Hoping for Love (McCarthys of Gansett Island, Book 5)

by Marie Force

“WWBMD?”

  Confused, Owen stared at him. “Huh?”

  “What would Big Mac do?” Evan asked, knowing the answer to his question before he asked it.

  Wincing, Owen said, “Bring a gun to a knife fight, why doncha?” He accepted a couple of beers from a waitress and handed one to Evan.

  “I could ignore it and go about my life, but his voice would be in my head, ruining whatever fun I might be trying to have,” Evan said. “He’d be saying, ‘How could you leave that gal crying all alone, son? Especially when she’s a guest at our place? That’s not the kind of man I raised you to be.’”

  Owen busted up laughing. “Jesus, you sound just like him.”

  “Years of intensive training, my friend.” Evan took another look at the young woman, confirming she was still there and still miserable. With a resigned sigh, he said, “Wish me luck.”

  Owen touched his bottle to Evan’s. “Go get her, tiger. I’ll entertain the other ladies for both of us.”

  “Gee, you’re a pal.” Like a condemned man heading to the gallows, Evan started toward the corner table. As he passed the perky blonde, he sent his regrets with a shrug and a rueful grin. Would’ve been fun. He approached the corner table and plopped down, startling the crying woman. “Now tell me this—what in the world could’ve ruined such a great night for such a pretty lady?”

  Chapter 2

  Grace was surprised to discover that the singer with the Patrick Dempsey hair was even more handsome up close. She wiped frantically at the dampness on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows knitting with concern.

  The last thing she wanted was to unburden herself to another guy who probably had his pick of women. She was done with gods. A regular mere mortal was what she wanted now. A nice nerdy guy would do just fine.

  “Nothing.” Extending a hand under the table, she reached for her purse before she remembered she didn’t have her purse. Trey had taken it.

  “Wait,” he said when she started to rise. “Whatever it is, I might be able to help.”

  “You think so?” She couldn’t help the snarky tone.

  “I know for sure I can’t help if you don’t tell me what has you so upset.”

  Since she hardly had any better options, Grace flopped back into her chair. “Fine. You want to know? Here it is. My boyfriend—no wait, that’s giving him too much credit. My date for the evening left me here alone with no money, no clothes, nowhere to stay.”

  He stared at her. “What do you mean he left you?”

  “I mean he took off on his fancy boat with all my stuff.” She held up her cell phone. “Except for this, which is of no use to me whatsoever, since anyone who could rescue me is on the mainland.”

  “Wow, what an asshole.”

  “Ya think?”

  He pushed his beer across the table. “You need that more than I do.”

  She gratefully reached for the bottle and took a drink. The first sip went down so well, she took a second. “Do you have a name?”

  “Evan McCarthy.”

  “Any relation?” she asked, gesturing to the marina sign.

  “My folks.”

  “Nice place.”

  “We like it.”

  “You’re good—at the singing and stuff.”

  He flashed a devastating grin, complete with sexy dimples. Life was so unfair. “Gee, thanks.”

  “Your friend is getting ready to start again. Shouldn’t you be up there?”

  Crooking a rakish eyebrow, he said, “Trying to get rid of me?”

  Heat flooded Grace’s face, forcing her to look away from him. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

  He shrugged. “Owen can cope without me for a bit.” Propping his elbows on the table, he leaned in closer to her. “So what’re we going to do about this dilemma of yours?”

  “It’s certainly nothing you need to worry about. I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to do anything about it.”

  “Now that I know, I can’t not help you.”

  “That’s a double negative,” she said primly and then wanted to shoot herself for sounding like such a prude. Old habits died hard. It occurred to her that pre-weight loss, a man like Evan McCarthy never would’ve bothered to speak to her, let alone offer to help her.

  His ringing laughter warmed her, even though she knew that being sucked in by yet another smooth-talking charmer wasn’t in her best interest. “Are you a teacher or something?”

