Here With You

by Rice, Marianne

  They’d make the green beans and carrots at his house and would defrost one of his mother’s pumpkin pies for dessert.

  That didn’t sound too bad. At least she got out of hanging around his house all day while the turkey cooked. The less time she had with Mrs. Marshall, the better. Carter would be a nice distraction, taking some of the attention off her.

  And after they ate, she’d tell Brady she wasn’t interested in a relationship. Not now. Not when she planned on moving away in less than a year.

  Only he’d screwed up her plans once again by calling this morning to say he was picking her up. It seemed kind of silly since she only lived ten minutes away. He insisted and hung up on her, leaving her without any options.

  Well, she could refuse to answer the door. Glancing at the clock, she noted she had just over an hour until he’d be at her doorstep. The potatoes were boiling and the sweet potatoes were roasting in the oven. They hadn’t talked about sweet potato pie, but it was one of her favorite dishes her mother made.

  She’d called her last night and asked for step-by-step instructions, which sounded pretty simple.

  Tossing a kitchen towel on the counter, she scurried to her bathroom for a quick shower. Shampoo, conditioner, and a few swipes with her razor up and down her legs—just in case, not that she would be dropping her pants for Brady—and she was out of the shower in no time.

  Today wasn’t a day to put on all the war paint, even though she’d be facing the brutal Mrs. Marshall. Going with a light foundation, simple brown tone eye shadow, and her shorter false eyelashes, Grace looked done up but not overdone.

  Since she’d be cooking at the stove and bending over the oven to baste the turkey, unless Mrs. Marshall had the energy to do so, Grace dried her hair and stuck it up in a twist. At least her hair was fairly simple to do. Thin and straight, it was boring, but never too much of a problem.

  Knowing the Marshalls were informal people, she didn’t want to overdress for the meal, yet wanted to look nice. Rummaging through her closet, she settled on a pair of chocolate brown pants and a simple beige sweater.

  One of Arianna’s scarves would go perfectly. Finding the burnt orange and red swirl infinity scarf, Grace looped it around her neck and finished off the look with brown dangly earrings.

  “Not bad,” she said to herself in the mirror. Remembering the stove, she hustled to the kitchen and stuck a fork in the potatoes.

  You couldn’t overcook mashed potatoes, could you? Plopping the strainer in the sink, she dumped the potatoes and even went the extra step of measuring the butter, milk, and salt. Her mother never measured unless baking. Grace wasn’t there yet and didn’t want to take a chance at ruining Thanksgiving.

  The oven timer beeped as she finished whipping the potatoes, and with her new multi-tasking skills, she shut it off, opened the door so she wouldn’t forget, and scooped the pile of white clouds into a pretty bowl she borrowed from her mother’s hutch.

  She covered it with foil and then worked on the sweet potatoes. Again, she measured, even though her mother gave her guesstimates on how much brown sugar, orange juice, and marshmallows to use.

  Sampling the mixture, Grace licked her spoon with a grin. “That’s awesome.” Mom was right. It was easy. She scraped the orange mixture into a pie pan, dotted it with more mini marshmallows and chopped pecans, and covered it with foil.

  The thud of boots coming up her stairs told her there was no time to wash the dishes. They weren’t going anywhere anyway. She opened the door the same time Brady held up his hand to knock.

  “Anxious to see me?” He leaned in for a kiss, not waiting for a reply.

  Anxious, yes, but not only at seeing him. “Good timing. The potatoes are ready. I may need a hand carrying them.”

  “That’s what I’m here for.” He followed her into the kitchen and picked up one dish in each hand and quickly set them back down again. “The bottoms are still hot.”

  “I literally just finished making them. Let me look for a box or something to carry them in.”

  “I’ve got it. Just need to carry it differently.” He picked the mashed potatoes bowl up by the sides and eyed the covered pie pan.

  “I can carry this one.”

  “You sure?”

