Season for Love

by Marie Force

  “Yes,” she said, her voice heavy with emotion, “of course I trust you to do it right. If I didn’t, I never would’ve given you the rights.”

  “Then you have to take a step back and let me do it.”

  She nodded, even as tears threatened again.

  He brought their joined hands to his lips. “And you, my love, need to take the money I paid you for the rights to your story and open that restaurant you’ve always dreamed of. Here or in Providence or both, if that’s what you want.”

  Her eyes went wide with surprise. “How do you know about my restaurant?”

  “I have my sources.”

  “Did Charlie tell you that? Who else would know?” She waited a heartbeat. “Why did Charlie tell you? When did he tell you?”

  “He told me the other day when I came over to see him.”

  Her mouth fell open in shock. “You came to see Charlie? By yourself? I thought you were scared of him.”

  Grant snorted with laughter. “I didn’t say I was scared of him. I said he’s intimidating and looks at me like he wants to kill me in my sleep.”

  “You also mentioned that he’d probably learned a few ways to do that while he was in prison,” she reminded him.

  “Okay, maybe I was a little scared of him, but I had something I needed to ask him, so I had to man up and come talk to him.”

  “Wow,” she said, truly amazed, “I would’ve liked to have seen that. What did you have to ask him?”

  “I can’t tell you that. It’s guy stuff. You wouldn’t understand.”

  She rolled her eyes at that. “Was he nice to you?”

  “Yes.”

  She crooked the famous brow that let him know she wasn’t buying his bullshit. “Really?”

  “He warmed up as the visit unfolded.”

  That made her laugh, which filled Grant with wild, foolish hope. When it was good between them, there was nothing better. He made a silent vow to work harder to make sure it was good between them all the time going forward. Nothing was more important than her happiness, not even the damned screenplay he’d let come between them, a thought he decided he’d better share with her so she’d understand that he truly got it.

  “I thought I’d learned my lesson after what happened with Abby.”

  “What lesson is that?”

  “That nothing is more important than you are. Not the screenplay or my career or my family. Nothing.”

  “I know how important the screenplay is to you, Grant. You shouldn’t make light of that.”

  “If someone told me I’d be the most successful writer in Hollywood for the rest of my life but I couldn’t have you, I’d say thank you very much, Hollywood. It’s been a lovely ride, but I’m done now. I have something far more important in my life than any movie will ever be. I’ve got the real thing, the love story of a lifetime, and there’s nothing in this world that will ever be more important to me than she is.” He shifted his body off the rock so he was on his knees before her, keeping a firm grip on her hands. “Stephanie, you’re the love story of my lifetime, the one I can’t live without.”

  Every emotion she possessed skirted across her expressive face as she waited breathlessly to hear what else he had to say. In all of Grant’s thinking about this moment, it had never occurred to him that she might say no to his question, but now he wasn’t so sure. He pushed that unsavory thought aside to focus on saying the right thing. Words were his business. He’d never needed them more than he did right now.

  “I know it’s been rocky at times, and it’s apt to be again once in a while, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to make you happy, to give you the family you’ve always wanted, the life you’ve always wanted and the security you’ve never had. You’ll never have to wonder where I am or who I’m with, because I’ll always want to be with you more than I want to be with anyone else. There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for you, but I need you to do one thing for me first.”

  “What?” she asked, sounding breathless now, too.

  “Marry me.” He released her hands to retrieve the ring box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a simple square-cut diamond. He knew her well enough to suspect that anything flashier would’ve been wrong for her.

  She gasped, and her hand covered her mouth.

  He loved that he’d taken her completely by surprise.

  Her eyes darted from the ring to his face—possibly to gauge his sincerity—and back to the ring.

  “Stephanie Logan, I’ll love you every day for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?” Grant thought his eyes were deceiving him when he saw her nod. “Is that a yes?”

  The word “yes” got caught on a sob, but he heard it. Loud and clear. He slid the ring onto her finger and reached for her.

  She came right off the rock and launched herself into his arms. They landed on the sand in a clutch of arms and legs.

  “I’ve got you, baby,” Grant said, running a hand over her back as she continued to cry. He hoped they were happy tears. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded and clung to him.

  “That’ll learn you not to try to break up with me.”

  Sobs turned to laughter, which turned to passion the instant his lips met hers. “I love you,” he said when they came up for air. “Only you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  “And do you promise to never try to dump me again?”

  “I may try, but I’m sure you’ll find some smooth, sweet words to talk your way out of it like you did today.”

  “Speaking as a reviewer, tell me, what did the trick?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “As if you don’t know.”

  “I really don’t.”

  In one of her signature moves, she brushed the hair off his forehead and ran her fingers through it lovingly. “The love story of a lifetime was a pretty good line.”

  “Just pretty good?”

  “Extremely memorable. The security I’ve never had was a close second.”

  “I thought you might like that.”

  “When you marry a writer, you ought to get a proposal for the ages.”