  “Or something. Pharmacist.”

  He screwed his face into a serious expression. “A very smart profession.”

  “I guess,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not feeling very smart at the moment.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Grace.”

  “Nice to meet you, Grace. Where’re you from?”

  “Mystic, Connecticut.”

  “Ah, nice place,” he said. “Here’s what I think we ought to do. I have another couple of hours to go here, and then I could take you home to my folks’ place up the hill. My sister’s old room is empty since she’s off on her honeymoon—not that she lives at home anymore. I’m sure we can find an old T-shirt of hers or something for you to sleep in. Tomorrow, I’ll get you to the ferry landing so you can catch a ride home. Would that work?”

  Grace stared at him, stunned. “I can’t just go home with you.”

  “My parents are there,” he said, flashing the dimples again. They were good dimples. Very good dimples. “We’ll be fully chaperoned.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I can’t—”

  He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers. “You’re in a pinch. People on the island help each other out when someone finds themselves in a pinch. It’s really no big deal, okay?”

  With the heat of his hand demanding her full attention, Grace was powerless to resist the help he offered so freely. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “No problem.” He squeezed her hand and released it. “I’ll meet you right here when I’m done, okay?”

  Since she had absolutely nowhere else to be, she said, “Okay.”

  On his way back to join Owen on the stage, Evan stopped one of the waitresses. “See the woman sitting by herself in the corner? Could you keep her in food and drinks for the rest of the night?”

  “Sure, Evan, no problem.”

  “Put it on my tab.”

  “You got it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Owen, who had started the next set on his own, sent Evan an arch look as he strapped on his guitar and joined in the chorus of “Sister Golden Hair.”

  After they played the last notes, Owen stayed at the microphone while he strummed his guitar. “Y’all may not realize it, but we have a real star in our presence.”

  While Evan made plans to shoot his friend after the gig, he stole a glance at Grace to find her watching them with interest. He was glad she’d stopped crying.

  “The eminent Evan McCarthy, recording star straight from Nashville, Tennessee, is gracing our stage tonight.”

  “Shut up,” Evan muttered to Owen as the table full of women went crazy cheering.

  “I’m sure that with enough encouragement, Evan might be convinced to share the first single off his new album with us. Waddya say, Ev?”

  As the crowd went wild, Evan said, “I say I’m gonna kill you for this,” even though he appreciated the chance to show off one of his new songs.

  Owen gestured for him to take center stage.

  Evan rolled his eyes, bit back the surge of panic he’d grown accustomed to, then stepped up to the microphone and strummed the opening notes to “Here for You,” the ballad he’d co-written and hoped would launch his career. The song was about a couple trying to recover their friendship after a rough breakup. As he hit the refrain, he again sought out Grace in the crowd and found her watching him, her chin propped on her hands.

  While she appeared to be enjoying the music, she still looked so hopelessly sad. Something a
bout her tugged at him and made him want to make it all better, even though he knew it wasn’t up to him. It was, however, within his power to make tonight a little better for her. So for the rest of their set, he sang to her, for her, and in his opinion, he’d never performed better in his life.

  “You were awesome tonight, man,” Owen said as they packed up their guitars and enjoyed a beer.

  “So were you.” Evan took a drink from his beer. “You got a date tonight?”

  “Nah.”

  Evan stopped what he was doing to stare at his friend. “Why not?”

  Owen shrugged. “Not in the mood.”

  Evan reached up to place a hand on Owen’s forehead. “You’re not feverish. Have you seen a doctor lately?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Owen said, laughing. “For your information, I’m tired. I’m going home and going to bed. Alone.”

  “Really, I think you need a physical or something. This isn’t like you.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement. What’s the plan with Weepy?”

  “Don’t call her that. She’s had a rough night. Her asshole boyfriend dumped her here and took off—on a boat—with her purse and all her stuff. She’s truly marooned.”

  “Whoa. That sucks. So what’re you going to do?”

