by Joya Ryan
Grant laughed. Jake was a salt-of-the-earth kind of guy who loved his wife and had no trouble talking about it. He also liked hearing that marriage wasn’t always sunshine and roses, so that added to his mental hope jar. Hope that he and Hannah would really be okay and work everything out.
“But you get me started talking about my wife, and I’ll go all day. So what can I help you with, my friend?” Jake asked.
“Any chance you have screen doors?”
“Yes, that’ll be back in the warehouse. I can show you.”
Grant thanked him and followed him to the back. “So you’re new in town?” Jake asked over his shoulder.
“I stand out that bad?” Grant asked, glancing down at his pressed navy slacks and white button-down shirt for the second time.
“Nah, I just grew up here. Locals know locals.”
Grant nodded. Guy was nice. Was liking this local idea. Being from a city, there were cold, hurried people everywhere.
“How long have you and your wife owned this place?” Grant said, glancing around at the massive inventory and thinking that a business like this must make a killing. Had the market on the home goods, it looked like, for the entire town.
“Technically, not long. But I’ve worked here since I was a teenager and took over for my father-in-law. Lot of sweat equity. But my wife is the brilliance behind everything. Especially the flowers in the shop up front.”
Grant nodded. Partly because he was starting to think he might have some investment opportunities around this place and could start to add to his father’s holdings, building his own portfolio and getting his hands in some local business.
“This is a great place,” Grant said. “All your product is local?”
“Absolutely,” Jake said with clear pride. “No big chains or mass product from overseas. It’s all done right here. My buddy is building the log cabin subdivision across town, and we supply him with the wood and landscape.”
“That’s incredible—you can all self-sustain and even thrive with this small dynamic.”
“Thank you. Sounds like you really know your end of business,” Jake said, rounding the home repair area of the warehouse and getting to what looked to be doors ahead.
Grant couldn’t help his business mind. He was always looking to invest and grow the company by taking on new ventures. Especially ones he could take credit for as his own finds. He also loved funding small businesses, especially where there was profit to be made. That was what a conglomerate was for. To oversee the success of many smaller businesses.
“I’m in the business of making other businesses thrive,” Grant said vaguely. But the way Jake spoke of his wife made Grant want to relate. “I’m also here to see my wife.”
Grant didn’t know why he’d said that. Maybe he wanted to continue this real conversation with a real person who didn’t have a secret agenda like everyone back in New York. Maybe he wanted to brag about Hannah. Talk to someone, married man to married man. Because the truth was, he’d never had the chance to do that.
“Your wife?” Jake asked, showing him to the screen doors. “She local?”
“Yeah. Hannah Hastings.”
Jake choked on what sounded like a shocked breath. Finally, the giant man gulped air and let out a loud, shocked chuckle.
“You’re Hannah’s husband?” he asked, that same shock still very present in those three words.
Grant smiled. “Yes, I’m the luckiest man in the world.”
Jake laughed. “Well, shit, friend, we need to take you out for a drink!” Grant thought he heard Jake mutter something like, “And I thought I was in shovel trouble.”
“We?” Grant asked.
Jake nodded. “My buddy Cal, who does the cabins. We were going to the Crow’s Nest tonight for a beer. Usually we go to Goonies, Hannah’s place, but I think a change of scene may be good for you.”
Jake seemed like a good guy, and truth be told, Grant could use a drink. As well as intel on his wife from people who seemed to know her.
“Hannah’s a great woman. Didn’t know any man could tie her down, though,” Jake said.
“Is that why you’re asking me out for a drink? Out of pity?”
Jake smiled. “Not pity—more like camaraderie. I hope the odds are in your favor. But also, my wife is your wife’s best friend. And the minute I tell her that I met you today, she will want to know everything and scold me for not making friends.”
“Ah, well, I guess that makes sense.”