  His eyes went wide at what surely had to be one of the finest compliments he’d ever received. “Is that what this was?”

  “Absolutely,” she said, kissing him again.

  “How about a marriage for the ages to go with it?”

  “I’m all for that. Is this what you had to talk to Charlie about?”

  Nodding, he said, “I couldn’t ask you without his blessing.”

  “And he gave it?”

  “With some assurances.”

  That made her snort with laughter. “I hope he made you work for it.”

  “Oh, trust me. He did.” His lips found the tender underside of her jaw, one of his favorite places to kiss her. “Steph?”

  She tipped her head to give him better access. “Hmm?”

  The setting sun cast her skin in a warm glow. “Why didn’t you tell me about the restaurant?”

  “I don’t know. I figured I’d get around to it eventually.”

  “Are there other things you want that I don’t know about?”

  She shook her head. “You covered all the high points in your proposal.”

  “I want you to know—I get what you said about how you grew up. Things will be different from now on.”

  “Thank you for listening—and for hearing me.”

  “Any time I don’t do that, give me a kick in the ass. Promise?”

  “Yes,” she said, laughing. “It’ll be my pleasure to kick you in the ass. Can I spank you sometimes to mix things up?”

  “Whatever you want, babe.” The suggestion was all it took to get Grant thinking about officially sealing their deal. “Speaking of your pleasure…” He extricated himself from her embrace and stood, offering her a hand up. Drawing her into his arms, he held her tight for a long time before he let her go, slung an arm around her shoulders and directed her to the path. “Let’s go home.”
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  An hour after they left Point Judith, Owen followed the GPS directions to Providence’s tony East Side, still hoping he was heading to her father’s house. Laura hadn’t stirred once during the ride, and her face remained ghostly pale.

  He got his answer about the address when they reached a two-story white colonial with black shutters, nicely trimmed bushes and the name McCarthy on the mailbox. Owen pulled into the driveway and parked next to a silver Cadillac sedan. He tried to decide his next move. Did he wake her up or let her sleep awhile longer? He wanted to let her sleep but didn’t think it was appropriate to sit in her father’s driveway for half an hour without letting him know they were there.

  Frank McCarthy solved the problem for him by coming out of the house to greet them.

  Owen emerged from the car and stopped short at the sight of Laura’s dad, a shorter version of Big Mac McCarthy. Whereas Big Mac was all rough edges and relaxed cool, Frank was tailored and urbane in a light blue dress shirt, dark dress pants and black wingtips. While Big Mac’s gray hair was often wild and unkempt from the wind that whipped through the docks, Frank’s was combed into a tame style suitable for a courtroom. He wore a concerned look in the blue eyes he shared with his brother, daughter and nephews.

  “I trust you’re the Owen Lawry I’ve heard so much about,” Frank said as he approached Owen with his hand extended.

  While Owen digested the fact that Laura had told her father about him, Owen shook the older man’s hand. “Yes, sir. I can’t believe our paths haven’t crossed before now. I’ve been close to your brother’s family since I was a kid.”

  A flash of regret registered on Frank’s face. “I’ve not been able to spend as much time on the island as I would’ve liked to over the years.” He glanced at the car. “Did she get sick? I wondered if she would. The ferry has always made her queasy even on the best of days.”

  “Is that right?” Owen said, surprised to realize she’d lied to him about never getting sick. He took that as an indication of how badly she’d wanted to keep the appointment with Justin. “She did get pretty sick, and it wiped her out.”

  “Poor baby.” He glanced at the gold watch on his wrist. “You’ve got about forty minutes until you need to head out to meet he who shall not be named.”

  In that moment, Owen realized he was going to get along famously with Laura’s dad. Laughing, he said, “I like that.”

  “Thought you might.” Frank opened the passenger door. “Let’s get her inside.”

  “Allow me,” Owen said.

  Frank stepped back to let Owen unclip the seat belt and scoop Laura out of the front seat.

  She woke up when they were halfway to the door. “Oh, hey, are we here?”

  “You’re home, honey,” Frank said. “Everything’s okay.”

  “Hi, Daddy,” she said with a weak smile. “Sorry to show up in rag-doll condition.”

  “I figured it might be a tough crossing today.”

  “That’s one word for it,” she said. “You met Owen?”

  “I sure did,” Frank said, leading the way into the house.

  In a low tone that was for her ears only, Owen said, “We’ll discuss the fact that you lied to me about getting seasick later.”

  “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I couldn’t think about this meeting with Justin anymore. I need to get it over with.”

  “I get it, honey. I’m kidding.”

  “Here you are carrying me around again.”

  “It’s a terrible hardship,” he said, kissing her forehead before he put her down on the sofa in what looked to be a formal living room.

  “What can I get you, Laura?” Frank asked. “Some of that lemon tea you like? Will that settle your stomach?”

  “That’d be great, Dad. Thanks.”

  “Coming right up. Owen? Ready for a cold beer?”

