by Joya Ryan
“And you’re his legal wife. He has bestowed his entire estate on you.”
She gripped her head and tried to wrap her hungover mind around what was going on.
So Grant hadn’t left her with nothing—he’d left her with everything.
But he’d still left . . .
“Miss Hastings?” Harvey asked from the other line.
“Yes, I’m here,” she said.
“I was hoping to set up a time I can get you some documents.”
“Sure. Are you calling from New York?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She thought of Harvey, of Grant, sitting around in a big high-rise in the middle of downtown Manhattan. At least, that’s what it looked like from the picture Cal had shown her last night of where Laythem Inc. was located.
“Do you mind if I call you back? I need to get a few details sorted out,” she said to Harvey.
“Of course. Thank you, Miss Hastings.”
She looked at her phone and hung up. Wishing Grant was in front of her so she could hug him—or scream at him.
Chapter Fourteen
Grant sat at the large rectangular table in the Laythem Inc. conference room. He sat back in his chair, his three-piece suit feeling a little constrictive. He glanced out at the view of Manhattan from the wraparound windows on the fiftieth floor.
He wasn’t in Yachats anymore.
And yet, he should feel comfortable. He should feel at home. But he didn’t. He thought of Hannah. Glanced at his watch and knew she was getting ready for the event. Knew she hated him by now. Or maybe she didn’t care. Either way, it wouldn’t be long before she realized what Grant had done regarding the bar. He’d meant it when he’d said she should have everything she wanted in life. Even if it broke his chest in half that he wasn’t one of them.
She might not want him, but he trusted her. So much that he’d stake everything he had on it. Risk everything.
Then why the fuck are you sitting here instead of being with Hannah?
He glanced at the twelve board members around the table. He had come back for this. Walked out on her, to sit here with a dozen old men waiting to vote on who got to run this company. All he wanted was be back with Hannah. In her little house. Maybe working with Cal on his business. Opening his own investing firm on that little Main Street.
All of those ideas were ridiculous. Because Hannah didn’t want him.
His father always told him that a good businessman knew when to cut his losses. Too bad Grant’s entire stomach was aching at the fact that he’d left his wife. They were over. And they’d never had a chance. She was right. Whatever they saw in each other had been impulsive.
So why did he want to get the hell out of there and find the next plane to Oregon?
“Let it be noted in the minutes that Laythem Inc. is set to vote on a proposal for a change in CEO,” seventy-year-old, white-haired Gary said.
Grant sat forward in his chair. He was a member of his own damn board, which meant he had a say, and thank God his mother wasn’t there. Though she was likely lurking somewhere around the skyscraper waiting for word on if she was going to inherit a huge company.
“Shall we take a vote on the matter of Grant Laythem remaining CEO of Laythem Inc.?” Gary initiated and looked around at everyone ready to cast their hand for or against Grant in keeping his father’s company.
Grant finally exited the conference room, rubbing his temples between his thumb and middle finger.
“Grant?” Harvey called, hustling up to him. “We need to talk. There’s a situation.”
“Seriously, Harvey, I can’t right now. I’ve been in that damn meeting for over three hours, I’m hungry, and I need a minute to process everything.” Grant picked up his pace, hoping Harvey would get the hint, and headed to his office down the hall. He was reeling from the stress of the last few hours and hadn’t realized he’d literally sat on the edge of his seat for damn near the entire thing.
“But, Grant, there’s—”
“Seriously, Harvey, I can’t take on more drama until I decompress.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he rounded the corner to his office and heard someone yelling.
“I don’t give a good goddamn if he’s in a meeting. I said I’d wait. And I’m waiting.”
He recognized that voice. That vicious, sexy, stubborn voice.
He walked into his office sitting area to see poor Sarah, his assistant, trying to kick Hannah out.
“Hannah,” Grant breathed, taking in the sight of her. She was in ripped jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair was messy, like she’d been on a plane for five hours. Which clearly she had been, since she was standing in front of him.
Her blue eyes turned to lasers. “You,” she said and stomped toward him. “You have no right to give me all of your shit. I was just telling Harvey that and he ran off—” She glared at Harvey, who was now hiding behind Grant.
Grant chuckled. God, he’d missed her and her sass. The woman could take care of herself. He had no doubt. But she also made everyone pay for undermining her. He had to be careful how he played this, though. She was here, in New York, to see him. He couldn’t falter or give in. He had to feel her out. It had broken his heart once when she’d told him no—he couldn’t bear to hear it again. So he had to stay calm, cool, and collected.
