Here With You Page 17

  Life was good. She didn’t need a master kisser and his evil mother ruining her plans.

  She could ruin them just fine all on her own.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  WITH ENOUGH SOUP IN the crockpot to last two nights, Grace hadn’t planned on going to Brady’s tonight. It wasn’t expected, and she’d sort of set up that routine anyway. When the meal was big, she skipped a night. When it was gobbled up in one sitting by Brady and Carter, she came back the next night with another dish.

  Secretly she’d wished she’d made a smaller pot of soup last night so she would have to come by again. Well, not have to. Brady had made it clear she wasn’t expected to do anything and had even tossed money in her face.

  The money would have helped her financial status. A lot. But it couldn’t buy the happiness cooking brought her.

  Grace snorted, hoping the woman in the dressing room didn’t overhear her. Imagine her saying that out loud.

  Money can buy happiness. It was why she needed to grow and expand her business. Sales had dipped, which was expected. With Black Friday specials planned in a few days, hopefully, she’d see some momentum before everything went static again.

  Winter months were planning months. In the spring she hoped to regain some of her investments. At times she’d felt like a cheap whore taking the money from Robert, but she didn’t let pride get in her way. She’d needed the cash, and he was an asshole. A win-win.

  The woman came out of the dressing room holding two dresses in one hand and a sweater and scarf in the other. Her Dooney and Bourke bag and her Burberry scarf were incongruous to this little section of Crystal Cove. It was what Grace had hoped she could lure into her shop, but at the same time offer something nice to those who preferred to wear jeans and work boots.

  “How did you do?”

  “You’re a terrible person,” the lady huffed, her generous diamond momentarily blinding Grace.

  Her chest caved in, and she rounded her shoulders at the reprimand. Backing away, she braced herself for another tirade of insults. Unlike Mrs. Marshall, this woman didn’t sound like she was going to go the passive-aggressive route.

  “I’m... I’m sorry.”

  “Oh. You should be. I’m going to give my husband your phone number when he gets the credit card bill.”

  Confused, Grace straightened. “I... I...”

  “Here.” The woman tossed the clothes in Grace’s arms. “Go ring them up. I have no need for those dresses. I don’t have anywhere to wear them. I’ll have to ask my husband to take me out, which he hates to do, just so I can show them off.”

  “Oh.” Realization set in, and Grace bit back a smile.

  “And then he’ll get annoyed with me because I’ll ask him if he thinks I should wear the navy or the plum.”

  Grace brought the clothes behind the counter with her and hung them on the rack so she could drape a garment bag over them.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in them. Arianna’s designs are fabulous, don’t you think? The cut of her dresses is flattering on almost every body type.”

  “Which is why I had to buy two of almost the exact same dress.”

  The plum had capped sleeves while the navy had lacey long sleeves; other than that, the style and hemline were identical. The sixty-something-year-old woman could pull off just about anything in the store, her figure curvy and in shape.

  “Our anniversary is in two weeks. It often gets overlooked with the holidays. I’ll tell Preston this is his gift to me. The dresses and dinner.”

  Grace scanned the tags and picked up the blouse and scarf. “Did you want these as well or should I put them back on the rack for you?”

  “Don’t you dare. I’ve been searching for a scarf with those colors. My girlfriends are going to be so jealous. The emerald green is simply stunning, don’t you think? And the traces of red woven through are just enough to make it festive without looking like a Christmas wreath. Brilliant design. Who is it, did you say?”

  “Arianna. She’s a Scottish designer.”

  “Those Scots know their green.”

  Grace totaled the order and read the amount.

  “It’s actually not that bad. I’d planned on going to Boston for a dress. You saved me money on gas and a hotel.” She handed Grace her platinum credit card.

  “I’m here to serve.”

  The woman, Delores Powell, signed her name on the receipt and tucked her credit card in her bag. “Do you have a business card? I don’t want my friends shopping here and stealing my clothes, but my daughter’s allowed.”

  Grace laughed and handed her a few cards. “You can tell your friends to shop online. I don’t have all the clothes in the store. Most are actually online.”

  “Well then. I’ll tell them to come here and keep your online store my secret.”

  “I appreciate whatever word of mouth you can give me. Let me help you carry these to your car.”

  “Nonsense. I’m not that old.” The bell chimed above the door, and both she and Delores looked up. “Well now. Looks like you have company. He’s obviously not here to shop unless it’s for a girlfriend. But, by the way he’s looking at you...” Delores purred as she walked off with her purchases.

  Brady held the door for her and laughed at whatever she said to him.

  “Sounds like one happy customer.”

  “I have a feeling I’ll be seeing her again.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  Grace squinted in confusion. Proud? Why? He wasn’t her father, wasn’t any relation, they weren’t in a relationship; he didn’t know any of the trials and hell she went through to get here. How could he be proud?

  Or was that one of those things he said to anyone? Like when you praise a toddler for their beautiful picture when you haven’t a clue what it’s supposed to be. She wasn’t a toddler. She didn’t need meaningless praise to make her or him feel better.

  That was what this was all about. Ass kissing to make up for his mother’s rudeness. And now that she thought back, he did the same after Alexis insulted her in front of him.

