Copyright 2013 Rachael Anderson
Kindle Edition.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination, and are not to be construed as real. The opinions and views expressed herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of HEA Publishing, LLC. Permission for the use of sources, graphics, and photos is also solely the responsibility of the author.
Published by HEA Publishing
www.HEAPublishing.com
Other Books By Rachael Anderson
Novels
The Reluctant Bachelorette
Divinely Designed
Luck of the Draw
Minor Adjustments
Anthologies
All I Want: Three Holiday Romances
A Timeless Romance Anthology: Summer Wedding Collection
For Jeff.
I love you.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Author’s Note
Excerpt from My Own Mr. Darcy
Acknowledgements
About the Author
ONE PERSON TRIED Seth Tuttle’s patience like no other. The beautiful, sweet, and totally frustrating, Lanna Carver. She was the closest thing he had to a sister, and for the most part, Seth adored her. But when she raised her chin in that defiant, I’ve-made-up-my-mind-and-you’re-not-going-to-talk-me-out-of-it way, Seth might as well beat his head against the nearest brick wall.
Or white painted cinderblock, in this instance.
“You want to do what?” Seth raked his fingers through his short hair as he paced across Lanna’s worn carpeted floor.
Lanna sat on the armrest of her faded sofa and clasped her fingers together, her large blue eyes wide and innocent. “It’s called a bachelor auction, and I don’t want to do it. Milly does.”
“But you’re going along with it.”
She threw up her hands. “I’m out of fundraising ideas, okay? Milly swears this will earn enough to keep the afterschool program going for at least another year. So yeah, I’m going along with it. I’m even helping as much as I can because we need the money. Evidently the Seattle area is filled with single women, and many of them would pay well for a date with a handsome, wealthy, and charming bachelor.” She paused. “Like you.”
She didn’t even blink when she said it. There was no twitching of her lips or hint of a smile either. Lanna was serious. She actually wanted Seth to be one of the bachelors.
He groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“It’s for a good cause, Seth. Those underprivileged kids need our tutoring program, especially the ones struggling with English. They’re so far behind.”
It was a problem for which Seth had a solution, if only Lanna would see reason and accept it. “Which is why I’ve offered—more than once—to fund your little program. Remember? Have you even told Milly about my offer? Because I know she’d accept the money.”
Lanna rubbed her hands across the top of her jeans and lifted her chin. “How many times do I have to tell you that it’s not your job to fund my projects? I’m trying to run a charity—not be one. Milly and I can do this on our own. I want us to do it on our own.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
Seth felt the stirrings of frustration that came with any conversation revolving around money and Lanna. He didn’t get it, or her. Dropping down next to her on the sofa, he placed his hand over hers. “That’s my point. You don’t have to do it on your own.”
Lanna’s expression turned pleading as she covered his hand with her other one. “Listen, Seth, I appreciate the offer, I do. But ever since Mike died, you’ve been trying to take care of me and solve all of my problems. That needs to end. I want and need you in my life as a brother figure, not a benefactor.”
She sounded so confident, but Seth knew from experience that Lanna needed looking out for—not that anyone would know based on her appearance. The girl definitely knew how to dress well, even though her clothes came from some off-price department store like TJMaxx. But one look at her dumpy third-floor studio apartment in a slummy part of town and anyone would know the truth: Lanna was barely scraping by.
Seth, on the other hand, had more money than he knew what to do with. Yet would Lanna accept his help? No. Oh, he’d tried. Many, many times. But it always came back to bite him. The worst being when he’d attempted to anonymously pay for her rent one month. The next day, she showed up on his doorstep, cash in hand, to pay him back. Then she yelled at him about wasted gas money and for making her late to work.
Sometimes Seth wondered if Mike, his former best friend and Lanna’s brother, had known what he’d asked of Seth in that dreary hospital room all those years before.
“Seth, take care of Lanna,” Mike had whispered from the bed. “Please.”
Seth had readily agreed. Of course he’d look after Lanna. He’d already planned on it. Problem was, Mike didn’t exact a similar promise from his sister. Something along the lines of “Lanna, please let Seth help you out every once in a while” would have been helpful.
Looking back, Seth often wondered if Mike had any idea how difficult his sister would end up being. Probably. Seth wouldn’t be surprised if his old friend was looking down from heaven right now and laughing.
Seth squeezed Lanna’s hand, as if the pressure would somehow make her see reason. “But that’s what I’m trying to do. If Mike were still here and offering the same thing, you know you’d accept the money from him.”
