He needed to get window coverings sooner rather than later. Hell, if push came to shove, he’d settle for butcher paper or aluminum foil. But neither of those would save him right now so he simply unlocked the front door and let the line parade in.
And damn, he’d meant to make a call to the private lab to see if they had any results about that oil for him yet. He made a quick note on a Post-it and slapped it on a stack of papers.
Betty Jane Cuddleford eyed the still-pink scar on his chin with suspicion before looking around his barren office and giving a sniff. “Griffin Steele, if you’re not going to do the proper thing and keep an office at City Hall, the least you could do is hire a secretary and decorate this place a little.”
A table, crappy chair, and paper every-damn-where. Not exactly a decorating scheme that commanded respect. But he smiled at the woman, putting a little teeth behind it. “But not out of the city coffers, I assume.”
Her penciled-in eyebrows disappeared under the poufy hair. “If the Steele brothers have enough money to buy off this town, I assume you have enough to spare to take care of it yourself.”
Hell, maybe he should call his assistant and have him fly in. He’d have this whole damn place whipped into shape within forty-eight hours. Then again, Grif needed him doing exactly what he was doing—holding down the fort on the other coast until things were more settled here.
“What can I help you with, Betty Jane?”
She frowned at his use of her given name and adjusted her purse more securely on her shoulder. “Well, I wanted to talk with you about the state of the benches at Barron’s Park. See, my book club likes to meet over there on Wednesdays, and last week ElmaSue almost landed in the dirt when she sat down on a bench and it collapsed under her.”
What Grif judiciously refrained from pointing out was that ElmaSue Smith was three and a quarter if she was a pound. “That sounds like it’s right up the Parks and Rec director’s alley.” He picked up the phone. “Why don’t I call her and let her know you’ll be over to discuss the situation?”
Betty Jane sniffed again, and Grif was half tempted to offer her a bottle of allergy meds. “That girl, she’s from Chicago.”
Grif waited for her to go on, but apparently she thought that cryptic sentence explained everything. “So I understand.”
Betty Jane huffed. “You can’t possibly believe she’d understand a dad-burned thing about running Southern parks and such.”
He was pretty sure a bench was a bench was a mother friggin’ bench. “What would you like me to do about this situation?”
The older woman’s eyebrows played hide and seek again. “Well, fix it, of course.” When she turned, a cloud of lavender-scented perfume rose around Grif, and he was the one who suddenly needed a dose of Sudafed.
A few hours later, the line had finally dwindled to nothing, but only after three complaints about noisy neighbors, one woman frantic because her cat had been missing since Sunday, and a man who wanted to lobby for legalized prostitution inside the Steele Ridge city limits.
When the door swung open once again, Grif looked up from his makeshift desk with a snarl.
“Whoa,” Aubrey said. “You’ve got your mean face on.”
He rubbed a palm over his forehead. “Sorry.”
“Long day?”
“Why are people crazy?”
“Why is the sky blue?”
“Pretty sure it has something to do with light, some part of the atmosphere, and reflection or refraction.”
She swung her backpack off her shoulders to wedge it in a corner. When she turned back to him, her grin hit him like the sun he’d just been talking about. Carlie Beth had been right when she called their daughter a force of nature. “When I was a little girl, I used to wonder about my dad. If he was handsome. If he was nice. If he was smart like me.”
He leaned back in his chair. “And?”
“Don’t be coy,” she said. “You know you knock number one out of the park. As for number two, most of the time. And three? You somehow got all those people to finally leave you alone, didn’t you?”
“By the grace of God.” He glanced at his phone. “Is it really already after three o’clock?”
“Yep. I would’ve been here sooner, but I figured you wouldn’t okay me skipping out on school a second time.”
“Your mom and I agreed you have to abide by the same rules no matter which of us you’re with.”
“She lets me stay out until one in the morning and eat all the pizza and chips I want.”
“You realize I make a living from confirming truth and rumors, right?”