  “Yeah, well. I’m really busy right now.” He looked around the empty store. “With online stuff. Like you don’t have plants and stuff to worry about in the winter but you do other stuff. I may not have customers, but I have stuff to do.” She hoped she made sense and didn’t sound like the blundering idiot she was.

  No, that he was.

  “Grace.”

  Oh, how she hated how he said her name, all sweet and gentle, and with a layer of sexiness to it. She didn’t need to hear her name purr off his tongue.

  “Busy.” She opened her laptop and blinked her eyes into focus, bringing up her website.

  “Hey.” He closed the laptop, pinching her fingers inside.

  “Hey yourself.” She snatched her fingers away before he could do damage to her manicure.

  “You’re mad.”

  “I’m busy.”

  Brady leaned his elbows on the counter, bringing his hands together and resting his chin on top of them. “Talk to me.”

  “Like I said. Busy.”

  “I’m sorry about my mom. She’s not... she’s not herself lately.”

  “This has nothing to do with your mom.”

  “Then what?”

  “Busy.”

  “Grace.”

  The man was relentless with those smoldering eyes he so innocently used to stir up emotions in her head. Needing some space, she leaned against the wall behind her, bracing one foot on the baseboard.

  “We’re not a good match, you and me.”

  “Says who?”

  Everyone. Your mom. My sister. The world. “Me.”

  Brady stood to his full height and whipped his head back as if she’d slapped him. “I’m not good enough.”

  “What? No.”

  “At first I thought my job, my simple lifestyle was beneath you, and then you proved yourself to be more than that kind of girl.” He zipped up his coat and shook his hea
d in defeat, in disgust, in shame. She wasn’t sure which. Maybe all. “I guess I was wrong about you.”

  “No. It’s not you. It’s me.”

  Brady snorted and headed for the door. “Original.”

  She couldn’t let him walk away thinking he was the problem. “Brady. Wait.” He didn’t turn around. Grace pushed off the wall and ran after him, gripping on to his coat sleeve. “Please. Don’t go like this. It’s not what you’re thinking.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked, facing the door, staring blankly through the glass instead of looking at her.

  “I don’t have a problem with you. The problem is me.”

  “So you said.”

  “I’m not one to gush about my feelings to a guy. Especially a guy who...”

  “Who you’re not interested in.”

  “No.” She tugged him harder, forcing him to turn a smidge toward her. “A man I’m too interested in.”

  His eyes, filled with questions, met hers.

  Grace wasn’t ready for this. To open up. To reveal her thoughts, her secrets, her passions. If he knew too much he’d see her ugly skeletons. But if she didn’t tell Brady enough he’d think he was the problem.

  “I’m afraid once you get to know me better you won’t like me anymore.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Your mom has a beef with me already. I won’t ever be able to measure up to her high standards. I have a past I’m not proud of.”

  “Are you still living in the past or trying to make a future?”

  Sensing he wasn’t going to leave, Grace let go of his sleeve. “I’m trying to make a future. A good one. I believe I’ve changed, but there are people who won’t ever believe in me.” People close to him. Those in the fashion industry with connections to Robert and Brielle Powers.

  “One thing I’ve learned over the years is you can’t live your life for everyone else. You have to live it for yourself.”

  “You’re one of the lucky ones. You knew what you wanted to do with your life before you even graduated from high school. You’re kind and caring. Manners ingrained from birth. I’m... an embarrassment to you. To your family.”

  “If this is because of what my mother—”

  “Yes and no.” She held up her hands in question. “I don’t understand why you even want to be with me. We’re cut from two different swaths.” Grace stepped back needing her space. As long as he didn’t walk away thinking he was the problem, she could live with the decision to let the nicest man who ever entered her life slip through her fingers.

  “See. Now I think you’re fishing for compliments.” That Marshall grin was back, stirring up all kinds of trouble in places that hadn’t been touched in ages. A-ges.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I think,” he said, taking a step closer to her, “that you’re scared.”

  Hell yeah, she was scared. Scared he’d find out about her past. Scared he’d break her heart into a million pieces. “You have a lot on your plate right now.”

  “As do you.”

  “Not like you do.” She stepped back and bumped into the counter. “How’s your mother doing?” Bringing her up always seemed to darken the mood.

  Brady licked his lips, the predator in his eyes still zeroing in on her. “She feels bad for being so snippy and would like to invite you to Thanksgiving on Thursday.”

  “I highly doubt she wants me there at her table. I can bring a few dishes over for you though. Help with the turkey in the morning.” She made a mental note to buy a practice turkey tonight after work and scour the Internet for recipes and tips.

  “You’re not going to slave all day catering to us and not enjoy the food yourself.”

  “Brady.” She sighed. Needing space—and an object between them—she moved behind the counter. “My intentions were never to eat any of the meals I prepared. They were a gift to you and your family. A way for our family to help yours. That’s all.”

  “That’s all? Really?” He resumed his earlier position, elbows propped on the counter, chin resting on his hands.

  Looking away, she nodded. “I’ve been doing my mom a favor. It was her idea. Her suggestion.”