  “I had planned on it anyway. Before you said you were going to pick me up, which I still think is silly.”

  “I’m bringing my girl to Thanksgiving, and she’s helping my mother prepare the feast. The least I could do is pick her up.” With both their hands full, he could only lean over for a quick kiss.

  Grace ignored the girlfriend comment. She’d be crushing him tonight when she said she preferred a different title. Girl on the side, maybe. Friends with benefits. Booty call.

  Something less personal. Something more associated with her rep.

  He followed her down the steps to his truck, where she waited for him to open the door for her. Even Robert with his Mercedes and his eight-figure salary didn’t open doors for her. He did for his wife when the paparazzi were around. Never for his mistress though.

  “Mom had a pretty good night and was up at eight to put the turkey in.”

  “She’s got to be exhausted already.”

  “Maybe. She won’t admit it though. Her internal clock has always gotten her up at five, so eight is sleeping in. She’s been on and off her feet for the past three hours. I’m hoping she’s sitting down now with me gone. I think she’s trying to put on a strong front for Carter and me. Thanksgiving has always been a big deal, even with just the three of us.”

  Grace wanted to ask about his grandparents, but his cell phone rang.

  “It’s Carter,” he apologized and answered the call. “Everything okay?”

  She heard Carter’s voice on the other line, but couldn’t make out any of the words he said. Brady chuckled, agreed to whatever his brother said, and then hung up.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Mom’s taking a nap in Dad’s recliner. Carter says to drive around for a bit to give her time to rest. Knowing Mom, she’ll jump out of that chair the second she hears my truck pull in. Well, jumping may be a challenge these days, but she’ll be up.”

  “Brady, is it because I’m going to be there? I don’t want to make your mom uncomfortable.”

  “You’re not. You won’t.” He rubbed his hand up and down her thigh, giving her a gentle squeeze. “My mom wants me to be happy, she’s said it a dozen times. More like hundreds, really. And you make me happy.”

  Weren’t guys supposed to be all clammed up about their feelings? Brady defied the stereotype of the tall, dark, handsome rugged male, apparently secure with himself enough to pour his heart and soul out on Grace, who didn’t deserve as much as a friendly hug from him.

  He circled around town taking the scenic route along the ocean. She changed the subject, and they talked about the water, seafood, fishing, and nearby lighthouses. Thirty minutes later he pulled into his driveway.

  It had never been this comfortable before, talking with a man without it being sexual, especially a man who’d kissed her before. Never before had she kissed a man—on multiple occasions—and not been in his bed already.

  This was nice. For the first time in her life, Grace felt special, worth something. She actually felt like someone and not just a something.

  “You ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You’re adorable when you’re nervous.” Brady leaned across the potatoes and kissed her soundly. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but one of familiarity and kindness. It was meant to comfort and soothe. And hell, it did.

  When they got inside, Dorothy was hunched over the oven basting the turkey.

  “Smells amazing, Mom.”

  “It’s the herbs. This year’s sage and rosemary crop were more than I could keep up with. I even sold bundles in the stand last month.”

  “I’m learning to cook with fresh herbs. They make quite a difference compared to the dried ones you buy at the groce
ry store.” Grace rolled her shoulders back for Brady, letting him take her coat for her.

  Mrs. Marshall acted like Grace wasn’t even in there, closing the oven and setting the baster on the counter. “The turkey will be ready to take out in thirty minutes. It will need to rest before carving. I’m going to shower.”

  “She looks better,” Grace said, putting the sweet potatoes on top of the stove.

  “She’s doing better.”

  Wanting to change the subject, she looked around for Hemmy. “I thought you were dog sitting.”

  “Sophie threw a fit when they tried to drop off Hemmy yesterday, so they ended up bringing him with them.” Something dropped in the bathroom, and they both looked down the hall. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to see if she needs help with anything else.”

  “Okay. I’ll start on the vegetables.”

