by Beth Andrews
That made sense. Gwen Bartasavich, the original Mrs. Clinton Bartasavich, Sr., was one terrifying woman. She hated each of her ex-husband’s mistresses, ex-wives and two sons from other women with equal fervor—despite having been divorced from Senior for over twenty years. Now that he thought about it, that hatred would, more than likely, extend to Daphne, too.
Yes, her reasoning seemed sound. “I guess you thought it through. Though I doubt Gwen would have known who you were unless you went up to her and introduced yourself.”
Daphne nodded. “True. But, like you said, I thought it through and realized it would be more convenient if you and I stayed at the same place.”
“Convenient?”
She plopped down on the bed and had it—and her breasts—bouncing with the movement. “Mmm-hmm. I’m actually right next door.” Straightening her arms behind her, she arched her back. She gazed at him innocently, but when she spoke, her voice was husky. Suggestive. “You know, in case you need me.”
He bit back a flinch. Need. There was that word again, tumbling from her mouth, taunting him. Tempting him.
Just like the woman before him, smiling up at him from the middle of his bed, the ends of her dark hair swinging against her shoulders.
Damn her.
“What say we go out?” she continued. “Get some dinner. Then we can explore the town a little bit.”
“I can’t,” he told her, relieved he had an excuse not to spend the evening with her when his feelings for her were so messed up. When she had on that sweater that made his hands itch to test its softness. “Charlotte’s parents are hosting a dinner. Immediate family only.”
“Oh.” She sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, her smile frozen as she obviously didn’t miss his emphasis on “immediate family only.” “Well, that sounds like fun.” Her tone was cheery but she looked at him expectantly, waiting, he knew, for him to do the good-guy thing, to play his part as the nice guy and invite her along.
He didn’t.
In this instance, protecting himself took precedence over everything else. He needed some distance, some space.
And he needed this weekend to be over with already so he could get back to Houston. Back to Sylvie and his plans. Back to pretending he wasn’t attracted to Zach’s little sister.
“You should still go out, though,” Oakes said, pushing away from the dresser. He moved to his suitcase, blindly pulled out a pair of socks then ended up just holding them like a moron. “I’m sure Mrs. Lindemuth has some recommendations for restaurants.”
“Good idea.” Daphne stood. She hesitated, as if waiting for him to change his mind. To issue that invitation. When he didn’t, disappointment crossed her face. He steeled himself against it. “I’ll just go do that now,” she said, sounding small and unlike herself. “Let you get ready. For your dinner.”
He tucked the socks into a dresser drawer and nodded, avoiding her gaze. Hating the hurt in her voice.
“I’ll see you later?” she said, making it sound like a question.
He met her eyes and immediately regretted it. She looked so lost. So...lonely.
And he remembered that other than him, she didn’t know anyone in Shady Grove. Not really. She’d met both his brothers, as well as Charlotte, while Zach had been in the hospital, but they’d all been focused on Zach’s care at the time. There hadn’t been much room for niceties and in-depth, getting-to-know-you conversations. Now she was here, halfway across the country from everyone she knew, and he was leaving her to spend the night alone.
Part of him, the part that always wanted to help those he cared about, told him to change his mind. To suck it up and invite her to the dinner. To be the good guy he always was.
But another part, a deeper, darker part he was sure came from his father, wouldn’t let him. It told him to be selfish. To just this once, put his own needs first.
“You’ll see me later,” he assured her. “You’re right next door, remember?”
He wouldn’t be able to avoid her until the wedding, even if he wanted to.
“Right.” She crossed her arms. Nodded. Then cleared her throat. “Well, then...see you.”
She turned and walked out, shut the door quietly behind her.
Oakes slammed the dresser drawer shut. He refused to feel guilty. He’d already gone above and beyond just agreeing to take Daphne to his brother’s wedding. He’d offered to pay for her travel and hotel expenses. But he’d never agreed to entertain her for the entire weekend. He couldn’t. He had family obligations.
And though he liked to believe otherwise, though he desperately wanted to believe otherwise, Daphne wasn’t family.
It wouldn’t kill her to spend the evening alone, watching TV or reading in her room. Or she could take his suggestion and go explore the town on her own. She wasn’t afraid to meet new people, to engage strangers in conversation. She’d probably end the night with a dozen new friends. Most of them male. And why not? She was beautiful, intelligent and funny. Guys would see her at a restaurant or a bar, by herself, and think she was fair game.
She’d be fine. No matter what she did, she’d be just fine.
And he’d have a break. A needed reprieve from his thoughts of her. A chance to plan how he was going to handle the rest of the weekend. A chance to breathe.
But breathing, it turned out, wasn’t as easy as he’d thought it would be, not when all the air in the room left right along with Daphne.
* * *
LUKE PAUSED IN the hallway of Bradford House, his coat on and zipped, his favorite knit hat pulled down low over his forehead. He glanced out the window of the side door into the dark night. He should go out there, cross the back parking lot to his car, brush the snow from the windshield and back window, warm up the interior and go home. He’d put in his time—four hours of cleaning bathrooms, taking out trash and shoveling and salting the walks. It was past seven. He was hungry and he still had to finish an English assignment.