  “Take her home to Linda. What else?”

  Owen laughed. “Dude, she’ll have you two married with four kids by the morning.”

  Evan felt like he’d been hit by an electric cattle prod. “Jesus, you’re right. Maybe I can sneak her in and out without Linda ever knowing.”

  “You talking about Voodoo Mama? Good luck with that.”

  “Oh my God,” Evan moaned. “I promised her a place to stay. I can’t renege now.”

  “I’d offer her a room at the Surf,” Owen said, referring to the old hotel in town that his grandparents owned. “But we’re not exactly prepared for guests.” Owen’s grandparents had recently hired Evan’s cousin Laura to renovate and reopen the hotel.

  “And of course everything else is sold out this weekend.”

  “Looks like it’s either Linda or a tent on the beach.”

  Evan actually considered the latter alternative before dismissing it as too impractical. He was way past the point where sand in places sand didn’t belong appealed to him. “Any rumors you may hear in the morning regarding my impending betrothal are not to be believed. Got me?”

  Owen snorted beer through his nose and winced from the pain. “Don’t say crap like that without warning me.”

  While they were talking, the bar had more or less cleared out, leaving Grace alone in the corner waiting for him. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  “Best of luck, my intrepid friend.”

  “Bite me.” Evan shouldered his guitar, finished his beer in one big swallow and steeled himself to deal with a devastated woman he barely knew and a calculating woman he knew all too well.

  By the time Evan finally made his way over to her, Grace had begun to shiver in the cool breeze blowing in from the Salt Pond. Along with everything else she’d brought on their trip, Trey had taken her jacket, too.

  “Ready?” Evan asked when he reached her table.

  Grace’s stomach knotted with nerves, but since her options were limited, she nodded and stood. “Thank you for the drinks and snack.”

  “No problem. Are you up for a short walk up a long hill?”

  “Sure, that’s fine.”

  “So how did someone nice like you end up with a guy who’d ditch you on an island without any of your stuff?”

  “That is a very long story.”

  “We’ve got nothing but time. First boat off the island isn’t for about eight hours.”

  Sighing, she glanced up at a sky polluted with stars. “It all began in fourth grade when he moved into my neighborhood. I’ve basically been in love with him ever since—or I thought I was until I saw his true colors. Tonight was our tenth date, and in all the time I spent with him, I never knew…”

  “What didn’t you know?”

  “That he was an asshole. I nursed a crush on him for decades, and I had no idea that he was an asshole. How did I miss that?”

  Evan smiled at her. “I’m shocked to hear that language coming from such a sweet face,” he said with mock dismay.

  Damn if that didn’t make her blush. “I’m sorry. Swearing is one of my character flaws.”

  “Is that so. What’re some of the others?”

  “Inappropriate laughter.”

  “Seriously? Give me an example.”

  “At my aunt’s wake, my holy-roller cousin gets up and acts like a priest, leading us all in prayer. My other cousin, who is truly evil, makes a face at me, and the next thing I know, I’m bent in half, sweating from the effort to contain the laughter.”

  “I’d like to see that,” he said, seeming delighted by her confession.

  “Weddings, funerals, bat mitzvahs. You name it, I’ve had a laughter incident. I’m sort of known for it in my family.”

  “Well, it’s better than being known as a drunk or a drug addict or something like that.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but drunks and addicts can go off on benders by themselves, and the whole family doesn’t have to witness their misbehavior.” Nothing like being the fat girl with a laughter problem, she thought but didn’t say.

  “There is that.”

  “What are some of your character flaws?”

  He seemed taken aback by the question. “Who says I have any?”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Get real.”

  “Gee, let’s see. It’s actually a rather long list.”

  “The first boat doesn’t leave until eight,” she reminded him.

  Laughing, he turned around to walk backward in front of her as they made their way up the hill. “First, there’s ambition. I’m told I have too much of it.”

  “That’s not always a bad thing.”