She shot him a wicked grin. “It was worth a try.”
“No, never negotiate from an inferior position. You should always know what the person on the other side of the table knows. Bluffing rarely works.”
“Does that mean I shouldn’t ever lie?”
Damn. Sticky ground. Like fly paper. “I feel like I should plead the fifth.”
Aubrey laughed and Grif saw so much of Carlie Beth in her that it took his breath. How could he have lived without these two for the past fifteen years? And how the hell would he juggle them with the rest of his life now that he knew about Aubrey? He was starting to dread the flight that would take him back to LA.
The front door opened again, and Grif momentarily toyed with the idea of stabbing himself in the eye with a pencil, but then he realized that although he was tired, he’d also enjoyed fixing things for the crazy citizens of this town. When he heard the familiar jangle of Louise’s key fob, he looked up to find the garage owner from Charlotte. “You brought her back?”
“We did what we could to the exterior, but I can’t get my hands on new seats for a few weeks. Figured you wouldn’t want me to keep her all that time.”
“What is it with men thinking cars are women?” Aubrey muttered.
The garage owner shot her a superior smile, then looked back at Grif. “I took a good look at those gashes in the upholstery to see if I could figure out what someone used to carve them up.”
Grif laughed. “Like a forensic analysis?” Maggie would eat that shit up when he told her about it.
“One of my guys used to be a stocker at a grocery store. Says he’s opened more boxes of beans than you can shake a stick at. He’s pretty sure your vandal used a box cutter.”
Grocery store. First the oil and now a box cutter. Maybe Grif should round up his brothers and go shake down the manager at Hoffman’s Grocery. “Thanks, man.”
“Oh, and I had my upholsterer do a little patch job on the seats to hold you until the other ones come in.” He handed Grif an invoice.
Without glancing at it, Grif said, “Just use the card on file.”
“You got it, and I’ll give you a holler when the seats are on their way.”
Once the garage owner was gone, Aubrey said, “You didn’t even look to see what he charged you.”
“I know what he quoted,” he said.
Aubrey snatched the piece of paper off his desk. “Holy shi—”
He gave her a hard look.
—taki.”
“Nice save.” He strolled to the front window to gaze out at Louise. “Want to take a ride?”
“Can I drive?”
“You’re gonna keep trying, aren’t you?” He looped an arm around Aubrey and led her toward the door.
“Can you blame me?”
“Not a bit.” He unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for her, trying like hell not to look at the stitched-up seats that made Louise look like an automotive interpretation of Frankenstein’s monster.
When he slid into the driver’s seat, he could feel the threads against his back. But he couldn’t worry about ruined leather when there were way more important things at stake than Louise’s upholstery.
They were on the outskirts of Steele Ridge when Grif asked his daughter, “So how would you feel about me dating your mom?”
* * *
Grif and Aubrey had been so bu
sy putting together the State of Steele Ridge reception that Carlie Beth had barely seen either of them.
This afternoon, Grif called with an apology, promising he hadn’t forgotten that he asked her to go out with him. “How a town of less than ten thousand people can be this chaotic, I have no idea.”
“Tell you what,” she said, “I’m having Yvonne and Austin over for dinner tonight. Why don’t you come, too? Even if you don’t have much time, you can eat a meal that you didn’t nuke in the microwave.”
“What time?”
When she hung up the phone, she realized she’d smiled and laughed more in the past couple of weeks than she had since she was a kid. All because of Grif.
And when Aubrey came home, she was grinning too, giddy over the event and spending time with Grif. “Mom, he knows Dean and Sam.”
How could she compete with a man who was acquainted with the Supernatural actors? A little piece of Carlie Beth still wanted to be jealous that Grif was so much cooler than she was, but she just didn’t have the heart to give it any attention. So instead, she wrapped her daughter in a hug. “How do you feel about all this, Aub?”
“You mean the suddenly having a dad thing? Or the having-a-dad-who-knows-famous-people thing?”
