“My husband, Jasper,” Quinn introduced.
“I’d guessed,” Skye replied as the man nodded to her.
“Pleasure.” The words rumbled out in a deep voice that made her eyes go wide.
“I know,” Quinn said, catching it. “I’d say you get used to it, but I haven’t yet, so...good luck with that.”
Grant slung his arm around Skye’s shoulders with an almost boyish exuberance. He tugged her close into his side until she had no choice but to rest against him. His chin jerked toward her glass. “I see Quinn’s keeping you well lubricated.”
“Bite me, Twisty,” Quinn said without heat.
“It’s ice tea, actually.” Grant took her glass and sipped, mouth twisting with disgust at the taste.
“The hell is that?”
Skye nimbly plucked the glass from his hand. “Iced. Tea.” She eyed him over the rim. The planes of his face settled into its framework with none of the edge he’d sported since their reunion last night. Something had shifted. “You seem…better.”
“Yeah?” Skye rolled her eyes when he didn’t elaborate.
The hand on her shoulder slipped to her neck. His thumb began to stroke up and down the line of her throat.
Oh, that felt nice. Better than nice, if she was being totally honest. She wanted to lean into that touch, let it soothe away the scary revelations of the day. Let it erase the monumental decisions that weighed on her shoulders like the pillars of Sampson.
Let it make her feel less abysmally alone.
The last few hours had gone by in a whirl. Once Brandon had finished lobbing his bombshells, Grant sprang into action, snapping instructions to Quinn while he tried to raise his friend Jasper on the phone. Skye had been too numb too pay much attention to the details. She’d followed meekly along when Quinn had guided her out to her Tercel and didn’t protest when the woman drove her back to Hibiscus Court.
Skye had tried to relax with a bath and a nap, but her brain refused to shut down, churning over and over the confrontation with Brandon. No matter what angle she looked at it from, she couldn’t find the trap, and yet she knew there had to be one.
Grandmother, what have you done?
She didn’t care about the money or being written out of any inheritance. If these last months had taught Skye anything, it was that she could take care of herself…and wasn’t incapable of hard work to do it. If this wound up being her life for real, she’d manage. She felt surer of that than ever.
Besides, money had never been the source of her devotion. Her grandmother had to know that, right?
She couldn’t bear the idea of her grandmother dying believing Skye had turned her back on everything the woman had taught her. When she’d left home, it’d been for her own self-preservation, not an outright rejection. She hadn’t thought that far ahead, if she were honest. Somehow, she’d always believed she’d be able to explain that to her grandmother. Always thought there’d be another chance to see her.
It was unfathomable, this world she now inhabited, a world without Margaret Worthington Thornquist. She couldn’t comprehend such a place where her grandmother wasn’t a part of her life. An unexpected card in the mail. Their weekly afternoon teas where, as a girl, Skye would learn deportment and, as a woman, the latest gossip of their contemporaries so she wouldn’t make a social gaffe. Regular, imperious voice messages filled with loving demand.
Had she saved them? The thought had Skye scrambling out of the tub to check her phone. There. She had one in her box on the cusp of deletion. Without thinking, she pressed play, and her grandmother’s regal voice filled the efficient apartment.
“Skylark.” She always used Skye’s full name. After her mother left, Grandmother was the only one who did. “You know I dislike speaking into these things.” A heavy sigh and then a pause. “We must discuss things. I realize this is very difficult for you, but I expected more from you than this childish silence.” A longer pause. “I’m worried. Call your grandmother.”
The dial tone echoed through the small bedroom.
Those were the last words she’d ever heard from the most influential person in her life.
Skye collapsed on the bed and let the tears overtake her.
Hours later, after the sobs had led to a restless nap, Skye had pulled herself out of bed and back into the bathroom. With no longer a need for disguise, she used only the most minimal makeup needed to hide the bags under her eyes and ease the mess crying had left behind on her face. She pulled her hair back into a tail and donned a boat-neck black top over summer-weight, off-white trousers with a wide leg that kicked out before her when she walked. She topped it all off with strappy black heels and big silver hoop earrings. When she checked her reflection, it struck her she’d unconsciously represented both versions of Skye, a mix between who’d she been before and who she’d become here in Barefoot Bay.