Lanna pulled her hand free and stood, staring down at him. With her petite build, standing above him while he sat was the only time she could ever tower over him, which she apparently felt the need to do at the moment. Her arms folded as a determined look flashed across her face. “But Mike’s not here, is he? And any day you could be taken from me as well, especially with all the crazy stunts you like to pull. I need to know for myself that I’m capable of doing things all on my own. Why can’t you understand that?”
Seth rolled his eyes and flopped back on the couch. Going up against Lanna was like taking on a brutal workout. It exhausted him. “I’m not going anywhere, Lanna.”
“You can’t guarantee that.”
Seth didn’t understand why they were even talking about this. “This isn’t even about you anyway. I’m not trying to pay your rent or the balance on your credit card. I’m trying to pay for a charity. You say you don’t want my help, but yet you still want me to be one of the bachelors and auction myself off like some kind of animal.”
&n
bsp; Her expression softened, and the corners of her mouth tugged up into a teasing smile. “Of course I do. You’re handsome, smart, and have that confident swagger most girls find irresistible. You’d get top dollar.”
Seth closed his eyes in frustration. It was no use. Arguing with Lanna was like arguing with a two-ton boulder. She wouldn’t budge.
“It’s in three weeks,” Lanna continued. “And it’s going to be really nice. Milly’s dad is friends with the owner of the Bellevue Hotel, so we’re having it there. We’re only inviting a select group of women, so we’ll have complete control over who comes. It will be classy, I promise.”
How like Lanna to refuse to give an inch while still expecting Seth to capitulate. Well, that wasn’t going to happen—not today, anyway.
Seth stood and squared his shoulders, looking down on her instead of the other way around. “Why is it that Milly doesn’t have a problem taking handouts from people, but you do? Doesn’t the owner of that hotel contribute to your cause?”
“Yes, he has been very generous. But that’s just it. He contributes because he believes in our cause and the good it will do for our community. You, on the other hand, only want to donate to ease your conscience about me, which isn’t okay. I refuse to take any money from you when your heart’s not in it. I will, however, happily add your name to the list of bachelors.” Her expression turned hopeful, almost pleading.
Seth raked his fingers through his hair again and resumed his pacing, wishing he could shake some sense into her. “Sorry, but that’s not the kind of help I’m offering. No way am I going to parade around in front of a bunch of desperate women and be forced to go out with the highest bidder. It’s the money on the table here—not me. Take it or leave it.”
Lanna’s expression fell slightly, and her smile took on a strained quality. But she kept her head high. “I’ll leave it, thanks.”
Knowing he’d be tempted to strangle her if this continued much longer, Seth turned on his heel and walked to the door. With one last look over his shoulder, he said, “If you change your mind—”
“I won’t.”
His jaw clenched, and Seth closed the door behind him with a hard tug. Walking past the elevator, he opened the door to the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time, needing to burn off some of his frustration. Lanna had her sights fixed on one thing and one thing only: to prove to the world she didn’t need any help from anyone—least of all from him.
Well, no more. Seth was sick of it. Whether Lanna liked it or not, she would get his help. He was just as determined, if not more so, than Lanna. After all, he’d made a promise to Mike, and Seth always kept his promises.
Seth emerged outside and filled his lungs with Seattle’s cool and humid January air before searching the street for his car. What he needed now was some good hard exercise to shake this off and figure out what to do next. Thank goodness he and his buddies had a basketball game lined up in an hour. He could throw a few elbows, make a few baskets, and clear his mind from all thoughts of Lanna Carver.
For now.
GRACE WARREN WAVED goodbye to her last patient of the day and walked into the break room to get her things. It had been a long and emotionally exhausting day. One of her patients became frustrated with the slow progress of rehab and had ignored her advice, went to the gym on his own, and reinjured his shoulder lifting too much weight. Now they were back to where they’d started—possibly worse.
Typically, Grace loved her job as a physical therapist. There was no greater reward than seeing someone who came to her broken walk away fixed. But every now and then she’d get patients who thought they knew better, like her patient today. Or worse, those who didn’t have the desire or willpower to put forth the necessary effort—sort of like her brother, Alec.
But Grace didn’t want to think about Alec or her other patients right now. She wanted to go home, take a soothing hot shower, put on her favorite yoga pants, and curl up on the couch to watch her favorite TV series. A new episode had aired two days before, and she wanted to catch up. Tonight was all hers.
“Oh good, you haven’t left yet.” Cameron, another therapist in the clinic, poked his head through the door and gave it a shake, forcing his dark hair away from his eyes. If he’d just trim it a little shorter, he wouldn’t have to shake his head all the time, but Cameron preferred his hair slightly longer, the way he’d worn it throughout high school and college based on all the pictures he had scattered around his office. Sometimes Grace wondered if that was his way of trying to stay connected with the past—a feeling Grace completely understood. How often had she wished she could rewind time and go back to the day when things were easier, simpler, happier.