Carlie Beth nodded against her daughter’s hair. “How would you have felt if you found out your dad worked in a factory or was a farmer?”
“Don’t get me wrong, his social circle is amazing. But I wouldn’t have cared what he did as long as he was Grif Steele.”
“He’s a good man, but he still lives thousands of miles away.”
“He asked me if I minded if he dated you.”
Her heartbeat picking up speed, she asked casually, “And what did you say?”
“That he better treat you right.”
Carlie Beth pulled back and looked directly into Aubrey’s eyes. “It’s normal for kids from divorced families or, in our case, never-married families to hope their parents will get together. Like it will finally make everything in the world right.”
With a sigh, Aubrey said, “Mom, my world was totally right before I found out about Grif. Would it be kinda cool to have a mom and dad who, you know, live in the same house and”—a sly smile transformed her face—“sleep in the same bed? Sure. But I’m not a kid. I know things will either work out on that front or they won’t.”
Her little girl, the Zen philosopher.
The doorbell rang at ten until six, and Carlie Beth ran her arm across her sweaty forehead and said to Aubrey, “Can you grab that?”
As she pulled a pan of lasagna out of the oven, Carlie Beth wondered how Joan Steele had cooked for six kids, four of them boys, for all those years. Because Carlie Beth was a fine cook, but a single casserole seemed to take more out of her than working in her forge all day. She sat the steaming dish on the stove and raced for the fridge. Why did people show up early? Didn’t they know that made the hostess freak out and want to steal away with a bottle of Malbec?
Calm down, Carlie Beth. A dish of pasta isn’t going to make or break your chances with Grif Steele.
When she heard footsteps on the kitchen floor, she swung around with a smile on her face. Worked hard to keep it from faltering when she realized the early guest was Austin instead of Grif. Her apprentice was spit-shined. Hair damp and combed back. Rumpled but freshly washed khakis, thin dress shirt, and—was that?—she blinked. Yes, and a clip-on tie. On the right side of his chin, a piece of toilet paper clung to a spot he’d obviously cut shaving.
“These are for you,” he said, a shy smile touching his lips as he held out a bouquet of fluorescent pink carnations.
“How sweet,” she said. “Thank you.”
Her phone buzzed on the counter. “Can you get that, Aub, while I put these in a vase and get Austin a drink?”
“Iced tea or soda?” she asked him.
His Adams apple shifted up and down. “I don’t guess you have a beer.”
God, sometimes she felt a thousand years old, but she gave him a sympathetic smile. “Not for a nineteen-year-old.”
“Tea then.”
She poured him a glass, then went to the sink to handle the flowers.
Austin cleared his throat and said, “Dave told me he saw you with Grif Steele in Asheville the other night.”
“Which makes me wonder what Dave was doing there anyway.”
“Said he was there to pick up some feed.”
Weird. There was plenty of grass in his pastures and a perfectly good feed store in town.
“Mom?” When Carlie Beth glanced at Aubrey, she found her daughter’s expression as forlorn as it had been when she was ten and she’d thought Carlie Beth had forgotten her birthday. But this time, Carlie Beth didn’t have an after-school surprise party planned. “What’s wrong?”
“He said he can’t make it.”
“Oh.” A block of disappointment sat right down on Carlie Beth’s chest because honestly, there was only one he in their lives now. “Did he say why?”
“Just that something came up.”
They stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink. A little rude to exclude their guest, but this wasn’t anyone else’s business. “Things happen,” she whispered. “Don’t get all upset.”
Lowering her voice too, Aubrey said, “But he promised…”
“And don’t assume this means he can’t be trusted to keep his promises,” she said. “He’s spent a lot of time with us, which makes it easy to forget he’s a very busy man. He’s working two jobs right now.”
“So you don’t think he’s dissing us?”
“I think we shouldn’t make this a bigger deal than it is. We shouldn’t start reading anything into it. Girls have a habit of that, but guys tend to say what they mean. If he said something came up, it was important, okay?”