She wondered which version would win out.
By the time she opened her door again to Quinn, she felt almost like her old self with the best bits of her new self worked into the mix for flavor.
Quinn drove them downtown and Mandy met them at Mimosa Key’s new gastropub. “The guys are going to meet us later,” Quinn explained when they were settled at a table sipping glasses of sangria.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your weekend like this.”
“I’m used to it.” She’d cast a wry smile Skye’s way. “The Navy isn’t exactly a 9 to 5 job. Jasp works at SOCOM, the special operations command. It overseas all the spec ops teams for all four branches of the military.”
“Wow.”
“No shit. So yeah, lots of interrupted weekends. I had to make peace with sharing him with his country, and since the alternative is not having him at all...” Her grin turned cheeky. “It’s worth it. He’s worth it.”
After that, Quinn had steered the conversation to safer topics, regaling her and Mandy with tales from her bartending days. At Skye’s urging, Mandy re-told the story of how she’d met and married her husband spurring Quinn to share more details of her and Jasper’s wild reunion six months prior, which included the Russian mob and a hit man and Grant and Jasper doing scary SEAL things to rescue a kidnapped Quinn seconds before she was killed.
“Holy cats,” Skye had whispered when Quinn finished.
“I heard a little about that from Ari, but none of the specifics. She’s one of the wedding planners,” Mandy explained to Skye, “who’s married to Luke McBain, the resort’s security guy. He helped with Quinn’s rescue.”
“Holy cats,” Skye repeated, stunned and more than a little overwhelmed to hear she wasn’t the first to use this island as a haven from personal trauma. “This place is Peyton Place. On speed.”
“Says the woman living a modern soap opera.”
The waitress delivered their dinner and Quinn ordered another round. “You are far too sober for this conversation,” she’d told Skye. “I’m DD tonight. Prepare to get sloshed.”
She’d sure given it a hell of a try with ample help from the other ladies as they lifted glass after glass to Skye’s grandmother. They’d dropped Mandy home, arguing over the words in the verses to “Sweet Caroline” along the way before belting the chorus out the open windows.
But by the time they’d pulled into the resort and made their way to Grant’s villa, Skye had felt her head start to clear, sobered by thoughts of all she had to deal with in the morning.
All the things she didn’t want to face.
“We definitely get an A for effort,” she said now to Grant and Jasper. “But I switched to water and tea once we got here. Better a clear head tonight if I’m to deal with my family tomorrow.”
“That’d definitely make me do the opposite,” Quinn admitted.
“You looked pretty shell shocked a few hours ago.” Grant said, voice deceptively flat. “You make a decision already?”
Skye fiddled with the glass, rubbing her finger along the damp rim to keep from looking at him directly. “I really don’t see any other option.”
“Don’t say it like that. This is different.”
“How?”
“No one’s getting married, for one thing.”
“You sure about that?” He reached for a potato chip from the bowl Quinn had set on the coffee table.
“I’m pretty sure Florida doesn’t allow for bigamy, yes. And since Brandon is already married to my sister…”
“Sure, but that was before she lost the baby.”
“Twist!” Quinn yelled, shooting upright in Jasper’s lap.
“What?! I’m not saying that to be an asshole.”
“No, that’s the bonus point.”
They glared at one another across the table until Jasper chided, “Children.”
“What I mean,” Grant stressed, patience fraying, “is he was supposed to marry Skye. He married Melissa only because she was pregnant, which she is no longer. You didn’t meet this guy, but Queen, I’m telling you, him coming up with an idea to switch sisters again is completely in character.”
“I am not a piece of property,” Skye snapped. She pushed up and out from under his arm.
“Baby, I’m not the one treating you like you are.”
“At the moment, no one else is either. Brandon can’t just…trade one of us out for the other model like some car salesman.”
