Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel)

by Brogan, Tracy

  “We didn’t even know if you’d make it to the wedding,” Donna continued. “Your brother said he’d tried to call you weeks ago but couldn’t get through. Oh, he’ll be so glad to see you.”

  Grant looked around the house as if taking in all the knickknackery of his childhood home, and Delaney found herself wondering just how long it had been since he’d been back to Bell Harbor. Judging from his mother’s behavior, it had been quite a while.

  “I’ve been pretty deep in the jungle, Mom,” Grant answered. “Not much cell reception when you’re thirty miles from the nearest tower.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course. Now let me look at you.” Donna cupped his face with both hands. He was a good head taller so she had to reach up. It was a sweet moment, mother and son, and Delaney felt like an intruder, but Grant had been pretty insistent she come along. Probably so that as soon as she got her money, she’d leave.

  “Look at that face,” Donna said, smiling, turning his head one way and then the other. “Oh, my, how I’ve missed that face. Except for the beard, you look just like your father.”

  Grant caught her hands with his own and moved them away. Probably because his mother seemed just on the verge of pinching his cheeks. “It’s nice to be home, Mom. You look good.”

  “Oh.” She reached up and fluffed her short blonde hair. “You’re sweet. Isn’t he sweet, Carl?”

  Delaney turned to find a tall, lanky, white-haired man leaning against the counter, wearing a fuzzy blue bathrobe over black-and-red flannel pajama pants. He lifted a can of soda by way of a greeting. “Nice to see you again, kid. Sure has been a while. Can I interest anyone in a sloe gin fizz?”

  “Oh, Carl, don’t be so silly. No one likes those.” Donna waved her hand, shushing him.

  He cocked a white eyebrow. “Amaretto sour, then? Phil Collins?”

  “It’s a Tom Collins,” Donna said, then turned back to her son and Delaney. “How about coffee?”

  Delaney stole a glance at Grant. Was she supposed to stay? Take the money and run? What was the etiquette here? One thing she did know was that she had a deplorable lack of options overall. If the house really belonged to him, the contract she’d signed was null and void. Which was made doubly irrelevant by the fact that she was pretending to be something, and someone, she was not. But the money was legally hers and they were obligated to return it.

  “Coffee, sure,” Grant said. He pulled out a scarred wooden chair for Delaney. OK. She was supposed to stay. At least for a while longer.

  Donna’s hands smoothed the front of the peach cardigan. “So, I see you two have met, obviously. That must have been a bit . . . interesting.”

  “You could say that,” Grant said, sitting down next to Delaney. “Did it occur to you to tell me you were planning to rent my house?”

  Donna’s cheeks flushed. “We tried to tell you, honey, but it was so hard to get ahold of you. You could call more often, you know.”

  Carl sat down on the other side of Delaney. “Have you ever tried a sloe gin fizz? They’re delicious.”

  “Not now, Carl,” Donna said, resting a hand on his shoulder before turning to fuss with the coffee pot. “Anyway, we tried to tell you, Grant, but the point is, you didn’t know. So I guess you’ll have to find another place to stay for a while. Your sisters are coming home for the wedding, and of course my sister Tina will be arriving soon, but I suppose you could sleep on our couch.”

  He didn’t look too happy about that suggestion.

  Delaney hiccupped.

  “Or,” Grant said slowly, “we could give Elaine her rent money back and she can find a different place to live. I’m for that option. So please tell me you still have it.”

  His mother seemed very focused on those coffee filters all of a sudden, and a pressure began to build inside Delaney’s lungs, as if she’d lounged for too long inside a steam bath.

  “Have what?” Donna asked.

  “Her rent money.”

  His mother turned around slowly. “Not exactly.”

  “What does not exactly mean?” he asked.

  “It means no. I don’t have it. I spent it.”

  The pressure expanded and Delaney’s next hiccup was actually painful. Of course this woman had spent her money. Because why should this current streak of bad luck stop now?

