by Nina Lindsey
“You sure will.” He kissed her again and started for the door. As he pulled his keys from his pocket, he turned back to face her. “I’ve always wondered…exactly why do you hate the singing fish so much?”
Rory skated her gaze from him.
“When I…” She touched the plastic fish as memories rushed swiftly back to the surface. “You know I came back to Bliss Cove when my father died. Two weeks after we buried him, I spent the day helping my mother sort through his things, and then I went out for a walk. It was December fifteenth, and the whole town was decorated with all these bright lights and Christmas trees that seemed so wrong to me. I ended up at the Mousehole, and you brought me tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. It was the first time we met.”
“I remember.” Tenderness darkened his eyes. “I thought I knew everyone in Bliss Cove. Then I looked up and saw this stunning woman with long black hair sitting at the bar, and my heart almost went into a freefall.”
Her breath caught. “Really?”
“How could it not? But then I noticed that you looked so sad. Hollowed out, like you had nothing left inside you.”
“You started Bob singing and said you hoped it’d make me smile.”
“And you did.” His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he pressed a hand to his chest. “Your smile hit me right here. Then my heart did go into a freefall.”
Rory managed a smile, wiping her eyes. “When I went back to the Mousehole a couple of weeks later, I was…well, I was anticipating seeing you again because you’d made me feel good. Sally Gaines was at the bar and she must have asked you to start the singing fish because you did. And she got all giggly and flirty, and I…”
She shrugged, her face heating. “I got a little jealous. I guess I had some silly idea that you only wanted to make me smile, and then there you were playing the fish for Sally Gaines. Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that out loud.”
Grant blinked, a faintly stunned look rising to his eyes. Rory’s embarrassment deepened.
Suddenly he laughed, a warm rich chuckle that settled somewhere deep inside her. Before she could move, he pulled her against him again, securing his grip so tightly that she never wanted to leave the circle of his arms.
“I may have played the fish for Sally Gaines and any number of other women,” he murmured against her hair, “but you’re the only one I love, Rory Prescott.”
“Oh, you cannot do this to me now.” Tears spilled down her cheeks as her heart overflowed.
“I sure can.” He eased back to look at her, wiping her cheeks with his thumbs. “I only wish I’d done it sooner. Then maybe I’d still have Bob.”
She gave a watery laugh. “He’s mine now. But you can have me instead.”
“Best trade of my life.” He kissed her again. “Take care of yourself for me, okay?”
“I will. I promise.”
She watched him leave, waiting until the taillights of his truck had turned the corner and disappeared from sight before she closed the door.
Chapter 18
“Medium rare.” Winslow punched his finger at the order ticket. “That’s, like, burned, man. What’s the matter with you? Since when do you fuck up a steak order?”
Since Rory left.
“I’ll get another going.” Grant wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “Tell the customer we’ll comp his dinner.”
Winslow looked as if he was about to say something else, but then he turned and walked back to the dining room.
Grant tossed a raw steak on the grill. Fire and steam flared up around the meat.
In the week since Rory’s departure, he couldn’t get his brain to work right. Couldn’t seem to focus.
All he wanted was a few minutes’ break so he could call and talk to her, but he couldn’t bug her during the day at her new job, and at night she sounded so tired that they spoke for ten minutes before he ended the call so she could get some sleep.
Despite his promise to visit her, he couldn’t even pin down a date when he’d have time to drive up to San Jose. His employees had taken up a lot of slack when his parents had been in town, and he didn’t want to ask them to do it again. Not to mention, several were due for vacations and time off. Much as he wanted to be with Rory, the tavern and his employees had to be his first responsibility.
But not being able to see her, much less talk to her nearly as much as he wanted…he was almost tempted to go out a buy a damned phone so they could exchange shorthand texts with no punctuation and stupid emojis. At least that would be something.
He got through all the dinner orders without a disaster, and they closed everything down at eleven. Grant locked the door after the last employee left. He poured himself a whiskey and brought it back to his house.
Before he’d set the glass down, he called Rory on his landline. Her voicemail picked up.
He started to speak, then stopped and set the receiver down. She’d know it was him, and what could he say, anyway?
I miss you. I love you. Why does a hundred miles feel like a thousand?
He wanted to drive up this weekend, but a server and a chef were both out, and he’d be working from open to close both days. If he left right at midnight, he’d get a few hours with her before he’d have to be back in Bliss Cove by nine.
He’d do it, too, if he didn’t know that his showing up at her door at two in the morning would screw up Rory’s schedule. She’d probably be working, anyway. Not for anything would he interfere in her new job.
His phone rang, and he grabbed it like a man in a desert diving for a bottle of water. “Rory?”
“Hi. Sorry I missed your call. I was driving back.”
“From work?”
“Yes.”
“They’re making you work this late during your first week?”
“They’re not making me. I just am. We don’t have set hours, and I need to stay on top of things. So I come in early and leave late.”
Grant smothered the urge to warn her about burnout. “You’re not eating tube goo, are you?”
“Not yet.” A faint smile lit her voice.
“You like it there so far?”