Aubrey eyed the retina-searing carnations Carlie Beth was stabbing into a vase. “Those are…Wow.”
“Yeah. Hey, do me a favor and go move the other flowers off the dinner table, okay?”
“Don’t want to make Austin’s flowers feel inferior?”
“Men have strangely fragile egos.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I’m starting to think they’re more trouble than they’re worth.”
Although Carlie Beth was half tempted to echo her daughter’s opinion, she said, “Some of them are totally worth the trouble.”
“I’ll remind you of that when I bring home my first bad boy.” She grabbed the vase and headed for their small dining room.
Carlie Beth cleared her throat and turned to face Austin.
“Everything okay?”
“Just a little girl talk,” she said cheerfully.
He glanced toward the door Aubrey had just disappeared through and chuckled. “Kids, huh?”
Carlie Beth squelched the need to shake her head at him. He seemed to have forgotten he was only five years older than her daughter.
He set his tea glass on the countertop. “Can I help with anything?”
“How are you at chopping vegetables for a salad?”
With a boyish grin, he said, “If I can work a drill press, surely I can handle a paring knife.”
“Second drawer on your left.”
Carlie Beth turned to grab the pile of produce, but when she swung around again, Austin was mere inches from her. “Oh!”
Before she could step back, he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her. Oh. Lord. Have. Mercy. She tried to wiggle away, but either his nervousness or his fervor had him gripping her like a hawk with a mouse.
She shoved at his shoulder and said, “Austin!” against his lips. When she finally pried his hand and mouth from her, he stood there panting, his eyes dilated and a little wild.
“Carlie Beth, I love you.”
Then came the sound of a low cough and Carlie Beth whirled around, so damn relieved to see her friend standing in the kitchen doorway. She had saved the day, the night, the whole year. “Yvonne!”
“I’m sorry. No one answered th
e door, so I just…” The other woman was cradling a cake pan, which hopefully held her lemon poke cake. Lord, it was shaping up to be a wine, white chocolate, and lemon poke cake kinda night.
“No, it’s fine,” Carlie Beth babbled. “We were…I was…”
Jesus, her pulse was erratic and not from Austin’s kiss. How was she supposed to handle this? Maybe avoidance was her best bet. She held out her hands for the cake pan. “Why don’t I take that and put it in the other room. Austin, would you get Yvonne a drink?”
She grabbed the pan and bolted. When she rushed into the dining room, Aubrey glanced up. “Mom?”
“Next time I think it’s a good idea to have people over for dinner, remind me of tonight.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Austin kissed me!”
Aubrey’s mouth went slack. “Did you mean for him to?”
“What do you think?”
“Poor Austin.”
“I don’t know what to do. He’s a nice kid, but…”
“But there’s no way you’re interested. He has to know that.”
“By the way his tongue was…Never mind.”
Aubrey made a gagging noise. “Definitely TMI.”
Yvonne poked her head in the room and smiled at Aubrey. “Hey, kiddo. Can I help with…Carlie Beth, you look a little flustered.”
“Just…the heat from the oven. Let me get the food on the table and we can all sit down.” When she returned to the kitchen, Austin had cut the carrots into long slivers, thin enough to see through. His cheeks were red and he wouldn’t meet Carlie Beth’s gaze. “Austin, about what happened before Yvonne walked in—”
“Forget it.”
“We…we work together. Actually, you work for me and—”
“I get it,” he said. “Why settle for a local guy when you can get busy with a California bigshot?”
Carlie Beth hated the thought of having to send Austin to another blacksmith, but if this behavior persisted, she’d have to consider it. She tore lettuce into jagged pieces and tossed them in a bowl along with the paper-thin carrots. The bell pepper would just have to suck it up and go back in the fridge. “Grif Steele has nothing to do with this. Any relationship other than teacher and apprentice between you and me would be completely inappropriate.”
Going Hard: Steele Ridge Series Page 20