  “Did she suggest we kiss after each meal as well?”

  Grace gasped and jerked her glare at him. “You...”

  “What? Curious minds want to know. Was this your mother’s way of setting us up?”

  “Of course not! She had no idea anything would come of me bringing you guys food.”

  “So it’s fate.”

  “I wouldn’t call it that.” Fate was too strong a word. Fate had never been in her favor.

  “What would you call it then?”

  “Boredom?”

  “I’m not bored. You?” He shifted so his palm cupped his chin.

  “You’re a difficult man to talk to, Brady Marshall.”

  “I’m actually as straightforward as they come. I don’t say things I don’t mean. I don’t do things I don’t agree with. And I don’t waste my time on lost causes.”

  Like a panther scoping out his prey, Brady slowly prowled around the counter, trapping Grace between him and the wall.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked.

  “Do I bore you, Grace?” She shook her head. “Do you want me to back off? To leave you alone?”

  She licked her lips, and her heartbeat quickened when his gaze dropped to her mouth.

  “I don’t...”

  “I’ll walk away. Just say the word. If you don’t want to pursue us, to see where things can lead, tell me now,” he said, his voice soft and raspy and not at all forceful.

  Yet the force from his eyes, the heat from his body, all but made her forgotten parts explode.

  “Grace. You’re a saint!” Lily said excitedly as the door chimed and a cold rush of air blew into the shop. “Oh. Brady. Grace. Hi. I, uh, I’ll come back.”

  “I was just leaving,” Brady said, moving away from her. “Thanksgiving. Yes or no?”

  Grace’s breath quickened. “I...” she glanced over at Lily, who had an enormous grin on her face. “I...” and back to Brady with an impatient and worried tick in his brow. “Okay.”

  The worry turned to victory. He leaned in and gave her a peck on the lips.

  “Oh.”

  “I’ll be at the hospital all day tomorrow with Mom. They’re running more tests. I’ll call you tomorrow night to figure out dinner details.” He gave her a chaste kiss again and spun on his heels. “Nice to see you again, Lily.”

  “You too, Brady.”

  Grace and Lily watched as he walked out the door and took a right toward the parking lot.

  “What. Just. Happened?” Lily squealed and rushed behind the counter. “You and Brady? I had no idea. You two are adorable!” She jumped up and down while hugging Grace.

  “Easy.” She placed her hands on Lily’s shoulders, stopping her from bouncing anymore. “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal?” Lily clutched at her chest. “That man’s got it bad. Holy hotness. I’ve never seen his eyes go so dark. You sly thing you.” She swatted the air between them. “And here I was feeling bad you’d be all alone on Thanksgiving. Ty told me Alexis and Ben are going away tomorrow. I came over to invite you to Ty’s parents.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing for Thanksgiving.” Grace ran a hand down her hair, smoothing it from Lily's excitement. And Brady’s kisses.

  “Brady just said—”

  “He invited me over. To make dinner for them.”

  “I’m sure he wants you over for more than just dinner.” Lily giggled. “Dessert too.”

  “Oh, shut up.” Grace couldn’t help but laugh as well. “This thing with Brady... it’s new, and I don’t know where it’s going.”

  “From what Ty’s said, Brady’s never had a long-term girlfriend.”

  “Which is why I don’t think we’re good for each other.”

  “You think he isn’t relationship material? I th
ink he hasn’t found the right one yet.”

  “No. The exact opposite. I think he is relationship material. I, however, am not.”

  “So take things slow. See what happens. Brady wouldn’t be kissing you in public if he didn’t like you. A lot. From what I’ve seen, he’s a lot like Ty. Private. Keeps to himself. Loyal. Good boyfriend material.”

  “I’m not doubting that.”

  “You’re doubting yourself.”

  “I’m doubting the concept of us. I’m in it for a quick fling.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “I’m not really good at that kind of stuff. Communicating.”

  “I think you want more than a fling.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “The way you turned all mushy when he kissed you,” Lily teased, wiggling her hips with jest.

  “You’re all caught up in lovey-dovey la-la land and are seeing life through rose-colored glasses. It was a kiss. Sure, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with the man. If he wants more than that, I’m out.”

  Now why couldn’t she lay it all on the line like that with Brady? Instead, she let his sweet lips and intense eyes talk her into something more. When he called tonight to discuss dinner, she’d tell him how she really felt.

  Sex only. No relationship. Take it or leave it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  GRACE DISCONNECTED her phone and tossed it on the kitchen counter. So much for telling Brady she only wanted him for sex. When he called Tuesday night, he filled her with accolades and told her stories about fighting off the mother hens in his chicken coop; she couldn’t tell him she only wanted him for sex.

  Hell. She loved talking to him on the phone. Loved sitting across from him at dinner. Loved being on the receiving end of his kisses.

  They planned Thursday’s dinner with a list of recipes and another list of ingredients. Still new to the cooking game, she didn’t feel comfortable preparing all the food at his house, under his mother’s watchful eye.

  He wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but she only agreed to come if she could make the mashed potatoes at home. He and his mother would start the turkey and stuffing in the morning, and she’d come over with the potatoes.