The world was dark and quiet, the moon a silent guard over Stone Gap, and Grady lay in a bed that he’d spent a good chunk of his childhood in, halfway to sleep. It was in that twilight space between waking and dreaming that the regrets and doubts plagued his thoughts, catapulting on top of each other, until a sharp catch in his breath jerked him fully awake. His heart thudded so loudly he could hear it, and his breath became a panicked rush.
He kicked off the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, his chest tight and his breath wheezing. He stared at the dappled white specks of moonlight on the wood floor as he drew in a breath, let it out. Drew another in, let it out. His heart kept galloping, and he pressed his hand to his chest, as if that would slow the rapid beats.
What had he been thinking yesterday, kissing Beth and agreeing to be her fake boyfriend? For a second, he’d been his old self, leaping ahead, heedless of the risks of his decisions, allowing his instincts and desires to pull him around like a bull with a ring in its nose. Then Dan had called, and splashed him with an icy reminder of Grady’s entire reason for being in Stone Gap. A reason that had nothing to do with a pretty groomer who smelled like spring flowers.
Jackson Properties had become a ghost of the multimillion-dollar company he’d built. The offices were still there, empty and silent, the lights off. Dan, the only employee left, had taken to working mostly from home to save the few dollars on electricity bills. An hour ago, he had texted and asked if there was any possibility of a paycheck advance. My doctor won’t see me again unless I catch up on some of the overdue bills, Dan had written. I don’t want to add to your stress but I don’t know what else to do.
Grady didn’t know, either—but he had no option but to try to figure it out.
Somehow, he managed to get back to sleep. The next morning, he got started bright and early, spending the day culling his list of contacts, trying to broker a deal to flip the medical-device company’s property as soon as he bought it, or even better, before he bought it, saving him the scary prospect of floating the loan in between purchase and sale. A few people returned his calls and emails, but gave him nothing more than platitudes and vague promises. Most ignored him. No one, it seemed, wanted to be near a failure.
Now he stood on Beth Cooper’s father’s doorstep, clutching a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other, and tried not to break a sweat. A few hours at her dinner table, then he’d get the name of the Realtor, get Ida Mae’s house sold and get the hell out of town. Monster pranced in as much of a circle as the leash would allow, then stopped to paw at the front door, as if saying, Come on, ring the bell and get it over with.
Grady pressed the button, then waited. He’d opted for a button-down shirt and khakis. No tie, no sport jacket. Something casual that said boyfriend. Not guy pretending to be a boyfriend who is actually in it to get rid of a dog and a house because he doesn’t have time for a relationship with a woman who deserves more. Last he checked, Macy’s didn’t stock that outfit.
Beth pulled open the door. Her eyes widened and a smile fluttered across her face. Apparently, his choice of attire met with her approval. He loved the way she looked—always had, ever since she’d sat across from him in high school. But the adult Beth had a sexy, girl-next-door edge to her that he liked even more. She had her hair down, long blond tendrils skating along her shoulders, curving across the top of her breasts. She’d put on a simple pale yellow sundress that left her arms bare and belled below her narrow waist.
Holy hell. Maybe he should have gone for the tie. Because Beth looked like the kind of woman a man should spoil. Whisk off to dinner in Paris or a candlelit dinner on a beach at sunset.
Just a year ago, Grady could have done that. Now, the best he could offer was a bouquet and a charade. He thrust the flowers at her. “These are for you.”
She buried her nose in the daisies and inhaled, then lifted her gaze and smiled at him. “Nice touch. Thanks.”
He held up the bottle of wine. “And I’m hoping this will take the edge off.” For him, mostly, because the last time he’d had this much riding on a date had been, well, never.
“Good thinking.” She laughed, then bent down to greet a wildly enthusiastic Monster. The puppy pawed at Beth’s legs, but she gently reprimanded him and told him to sit. Monster listened to her, his big brown eyes filled with the same rapt attention Grady suspected his own eyes showed.