Jake was still smiling. “You’ll catch up on the secret rules of marriage here soon.” Jake smacked his back. “And I can’t wait to get details on how you managed to court her with your balls still intact!”
Honestly, Grant didn’t know, either. His wife was a feisty one. But talking about her like this, like a normal man talking to a friend, made him feel like a part of something for the first time. Like . . . community. Family. Plus, Jake was married to Hannah’s best friend? That was kind of perfect. He wanted to be a part of Hannah’s life, and these people were important to her. Jake was also a cool guy.
Grant picked out a screen door, and Jake smiled. “Should I deliver this to Hannah’s place?”
Grant nodded. “That would be great. And I think I’ll need a bouquet of flowers, too.”
“Ah, man.” Jake laughed. “Hannah landed herself a secret husband who gives her flowers? She’s going to be so pissed when everyone finds out.”
Grant smiled. Anything that would annoy his wife wasn’t exactly a bad thing.
“Five thousand dollars in a week and a half?” Laura asked, swiveling on her bar stool. After Hannah had told her the gist of her problem, she was counting on her best friend to be creative with ways to earn money, since she was the most capable person Hannah knew and might be able to pull something like this off. And because she was the bestest friend ever, Laura had rushed over from her store to come brainstorm and have a sweet tea in Hannah’s bar.
Laura tapped her chin and said, “What about a bake sale?”
“I can’t bake.”
Laura pursed her lips. “True.”
“And I’m not a seventh grader raising money for camp. I’m trying to buy a bar.”
“Well, we’re just brainstorming here,” Laura said in her “don’t give up hope” tone. This was why Hannah had people like Laura in her life. Because she hoped enough for both of them. Her thoughts turned to Grant. He was a hoper, too. He was also stubborn and relentless—and ruthless, even. Not to mention sexy and caring and—
“I need more ideas,” Hannah said, interrupting her train of thought, because it was heading from PG to R in about two seconds.
“Can you knit? Crochet? Ooh! Repurpose old dressers into TV stands?”
Hannah just stared at her friend. “You really need to stop going on Pinterest. It’s a form of online addiction, you know.”
“But everything is so cute and crafty!” Laura defended with a wistful smile.
“Do I look like a crafter?”
Laura looked her over long and hard like she had back when they were in second grade, deciding if she wanted to be friends and play on the monkey bars. Only now, Hannah was hoping she could help her with a real bar.
“You may not be a crafter, but you have other talents.”
Hannah wasn’t so sure. She put her forehead in her hand and twirled her whiskey. She was so close to getting what she’d always wanted. What she’d worked for. Her own business, in her small town, stable and middle class. Where she’d always prayed to be. Not trash. Not scraping by. Not just a bartender. And not Silas Hastings’s daughter.
“I just need a win,” she said.
Laura nodded. “Is everything going okay with your dad?”
Hannah shot her head up. “How do you know?”
“Small town,” Laura said softly.
Great. The gossip train was still in full gear. Not that it was surprising—Hannah just hated talking about her dad. Or how regularly she had to bail him out of jail.<
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“Everything is fine. I just need . . .”
Grant.
She didn’t know why his name smashed into her head. Because he was complicating her life more. She was playing his game for now, only so he’d leave and be gone for good. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about last night?
Because it had been good.
Really damn good.
“Have you talked to Grant about it?” Laura said, as if reading her mind.
“There’s nothing to talk about. This is my bar I’m trying to get with my money.”
“He’s your husband.”
“Not for long,” Hannah mumbled.
Laura frowned. “Really? You won’t even entertain the idea of staying with him?”
“To do what? We have different lives in different places. It was impulsive, and he’s basically blackmailing me. Romantic, huh?”
“Actually, it kind of sounds like it,” Laura said with a grin and took a sip of her tea. “Jake and I play forbidden strangers. Where he walks into a place he knows I’m at and we pretend that we’re first meeting and then—”
“Go bone in his truck. Yeah, I’m aware of your game,” Hannah said.
