“Hello, Grant.” Richard Banks stepped in front of him and stuck out his hand. His grip was firm, sure, and filled with the kind of authority that came from years in political office, despite the man bun that gave him a distinctly youthful appearance. “Looks like this fundraiser is on track to beat last year’s numbers. Thanks for participating.”
“Thanks for the invitation.” No one with an ounce of sense said no to Milestone’s mayor, especially if one owned a fledgling business the way Grant now did. “The distillery would be happy to participate next year, too.”
Inside, he cringed at the thought. But as the official face of the company, he had to do whatever he could to keep the distillery in front of the public, right?
“I’ve heard about you, about the different blends you’ve created. Quite impressive.”
Grant felt his face heat. For all the accolades he’d earned over the years, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always on the edge, always being judged and on the verge of being found lacking. “Yeah, well, the spirits market is pretty competitive. Gotta innovate to stay ahead of the crowd, you know.”
“Bah.” The older man grinned. “No need to be modest. Just keep turning out an award-winning bourbon and you’ll be fine.” He lowered his voice. “My wife wants to know the secret to your Moose Mile blend.”
Wasn’t an award-winning bourbon what every master distiller aimed for? Grant swallowed. “Well, that particular blend has seven spices and brown sugar in it.” Personally, it was too sweet for his taste, but market analysis showed that middle-aged women like the mayor’s wife loved it. “We bottled just forty cases of it this year.” Which also meant that they could sell it at a premium.
“She swears it’s her favorite. Like drinking dessert.” He gave a short laugh. “You know what they say: if the wife’s happy, everybody’s happy.”
“Right.” Grant had definitely had a few foster mothers who fit that description.
He shook off the reminder. His job was to sell the distillery to the public, and if the mayor’s wife liked a particular blend, all the better for the business. “If there’s more of a demand for it, I’ll increase production.”
There. That sounded professional.
Of course, he’d have to make sure they put out some fancy marketing plan if he did increase production, but if things continued, Moose Mile could end up being the blend that bumped the distillery up to the next level.
He looked around the room again, searching for a glimpse of Stacey. Nothing. He’d only been gone a few minutes—had she taken off? Worse, gone home with one of the guys she’d chatted up? Maybe even that Todd guy? Sure, it was only the middle of the day, but still…
Grant clenched his teeth. Why was he even thinking about this? Stacey was an intelligent woman, free to sleep with whomever she chose.
“Grant?”
The mayor’s voice cut through his thoughts, and brought him squarely back to the present. “I’m sorry.” He let out an apologetic laugh. “I wondered where my date ended up.” Should he call her his date? This wasn’t really a date, was it? “Stacey Winters. I think you know her father? Winters Construction?”
“Yes, I know Stacey. She’s got a reputation for being quite a pistol, that one.” He shook his head dismissively. “I imagine any man would have his hands full with her.”
Huh? What the hell was that supposed to mean? He frowned at the amusement on the mayor’s lips and fought the need to defend his friend. Who the hell cared what anyone thought about her? “I need to find her. If you’ll excuse me?”
“Of course.”
He wove his way through the crowd to where he’d left Stacey, but the various interruptions along the way took him longer than he’d have liked. He fought down the irritation, fought down the irrational need to ignore city council members and the head of the local chamber of commerce.
This is my job.
Besides, it wasn’t like he needed to do more than make small talk with any of them. The reminder wound through his head and was the only thing that stopped him from pushing through the crowd.
By the time he’d reached the spot where he’d left her, she still hadn’t returned. Probably continuing her manhunt. He shoved a hand into the front pocket of his suit pants and casually looked around. If she hadn’t already left, there were a couple places she could’ve gone. Either toward the gardens or toward the resort’s pool area.
Back when she’d waited tables here, the gardens were her old stomping grounds. He’d sometimes met her on her breaks there, where they’d spend time staring at the sky as she planned her next move. The garden was where she’d first told him about Dinners for Two, and she’d been so excited about it that he couldn’t help but feel excited for her.
That was the thing about Stacey. No matter where she was in life, she was always planning her next move. He, on the other hand, was perfectly content to let life happen. If they were anything more than friends, they’d drive each other crazy, so the whole world-stopping buzz thing had to end.
A splash of peach at the edge of the dance floor caught his attention. It was a slow song, and she was dancing with Todd. Grant continued to focus on Stacey, on the smile on her face and the way she gracefully moved to the beat of the music. Those dance lessons she’d taken when they were kids had obviously paid off.
Something deep, something primal, bubbled to the surface. His gaze was sharply focused on the pair as he made his way to the center of the dance floor, and before he knew it, he’d tapped Todd on the shoulder.
When the man turned, Grant stifled the urge to pull him off of her. “May I cut in?” he asked instead, his eyes fixed on Stacey.
She opened her mouth slightly. Was that relief on her face?
God, he wanted to kiss her. So much so that he held himself rigid to keep from acting on impulse. There was no denying that an unexplainable something sizzled through his veins, sizzled between them.