  “All of it?” Grant’s voice took on an edge. “You spent six months of rent money in just four days? How? At the casino?”

  “No.” Donna looked indignant, then chagrined. “Well, yes. A little of it, but not all of it. There have been wedding expenses, you know. Plus I wanted to get Tyler and Evie something really nice as a gift. Your brother has done so much for Carl and me, you just have no idea. Of course you wouldn’t because you’re never around. But everyone keeps telling me I have to pay for things and not just take them, so this time I used real money. It’s a wonderful present. Tyler and Evie are going to love it.” She took a big breath and plucked a coffee filter from the stack. “But yes, the money is gone.”

  Delaney clenched her fists under the table. Gone, gone, gone. The money was gone and so was all her hope for a fast resolution to this latest dilemma. Every dollar she had left was in her backpack, and although it was certainly enough to keep her head above water for a few months or maybe more, being out six grand was a big dent in her finances.

  Grant wiped both hands across his face, pressing his fingers against his temples for a full five seconds. Delaney looked at Carl.

  He mouthed the words, “Sloe gin fizz?”

  She shook her head but wondered if she should say yes. She could use a drink right about now.

  Grant let his arms fall to the table with a thump, and he sighed. “OK, Mom. Then we can just return whatever you bought them and get a refund from the store, because Elaine needs her money back. She needs to find another place.”

  Yes, she did need to find another place, and she did need that money back. Maybe the paparazzi’s interest in The Scandal would wane soon, but until it did, going home to Beverly Hills was not on Delaney’s list of viable options.

  Donna’s face flushed a rosy shade of I’m in trouble as she popped the filter into the coffeemaker. “Return the gift? Well, I don’t really expect we can return it.”

  A muscle twitched in Grant’s jaw, and his fingers drummed on the table. “Can’t return it? Why? Is it monogrammed?”

  “No, but it might be branded.”

  “Branded? What the hell did you buy them?”

  Donna opened the can of coffee and scooped up some grounds. “A cow.”

  Grant’s mouth dropped open in tandem with Delaney’s but he recovered slightly faster while she was still trying to breathe.

  “A cow?” he said.

  “Yes. A cow.” Donna turned and faced them squarely. “Evie is always talking about how unhealthy meat products are these days, what with all the hormones and bad feed and all that. And my friend, Dody Baker, she said she’d recently bought herself a cow that gets fed only fresh green grass and it gets to live on a farm until its time comes. A happy cow. And I thought, what a nice present.”

  “A cow,” said Carl, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the table. “This is news to me. Or should I say moos?”

  “You take that nasty smoke outside, Carl,” Donna said.

  He nodded and lit the cigarette anyway.

  Grant leaned forward toward his mother and splayed his hands out on the tabletop. “OK, so how much did the cow cost?”

  Donna avoided his stare and put another scoop of coffee in the maker, snapping the lid shut. “Well I couldn’t just buy them the cow without getting them the freezer too. That’s really where the money went. In the freezer.”

  “That’s what I call cold cash,” Carl murmured to no one in particular.

  Delaney might have laughed if she hadn’t been so transfixed by the oddity of it all
. If anyone needed a reality show, it was these people.

  “You bought them a cow and a freezer.” Grant’s voice was flat. He didn’t sound all that shocked, but Delaney thought a slaughtered cow and a freezer to keep it in was quite possibly the grisliest wedding present ever. Maybe it was a Midwestern thing.

  “Does Tyler know that’s what you bought them?” Grant continued.

  “Of course not. I want it to be a surprise. So don’t you tell him either.” She turned to fill the coffee pot with tap water, talking even as her back was to them. “You know, this is partly your own fault, Grant. The house only belongs to you because your grandfather’s dying wish was that you’d move back home and rejoin this family. But you didn’t do that, did you? No. You just kept gallivanting around the globe and shunning us.”

  Grant popped back in his chair as if he’d been cuffed on the chin. His cheeks flushed. At least the little bit Delaney could see above the facial scruff. There were broad currents of family history here, and it piqued her curiosity, but at the moment she was just a spectator.

