“Is that why you’ve never been married?” Gracie regretted the question the minute it left her lips. “I’m sorry, that’s none of my business.”
He smiled down at her. “How about dinner, Gracie? I’ve got a great loaf of bread upstairs, some lunch meat that doesn’t smell sour and a bag of chips that haven’t gone stale.”
“That sounds wonderful…I think.”
A car door slammed. A minute later, Trent Morgan walked into the hardware store.
Patrick stood between her and Trent, unrelenting, as if he didn’t plan on letting her ex-fiancé pass by. Gracie slipped out from behind him. She knew how to take care of herself. And she definitely didn’t need another man in her life thinking he had to protect her.
She had her dad and five brothers for that. She was always amazed how they could be so overprotective and so needy, all at the same time.
“Trent.” She bit down on her bottom lip and waited. She was aware of Patrick moving away.
“I’ll be in the back,” he informed them as he left. She smiled at the space he was giving her, but also the tone of his voice. He was here if she needed him.
Trent watched Patrick go and then turned his attention back to her. Gracie wished she was taller. Even a few inches would have given her a more level playing field. She wanted to stand on tiptoes and stare him down, let him know she couldn’t be intimidated. Much.
He looked around the store. “I would like to know why you embarrassed us all the way you did. And I’d like to know what you plan to do about the money my family spent on our wedding.”
“I’d like to know how long you were dating your secretary and if you would have stopped after we were married.”
“We had that discussion, and I told you, she’s someone I’ve known a long time. I’m not giving up old friends because I’m getting married.”
“You’re not getting married, so now you can see her whenever you want.” Gracie shot a quick look toward the back of the store. She didn’t want everyone in Bygones to know her humiliation. She didn’t want Patrick to know.
“You knew about her weeks before the wedding.”
“I wanted to trust you. You proved I couldn’t.”
He let out a long sigh. “Fine.”
“So let your mom know that you can pay for the wedding because you’re the one who decided to cheat.” There, she’d done it. She faced him, unwilling to bow down.
He shook his head and walked out the door. Gracie covered her face with her hands and breathed in, breathed past the pain of disillusionment and regret. The door chimed and she pulled her hands from her face to see Whitney Leigh heading her way.
Gracie brushed a hand through her hair, drew in a breath and faced the reporter for the Gazette.
“Whitney, now isn’t a good time.”
Whitney held up both hands and smiled. “I know it isn’t. That’s why I’m not here on official business. I was down the street getting a cup of coffee.”
“I wish you would have brought me a cup.”
“Are you okay?” Whitney looked around the store, as if the conversation was a little out of her comfort zone. Whitney, who didn’t mind quizzing people to get a good interview, a good story, was trying to be…a friend.
“I’m good.”
“If you need to talk, I’m here.”
Gracie smiled. “Off the record?”
“Yes, off the record. I’m sorry about the Bygones Runaway Bride article, but really, the paper sold more copies last week than ever before.”
“I’m a hit.”
“You’re definitely a hit. And probably lucky to have escaped Trent Morgan.”
“And his mother.” She laughed a little and wiped at the few tears that clung to her lashes.
“That’s what I like about you, Gracie Wilson. You always look on the bright side.”
“I try.”
A customer walked through the door, gave them both a curious look and headed for the paint section.
“I should go, but call if you need anything.” Whitney waved as she left.
Gracie started in the direction of the customer but Patrick was already helping him. He smiled at her and winked. Her heart, still recovering from the encounter with Trent, quaked a little. Maybe in fear for its safety.
Patrick had invited her to have dinner with him. No, not really dinner. A hopefully not-spoiled lunch-meat sandwich. Now, watching him, she questioned if the invitation had been serious. Maybe she should let him off the hook. At closing time she could get her purse and keys and leave. Or she could make an excuse.
Or she could stay and have dinner with a nice guy. No strings attached. Because she was single. She was having a difficult time coming to terms with that reality. She no longer had a ring on her finger or Trent’s picture on her key chain.
She didn’t have a home of her own or a husband to call when something went wrong.
She was really and truly single.
Chapter Seven
Patrick locked up the register at the end of the day and watched as Gracie turned the sign to Closed. He wanted to protect her. He had told himself earlier, during the moment when he wanted to run Trent Morgan out of the store, that he wanted to protect her because she looked like a woman who needed to be protected. She was young. She looked frail, although he knew that she wasn’t.
She was as tough as nails.
Whatever had happened between her and Trent was her business.
She walked back to the counter and picked up the bag from the bakery that still contained a few pastries. When she looked up at him, there was a softness in her dark eyes. Yeah, he guessed she was tough, but she was also vulnerable.
“I should go.” She straightened, the bag held close like a shield.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“I thought we were having sandwiches. And then we could run over to your new house to see if you need anything.”