He had no reason, none whatsoever, to linger at the B and B. No reason to go into the kitchen.
No reason other than the fact that Gracie was in there.
His inner voice told him to get the hell out of there before he made a fool of himself in front of her. Again. He should not, under any circumstances, go anywhere near that kitchen.
But he did it anyway.
His brother was right, Luke thought with an inward sigh as he walked through the dining room as if being pulled there by an invisible force. He was an idiot. What other reason was there for him to be acting so pathetic over a girl? A girl who wanted nothing to do with him? Who refused to give him a second chance or even be his friend?
A girl who was seeing some other guy.
He pushed open the kitchen door, spied Gracie behind the island.
And there was his answer.
She looked as if she’d been in the middle of a Christmas cookie explosion. They were everywhere, on every available surface—the large island, the counters, the huge farm table where employees ate.
“Hey,” he said, stepping farther into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Need any help?”
She blinked at him as if coming out of a deep trance. Or a sugar coma. She checked the time on the microwave. “I thought you only worked until seven?”
He shrugged, a nonanswer, but better than lying outright and saying he was scheduled to work until eight or nine.
Better than telling the truth. That he’d heard Damien’s boyfriend was having an emergency appendectomy and Damien wouldn’t be back tonight and that Gracie, being Gracie, had offered to finish making cookies for a holiday party being held here tomorrow.
The truth—that he wanted to help her. That he just wanted to spend some time with her.
That would have her closing off from him, for sure.
“Tell me what to do,” he said. He’d helped his mom bake when he was younger, but that had been mostly stirring in ingredients and sneaking raw cookie dough.
Gracie studied him. Flour specked her shirt and she had a smear of red icing on her chin. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks pink from the heat of the stove, and several curls had escaped her ponytail to sort of...sproing around her face. She looked freaked out and tasty as hell.
“Umm, well, the cookies are all baked,” she finally said, though so reluctantly, he figured she’d just waged a fierce battle with herself about whether or not to accept his help. “But I guess I could use some help with the decorating. If you want to.”
He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth to hide what had to be a very self-satisfied grin. “No problem.” He shrugged out of his coat, tossed it and his hat onto a stool. “Where should I start?”
“You can frost the sugar cookies,” she said, while he washed his hands at the large sink. “I’ll work on the gingerbread people.”
When he came back to the island, she handed him a bowl filled with fluffy red icing.
“I know Damien would have used several different colors,” Gracie continued, “but at this point, it seemed safer for my stress levels and mental health to keep things as simple as possible.”
“That’s smart.” And that was Gracie. Smart enough to realize her limitations. Resourceful enough to somehow do the work of a professional chef. And kind enough to offer her help. Smiling, he added, “And it answers the question about that bit of icing on your chin.”
She brushed her fingertips across her chin, not embarrassed to be less than perfect.
“Uh...you missed,” he said, his heart rate speeding up. If this was one of those chick flicks Kennedy used to make him sit through, Luke would reach out, wipe the frosting away for her. Maybe let his hand linger on her face, his fingers caressing her soft skin. Their eyes would lock and they’d lean toward each other.
Except this wasn’t a movie because when he murmured, “Let me,” and reached for her, Gracie stepped back and rubbed the end of the towel draped over her shoulder across her chin.
“How’s that?” she asked, sort of breathlessly.
A balm to his battered ego. “You got it.”
They worked in silence for a solid five minutes. Him slathering frosting onto round sugar cookies while she used a piping bag to make faces on gingerbread men.
“Thank you,” she finally said, “for helping me. Fay was going to but tonight is Elijah’s Christmas program at school.”
Their boss, Fay Lindemuth, had two little boys who usually ran wild around the B and B. Fay wasn’t big on discipline, which was evident in the behavior of her older son, kindergartner Elijah. The kid was a bigger terror than Luke had ever even considered being—and according to his mother, he was the cause of every one of her gray hairs. Fay’s youngest, Mitchell, was as easygoing and good-natured as could be.
“No problem.” Luck winced. Shit. Hadn’t he already said that? “I mean... I’m glad I could help. I...” He pressed his lips together before he said something he’d regret, something that would let her know that he was hung up on her. But he was tired of doing that. So freaking tired of holding back when it came to her. He turned toward her, touched her wrist so she looked at him. “I miss you, Gracie.”
She blushed but she didn’t back away, didn’t pull her arm from his touch, just stared at him, eyes wide and wary. But also, he thought, hopeful.
He edged closer, kept his voice low. Sincere. “I know you’re with Bryce now...” And it took all of Luke’s willpower to say that without sounding angry. Or worse, jealous. “But I was hoping that maybe you could stop being mad at me and be my friend again.” He rubbed his thumb lightly across the pulse at her wrist. Felt it jump under his touch. “It is the time of year for forgiveness and goodwill toward all, right?”