“Of course,” she answered. “Thanks again for the dance, Todd. Good talking to you.”
The other man released her, then nodded. “I’ll call you.”
Without a word, Grant gathered her into his arms and held her close, her head right beneath his chin, and her body pressed against him just hard enough so he could feel her softness. The scent of lemons wafted off of her, and he breathed in deeply.
How could something like a simple slow dance feel so…right?
Shit.
It wasn’t like they hadn’t danced together before. She’d been the one to teach him when Grant was afraid he’d humiliate himself at their first school dance. While he’d rolled his eyes at the time, secretly pleased he had her around to help, he had to admit that holding her now felt good. Too damn good.
He took another deep breath, then moved his head to one side of hers so he wouldn’t have to shout over the music.
Right. Keep telling yourself that.
“What’s going on, Grant?” she asked in his ear. “You’ve been edgy since we got here.”
He nearly groaned at the warmth of her breath against his cheek, and hoped like hell she didn’t feel him shudder. Stacey was his person, the first to be a part of his small tribe. He’d known her even longer than Aidan. Grant and Aidan had both been through the foster care system, and both had come out of it in pretty good shape, but Stacey would always be his first.
He tightened his arms around her, swallowing while his pulse raced and blood pounded in his ears. Risking something like their friendship was insane, especially when he had no idea how she felt. Still, he settled on the truth before he could talk himself out of it. “I could get lost in your eyes.”
Chapter Six
I could get lost in your eyes.
If he was going for the shock factor, it worked. Stacey bit down on her lower lip. Was he serious? She couldn’t tell. This was Grant, for heaven’s sake. He didn’t say stuff like that. Ever. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she really did have that effect on him.
Almost afraid of
what she’d see, she glanced up at him—and caught the flash of regret that crossed his face.
Oh.
She tried to come up with something to say that wouldn’t make the situation more awkward. “That’s, uh…that’s a good line, Grant.”
That’s it. Keep it light, keep it friendly. Don’t let him see how much you wish he’d meant it.
“Not if it’s true,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.
Which in Grant terms meant he hadn’t intended the compliment to come out sounding serious. “Funny guy,” she said, even as a pang of regret, followed immediately by a surge of longing, swept through her. She shoved both aside.
He grinned. “That’s me. Hope you didn’t mind me cutting in.”
“Are you gonna police who I dance with now? Really, Grant, what’s next? A chastity belt?”
Like she needed one of those. It’d been ages since she’d had sex.
He cleared his throat. “Hey, it’s none of my business who you dance with, but you know what is?”
“What?”
“Making sure you’re having a good time. You know, since I dragged you here and everything.”
Oh, well, okay. That she could believe. “I’ve made some promising business contacts, and even have a couple of events planned.”
“What about the manhunt?”
She leaned back and scowled at him. “Would you quit calling it that?”
“Why? That’s pretty much what it is, right? A hunt for ‘the one.’” He batted his eyelashes at her.
“Goofball.” Stacey laughed, then frowned. He kind of had a point. When she agreed to be his plus one, she’d harbored hope that she’d run into the guy for her.
And that’s when the realization struck her like she was a pin at the end of a bowling lane. She might have hoped to meet her special someone, but she’d been so distracted by Grant that she hadn’t even bothered to consider which of the eligible men here might be worth talking to.
She froze as the thought deepened, strengthened. Her breathing shallowed and she fought like the devil to figure out why she’d allowed her best friend in the whole wide universe to distract her. Tilting her head, she searched Grant’s blue eyes, their color unexpected on someone with dark hair. She could get lost in his eyes—had gotten lost a time or two just this week.
He scanned her face and frowned, then leaned forward. “Let’s get out of here.”
She felt his breath when he whispered in her ear, sending bolts of electricity through her. Every nerve was on hyperalert, every cell at the ready. For what, she wasn’t quite sure. After all, it wasn’t like he’d suggested they get a room or anything.
He guided her off the dance floor and toward a side door, then held her hand as they stepped outside the stifling room. Heaters dotted the terrace, providing respite from the cool air, in spite of the midday sun. This had always been a beautiful spot, one of her favorite places at the resort, even in winter.
“Here.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “You’ve got to be freezing.”
“Thanks.” The captured heat from his body seeped into hers, warming her and melding with her own sizzling, slow heat. She gulped in a deep breath, tried her damnedest to still her pounding heart. He gave her his jacket. So what? It was what a gentleman did, and Grant was definitely a gentleman.
The sound of water splashing from the large fountain in the back gardens played a soothing background to the muffled music seeping through the closed ballroom doors. The whole scene was magical, romantic, even—with the right guy.
He reached for her hand again, effectively turning her until she faced him fully. His gaze pierced hers, his smile made her heart pound. Or maybe it was the gentle circles he made with his thumb on the back of her hand.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “It was getting stuffy in there.”
“In more ways than one.”
He was right. In the past they’d have made an appearance, bowed out at the earliest opportunity, and made a beeline for the mountains or the lake or the river, or maybe even…Netflix.
She swallowed. Think of something to say. Something that’d break this spell he seemed to have cast over her.
