“The land the Landseer sits on would be worth a fortune.”
She shifted, looking uncomfortable. “It would, I guess, but if you sold it, my business would suffer.”
He reached across the table and patted her hand where it rested beside her glass. “You don’t need to worry. I’m not sure what I’ll decide to do with the place. I like it just the way it is.”
For now, he’d keep the motel. But later, no one knew what life would bring. He was the poster child for not seeing what was right in front of him. Blind, deaf, and gullible, Grady had learned the hard way that today was today, and no one was promised tomorrow.
He’d like to see how well Farren could do with this Singles Fest idea. Something about it appealed to him. Maybe it was the wacky optimism he saw glowing from Farren’s eyes. Maybe it was that she had a mountain of details to conquer. Maybe it was the woman herself.
He wasn’t sure she’d make a go of Singles Fest, but it would be fun to watch. And for now, fun was all he wanted. He smoothed his fingers across the back of her capable hand and decided it was fine place to rest his fingers.
And the gesture would make him look more interested in Farren than he was. To curious eyes only.
Because he wasn’t interested. Not at all.
Chapter Seven
THERE WAS A LOT MORE Farren could say to Grady about Eva, but she preferred to keep her friend’s secrets. Grady needn’t know that Eva had abandoned a high-powered career and life in Los Angeles to come here and care for other people’s children.
Eva Fontaine needed a simple life now. One filled with laughter and singing and fun. What’s more, she deserved it. And her daycare would give her all the joy she needed. Singles Fest would fill her days until NanaBanana opened.
Grady’s hand rested on hers comfortably and she enjoyed the sensation of heat and gentle caring. His eyes were warm, and she couldn’t tell if it was manufactured for the curious or if he felt something real. Whatever. It was lovely to raise her face to the sun, feel the weight of his hand on hers and know that this man was on her side.
“Thanks for reassuring me about the motel,” she said as she covered the hand that covered hers. She patted him contentedly. Three hands stacked like pancakes. A gull screeched overhead when another snatched up a fry a tourist had tossed to the sand.
“Locals never feed the gulls. They get grabby if you stop. Not to mention the dive bombing.”
“I remember,” he said with a chuckle. “They have remarkable aim.”
She shouldn’t feel closer to him for this innocent touch of hands, but she did. Anyone looking at them would believe they were interested in each other. The thought gave her pause. Where was the grumpy bear she’d come to know?
“Ready to order?” he asked. “Those fish and chips sound like a good idea.”
“That’s what I’ll have, too. The chalkboard claims the fish slept in the sea last night. That’s how fresh it is.” They still sat with their hands stacked in the classic lovers’ pose over the table. “This looks good,” she offered and moved her hand a bit. “Like we mean it.”
“Faking it seems easy enough. You still okay with it? I pressed you to agree.” He frowned. “Let me know if anything I do is too much or pushes your boundaries.”
“I will. I’m no pushover. We agreed light touching, hand-holding, affectionate kisses in front of your sister if the situation calls for them.”
“Right. Like if we’re taking our leave or greeting each other.”
“Or you do something sweet for me. Like bring me a rose or do something extra-nice.”
“Do I need to make lots and lots of lists?” he teased.
“Or say something funny, just to make me laugh,” she added. Her heart did a pit-a-pat.
“Have I thanked you properly for agreeing to this charade? Delphine has been a pain in my, er, neck for too long. Mostly about women. She thinks I have the potential to be—”
“A very lonely man,” she finished for him. “She’s mentioned that a few times. It’s out of concern, and since...” she trailed away, afraid to ruin this pleasant camaraderie.
“Since my fiancée drowned the night before the wedding, she’s been worse. I think she’s convinced I’ll never find another Veronica.”
Farren didn’t know what to say to that. Clearly, he wanted the love of his life back.
He caught the server’s attention and during the seconds it took for her to arrive at their table, they separated their hands. The moment of friendliness collapsed as they placed their orders.
When he looked back at her, he said, “I guess we should fill in time with small talk.” He grimaced and she recognized the grouch who’d been missing a moment ago.
“I think you hate small talk.”
“That obvious?” He unwrapped his cutlery from the paper napkin, but still looked at her with interest. What was he after? It wasn’t chit-chat.
She sipped at her beer and waited.
“We should do the usual get-to-know-you stuff. Delphine may quiz you. Ask whatever you want,” he said.
She gave a quick shake of her head. “You start. That way, I’ll know when you get tired of the small talk. Or bored.”
“I’ll tell you when I’ve heard enough.” Brusque, pointed. Grady. “You’ve got brothers. How many?”
“Three, all older.”
“Live here?”
“No. But close enough that I see them regularly.”
“Parents?”
“Live on the mainland. They wanted to be closer to the grandkids. And the airport for travel.”
She could see boredom setting in behind his eyes. Before it took hold, she had questions of her own.
“My turn.”
He nodded, looking wary. “Veronica is off limits.”