Beth glanced up at Grady. “I take it you’re as nervous as I am?” she said softly. “For the record, I’ve never done anything remotely close to this.”
He nodded. At least he wasn’t the only one with jitters in his gut. “I’ve never exchanged dinner for dog training and a business card.”
Hell, he’d never gone out with someone like Beth. There was just something wholesome and sweet and enticing about her that had Grady off-kilter and wondering if it would be better for both of them if he bailed on the whole thing.
“I really appreciate this, Grady.” She rose, took a look over her shoulder, then turned her attention back to him. When she spoke, her voice dropped to a whisper. “Remember the story we worked out by text earlier today. I don’t think my dad will be suspicious, but just be prepared. My father gets tired easily so you only have to stay for a little while. My dad is also very protective of me, so be prepared for an inquisition. He won’t go easy on you.”
“You make it sound like dating you is a hardship,” Grady said. “I find that difficult to believe.”
“Not a hardship. Just…complicated.”
Complicated. What did she mean by that? Because everything about Beth read simple and easy to him, like floating down a lazy river.
Behind her, a male voice called out, “Am I going to meet this young man or are you just gonna leave him standing on the porch like a wet newspaper?”
Beth drew in a breath, then opened the door wider. “Come on in,” she said. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Grady entered the Cape Cod–style house, with Monster at his feet, all gangly puppy paws on the smooth wood floors. Beth led the way down a short hallway, flanked by a dining room on the left and a guest bath on the right. The hall spilled into the living room, a crowded space dominated by a massive TV and a recliner. Dozens of pictures hung on the dark wood paneled walls, above a pair of floral sofas and a set of end tables filled with more pictures. In the corner sat an upright piano, the lid closed, bench tucked underneath.
In the recliner sat a man whose body held the echoes of a hearty frame. His cheeks were sunken, his eyes darkened by circles from sleepless nights. An oxygen tube draped over his ears and into his nose, connected to a dark green canister at his feet. He gripped the arms of the chair and shoved himself to his feet, his face pinching with the effort. He stuck out a shaky hand. “Reggie Cooper.”
The name immediately struck a bell. A former fighter with a pretty damned good record. Grady stepped forward. “Grady Jackson. Pleased to meet you, sir.”
“And what are your intentions toward my daughter?”
“Dad!” Beth’s face reddened.
“I don’t want you thinking my only daughter’s heart isn’t worth a little hard work.” Reggie leaned forward and gave Grady a glare.
He couldn’t blame her father for starting off with that question. If he had a daughter like Beth, he’d be keeping a loaded shotgun by the front door to scare off every man who got within ten feet. “Your daughter is an incredible woman.”
“You better not forget that, son.” Reggie wagged a finger in his direction and Beth’s face turned a shade darker.
“Dad, why don’t you sit down?” Beth didn’t wait for an answer, but helped ease him back into his chair. Her touch was easy, loving, tender, and some weird part of Grady felt envy. “Can I get you anything to drink, Dad?”
Reggie shook his head. “Get something for that poor boy over there. He looks as nervous as a cat on a lawn mower.”
Maybe Grady should have brought tequila instead of wine. Now that he was here, confronted directly with Beth’s father and the reality of the situation, pretending to be her boyfriend, even for a minute, felt wrong. This was a man who clearly loved his daughter. Pulling the wool over his eyes when he was sick as hell left Grady’s gut twisting, no matter how kind the motives behind the deception. “Let me help you,” Grady said to Beth.
“She’s got it. Leaves you and me time to chat,” Reggie said, waving Beth toward the kitchen before he gestured toward the couch. He waited while Grady took a seat on the worn floral sofa. A solid thirty seconds passed while Reggie sized Grady up, the oxygen tank hissing all the while. “So…how did you meet my daughter?”
When he and Beth had worked out their “history” they’d decided basing it on some truths would be the easiest and best course. It didn’t make sense to create a huge fictional account if he was only here for one night, one dinner. “I went to Hawkins Prep, too.”