“I’m not mad at you, Luke,” she whispered. “I was never mad.”
He took the opportunity to move in even closer. So close he could see the freckles on her nose. Could feel her warm breath wash over his neck. “Never?”
Her lips twitched. “Okay, so maybe I was mad. But you apologized and I forgave you.”
The day after he’d kissed her at his sister’s house, they’d gone for coffee only to find Kennedy working at the coffee shop. He’d acted like an asshole, trying to get Kennedy into trouble for messing up Gracie’s order, using Gracie to prove he was over his ex-girlfriend—and she’d noticed. Then he and Gracie had argued and that was when she’d told him she no longer wanted to be his friend.
But it was when she came to his house a few days later and admitted that she liked him that he’d ruined any chance he had with her by getting back together with Kennedy.
So, no, maybe Gracie wasn’t pissed at him any longer. But he had hurt her.
And now he was closing in on a chance to be her friend again. He couldn’t blow it by going too fast or asking too much from her.
He eased back. Let his hand drop from her arm. “Great. So there’s no reason we can’t hang out. Like we used to.”
She chewed on her lower lip, looking so unsure, it killed him. “I don’t know...”
“As friends,” he added quickly. “Friends who help each other. Like staying late at work to frost cookies.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty? Because you’re the one who came in here and offered to help.”
“Nope. No guilt involved.” He frosted another cookie. Set it aside. “Though if you did feel guilty, guilty enough to want to pay me back in some way, I suppose I could let you go shopping with me when we’re done. I still haven’t bought anything for my nieces for Christmas.”
“Why do I have a feeling you offering to help with the cookies was some sort of setup?”
“Because you know I have no idea what to get a couple of little girls?” Because she knew him, even if she didn’t want to admit it. “In exchange, I’ll help you pick out stuff for your brothers.”
“I’m already done shopping. Bu-u-t,” she said, drawing out the word long enough to make him sweat, “I suppose I could help you.” She smiled at him shyly. “Since we’re friends and all.”
His own grin about split his face. “Right. Friends.”
If wasn’t exactly his end goal, but he’d rather be friends with Gracie than lose her altogether.
* * *
SHE WAS NERVOUS.
And that was ridiculous, Daphne scolded herself as she shimmied into a purple, bandage style dress. And stupid, too.
And she was not stupid.
Although thinking she and Oakes would be attached at the hip this entire weekend had been a rookie mistake. Of course he was busy. He had obligations—to his brother and the rest of his family. Yes, she’d been surprised when he hadn’t invited her to tag along.
Surprised and, she could admit now, a bit hurt.
Not that she had any right to feel such a way, she rationalized, smoothing the skirt of the dress down her thighs. It was a family dinner. A time for Kane’s and Charlotte’s families to be together before the wedding. A kickoff to the festivities, if you will.
And, as she’d pointed out to Oakes time and time again, she wasn’t his family.
She had no right wishing differently in this one instance, just so she wouldn’t have to spend a few hours alone.
Still, it would have been nice if she could have gone with him. The more time they spent together away from Houston, the closer they could become. And he’d realize that them being together wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.
This weekend was supposed to give them that time. The time Oakes needed to see her as a woman. An intelligent, fun, interesting woman he could be attracted to. One he could envision spending time with on real dates, having a real relationship with.
She glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Too bad staying in the room next to his and barging into his personal space hadn’t gotten the results she’d hoped for. Instead of the quiet, romantic evening she’d imagined—dinner, followed by drinks, followed by their first kiss—he’d gone off without her.
Leaving her to resort to Plan B.
And a plan was totally different from a so-called scheme, no matter what Zach would say.
Plan B was to show up at O’Riley’s, the bar Kane owned, where she had learned on Facebook that Charlotte’s friends were throwing a bachelor/bachelorette party for the bride and groom.
Funny how Oakes forgot to mention that.
She’d also found out—thanks to social media—that the party was open to any and all friends of the couple, for a twenty-dollar cover fee. Well, luckily, Daphne had twenty dollars and a dress that showcased her curves to their best advantage. Oakes wasn’t going to know what hit him.
She hoped.
Not that she wanted him to want her only for her looks. But it might be a good place to start. She’d caught Oakes watching her more than once when he thought she wasn’t looking. It gave her courage. Gave her hope. Made her think he liked what he saw—at least enough to keep right on looking.
And told her that what she felt wasn’t as one-sided as he’d like her to believe. As he’d probably like himself to believe.
Reaching behind her for the zipper running up her back, she frowned. She twisted her other arm back there, her fingers waving as they tried to touch metal. With a sigh, she dropped her arms, looked over her shoulder the best she could and continued twisting around. When she realized she was basically chasing her own tail—like a dog—she stopped and mulled over her options, of which there was exactly one.
She needed to find help.
Pressing the fabric of her dress against her chest with one hand, she used the other hand to hold the material together in the back and stepped out into the hallway. Looked right. Then left. Empty. Where was everyone? Should she knock on a door or two?