  “See? That’s what I think, too. But I’ve been told, by people, that my ambition tends to run my life.”

  “Well, since you’ve got a CD coming out from an actual record company, it looks like all that ambition is finally paying off.”

  “Yes, it is,” he said, seeming pleased by what she’d said. “I’ve been rather single-minded the last few years. That’s why it’s good to be home for a while. I’ve got nothing to do but wait until late November when my disk drops. Since I’ll be touring all next summer, I won’t get back here for a while, so I’m trying to enjoy it while I can.”

  “Under normal circumstances, that include having clothes, money and a place to stay, I’d imagine this is a rather lovely place to be stuck for a while.”

  He nodded in agreement. “My brothers and I used to spend hours plotting and scheming to get the hell out of here. It became rather confining as we got older. Lost a lot of its charm. But now, when I come back after a long stretch away…”

  “It’s home.”

  “Yes.”

  “You said ambition was one of your vices. What’re some of the others?”

  “I enjoy beer. A lot. I like women. A lot. I’m not a big fan of commitment or anything that makes me feel confined, thus my issues with living on an island for eighteen years.”

  “That’s quite a list, and I’m very impressed to discover you’re so flawed. But I’m sorry to inform you that none of your stuff can top the inappropriate laughter.”

  “Oh, come on! Doesn’t my womanizing or commitment-phobia count for anything?”

  “I’m afraid that just makes you a typical man.”

  “Ouch. That hurt.” He rested his hand on his chest. “I’m wounded.”

  “Sure you are,” she said, amused. “So your parents really won’t mind an unexpected houseguest?”

  “They really won’t mind. They have five kids. They’re used to rolling with it.”

  “Wow, five kids. Where’re they all now?”

  “Despite our confinement issues, two of my brothers are here. Mac, the one that
runs the marina, is married to Maddie. He adopted her son, Thomas, who’s three, and they had a daughter, Hailey, during the tropical storm.”

  “I love that they named their daughter for a tropical storm. They’re sort of hexing themselves for the teenage years.”

  Evan laughed. “I doubt they considered that. My brother Grant is a screenwriter who used to live in LA until he chased his ex-girlfriend Abby back to the island—after she got engaged to someone else. Turns out Abby really digs the other guy, and Grant is now with Stephanie, who runs the marina restaurant. My sister Janey, who dated David for thirteen years, married Mac’s best friend Joe on the day she was supposed to marry David. The newlyweds are due back tomorrow from Aruba, where they went on their honeymoon. They’ll grab their pets and head for Columbus, Ohio where she’s in vet school at Ohio State.”

  Grace listened to his recitation with fascination. “What happened with David? Thirteen years is a long time.”

  “She caught him in bed with someone else.”

  “Ouch.”

  “As strange as it may sound, I think she’s grateful now that it happened. She and Joe truly belong together. He’d been in love with her for years, but she never knew.”

  “That’s very sweet.”

  “They seem really happy.”

  “So that’s two brothers and a sister accounted for.”

  “My brother Adam lives in New York City where he’s a co-owner of a tech company. He’s a computer whiz. We joke that all he needs to put a man on the moon is a laptop and an Internet connection.”

  “Is he married?”

  “Hell, no. He’s got the same commitment phobia I’m afflicted with. Owen has it, too. The three of us are united in our plan to stay single as long as possible.”

  “I wish you well with that.”

  “What about you? Tell me you aren’t going to let what happened tonight sour you on men. You had the misfortune to connect with one asshole. Doesn’t mean we all are.”

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “I’ll take a week or two to lick my wounds, and then it’s back on the horse.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  Something about the way he said that sent a wave of yearning rolling through her. What would it be like to be his girl? Don’t be ridiculous. He just made it perfectly clear he’s not interested in anyone being his girl. Besides, he could have all the girls, so why would he want just one? Especially one who’d never even had a boyfriend until recently—and look at how that had turned out.