“I think so. I love getting back into the work. I have to get accustomed to working with a team again, though. Oh, I meant to tell you your father and I have exchanged a few emails about the software for Mariposa Street. He’s sending a test version of a program to Hunter and the design team.”
“That’s great.”
“I thought it was good of him to follow through, especially given that he wasn’t all that thrilled about Bliss Cove in the first place.” She paused. “Have you talked to him at all?”
“No. We don’t have a lot to talk about.”
“You did okay when you were fishing, and when he came into the kitchen that one time.”
“One time.” Grant expelled a sigh. “I’m glad the visit went well, and I’m staying in touch with my mother, but my father and I aren’t suddenly going to become best friends. Or friends at all.”
“Maybe when you come up to visit me, we could take a quick trip to see them.”
“If you want to, sure.”
She hesitated, then said, “I want you to want to.”
“Rory.” Despite his instinctive resistance, his heart ached for her. She probably didn’t even realize that the undercurrent of her words revealed how much she missed her own father. Moving away from her mother and sisters must have brought her grief and loneliness sharply back to the surface.
All the more reason for him to bend time itself in order to be with her again.
“Maybe you and your father both need to try a little harder,” she urged. “For your mother’s sake, if nothing else. I mean, you and I have been apart for a week, and I miss you like crazy. I can’t imagine what your mother feels like with you having been so far away for years. You have this tendency to grow on people, you know. If you left Bliss Cove, the town wouldn’t know what to do with itself.”
A mixture of gu
ilt and tenderness stirred through him. “If I can swing a visit for longer than a day, then yes, we’ll stop and see my parents. Did I tell you I love you?”
She laughed, and the warm sound settled right underneath his heart. “You’re still not getting Bob back.”
“You haven’t thrown him away yet?”
“He’s hanging on the wall. He might be growing on me, too.”
“Does he still make you smile?”
“Not really, but he doesn’t make me frown either.”
“Well, that’s a start.”
They stayed on the phone for another hour, eventually veering off into dirty talk that left them both panting and a little sweaty. Grant caught a few hours’ sleep before waking to finish the payroll and inventory.
Close to nine, he went for a jog and ended up on the historic Mariposa Street, which Aria and Hunter had turned into a major project for both themselves and Bliss Cove. Hunter’s company, Monarch Enterprises, had spent the past six months consulting and partnering with architects, construction firms, historians, and structural engineers to assess every building in the district before they created a building and reconstruction plan.
“Morning, hon.” Destiny waved from the doorway of Moonbeams, her jewelry twinkling in the sunlight. “Joe brought me one of your pumpkin pies the other day, and it was scrumptious. If you don’t mind me saying so, it also proved to be something of an aphrodisiac.”
Grant grinned. “Good to know. I might have to put that in my advertising.”
“If you need a quote, just let me know.” She wiggled her fingers at him.
He lifted his hand and started back to Sunshine Road. A pure white cat blinked at him from the window of the Meow and Then Cat Café. He walked up the porch steps and went inside. Aria was standing on a stepladder, writing a list of bakery items on the chalkboard menu.
“Hi, Grant.” Dusting off her hands, she descended the ladder. “Did you run out of coffee?”
“No, but I’ll take one. Large, please.” He dug into his pocket for cash. “Nice not to have to make it myself.”
An image of Rory bringing him a cup of coffee appeared in his head. He put a ten on the counter. “A blueberry muffin, too.”
He shook his head at her attempt to give him change, and in response she added a croissant to the plate.
“Go have a seat in the Cat Lounge, and I’ll bring your food in after heating up the croissant.” She handed him a mug of coffee. “Hunter’s in there working. Don’t take his glower personally.”
Opening the door of the adjoining room, Grant blocked a tabby cat’s attempt to escape. About a dozen cats lolled on the sofas and chairs, stalked around the tables, and slept in the hideaways.
Hunter was sprawled on the sofa, his sock feet on the coffee table and a laptop balanced on one knee. An old, one-eyed orange cat with a fanged tooth and torn ear was stretched out beside him, his head resting on Hunter’s other knee.
“Hey, man.” Hunter lifted his chin in greeting. “What’re you doing here?”
“Just went for a jog.” Grant sank into an easy chair. “Are you looking at the software Rory sent you?”
“Yeah. She said your dad helped her out. Thanks for that.” Hunter frowned at his laptop screen and punched a few buttons. “It’s a pain in the ass, though, because I don’t know what a program is missing until I try and do something with it. Then I find out I can’t, and I have to email Rory to see if there’s a way to add it, or if there’s another program with that exact function.”
“My father didn’t come up with anything more innovative?”
“His recommendations were great, but not as comprehensive as I want.” Hunter closed the laptop and ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know if what I want even exists. I hate bugging Rory all the time, but she knows so damned much, and she always gets what I’m trying to explain, you know?”
“Yeah.” Grant swallowed some coffee, not sure if he should ask his next question but taking the plunge anyway. “You ever think of hiring her to work for Monarch?”
Hunter chuckled. “She was the first person I wanted to hire, but I can’t afford to pay her what she’s worth. At least, not long-term. She already did a crapload of work for free on the Mariposa Street database. Even if I could eventually pay her well, I don’t think she’d be interested in working with us.”