“You grew up round here?”
Yes, he had—in a house as cold as an iceberg. “In Raleigh. My brothers and I used to stay at my grandmother’s in Stone Gap from time to time.”
“And your parents, where are they?”
As uninvolved in their children’s lives as they could be, last Grady had checked. “They’re both attorneys in Raleigh.”
“Attorneys.” The look on Reggie’s face told Grady what he thought of that career choice. Grady couldn’t disagree, not when his parents fitted in with most of the stereotypes. His mother was as career driven as her husband. He had been the more exacting and demanding one with every element of his life, including his family. It had served him well as an attorney, but not so much as a father. While they were growing up, Grady and his brothers had often said they felt like they were living with a warden, not a dad.
When Grady had gone into business for himself—and struggled the first couple years—his father had used that as an opportunity to call him foolish and impractical. Yet another reason Grady rarely spoke to his parents.
“And you? Do you have a job?” Reggie asked.
“Uh, yes. Sort of.” A complicated answer to say he’d laid himself off so he wouldn’t drain the company any more. The only one technically employed at Jackson Properties was Dan. Grady didn’t want to tell Beth’s father about the millions he had made—or the millions he had lost. Or the long story behind the planned government facility that had lost funding before the doors ever opened. “I’m self-employed, sir.”
“Code for unemployed,” Reggie muttered.
Grady flicked a glance in the direction of the kitchen. Whatever Beth was doing was taking a year and a half. “I, uh, sell corporate real estate in Manhattan.”
Or used to. Before he made a bad investment that cost him everything. Yeah, probably not what Beth wanted her fake boyfriend to share.
“You got a college degree?” Reggie asked.
Grady nodded. “MBA from Northwestern.”
Reggie let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s impressive. My daughter is smart as hell, and she should have gone to college, but with what happened senior year and—”
“Dad, no need to retread history.” She handed Grady a glass of wine, then sat on the sofa beside him. Close enough to touch, but still far enough for the gulf of unfamiliarity between them to be palpable. She patted Grady’s knee and flashed him a smile. “Both Grady and I prefer to focus on the present, not the past.”
What had happened senior year? He searched his memory, but nothing came up. Granted, in senior year he’d been busy with college applications and maintaining his GPA. His world had revolved around a very tiny set of goals and objectives, mainly getting out of the house and away from his suffocating father. He and Beth hadn’t had any classes together that year, though it was a small enough school that he’d still seen her around.
“What brought you back to Stone Gap?” Reggie asked. “Doesn’t exactly seem like the kind of place a Northwestern grad would choose.”
Not at all, which was why Grady didn’t live here. Stone Gap was great, as small towns went, but he missed the heartbeat of New York City. Soon, he’d be back there. “I inherited my grandmother’s house,” he said. “In fact, you might have known her. Ida Mae Jackson? She worked at the corner market in downtown Stone Gap for most of her life. It’s where she met my grandfather, and where she retired from, too, about fifteen years ago.”
“I wasn’t around much in my younger years,” Reggie said. “Can’t say I got to know anyone in this town much more than in passing. This was my wife’s hometown, not mine. I met her when I was on the road, the first year I was fighting. She had such deep roots here, with her parents and grandparents, getting her to move would have been like trying to uproot a sequoia. In fact, I’ve spent more time in this chair in the last two years than I spent in Stone Gap in the last three decades.”
“My father was a boxing champ and fought all over the world for a good portion of his life,” Beth said. She pointed to the photographs on the wall above Grady’s head.
Dozens of images of a younger, burlier Reggie in various boxing poses, from the raised fist of a champion to the lightning-quick draw of a southpaw, filled the space. Several pictures of Reggie holding a winner’s belt above his head, a few others of him with famous boxers from years ago—George Foreman, Rocky Marciano, Joe Frazier, and even one with crazy-haired promoter Don King.