“You said yourself that your family has a history of using marriage to solidify business arrangements,” Quinn reminded her as she settled back against her husband.
“Yes.” She wasn’t happy for the reminder. “And?”
“If you don’t do as Brandon wants and go to the reading of the will or if you delay long enough, the merger will fall apart. Right now, you hold all the power. I’m betting Brandon’s the kind of man who’d do anything to get it back.”
Skye knew Quinn wasn’t wrong. Brandon’s ruthless streak was the stuff of legend, admired by men and desired by women who didn’t know any better. Skye could tell them it made for a selfish lover.
“Whether he does or not, the fact of the matter is I wouldn’t ever agree to something so wicked. That doesn’t mean I don’t have a responsibility to hear the terms of Grandmother’s will and do whatever may be necessary.”
“You’re starting to sound like that douchebag,” Grant accused.
That was too much, especially from him. She opened her mouth to tell him that, but Quinn got there first.
“Oh, give over. Tell her what you found out.”
“What does she mean?” Skye demanded.
“You’ve had a hell of a day,” Grant began. “You’ve had to handle a lot. I need to know if you can take more.”
More what? More pain? More life-altering revelations. More pressure? More disillusionment and disappointment?
More loss?
“I want to say yes,” she replied honestly. “But I don’t know. Every second since I heard about my grandmother’s death has been so weird. I keep moving and doing like it’s any other day and then suddenly I’ll think, ‘my grandmother is dead’ and I’ll look around and wonder why the Earth yet turns when my world has changed forever. I don’t know how to live in a world without her, without knowing she’s there even if I’m not with her. I don’t know if I can handle the next breath much less whatever it is you found out today that’s going to rock what world I have left.
“And, worst of all, I know I don’t have a choice.”
“You can do this, Skye,” he whispered. “That world of yours is changed forever, and I’m sorry for that, love. You can’t know how much I’m sorry. But your grandmother didn’t raise a weak woman. She raised a warrior whose shield is made of diamonds and couture and who wages wars with words. Your battle isn’t over yet.”
“What if I don’t want to fight?”
“We can’t control when the fight comes to us. We can only control how prepared we are to meet it. I don’t know about you, but I prefer to be well-armed.”
She snorted a watery laugh. “Is that what you brought me? Weapons?”
“Baby, I brought you a fucking battalion.”
Chapter Ten
There was a low-burning rage churning in Grant’s gut. He’d banked it for a while, but as he and Jasper had gone over what Rossi’s tech wizard had found out, Grant had an increasingly hard time keeping that rage locked down. Every new piece of intel they scraped together about Skye’s family threatened to blow his top right off. He wanted to drag Brandon from his damned hotel room and beat the shit out of him on principle’s sake. His girl had been left too long to deal with this shit alone.
The days of taking advantage of Skylark Thornquist were over.
“Steady, man,” Jasper had counseled as they’d walked up the path to the villa’s front door. “You do her no good if you lose your shit.”
“I’ve got it,” he’d gritted out between his teeth.
Now he watched Skye gather herself, he could literally see her pull her breeding around her, like a silk shawl of strength that straightened her spine and firmed her chin.
“The man who does security for Casa Blanca? Name’s McBain and he’s retired French foreign legion. He’s the guy who hired us last year for your sister’s wedding. Follow so far?”
Skye nodded. “Quinn filled me in on her adventure at dinner.”
“McBain’s connected. By that, I mean he knows a guy who used to work for an alphabet soup agency.” He refrained from mentioning exactly how McBain knew Gabriel Rossi. He did not want to get on the wrong side of that spooky fucker by revealing his setup to civilians. “This guy has a hacker on his payroll who hasn’t met a system she couldn’t breach and, as a favor, he got her to get some intel for us from the SEC.”
“Security and Exchange Commission,” Jasper explained to Quinn in a low voice.
“I have read a newspaper, Jasp.”
“The merger,” Skye said, understanding dawning in her eyes.