  “I wasn’t gallivanting, Mom. I was working. And I wasn’t shunning anyone either.”

  Donna turned back so fast that water splashed from the pot. “The hell you weren’t. You’ve been mad at me ever since the day I married Hank. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

  Hank? Who the hell was Hank? Delaney stole another glance at Carl.

  He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth without moving his top lip. “Hank, second husband. I’m number three. Third time’s a charm.” He nodded at Delaney, looking for her agreement. She smiled weakly, because really, what else could she do? She shouldn’t be here right now. She had more than enough of her own family drama to contend with. She didn’t need to be a part of this one. She just wanted her money.

  Grant sighed beside her. “Mom, this isn’t the time for that discussion. Right now we have to figure out where to get the money to pay back Elaine and get her out of my house.” Grant’s gaze passed from his mother to Carl. “I don’t suppose you have any money?”

  Carl shook his head, not looking the least bit concerned. “Nope, sorry, kid, but I’d be happy to make you a beverage. I find that most problems are more easily solved after everyone has enjoyed a cocktail.”

  Delaney felt inclined to agree but decided to keep her mouth shut. If only she’d done that with Boyd she wouldn’t be in this mess now.

  “Do you have any money, Grant?” Donna stepped forward, ignoring her husband and apparently forgiving her son for the shunning and the gallivanting. She put her hand on Grant’s arm. “Maybe you could pay Elaine and then I could pay you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have an extra six grand lying around, Mom. Most of my cash is tied up in a work project right now, and until Blake decides to stop being an asshole, I can’t get my hands on any of it. He wants to sue me for breach of contract.”

  His mother pulled her hand back and pressed it to her heart, but her sigh wasn’t despondent. It was full of infatuation instead. “Oh, that Blake Rockstone. What a fella.”

  “Did you not just hear me say he wants to sue me, Mom? He’s an asshole.”

  Delaney had only seen Grant’s TV show once or twice, and she’d thought the host was about as engaging as a Styrofoam cup. He had the same overprocessed quality too. She recognized Botox when she saw it, and he’d had plenty.

  “Please don’t use profanity in my home, young man,” Donna scolded. “That’s a quarter in the swear jar for you.”

  Grant ran a hand through his hair, messing it up even more than it had been before. “Add it to my tab. In the meantime, give me the information you have on the cow and the freezer and I’ll see what I can do about getting a refund.”

  Donna shook her head. “You’ll do no such thing. That’s my gift to Tyler and Evie.”

  Exasperation finally filled his voice and stretched it thin. “Mom, I’m sure that Ty and this Evelyn person will understand the circumstances.”

  His mother came forward and pulled out the angry-mom finger point, waving her hand so close to his nose she nearly touched it. “No, you don’t understand, Mr. Smarty-Pants. That house sat empty for months after your grandfather died with no word from you at all. Tyler didn’t want to live there but he did, just so he could do the upkeep on the place in case you came home. He cut the grass and shoveled the snow, and he even painted the whole inside. We would have asked you about it, but you never return calls. Half the time, you don’t answer e-mails. You’re next to impossible to get ahold of, and it didn’t make sense to leave it sitting empty, so I rented it.” His mother stood back up and crossed her arms, defiant, satisfied she’d made her point. “I took this nice young lady’s money in good faith and promised her she’d have a place to live for six months. So you’ll just have to find yourself someplace else to go until her lease is up. Maybe that’ll teach you to call your mother once in a while.”

  “That went well,” Elaine said as they climbed back into her little piece of shit Volkswagen that he could hardly fit his legs into. It was dark and cold, just like his mood.

  Grant didn’t respond. His ears were still ringing from the shellacking he’d just received from his mother. Apparently there was some resentment built up there, but what did she expect from him? She’d married Hank just months after Grant’s father had died, and Hank, that SOB, had made it perfectly clear there was no room in the house for Grant after that. So he’d left.