“Understandable.” No way did she want to discuss his fiancée. Too soon and too hard. But his sister cared about him, and it made her curious that he refused to see Delphine. But anyone could see Grady was still grieving. His sister should respect that, shouldn’t she? So maybe Grady had it wrong and Farren wasn’t the next eligible woman his sister had found for him. “Why does Delphine think you need help finding women?”
“Ask her. I’ve always been perfectly happy alone.” He sighed. “My sister has butted into my life ever since we lost our mom when we were fourteen. I think she took on the role of mothering in her grief and hasn’t figured out yet that she can let it go.”
“You were busywork? And now, with Veronica’s accident...” she trailed off because she’d put her foot in her mouth. Again.
“Busywork is a good word for it. Managing me kept her mind off her own loss when we were kids. That’s why I allowed it for too long. And now it’s shaping up to get worse.”
They fell to silence while she pondered being fourteen and losing your mother. She shuddered inwardly. A moment later she blew out a breath.
“Okay. Before Veronica, were there any other women that were long-term?” Curiosity was a terrible thing sometimes. But figuring out what made some men loners and others hound dogs could be important. She had a list of questions for men’s profiles, but Grady’s answers might shed light where there was none before.
Her brothers were gregarious and friendly with women, but were they hound dogs? She hoped not, since two of them were married. She frowned.
Grady gave a shake of his head. “I was too busy for long term. A month or two, but nothing longer. Before Veronica, my women friends told me women want to spend time with the man they’re dating.”
“Go figure,” she quipped.
He lifted a corner of his lip at her cheekiness. “Back then, I was busy building O’Hara and didn’t hear them. I figured they stayed, or they didn’t.” He gave her an indifferent shrug.
“Women were conveniences?” Wow, okay.
He shifted. “I guess. But it wasn’t deliberate.” He dropped his gaze to the tabletop and frowned darkly. Her question must have hit a nerve. Good.
But she u
nderstood more about him now. Veronica had been building the business with him as his assistant. It made sense that a busy man would find a woman close at hand. Working late together, travelling together, sharing take-out at their desks as the city slowed to a night crawl. If they were both single, it would be natural to fall into a relationship.
The man in question tilted his head and considered her. “Since we’re veering into the personal; what about you? Anything long term? I assume you’re single since we’re doing this fake thing.”
“Like you, I’ve been too busy for anything longer than a couple of weeks here and there.” She shrugged off his curiosity and she had no doubt he was curious. A woman her age, alone for years, was an anomaly. It wasn’t that she’d lost a great love, she’d just lost a lot of small ones over time. She’d never had a deep heartbreak, but tiny cracks over years added up. She’d become cautious and wary. Still hopeful, but less enthusiastic.
“Busy with what?” Suddenly he seemed interested again, as if the mystery of a single woman in her thirties was something that needed solving. Right. Now.
“I don’t know,” she muttered. “Stuff. Life.” She didn’t want to get into all this.
“You’ve never moved away. Obviously, you’re ambitious.” He indicated her tablet. “Yet you never harbored aspirations to go to a big city to make your mark?”
His gaze sharpened on hers and she couldn’t look away. He pulled at her, drew her in and she found herself leaning toward him again, caught in his need to know. She opened her lips to speak, but what was there to say? She couldn’t be bothered? She’d become weary and leery of dating? Looking for a serious relationship had become a chore. Putting herself out there had become too much work. Especially since turning thirty.
But lately, she’d been aware of wasting those same years. Those early thirties.
She shook off the desire to explain her decision to set aside that part of herself. Instead, she focused on the other half of his version of her. The scared-to-try small town girl version.
“You think I’m scared to try my hand elsewhere? Is that it?” Frowning, she went on before he could respond. “Maybe I don’t want to set the world on fire, just my little corner of it. And, yes, I know it’s a little corner.”
So much for small talk. Somehow, they’d moved from minutiae to deeper things. She shifted to shrug off his stabbing questions.
He leaned back but kept his hand on the bottom edge of his glass. His fingers were long and blunt, with square tips. Great hands.
“I’m sorry, I seem to have hit a nerve,” he said unrepentantly. “I have a habit of doing that without realizing it until it’s too late. Veronica used to hook her baby finger with mine when I got too intense at parties or events where I needed to be on my best behavior.”
And he’d lost Veronica. Her support. That love. He’d lost his one true love and Farren was giving him a hard time over some silly questions.
“Excuse me,” she said and rose to go to the ladies’ room. She had to get a grip. Reminding him of his dead fiancée was a horrible thing to do. Even if she hadn’t meant to do it, the hurt was real.
HE’D HATED THAT VERONICA had tried to rein him in, hoping to change him or make him more civilized. There had been times at social gatherings when he’d been deliberately testing someone or looking for a weakness in a plan. She’d hook her finger to his and tsk. Then she’d change the subject, making him lose his advantage. Asking pointed questions was often the best way to get to the meat of a problem. Countless times, she’d interrupted his train of thought, and the moment had been lost.
At first, he’d appreciated that she was looking out for him during those times when he got too deeply involved in conversations. Social situations had always been minefields. Until Veronica, he’d avoided them. She’d convinced him that making an appearance and chatting inanely would help O’Hara grow.