Grant nodded. “Your pal Brandon doesn’t only want you for the reading of the will. He needs that will to go into probate if he has a prayer of that merger going through and getting approved by the SEC. It’s stalled right now because your grandmother had yet to sign the final contracts. As she holds a 60% interest in that company, nothing can be finalized until the will is read and it’s determined who now controls her shares. According to her old will, they were evenly divided among her heirs with a smaller portion, not a voting amount, to her grandchildren. Now, no one knows diddly squat.”
“Oh my god,” Skye breathed. “No wonder Brandon came looking for me. He must be out of his skull.”
“Couldn’t happen to a worthier asshole. Did your grandmother say anything to you about this merger? Did she ever talk about being opposed to it in any way?”
“Not that I remember. Though I wasn’t exactly paying attention to much besides my own misery. After I came back here, she did leave me a message saying we had things to discuss. I only listened to it this afternoon.” She flinched at the memory and Grant figured listening to that message had likely driven his girl straight into a crying jag.
Voices from the beyond tended to have that effect.
“I’m going to call him tomorrow,” she suddenly declared. “I’ll get the lawyers name and arrange a reading of the will. I know what you’re thinking,” she added, cutting Grant’s protest off at the pass. “The hard truth is that I do have a responsibility here. Grandmother liked to say a lot of axioms about what Thornquists do or don’t do, but there’s one thing she didn’t have to teach me because she showed it to me every day of her life.
“Thornquists step up. That’s what she did when my mother left and my father dove into work and blondes half his age. Grandmother stepped up to parent me as best she could. Now it’s my turn to do that for her. And I don’t need your support to do that,” she finished. “But I would really like it.”
“It’s yours,” Grant instantly replied. It chafed him that she had to ask for it, but he kept forgetting how little they really knew one an
other. Their time together was so fraught with emotional dramas, it’d formed a blitzkrieg bond, the kind he’d only before experienced in combat, where the guy next to you was uniquely a part of your soul. He felt he understood her in a way no woman before had ever impressed upon him.
Relief washed over her face, so much she collapsed back against him. Instantly he lifted his shoulder so she slotted back into place at his side.
“Damn straight,” Quinn echoed. He glanced across at his friends. Quinn was grinning like the mad woman she could be, while Jasper gazed at Skye with an approval Grant knew was hard won. His friend’s eyes lifted and held his own. They were working hard, sending Grant a silent message that called Jasper’s earlier words back to mind.
She’s my absolution. She shares the burden. Takes me any way I come, that woman.
No man can think clear when his head is that far up his ass. That’s what your friends are for, dumb ass.
He was a lucky SOB.
Grant’s arm tightened around his absolution as he held his friend’s eyes.
“Hoo-rah.”
Grant closed the door behind Jasper and Quinn with a snick that sounded to Skye like the starting gun at a race.
And they’re off!
When Quinn offered to follow her back to Hibiscus Court, Skye had made a split-second decision. “I’d like to stay,” she’d announced baldly. Immediately, she was the focus of three pairs of eyes, each with a different expression. Quinn looked on the edge of a belly laugh. Jasper, she didn’t know him well, but his staid gaze seemed to telegraph approval and encouragement. And Grant…
Grant’s green gaze was so hot, she almost checked herself for burns.
Skye nervously rubbed her hands up and down her thighs, an old habit she’d thought broken. “If that’s all right,” she added and watched as amusement banked Grant’s gaze from scorch to sizzle.
“Any day. Any hour. Any time you want, sweetheart.”
Ohhhhhh boy.
Quinn and Jasper got ready to leave. Skye had been surprised when the woman reached out to hug her. Hers wasn’t a demonstrative family, but ever since Brandon had shown up, Grant had been laying physical claim to her soon as she was in reach. Skye should’ve expected the same touchy tendencies from his friends—well, maybe not from Jasper. She’d managed not to freeze up entirely and even returned Quinn’s sincere squeeze of affection before being released.
Barefoot Bay: SEALed With a Twist (Kindle Worlds) Page 16