

  If she was in pain Grace would slip out, hopefully undetected. Taking a chance, she pushed at the sticking door and stepped into the dark kitchen, closing the door behind her.

  The chicken dish was still warm so she set it on top of the oven along with a box of noodles still needing to be cooked. She found a tiny notepad stuck to the side of the fridge and a pen in an old coffee cup at the end of the counter.

  Scribbling down heating directions for the food, she caught movement behind her.

  “Now there’s a site for sore eyes.” Carter flipped on the kitchen light, momentarily blinding her.

  Blinking away the shock to her pupils, she glanced up at Carter. Shirtless, hair still wet from a shower, and looking sexy as sin. Only his naked torso didn’t cause any stirring inside. He was nice to look at though. Very nice.