He was sorry he’d made Farren feel awkward here in the sunshine and the cool ocean breeze. She should never feel awkward. She had ambition and drive, but it was small-time and small town. He’d never be happy being a big fish in a little pond. Frankly, he didn’t see how Singles Fest could stay small and survive. She needed to take it to a global market.
He sipped at his beer and ruminated.
A few minutes went by where he closed his eyes and raised his face to the sun, thinking.
A chair grated and Farren settled back into her seat with a brief smile that lifted her mouth, but not her face. Not her usual smile at all.
“Farren,” he said gently, “you’re far from scared. You’re smart and ambitious and thorough. I’m curious why a woman with your attributes would choose to remain in such a sleepy town. From what I see, nothing’s changed for the locals. Still no schools, nothing but tourist shops. They may change hands, but they don’t grow.”
She stared at him, waiting for the punchline, he guessed.
“Last Chance Beach is not a place to build a business.” Some of the storefronts had had facelifts. But the place was far from bustling. “People retire here and buy a small business to have something to do. No one’s making bank that way.”
She drew in a deep breath. “Maybe it’s not a place to build a brick-and-mortar business, but that’s not what I’m doing. I’m building a business that will have international appeal. Did you know there’s a festival in Ireland that’s gone on for hundreds of years? It’s dedicated to singles looking for marriage. That’s the sole reason for its existence.” She straightened and gave him a ‘take that’ look.
“And now we come to the reason I pressed you,” he said, happy to hear she’d been thinking globally. “I was sure you must have a deeper understanding of what you want to achieve. Lots of people have trouble expressing their innermost thoughts. I put you on the spot at my place last night. I made you fumble and then I proposed this ridiculous fake dating thing. That must’ve thrown you right off your game.”
She shifted her shoulders. “Sort of. I guess.” She looked past his shoulder. “The food’s on the way.”
He had a special request of the server.
“Vinegar?” Farren asked as the server moved off to fulfill his request.
“For fish and chips, yes.”
For a few minutes, they fell to silence as another couple settled their bill at the next table. When the vinegar had been delivered, they added their condiments, vinegar included. She watched him sprinkle it on his fish and chips and rolled her eyes. She dabbed a fry into her ketchup blob.
“I picked up the habit in England. Try a fry.” He held out a perfectly deep-fried sample and waited while she considered whether to eat from his hand or not. She leaned in, opened her mouth and he placed the vinegar-dipped fry between her beautifully lush lips.
She chewed, swallowed, and smiled. “That’s good. Huh. Who’d have thought?”
“The Brits. Now, put some on your fish, too.”
“Okay, I’m in,” she said and gave him the real smile he’d been waiting for.
They finished their meal and as she wiped her lips with her napkin, her eyes went serious. “I’m sorry I made you think of Veronica. You said she was off limits and I’m afraid I led you to talking about a painful memory.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he said and made a mental note to check out the Irish Festival she’d mentioned. He didn’t want to press her for anything now. He’d have plenty of time later. Suddenly, hanging out with Farren and watching Singles Fest come to fruition felt as if it could be...fun.
It had been years since having fun had been a priority. He’d spent his life seeing the world as a serious place. Fun, in and of itself, had never been a goal. He looked into Farren’s wide purply-blue eyes and saw weeks full of laughter waiting in their depths. Maybe this was what he needed to get himself back on track.
And a kiss or two might help.
Chapter Eight
THE NEXT AFTERNOON, at the Landseer, Farren looked out toward the beach and saw a head bob up and down. A br
oad pair of shoulders soon appeared as well. Grady. Was he? Yes, he was. She smiled and headed for the walkway to talk to her handyman who looked busy being handy.
As she stepped off the lawn and onto the wooden boards, she caught her breath at the sight of Grady, on his hands and knees with a hammer in his hand and two nails between his lips. Oh, my.
His shirt was open, his face glistened and as she watched, he swiped his forearm across his brow. She had to gather herself before speaking. She’d seen newspaper photos of him in a tuxedo, so she knew he killed the sophisticated look, but this was completely different.
Farren blinked slowly three times and still the image of that forearm lingered. She swallowed and opened her mouth.
“Hello! Do you need a cold drink? It’s hot out here.”
Grady raised his head to look at her, his eyes trailing from the top of her head to her bare toes. “It’s hot, all right, but I came prepared.” He pointed to an insulated aluminum bottle.
“Oh, good.” She stepped closer, admiring the work he’d done so far. “This will be finished in no time.” New, freshly sawn wooden planks interspersed with older ones and the job looked about half done and it was only eleven a.m. “When did you get out here?”
“I wanted to start before the heat of the day, so six-thirty. I’ll be quitting soon. The sun’s too strong, even with sunscreen.” He leaned back on his heels and looked up at her. “I’ll be going for a swim soon. Care to join me?”
She thought of running home to grab her suit and towel. Thought of bobbing in the waves with Grady only feet away and next to naked. Her nipples firmed, but it was the thought of the cold water that gave her the reaction. Sure, it was.
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