  Then Hank took off, and Carl showed up. Grant was busy working by then and trips home were harder to schedule. He’d been back a handful of times over the years and hadn’t intended to stay gone for so long, or be so unavailable, but every opportunity to come back to Bell Harbor had gotten trumped by a new assignment. He didn’t get to the top of the heap by saying no to job opportunities. Bad timing and logistics had kept him away from his grandfather’s funeral, but he’d been in Phnom Penh. He couldn’t have gotten home even if he’d wanted to. And sure, maybe he had been a little careless about keeping in touch, but his mother didn’t need to rip on him about that in front of a total stranger.

  “So . . . yeah,” Elaine added when he said nothing. She turned the ignition key and the engine reluctantly coughed to life. “We seem to have a situation here. What do you suggest we do about that?”

  He clenched his fists inside his gloves.

  Shit.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  What could he suggest?

  He couldn’t just evict her. This problem was not Elaine’s fault, and even if she did have a backpack full of money, she was still out six months’ rent. What if she took them to court? That’s all he needed. Her suing him right along with Blake. What a huge pain in the ass that would be. Somehow he had to pay her back, or find one of them another place to stay.

  Grant pushed his hair back from his eyes. He was in serious need of a trim. He also needed a suit for his brother’s wedding. And a car. And groceries. And some decent winter clothes. And about fifteen hours of uninterrupted sleep. Now he understood why babies cried when they got too tired. He was miserable. He should have stayed in the fucking jungle. Civilization was too complicated.

  “OK, so look,” he finally said as Elaine slowly backed out of the long, snow-covered driveway, “here’s the thing. I’m going to be busy with family stuff for the next few days or so. You probably figured out my brother is getting married soon. So I can try to find a place to stay, or you can look around, or go back to the hotel, but in the meantime . . .”

  His voice dwindled away. It was a crazy idea. A crazy, stupid idea. They were complete strangers, after all, but he’d lived in enough cramped cabins and campsites to know that living in close quarters wasn’t that big of a deal. Not for him, anyway. If he was able to ignore Miranda in twenty-five square feet of jungle clearing, he could certainly handle himself around this girl.

  “In the meantime, what?” she a
sked.

  “We could both stay at the house.”

  “You want to live together?” The car lurched to a halt as she plowed into a snowbank and got them stuck.

  “Just for a couple of days until I can figure something else out. I mean, you can move out whenever you decide to, but the truth is your rent money is gone and I don’t have it to give back to you. I might in a week or so but not right now.”

  “Don’t you have friends you could go stay with? Or live with your mother?” she asked, punching the gas pedal and digging the tires farther down into the snow.

  Figures a Miami native wouldn’t know how to rock a car out of a snowbank.

  “Straighten the wheel and tap the brake while you accelerate.”

  “What?”

  “Trust me. It’ll adjust the torque on the tires and give you better traction. And don’t floor it. Just give it a little bit of gas.”

  Three more tries and they were out of the snowbank and slip-sliding down the icy road.

  “And no, I’m not staying with my mother and Carl, and I don’t have friends to stay with either. Not around here. In case you didn’t catch on to what my mother was saying, I haven’t really kept in touch with the old Bell Harbor gang.”

  “Can’t you stay at a hotel?”

  He rubbed a glove over his chin. “I could, I guess, but I have to be honest . . . I don’t want to. That house is mine, so in spite of what my mother said, your lease is no good. If I stay at a hotel, that’s money wasted I can’t get back. It’s money wasted for you too, really. But if we stay together, eventually, I’ll get your full six months’ rent back. That’s actually a pretty good deal for you, don’t you think? You can stay there rent-free until one of us comes up with a better solution.”

  Elaine was silent as the car’s wipers scraped icy particles across the windshield. It was snowing again, in big clumps. The wind whipped around as she white-knuckled their way to the next road. Terrible driving weather. Terrible weather for just about anything other than sitting next to a roaring fireplace with a beer in one hand and remote in the other. That’s what he wanted. A fire, a drink, and a ball game. Or better yet, a big, soft bed.