“I’m heading out now,” Grace said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “You caught me just in time. Was there something you needed?” Cameron often picked Grace’s brain when it came to some of his patients. She spent a lot of her spare time researching, attending seminars, and learning the newest techniques. Over time, she’d gained the reputation of being one of the best in her field—something Cameron used to his advantage.
“No, I, uh, actually need a favor.” His expression turned sheepish. “A big favor.”
Grace raised an eyebrow. It was Friday night, and if Cameron needed a big favor, it probably meant something non-work related. Which also meant the comfy couch and TV show would likely get pushed back yet again. But Cameron was a friend, and if he needed a favor, she couldn’t say no. “Sure, what’s up?”
Cameron let out a breath as he turned a chair around and sat on it backwards, resting his arms on the back of it and allowing his hair to fall forward once again. Another head shake came, making Grace draw her lips into her mouth so she wouldn’t smile. His head shake, combined with his crooked nose, always made her want to laugh—especially considering his name literally meant “crooked nose.” Grace wondered if his parents named him that because he was born with a crooked nose, or if his nose was destined to become crooked because of the name Cameron.
Some might think it crazy that Grace—a scientist—would even care what a person’s name meant, but it had all started as a high-school science experiment. Grace had set out to prove that the meaning behind a name didn’t actually mean anything, but she’d been surprised by the results. Most people actually epitomized their names, and over the years, she’d used that knowledge as a sort of personality test—especially when it came to the guys she’d dated or the people she worked with. One quick internet search, and Grace knew a little something about someone.
It’s a long story,” Cameron said, bringing Grace back to the present. “But the gist of it is that I’ve agreed to be a contestant in a bachelor auction and—”
“Wait—what ? Did you just say ‘bachelor auction?’ But what about Talia?” Grace said, naming his girlfriend of four months now. “Or did you two . . . ?” She let the sentence hang there, too scared of the answer. Talia was sweet and smart—the best girl Cameron had ever dated. Grace didn’t want to hear that he’d done something stupid like break up with her.
Cameron held up a hand. “We’re still together, so don’t worry. This is more of a favor to an old college friend who’s trying to raise money for some afterschool tutoring program for underprivileged kids.”
“Oh.” Grace sank down on the seat opposite him, wishing she could kick off her sneakers and put up her feet. They ached so badly. “What do you need my help for?”
“I need you to bid on me.”
“Excuse me?” A laugh escaped, mostly because Cameron had never looked quite so vulnerable. It didn’t jibe with his normally semi-cocky attitude.
“Talia was going to come and bid on me, but something came up, and she can’t make it. Please, Grace? I don’t want to get stuck going out with some random, desperate, and probably weird girl. And Talia doesn’t want me going out with anyone else, period. You can spend whatever you need, and I’ll pay you back.”
Grace sighed, mentally saying so long to a much needed night o
f relaxation. If only she had it in her to just say no. “Okay, fine, I’ll go. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.”
“Eight o’clock at the Bellevue Hotel.”
Her eyes widened. “Wow, that’s, uh, pretty posh.”
Cameron nodded then stood and walked to the door, stopping with his hand on the frame. “Oh, and it’s a black tie thing, so make sure you wear a nice dress.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Grace blinking after him with her mouth hanging slightly open. Did he really just say “nice”? Because black tie was not nice. Black tie was fancy. How did Cameron not know that? What’s more, how did he not understand that most girls don’t have that kind of dress hanging in the back of their closets on the off chance they’d need it one day?
Grace let out a breath and rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on. Cameron was going to pay for this—literally. Not only would she wait until the last second to bid on him, but she would double the highest bid.
GRACE STEPPED FROM her car into the chilly late January air and lifted her skirt, careful to keep it clear of the asphalt as she walked toward the impressive entrance of the Bellevue Hotel in downtown Seattle. Thank goodness she’d been able to locate a dress-rental place that agreed to stay open a little later for her. Located on the other side of town, Grace had made it there with only minutes to spare and had tried on a couple of dresses—one of which happened to be the light blue, almost aqua, floor-length gown she now wore. Although suited more for spring than January with its capped sleeves, it fit the best, and Grace wasn’t in a position to be picky.
She’d handed over her credit card, bit back a wince at the exorbitant rental fee, and quickly decided to triple the highest bid for Cameron.
Head held high, Grace handed her wool coat over to a porter then followed the signs to the Olympic room. A short line of elegantly dressed women waited to give their name at the door, making Grace hesitate. Clearly this was an invitation-only event, and—thanks to Cameron—she’d arrived empty handed.
Working It Out (A Romantic Comedy) Page 1