“Well, you should try it. Maybe it’ll be a nice change out of the grouchy pants you’re constantly wearing.”
Hannah smiled and took a drink of her whiskey. She loved Laura. Her bright, go-get-’em attitude and all. But the situation with her and Grant was different. Difficult. And not some fairy tale. She couldn’t help but wonder, though, what that fairy tale would be like. Laura was her best friend and a good resource. Maybe she should talk about her situation with Grant? Get some insight? She’d never talked shop about marriage before and had no clue what being a wife even meant. She’d married Grant out of haste and longing.
She remembered how that fire had felt in her stomach when she thought of losing him. Never seeing him again. Maybe she’d had heatstroke on that ship, but deep, deep down, she knew that would just be another in the long line of excuses she’d thought of over the past half a year.
“You say I’m grouchy like you’ve never been grouchy with Jake,” Hannah offered, trying to sneakily set up a conversation.
“Oh, I’ve been full-on pissed with Jake, but that’s not what marriage is about.”
“Is it about who wins the fight?” Hannah asked, genuinely wanting to know.
Laura laughed. “Of course not. It’s about knowing what you’re fighting for and knowing when to back down.”
Hannah didn’t do well with backing down. “Like compromise and all that crap?”
“Compromise is a big part of it, but mostly it’s waking up every day and making a choice, while also realizing that he wakes up every day and has a choice. And if you start and end every moment knowing your choice is him, then that’s when you fight for each other. Because marriage is hard.”
Hannah glanced away. She’d had a lot of choices in her life. Several involving Grant. And Grant had a lot of choices when it came to her. He was here. In her town, home, and bed. He was waking up making those choices, and Hannah was sleeping on them.
“It’s scary,” Laura said, as if reading her mind. “Because marriage is trusting someone to show up and choose you every day.”
Hannah didn’t have great experience with that. She’d never had her parents in her corner, or even Laura all of the time. Hannah had been left, forgotten, or flat-out ignored. Yet from the moment she met Grant, he’d made her feel seen.
A loud breath pushed past her lips of its own will. Her mind was in knots and her stomach fizzing because she hadn’t remembered to inhale through this conversation. Which meant she needed to change topics.
“I can’t even begin to deal with the Grant situation right now. I need to get this bar before I ever have a chance to lose it.”
“Maybe you’re trying to do everything yourself again. Getting support isn’t a bad thing. Counting on someone else isn’t a bad thing, either,” Laura said.
“Hey, I called you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but you know I’m talking about more. You always handle everything yourself. Sure, you called me, but you’re taking this burden all on yourself, one hundred percent. You never let anyone in enough to take some of your struggle.”
“That’s because I’m fine,” Hannah defended. “And my struggles are just that—mine. I just need ideas on how to raise money.” She didn’t mean to snap at Laura, but she couldn’t handle the way this conversation was going. It was her own fault for letting it derail in the first place. Because she knew full well that Grant was the key issue here. And Hannah just needed something, for once, to go right.
“It’s possible, right?” Hannah asked, doing the mental math of what five thousand dollars in ten days would take. Only five hundred bucks a day . . .
She looked around the bar. A bar that wasn’t hers but felt like it was. Felt like she was so close to being stable, set, and happy. Being successful and more than just a bartender. More than her father’s daughter.
“Anything is possible,” Laura said with all the can-do attitude only a former prom queen could have. Her cell phone buzzed, and Laura flipped a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder and started tapping on it. Likely texting Jake, because she was smiling at the screen like a moron. If she started talking about love and babies and world peace, Hannah was going to take the nearest fork and stick it in her ear hole.
Babies.
Why had that word entered her brain?
First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage.
Hannah wanted to laugh at her own internal absurdity. She had the marriage, wasn’t sure about the love, and babies? Hell no. She was way too terrified to be a mother. Too many risk factors for messing up a kid. Funny—she had a husband, and they’d never discussed family. Not that she would be having that discussion any time soon. Jesus, she needed to stop thinking about Grant. Because the more she thought of him and the situation she found herself in, the more those thoughts expanded into questions . . . particularly about the future.