“Why don’t we take this in my office?” Grant said and showed her to the adjoining door. “Sarah, hold my calls.”
He walked her into his office and unbuttoned his jacket as he sat behind his desk and grabbed a bottle of Jack and two tumblers from the bottom drawer.
He poured the liquor and slid her a glass. She just walked up to the desk, placed her hands on it, and leaned toward him.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked him harshly.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. Playing the part of calm and cool was tough, since her mouth looked so damn kissable.
Focus, Grant.
“I’m here because six months ago you rode in on a boat to fuck with my life, then two weeks ago you rode in on a plane to fuck with my life. Now I’m just waiting for you to book a train ticket and really round out your mission of messing with me through all modes of transportation.”
He grinned. “Well, I’m very well versed in travel methods.”
“Don’t play cocky business mogul with me. You have single-handedly put your mark on everything I care about.”
He frowned. “Speaking of what you care about”—snark came out, because he was hurt she was talking about her bar rather than him—“why aren’t you serving drinks at Cal’s event tonight? I thought that was an important job to you.”
“It was, until I found out you set it up. And you already bought the bar.”
“It’s not my bar,” he said quietly.
“I never asked you to come in and fix my life. I was doing fine. I can take care of myself. I could have bought the bar myself.”
“Yes, I’m aware. You can do everything by yourself, Hannah.”
She straightened and kept her eyes on him, but there was a softness now.
“I never would have taken anything from you. I tried to give you everything. I hired Cal to remodel Goonies however you want. It’s yours.”
She shook her head. “That’s not what I wanted.”
“Bullshit,” he said, his calm getting tougher to cling to. “All you talked about was that bar. Your home. You picked it over me. Over us. I wanted you to have it. I understand.”
“No, you idiot, I wanted you!” she said.
Grant frowned.
“You just didn’t give me a chance. You kept secrets. Worked behind my back instead of with me. Why? Why wouldn’t you just tell me you’re a bazillionaire and had all these deals you were setting up in my town? Why go behind my back? I trusted you, and you kept secrets.”
“Because I wanted you to want me for me,” he said. “I didn’t want money to get in the way.” He’d grown up with a woman wh
o valued money over her son. Only had unsuccessful relationships with women who wanted his money more than him. He wanted Hannah to be different. She was different. And part of him hadn’t realized how scared he’d been of that.
She shook her head. “I could give a shit about money. I care about the man you are. You should have told me.”
She blew out a breath, picked up her glass, downed the drink in one swallow, and placed it back on his desk.
“I wanted you, not all your shit.”
“Charming sentiment, baby.”
“Well, whatever. I don’t know why you put all your ‘estate’”—she air quoted the last word, and Grant figured Harvey had called her about what he’d set into motion—“in my name, but I don’t want it.”
“I put it in your name because I trust you. Because you’re a Laythem. Because my mother was coming after my father’s assets, the company, all of it. So I had to transfer everything to a safe place with a person I trusted.”
She took a few steps around the room, then back. Pacing. Then she scoffed. “Here I thought you were trying to take things from me, when in reality, you gave everything you had to me. You have way more to lose on paper.”
Grant nodded.
But her eyes were bright and blue and sad when they met his. “But off paper, I lost big. Because you took my heart and soul when you walked out.”
Grant watched water fill her eyes, and it was like a punch to the gut. He never wanted to make Hannah cry. Ever. And she stood there, totally right.
He’d gone about everything backward. Let himself get caught up in things that didn’t matter. Let himself get caught up in his own secrets and fears. He should have trusted her to handle it. All of it.
She walked to his office door, then turned to face him. “I came here to tell you to take your stuff back. I’ll buy the bar from you with my own money. But the rest, take back. I don’t want it.”
She turned the door handle, and Grant leaped out of his seat and charged the door, shutting it with his hand before she could open it.
“You’re right,” he whispered. “I handled this all wrong.”
She looked up at him. “What were you so afraid would happen if you let me in entirely?” she asked.
The truth rocked him harder than the damn plane he’d taken at the start of all this.
“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”
“Well, you lost me anyway, genius,” she said quickly.
A small grin tugged his lips. “But I plan on getting you back.”
“And how do you plan that?” she asked.
“Well, since this is my company, and we set into motion new rules that I can’t be voted out, Laythem Inc. is secure, and I can telecommute. Say, from . . . Oregon.”
Her lips parted, and her eyes widened. “You’d really come to live in Yachats?”