  “I wouldn’t say no to that. Thank you.”

  “Be right back.”

  Owen sat next to Laura and took her hand. “Do you feel any better after you slept?”

  “A little. Sorry to be so high maintenance. I hate that you’ve seen me puke at least ten times by now and we haven’t even slept together. Yet.”

  The word “yet” sent a shiver of anticipation dancing down his spine as he thought of the hotel room he’d booked at the Westin. “I hate to remind you that we have slept together.”

  A heated blush added some much-needed color to her cheeks. “You know what I mean.”

  “Don’t talk about it with your father in the next room,” he said in a low growl that betrayed his ragged emotions.

  Her soft laughter filled him with anticipation and love. So much love. At some point, he’d fallen so damned hard for her and couldn’t wait to have the chance to tell her—and show her—what she meant to him.

  Frank returned with their drinks and turned his focus on Owen.

  Owen tried to release her hand, but she only held on tighter.

  “Daddy,” Laura said with a note of warning in her voice. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What?” Frank asked, all innocence. “What’d I do?”

  “If the word ‘intentions’ comes out of your mouth, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

  Owen couldn’t contain a chuckle at Laura’s attempt to “manage” her father. He realized Frank shared his brother’s ball-busting sense of humor, which made Owen like him even more than he already did.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Frank said. “All I was going to say is that it’s nice to finally meet him. Am I allowed to say that?”

  “Yes, but nothing else.”

  To Owen, Frank said, “She was always such a nice girl. I’m not sure where I went wrong.”

  “She’s still a nice girl,” Owen said with a warm glance at her. “The nicest girl I’ve ever known.”

  The compliment earned him a smile from Laura.

  “On that we agree,” Frank said. “So what’s the plan for he who shall not be named?”

  At the reminder of why they were in Providence, Laura lost some of her sparkle. She put the teacup on a side table. “I’m going to tell him about the baby and try to convince him that our marriage may be over, but we’ve got a child to consider.”

  “I’m very concerned about him getting physical with you,” Frank said.

  “He never would, Dad. He’s far more likely to come at me with words, but I’m ready for him with a few words of my own.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Owen was proud of her determination, but the hollow feeling in his gut was a reminder of all the many ways this could go horribly wrong for her—and for them. Whatever happened, he decided as she visited with her father, he’d be there for her. They were in this together.

  Chapter 13

  “Do you think he knows what we’ve got planned for later?” Laura asked as they left her father’s house a short time later. He’d offered them a place to stay for the night, but Laura had told him they’d made other plans.

  “I sure hope not,” Owen said.

  “I bet he knows.”

  “I can’t think about that, let alone talk about it, until we get past part one.”

  Her pensiveness had him reaching for her hand. “I’ll be right across the room, watching every second. No matter what happens, it’s going to be okay.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Laura wanted to believe it was all going to be fine, but she knew Justin and wasn’t convinced he’d let go without a fight, especially once he found out about the baby.

  “I gotta ask you… I mean, it’s none of my business, but…”

  “You can ask me anything. You know that.”

  “What’d you ever see in this guy? He sounds like a world-class dick.”

  Even though she sensed he hadn’t meant to be funny, Laura laughed. “I suppose he does from what you’ve heard of him. But no one’s all bad or all good.”

  “You are. You’re pure goodness. You don’t have a mean bone in your bod
y.”

  Touched by his sincerity, she said, “You haven’t seen me when I get mad. Watch out.”

  “Spare me, killer. I’m not afraid of you.”

  “You say that now…”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  The amusing banter was exactly what she needed to stay calm and focused.

  “You still haven’t told me what you saw in him.”

  “He was handsome and charming and ambitious.”

  “Everything I’m not,” Owen grumbled.

  “How can you say that? You’re all of those things—and then some.”

  “I’ll give you the handsome and charming,” he said to her laughter, “but how do I rate ambitious when I call an old van home?”

  “You’re living your life on your own terms and no one else’s. You do what you want, when you want, and make a damned good living doing it. Not to mention, you’re doing something you love. What’s not to respect about that?”

  “Hmm, I hadn’t thought of it that way. Still, I’m not exactly a lawyer.”

  “Thank God for that. I’ve been around lawyers my whole life. You’re a refreshing change of pace.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him mull that over. Even as he drove the car, taking directions from her, she could see his wheels turning a mile a minute. “I can tell you’re dying to say something else. Why are you suddenly holding back on me?”

  He looked over at her, seeming surprised by her insight.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I, um, I wonder if the refreshing change of pace can hold your interest long-term.”

  “Owen,” she said, flabbergasted. “I can’t believe you’d say that! I can’t wait for us to be together—truly together without my estranged husband and divorce hanging over us. I think about that all the time.” She took his hand and held it between both of hers. “You believe me, don’t you?”

  “I want to. Tell me this—am I the first guy you’ve ever dated who called a van home?”

  Laura smiled. “Yes, you are.”