“Why not?” A spindly kitten butted its head against Grant’s leg. He bent to pick it up, and it promptly hooked its claws into his shirt.
“I asked her about the possibility, but she said historic restoration and development aren’t her areas of expertise.” Hunter scratched Fang behind the ears. “It’s a limited scope, too.”
Grant glanced through the adjoining window at the front room. “What has Aria said about it?”
“She’s all over the idea. She worships Rory.” Hunter pulled his feet off the coffee table and stretched. “But she also thinks Rory needs a variety of projects to keep her interested and to make the most of her skills. Anyway, it’s enough that she’s helping us find the right software. Again without pay.”
Aria came in with the muffin and croissant, which she set on a table beside Grant. She nudged Hunter’s arm and indicated the wall clock. “Meeting at ten. Don’t forget.”
“No, ma’am.” He stood and grabbed her hand, tugging her closer for a quick kiss.
After Hunter left, Grant finished his coffee and food with the kitten pawing at his shirt and crawling over his lap.
“That’s Button.” Aria stopped in again to refill his coffee. “She’d been adopted, but the family returned her to the Rescue House because they said she didn’t get along with their dog. So she’s looking for her forever home.”
“Her what?”
“The home where she can stay forever with a family who loves and wants her. She’s really friendly and curious. She’d be a great companion.”
Grant couldn’t help laughing. “Not afraid of the hard sell, are you?”
“Not when it comes to cats.” She straightened and smiled. “My sales pitch is truthful, though. And you’d be a great pet owner because you practically work from home. You’d be able to check on Button regularly to make sure she’s not lonely.”
“Much as I appreciate your cause, I’m not looking for a pet.” Grant plucked the weightless kitten from his shirt and set her back on the floor. She let out a little mew of protest. “I doubt you’ll have any trouble getting Button adopted.”
“Okay, but if you find yourself thinking about her a lot, you’ll know that she’s meant to be yours.” Aria picked up the plate and mug.
Grant thanked her again and left the café. If only that theory also applied to Rory.
Chapter 19
“Did you hear?” Douglas, one of the architects on the Systems Development Team, scooted his roller chair closer to Rory’s desk. Which was all of two inches, considering the office desks were crammed together like Legos in order to promote “collaborative ideation.”
“Hear what?” Rory kept her gaze on the computer screen.
Almost two weeks into her new job, the work was progressing well. She cautiously liked her other team members—Winkey-Face jerk aside, a mid-twenties guy named John who thankfully was working on a different project. For now.
Douglas seemed like a reasonably good guy, but Rory was keeping her guard firmly in place. He was one of six other people working on the cloud-based system that Rory had also been assigned.
“The C-suite approved a research team dedicated to developing cloud applications with built-in AI systems.” His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “They haven’t picked a project manager or a technical lead yet.”
Rory suppressed a surge of hope. “Well, neither one will be me. I just started working here.”
“Rumor has it you might’ve been hired with the Principal Engineer position in mind.” Douglas rubbed his scraggly goatee. “Obviously, we won’t know until it’s a done deal, but you’re being watched.”
&
nbsp; He nodded toward Brenda Davis, one of the few women in the company and the supervisor of the Systems Development Team. “Brenda’s in line for the manager slot. Stay alert.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“Can I have one of those?” Douglas indicated the open bag of Sour Patch Kids on her desk.
“Help yourself.”
He shook a few pieces of the candy into his palm and rolled back to his desk. Rory pulled on her noise-cancelling headphones, which was the only way she could disassociate herself from the surrounding activity.
Desks, chairs, and computers cluttered the open space of the Digicore office, which had been nicknamed The Hive. It was larger than an airplane hangar with concrete walls, exposed pipes, and only a narrow row of high windows. The ceilings created an echo from the hundreds of conversations zinging around.
Rory’s desk was smack dab in the middle of the chaos. She’d gotten accustomed to working in the silence of her own apartment in Bliss Cove, so it was jarring to be immersed in constant noise and activity—keyboard clicking, people talking, papers rustling, chairs squeaking, phones buzzing nonstop. Her headphones only went so far, as none of her new colleagues were above tapping her on the shoulder or nudging into her peripheral vision to get her attention.
She’d get used to it, she kept telling herself. The work itself was the most energizing part of her new environment—a hotbed of ideas about artificial intelligence, platforms and integrations, and endless possibilities for innovation.
If only she could somehow share this life with Grant. Their conversations at night were warm, but short-lived. His talk about the Mousehole and Bliss Cove created an ache of longing in her chest, and she frequently cut him short to avoid feeling lonelier than she already was.
Her responses to his queries about her life—had she found a favorite restaurant yet, visited the museums, gone to a show at the performing arts center—were always “not yet.” And recounting her workday was an exercise in sheer boredom.
The really pathetic part was that she had nothing else to talk about. Grant understood much of the minutiae of her work and never seemed bored when she discussed it, but he’d turned his back on technology long ago. Why would he be interested in listening to details about neuromorphic chips and GPUs?