She opened the bag and peeked in at the contents. She finally looked up, smiling just a little. “I don’t know.”
“You have something against slightly sour lunch meat?”
She laughed, the sound light and easy. He had to be losing his mind, because he wanted to kiss her, and that was the biggest mistake he could make. She worked for him. She’d just walked away from a wedding and, for whatever reason, the jilted groom was coming around again.
Kissing her could make things more complicated than he wanted them to be.
And yet, he’d offered her supper. As simple as sandwiches were, they still meant a meal together.
“Okay.” She sighed as she agreed to his offer.
“You sound thrilled. I could probably heat up a frozen pizza if sandwiches are the problem.”
“I really don’t want food poisoning. If we both get sick, who will run the store? Worse, everyone will know that we ate together.”
“Scary.”
They walked through the back door to the steps that led to his apartment. Rufus the dog trotted down the alley in their direction and followed them up the stairs. Gracie walked with her head down, distracted.
He let her remain in her private thoughts; everyone had them. When they walked through the door of his loft apartment, she looked up and smiled again.
“I love this place.”
“It’s growing on me. When I first moved to Bygones, I thought I’d have a house, maybe some land and a few head of cattle.”
“You want to be a farmer?”
He flipped on overhead lights as they walked into the kitchen. “I think not a farmer, but I definitely want space.”
“I don’t think I would have loved living in Manhattan. I wanted the house, the dream…”
“You know, it could still work out.”<
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“No, it can’t.” She settled herself on a chair, and Rufus, who had managed to squeeze in the door with them, sat at her feet. “What can I do to help?”
“I’ve got it covered. You can sit there and keep me company.”
“Right.”
He opened the freezer and took out a frozen pizza. When he turned back around she was in the kitchen, opening cabinets. She pulled out a couple of glasses.
“Gracie, when was the last time you sat and didn’t help?”
She shrugged off the question as she held the glasses under the ice maker in the fridge door. “I don’t know. I’m just filling glasses with ice.”
“Go sit down. Take a break.”
She set the cups on the counter, ran her hand along the granite top and returned, slowly, to her chair. He smiled as he filled the glasses with iced tea and handed her one.
“Thank you.” She lifted the glass and took a sip.
“What will your dad and brothers do without you?” He shouldn’t have asked, but the question came out. He looked at the pizza box and turned on the oven to the correct temperature.
“I guess they’ll eat out a lot. And probably call me every time they can’t find something. Or when something needs to be washed. They’re pretty helpless.” She ran a finger down the outside of the glass, wiping away the condensation. “I guess I’ve done too much for them.”
“They’ll survive. They’re all grown men, Gracie. You deserve to have your own place. They would have been alone, anyway.”
“If I’d gone through with the wedding. Yes, I’ve thought about that.” She nodded in agreement. “Do you want me to make a salad or something?”
“No, I’ve got it. And you wouldn’t want a salad made from the lettuce in my fridge. It’s a little beyond green and crispy.”
She shuddered and grimaced. “Do you need me to go to the store for you?”
She was leaning on the bar, her chin resting on her hands, her elbows on the countertop. She was completely serious about going to the store for him. The moment and her offer took him by surprise and he laughed.
And then he leaned in, placed his hands on her cheeks and kissed her. He meant it to be a light and easy gesture that fit the moment.
The moment changed.
His lips lingered on hers and she leaned toward him, the counter between them. He wanted it gone. He wanted nothing between them. But he guessed there was more than the counter keeping them apart.
Her lips on his made him push aside misgivings. He kissed her tenderly and then broke away long enough to move around the counter to her side. He waited a brief moment, waiting for her to tell him they couldn’t do this. Instead she moved her hands to his shoulders. He touched her cheek and leaned in, settling into the kiss that he’d thought to end.
Her fingers moved down his arms as he continued in an incredible moment that he didn’t want to end. He was a grown man and his world had just been rocked by the woman whose soft, dark hair slipped between his fingers, whose lips stilled beneath his.
He pulled back, took a deep breath and waited for words to form. Gracie’s lips were parted and her fingers lingered there, her eyes wide as she looked at him.
“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, because he didn’t want to sound sorry. “That’s wrong. I’m not sorry. But I’m not sure what else to say. Gracie, I’m not sure what to think.”
“Me, neither, but thank you.” She smiled a little and her hand held his. “I think I’ve been numb for a long time, and this gives me hope. Not that I’m looking to move on. Or find someone to replace Trent.”
“I’m glad I could be of some assistance.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he looked at the woman sitting across from him. The dog moved between them, looking up with questioning eyes. Patrick gave him a look. “What?”
The timer on the stove went off. Patrick grabbed an oven mitt off the counter and walked back to the stove. He leaned to pull the pizza from the oven. Gracie giggled and he glanced up. He set the pizza on the top of the stove and waited.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “It’s just, the kitty oven mitt, and you, big, tall you.”