  An hour later the four of them sat around the kitchen table. Mrs. Marshall at the head, Carter on one side, and Brady and Grace on the other.

  “The turkey is delicious, Mrs. Marshall.” When she didn’t get a response, Grace sliced into the tender white meat and dragged it through the gravy. Thankfully Brady’s mom felt well enough to make the gravy; Grace didn’t think she could manage it under so much pressure.

  Carter monopolized the conversation at dinner, keeping the focus on him, his new business, and asked the occasional question of Brady about spring planting.

  “Your sweet potato pie tastes amazing, Grace. Are these marshmallows?” Carter asked.

  “Yes. My mom makes it every year. It was always one of Alexis and my favorite holiday dishes.”

  “Your mother is a good cook,” Mrs. Marshall said, taking a bite of sweet potatoes. It was the closest she came to giving Grace a compliment.

  Brady slid his hand under the table and squeezed Grace’s thigh. “Grace is following in her mother’s footsteps.”

  When no reply came from his mother, Carter pointed his fork at her. “Much better than those brownies.”

  “My brownies? What was wrong with them?” She’d laid out all the ingredients ahead of time, including the measuring cups. She turned to Brady for clarification.

  His jaw clenched, his eyes big and round, darting daggers across the table at his brother.

  “Sorry. Thought she knew about that.”

  “Tell me,” she ordered Carter, knowing Brady would stay mum.

  “You might have added too much salt.”

  She looked up at Brady, who still avoided her gaze. “Were they terrible?”

  “It’s my fault,” he conceded, squeezing her thigh again and making eye contact. “I watched you make them and should have asked if you meant to fill a measuring cup with salt instead of a spoon.”

  “Oh, no.” She covered her face with her hands. “Why didn’t stop me?”

  “Aw, you two. So cute, distracting each other into doing silly things,” Carter teased.

  “I’m going to go lie down.” Mrs. Marshall twisted her body to the side and used the table to help prop her up.

  Both men jumped to their feet to help their mother, who swatted them away. “I’m not an invalid. Finish your dinner.”

  They waited until she disappeared down the hall before sitting down again. For some reason, Mrs. Marshall didn’t like her. Whether Brady was in denial or too attached to his mother to pick up on her insults, Grace wasn’t sure.

  It was another sign they weren’t meant to be together. She’d end things with him when he brought her home, no matter how much he sweet talked her into continuing on with whatever was happening between them.

  When the three of them finished eating, Brady stood and picked up her plate. “Thanksgiving leftovers for the next few days. My favorite.”

  Which also meant she wouldn’t feel obligated to bring over meals. With his mom having a little more energy and being able to be up longer, Grace wasn’t needed anymore. Which was good.

  She did the dishes while Carter picked at the turkey and Brady put the food in containers.

  When everything was clean, she draped a kitchen towel over the lower cabinet door under the sink and touched Brady’s arm.

  “Having company exhausted your mom. I should go home now.”

  “You won’t stay for dessert?”

  “I’m too stuffed right now.”

  Brady wrapped her in his arms, his hands resting on her lower back. “Which is why you should stay a little longer. We’ll have dessert, and then I’ll bring you home.”

  “Seriously, you two,” Carter said, coming into the kitchen from bringing the trash out. “Get a room.”

  Grace moved out from Brady’s arms. “Thank you for having me over, Carter. And for picking the turkey. That used to be my job. I hated it.”

  “I think I ate more than I saved.” He patted his belly. “Thanks for brightening up our table.” He yanked her in for a rough hug.

  Brighten the table, she did not. Her presence was a cloud of disapproving gloom over the meal.

  “I’ll keep an ear out for Mom. Don't rush home, big brother.” Carter slapped him on the back. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He wiggled his eyebrows and clicked his tongue before spinning on his heels and chuckling his way down the hall.

  “I’ll get your coat.” It was less than ten feet away from them, but Grace let Brady do the gentlemanly thing by helping her into it.