She needed a break tonight. On the outskirts of town, there was a big dance hall bar.
“I think we just need to get creative. And the best way to do that is to clear the mind of stress and relax,” Laura said, putting her cell phone away after what seemed to be a happy texting exchange.
Hannah frowned. “Why do I feel like you’re on the brink of trying to talk me into something?”
Laura faked a shocked breath and held a hand to her heart. “I would never . . . ,” she said with so much embellishment, Hannah could smell the sweetness coating each word.
“I just think you need a break, and coming out with me tonight is perfect. We can go out, have fun, dance, and just relax and let loose a little. That’s when the ideas will hit.”
“Uh-huh,” Hannah said in a bored tone. “Surely they’ll hit due to ‘relaxing’ and not the five drinks you always end up having whenever we have girls’ night and you get a hold of cheap vodka and an open mic.”
“Hey, people love my rendition of Shania Twain.”
Hannah shook her head and smiled. “Whatever you say.”
“So you’ll come with me?” she asked.
Hannah could use an excuse to stay out of the house tonight and not deal with Grant. Because every time she thought of him, she thought of him naked. Which meant that being around him wasn’t the best idea.
“Yeah, I’m in,” she said.
Laura clapped lightly and took an adorable sip of her tea. “Good! Then wear your most sexy outfit.”
“Sexy outfit?” Hannah said. “I have jeans or jeans.”
“No, you have a dress. I saw it in your closet last month.”
Hannah immediately knew which dress she was talking about. The tight blue one that she’d worn the night she met Grant on the cruise ship.
“So dig out that dress, put it on, and figure out who you want to be tonight, because we’re going out to get creative,” Laura
said with a smile.
Hannah was hit with an instant dose of déjà vu that she had a feeling would bite her in the ass tonight.
Chapter Five
Hannah was on her second drink, and the dress she wore felt foreign against her skin. The last time she’d worn it, she’d been with the man who was now making her life complicated.
“You look great,” Laura said as she picked up her fruity pink drink off the bar and glanced around. She was in a dress as well and looked way more comfortable than Hannah felt. They were at the Crow’s Nest. The big bar held dance lessons, events, and concerts. Not massive, but not small like Goonies. It was the main place people came when they wanted to have more than just a drink in a bar. They wanted to move. And although Hannah wasn’t a dancer, the upbeat swing of the band playing popular cover songs made her toes tap and her hips sway just a little.
“Don’t look now, but I think you’re starting to relax,” Laura said.
Hannah just raised a brow and looked around at all the people. The place was packed, and she was actually liking being out in the world beyond her home, Goonies, or Main Street.
She hadn’t seen Grant when she’d gone home to change earlier. And she was wondering what he was doing. Wondering if he was thinking of her. Not that she cared. And she definitely hadn’t spent the better part of her shift today watching the front door wondering if he’d walk through it.
Had he gone back to New York?
She hadn’t checked the house for his things. She’d just hustled in and left after a quick change, some eyeliner and lipstick, and a fluff of the hair. But surely he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye . . .
I thought you wanted him gone?
Her mind was a whispering bitch. Hannah downed her drink in one swallow.
“You look so sad all of a sudden,” Laura said.
“Nope, I’m good, just need another drink.”
“Are you thinking of the money for the bar? We’ll find a way. Don’t worry.”
Surprisingly, Hannah hadn’t been thinking of that. She’d been thinking of Grant. Wondering if this pain in her chest would ever stop pulsing.
“Miss?” the bartender called to Hannah. She turned and faced him. He slid her a drink—the exact drink she’d just consumed. “Gentleman over there bought you ladies a round,” the bartender said, placing a replica of Laura’s drink next to Hannah’s on the bar top.