She laughed again and the sound was contagious. He chuckled as he pulled off the mitt with pictures of kittens.
“My mom gave it to me as a housewarming gift.”
“I like it.” She leaned her chin on her folded hands, elbows propped on the countertop. His eyes strayed to the lips he’d recently kissed. He had to shake loose and focus.
“Thank you. The joke is that I don’t like cats.”
“You don’t like cats! Who doesn’t like cats?”
“Lots of people?” He cut the pizza and used a spatula to slide a couple of slices onto a plate. He set it on the counter in front of her.
“I don’t know. I think most people love cats. Miss Ann loves cats.”
“I saw one in her store today.”
“I’ll let you off the hook. I’m not fond of cats. I’m allergic and when I was a kid we had a cat that scratched my face.” She pointed to her cheek and he noticed, for the first time, a faint scar.
“So, we have something in common.” He carried his plate around to sit next to her. They were talking about cats. They’d just kissed and she’d thanked him for that. Now the conversation had turned to cats. He shook his head as he reached for Parmesan cheese.
“We have a lot in common. We both love Bygones. We both want the stores and the town to survive.” She took the cheese from him and he wondered why the list of likes.
“That we do. And we’d both like to know who funded all this money.”
“Do you think it was Mr. Randall?” She took a bite of her pizza and chewed thoughtfully as he considered an answer. He had several thoughts on who it might be and wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say.
“It might be. I’m not sure.”
“But you have to have a clue who gave you money. Who do you pay back if you leave before the two years are up?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Doesn’t that worry you? That you moved here and put all this time into something, hoping to make it in a town you’ve never been to, and you have no idea who is funding this venture?”
“A little. But I prayed about it, Gracie. I knew I had to leave Michigan. I knew I needed a fresh start and this door opened.”
“Why did you need a fresh start? Most people want a fresh start when something goes wrong.” She smiled up at him, her expression soft, her eyes luminous. “Case in point. Me.”
“Why do you ask so many questions?”
“You’re in the witness-protection program.” Her eyes widened and she smiled, then laughed. “This is some elaborate government plan to hide government witnesses!”
“That’s it. I can’t believe you guessed.”
“I’m very smart.” She wiped her hands on a napkin. “And I’m ready to go see my new house.”
Her phone rang and she reached into her purse, which hung on the back of her bar stool. The smile she’d worn disappeared.
“Hi, Dad.” Gracie walked away from Patrick. The apartment was open, with the dining room and kitchen connected to the living room. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Main Street.
“Gracie, I got a message on my phone that you wouldn’t be home until later. Is everything okay?”
She leaned against the cool glass of the window, watching as Ann Mars walked out of her store and down the street, a cat following behind her. Midway down the street Ann turned, as if she sensed she was being watched. She looked up and around. Gracie moved back from the window. What she and Patrick didn’t need were rumors about their relationship.
“Gracie?”
“I’m here. Dad, I’m going to look at a house Ann Mars has offered me.”
“A house? What in the world do you need a house for?”
“Well, I’m almost twenty-five and I think I should try living on my own. When I think about what I almost did, going from living with my dad to living with Trent, it scares me a little. I think I need to do this, to find out who I am.”
A long pause followed. She heard her dad take a deep breath on the other end of the line.
“Gracie, you know I’ll miss you around here, but you’re right. You should do this. I think you’ve stayed home thinking you need to take care of us guys. But we can do a lot more for ourselves than you think.”
“I know you can,” she said, and they both laughed.
“And I guess you’d like to live your life not always having your dad or an older brother as a guardian.”
“It would be nice. And, Dad, it isn’t like I’m moving out of state or even to another town. I’ll be right here.”
“I know you will. So, when does the big move take place?”
“This weekend.” Two weeks after her failed attempt at getting married, she was moving out. She closed her eyes and thought about how life changed in a matter of moments.
She thought that God probably hadn’t been surprised by any of this. She was surprised by a lot of things, like kissing Patrick.
“You’ll need furniture.” Her dad broke into her thoughts.
“It’s furnished.”
“I guess you’re good to go, then.”
She guessed she was. She told him she loved him and ended the call. But she had almost told him she wouldn’t do it, that she wouldn’t move.
“Everything okay?”
She turned away from the window. “Other than I think Ann Mars might have seen me up here, and I’m worried my dad and brothers won’t survive without me?”
“I think those are all problems you can handle. Gracie, I think you can handle just about anything.”
She smiled at that. She’d always been a strange combination of independent but overprotected. That happened to a girl in a family of men. She knew she could handle what life threw at her. She always had. But alone? As much as it scared her, she looked forward to it.
The Boss's Bride (The Heart of Main Street) Page 8