With her free hand, she tugged the jacket tighter around her and felt the envelope in the breast pocket. It had to be the letter from his mom. “Did you read it yet?” Knowing him, he’d read the letter at least once, probably more.
He stared at something beyond her left shoulder. “I read it this morning.”
“That’s good.” She nodded. “Any new insights?”
This was a conversation they had every year, dissecting what his mother might’ve been trying to convey through her words. Sure, they were written a long time ago, and she was likely a very different person now, but who really knew? It wasn’t like the woman had tried to reach out to Grant, had tried to make up for the years since she’d abandoned him.
“No.” He blew out a breath. “Same as always. Lots of questions and no answers.”
When they’d first met, he’d been the new kid at her school, alone and afraid. All she’d known was that he’d been dropped off at a park to play while his mother took off with his younger brother. What kind of a woman abandoned her kid? Let alone one as cool as Grant?
She squeezed his hand tight, but when she tried to let go, he held on. Fine with her. She stepped close and gave him a hug.
Life could be so brutally unfair. Grant. Julian and Martha. Her own inability to find love. Really, was it too much to ask that life be fair?
Truthfully, she’d tried not to think about the old man, or his disease, or the fact that his last few weeks would be spent planning the perfect dinners for him to share with his wife.
“I learned something about Julian this week,” she said. “He’s sick.”
Grant pulled back, his eyebrows up, his gaze searching hers. “I’m guessing it’s more serious than that, right?” His tone was even, calm, and affected her in a way that made her know he really cared, too.
She nodded. And that’s when the ache she’d held at bay for most of the day spilled out of her in a mash of sorrow with a sprinkle of anxiety. Stacey reluctantly turned away from him, from his heat, and leaned against the balcony rail, one hand gripping onto the cold metal for support. “How could someone so kind and loving and giving have to go through something as horrible as cancer? It’s just not fair.”
“I know it isn’t.”
For the first time since she’d left Julian’s house, tendrils of doubt snaked in. “He wants me to plan all these perfect dinners for him and Martha. What if I can’t do it, Grant? What if I’m not good enough?”
“Oh, please, you’re going to be great.”
“But what if I’m not?” She was pretty good at functioning under pressure, good at keeping her emotions at bay, no matter how badly she wanted to ugly-cry, but at the moment, she was failing miserably.
It’s not that she’d never bawled in front of Grant before. He’d been the one whose shoulder she’d cried on when little Tommy Roberts pulled her hair in the third grade and she’d gotten in trouble for giving him a black eye. But there was something different about this time, something more personal, more intimate.
“Hey.” He stepped toward her, stopping so they stood less than a foot apart. “Don’t tell me you’ve taken that all on yourself.”
She blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. You’re good at what you do, so just keep doing it.”
“I know that. It’s just that…it’s so…sad.” Her heart ached and she eased in a deep breath to keep from falling off into some sort of weird emotional abyss.
“You have a big heart, no doubt about that. But think about it, Stace. You’re kind of helping them keep their relationship alive. It’s another moment for them, another memory.”
“You and your moments.” She shook her head and smiled.
He shru
gged. “Each moment is all we really have, right? Can’t live in the past, and the future…” He shrugged. “Well, you can’t bank on any sort of a future.”
He’d always had this view on life, likely because of his past. She stared into his eyes, blue pools so mysterious, yet so inviting. She breathed deeply, filling her lungs with as much oxygen as she could. God, he smelled good, too. Spicy. Was that a new cologne or something? How come she hadn’t noticed it before?
“Stace?”
“Yeah?”
“You zoned on me there for a sec. You okay?”
“Of course I’m okay. And I didn’t zone on you.”
A small smile curled his mouth. “Then answer the question.”
Well, shit. He totally got her there. She could fake it, but what would be the point? “Fine. What question?”
He closed the gap between them, reaching a hand out to move a few strands of hair from her face. A shiver chased through her at the light contact. “Would you like me to take you home?”
“With you?”
Oh, shit. Did she really ask that?
His eyes widened a fraction, a gleam of interest reflected in them before they shuttered, effectively keeping her from knowing for sure. “You want to go home with me?” he asked carefully.
What the hell? She’d opened the door, so to speak. And technically he started it with his ridiculous comment about getting lost in her eyes. Would it be so bad, letting him comfort her in whatever way he saw fit? And maybe…hopefully…more? “I mean, would you be okay with taking me home?”
He shifted closer. “I guess that depends.”
“Oh.” Her voice sounded breathy. She swallowed. What exactly was happening here? It was like she was on the fringes of reality, like she was an observer as well as a participant. Why deny she’d fantasized about him over the past few days, definitely wondered what being with him would be like if things were even more…intimate between them. Maybe he’d been wondering the same thing… “Depends on what?”
He glanced at her mouth. “Whether you’ll let me kiss you again.”
Did he mean it or was he just teasing her again? Her scrambled brain came up with the only response she seemed capable of at the moment. “Oh.”
The Best Friend Incident (Driven to Love) Page 5