  He took her hand in his as soon as he fastened his seatbelt. They didn’t say much on the way back to her place. She mentally prepared herself for the sort of break up. It wasn't that they were in a committed relationship. A few kisses. Not even groping.

  What they had was a junior high thing. Only the kisses were more passionate and the feelings deeper. Not that she’d expressed any.

  She wouldn’t let him distract her with kisses this time.

  He parked the truck, and she waited for him to open her door. He helped her down and kept his hands on her waist longer than necessary. Avoiding his gaze and his mouth, she slipped away and started up the steps.

  “I, um... thank you for inviting me to dinner.” She kept her back to him as she unlocked the door.

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for all you did for us.” He pushed her hair to the side and nuzzled her neck. With her big scarf in the way, he didn’t have much access but made enough contact with her skin to cause shivers all the way down to her toes.

  Once again she slipped away from him and pushed her way into the apartment.

  “Do you mind if I stay for a bit?” Brady set her dishes on the kitchen table and unzipped his coat.

  “Actually.” She kept her coat buttoned up and shoved her hands deep in her pockets. “We need to talk.”

  “Is this going to be the same conversation we had in your shop two days ago?”

  “You distracted me.”

  “Fair play. You distract me.” Brady licked his lips and mimicked her stance, tucking his hands into his pockets.

  “I’m serious.”

  “Me too.” He rocked back on his heels like this was a game to him.

  “Like I said before, we’re not right for each other. I’m not...”

  “You are.”

  “Your mother hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you.” He stopped rocking, and his playful eyes turned soft. “She’s going through a lot.”

  “She knows how wrong I am for you, Brady.”

  “My mother doesn’t determine who I date.”

  “There are things about me you don’t know.”

  Brady paused and then removed his coat, draping it on the back of a chair. He moved in closer, and Grace stood her ground.

  “Are you married?”

  “What? Of course not.” What a ridiculous thing for him to ask.

  “Are you seeing someone else?”

  Grace snorted. “Not even close.”

  “Because those would be definite no’s for me. I’m glad to hear you’re single and available.”

  “I’m single, but emotionally
, I’m not available.” And she knew he wanted her more than physically. Not being able to connect on a deeper level would turn him off. It had to turn him off.

  “Slap me if this question is rude and out of line, but have you slept with anyone in the past... month?”

  Since they first kissed. “Try over a year.”

  That elicited a giant grin from Brady. Too much information.

  “You’ve already told me the problem isn’t me, it’s you.” He worked to free the buttons of her jacket one by one. “And personally, I don’t see any problems with you.” He freed the last button and slid her coat off her shoulders. “Not a single one.”

  “Brady,” she whispered. She wanted him in the worst way and feared he could read the desire in her eyes.

  “I’ve never wanted to be with a woman more than I want to be with you, Grace,” his words whispered across her cheek.

  “Your mother...”

  “Does not choose who I’m with.”

  They were both single. Both two consenting adults. She’d been honest with him about not being right for him. About not wanting a relationship. She’d said that, hadn’t she?

  And yet here he was, kissing her skin with words, perfect words. No man had ever been so kind, so caring, so thoughtful.

  She couldn’t say no. Couldn’t turn him away. She wanted to be loved and cherished by Brady Marshall.

  All. Night. Long.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  GRACE’S SCARF COVERED most of her neck, so Brady nuzzled it away with his nose, finding the soft spot under her ear.

  “You smell amazing. I’d like to stay. With you. Tonight,” he said between kisses.

  “It’s the turkey you smell. The stuffing too. Your mom makes good stuffing.”

  He didn’t want to bring his mother into this conversation. Grace had used her as an excuse for them not to be together. Sensing her reluctance even now with his lips on her neck, he gently bit on her earlobe and pulled away.

  “If you want me to leave, I will.” He eyed his coat, hoping Grace wouldn’t call his bluff. No, it wasn’t a bluff. He wouldn’t force himself on her.