“I would do anything for you,” he said. Cupping her face, he urged her gaze to stay locked on his. “I’m sorry I went about that in the wrong way.”
He’d wanted to hold on to his father’s company and memory, yet he was doing both a disservice by turning from the real-life woman who made him a better man.
She smiled, and he caught a single tear running down her face with his thumb.
“I love you, Hannah.”
“I love you, too,” she breathed, and he kissed her hard. With everything he was feeling, everything he missed, everything he had, he kissed his wife.
Because she was finally in his arms, and there was no amount of money or distance that would ever keep him from her again.
“Well, since I’m here in New York,” she said against his mouth, “I suppose I could spend a few days with you before we get back to Yachats. Maybe take you out to dinner. Apparently I’m a millionaire now.”
He smiled. “The sexiest millionaire in the world.”
“I think you have me beat on that one,” she said and melted into him, her soft lips parting to drink him in, and Grant fell hopelessly for the love of his life. His wife. Again.
Epilogue
Hannah wiped down the counter at Goonies and looked around. She smiled at the upgrades and remodel Cal had done over the past few months.
The bar was busy, and Hannah was happy.
Beyond happy.
She had a little house, a little bar, and a very large man. All of which she loved. The latter more than the others. The only bummer was that it wasn’t her neck that was hurting anymore. It was her lower back. But that was to be expected when—
“Hannah, can I get another drink here?” Larry yelled at her, interrupting her daydreaming.
She huffed at Larry and poured him another round. His white beard was getting longer and scragglier. “Seriously, how are you not in the morgue yet?”
“You should be nicer to your best customer,” the old man grumbled, and Hannah placed a bowl of peanuts in front of him. He had a point. The man did drink here a lot.
“You should try an iced tea and a salad sometime. Good for your health. Some people may want you around for a while longer yet,” she said and patted the top of his hand.
He laughed. “Ah, no one wants me around that long.”
Hannah shot him a smile and walked down the bar. Her feet were killing her. She had hired two bartenders so that she didn’t have to work all the time. Business was booming, Grant was due back from New York tonight, and she was so excited to see him that nothing could bring her mood down.
She looked at the clock. Five more hours, then Grant would land and finally be on his way home.
The door opened, and she prepared herself for another customer . . . but it wasn’t a customer who walked through the door.
“I hear this is the best bar in town, where the most gorgeous woman in the world works,” Grant said, walking through the entrance in his three-piece suit. He looked like he’d just come straight out of the pages of GQ.
“Grant!” She ran around the bar and straight at him, throwing herself into his arms. He wrapped her up, her feet lifting off the floor as he kissed her.
“I missed you so much,” he said and kissed her neck, her eyelids, her nose.
“You were only gone a week,” she said.
“Don’t remind me. You need to come with me next time. I can’t be away from you that long.” He kissed her again.
“Well, I don’t think I can,” she said, and he leaned back, setting her down on her feet.
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I’m just not sure if I’m allowed to fly during my first trimester.”
“What does that—” Grant cut off his own words, and his dark eyes shot wide. “Are you . . .” He placed a hand on her stomach.
She nodded and smiled. “You’re going to be a daddy.”
A bright white smile took up his whole face, and he hugged her again, kissing her like crazy all over her mouth.
“And you’re going to be the best mother in the world.” He cupped her face and kissed her hard. “My baby’s having my baby!” he yelled out, and the entire bar cheered.
Then Larry hollered, “Yeah, just watch out for those mood swings. Especially from Hannah—good luck to you, mister.”
Hannah laughed. Grant didn’t.
“Oh, shit, he’s got a point,” Grant said, looking down with a playful tease in his eyes. “You’re stubborn and feisty without extra hormones . . .”
“Better watch your back, then, Laythem, because I’m coming for you.”
He kissed her softly on the lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m at your service.”
“Well, that’s good, because I need your help with something,” she whispered against his mouth.
“Anything.”
“I need you to take me home and remind me why I miss you so much.”
He grinned and smacked her butt.
“Done!”
Acknowledgments
Thank you, Lauren, for the wonderful edits; I enjoy working with you so much! Thank you, Jen and Jessica and the entire Montla
ke team. Thank you, Jill, for being a great agent.
About the Author
National and international bestselling author Joya Ryan is the author of more than a dozen adult and new-adult romance novels. Passionate about both cooking and dancing (despite not being too skilled at the latter), she loves traveling and seeking out new adventures. Visit her online at www.joyaryan.com.