“I’ve heard of you,” Grady said. “You had a hell of a career.”
“Yeah. Those were the days.” Reggie sighed, then dropped his gaze to his hands, as if he could still see the gloves on his fists, the mat beneath his feet. He shook his head and cleared his throat, wiping away the cobwebs of memories. “Anyway, I retired almost fifteen years ago, after I lost my wife, God rest her soul.”
Beth’s mother had died? Grady immediately felt bad for not even asking about her mother when she’d brought up her father the other day. Was that what happened in senior year?
He realized he knew virtually nothing about her life, about her, and for the hundredth time, he questioned the wisdom of what he was doing. He was sitting here beside a woman who was essentially a stranger, trying to fool a sick man. Albeit for a good purpose, because it was clear Reggie loved his daughter and worried about her. Grady’s own father wouldn’t have been half that concerned. Hell, he felt that he had more of a relationship with Beth’s father in ten minutes than he’d had with his own in the past ten years.
Illness had winnowed Reggie into a shell of the man in the photos. Grady found himself wishing he could do more than just feign love for Beth for a single dinner, if only to give a sick man a bright spot in what seemed to be a pretty gray existence. Because Grady knew what it was like to lose everything, and to have to face the truth of a life that had disappeared in a blink. If he’d been here under different circumstances, he’d want to ask Reggie about winning and losing, and how he got out of bed on the mornings after he lost.
Beth’s father might be a difficult man to impress, but Grady had to admit he liked him. Reggie Cooper was direct and frank, not at all the kind of guy to dance around a subject. Maybe that was what had made him such a good boxer—he went straight for the punch, with his fists and his words.
“So what kind of corporate real estate are we talking?” Reggie asked. “You selling diners or department stores?”
“Well, neither. I specialize in medical and technology properties. Most of the time, I find and renovate facilities for clients who are looking for a home base.”
“Most of the time?” Reggie’s gaze narrowed. “What do you do the rest of the time?”
“Dad,” Beth interjected, laying a hand on his arm. “We should probably sit down to dinner.”
Beth picked up Monster, putting him into one of those playpen things she had in the grooming salon, and gave him a couple of peanut butter–filled treats that looked like they were going to keep the puppy occupied for a long time. Good.
But Reggie didn’t listen to his daughter’s request. “So you’re like a manager. Selling the boxer to the promoter, pocketing your cut and never getting in the ring yourself.”
Did Reggie think there was no risk in Grady’s business? If so, he was wrong. Grady had gotten into the ring every time, taken every chance. And the one time he’d overstepped and forgotten to protect himself, he’d gotten the takedown of his life. He tried not to think about Dan, and how much the other man was depending on him. Trusting Grady to pull off a miracle. “When you get in the ring, sometimes you get knocked out.”
“Yeah, and sometimes you win it all. If I’d been smarter, I’d have decided to be a manager or promoter, so I could make money off of someone else’s knucklehead.” Reggie tapped his temple. “But I was young and full of piss and vinegar when I started boxing. Which means I thought with my fists instead of my brains.”
Grady could relate. How many times did he wish he’d listened to the sense of others instead of following his own gut reactions?
“Hey, guys, I made a roast chicken with potatoes for dinner and now it’s getting cold,” Beth said, getting to her feet. “Do we want to take this inquisition into the dining room?”
“Sure, sure,” Reggie said. Once again, he waved off his daughter’s attempts to help him out of the chair even as he coughed and wheezed, the struggle obvious in his features. He shuffled out to the dining room and sat at the head of the small table. “Grady, you sit right here, next to me.”
Grady did as he was told. Beth sat across from him, the two of them flanking Reggie. Her father passed the platter of chicken and potatoes to Grady. The scents of garlic, onion and roasted chicken wafted across the table. Grady’s mouth watered at the sight of the browned hen and cubed red potatoes. He’d eaten in many five-star restaurants, but none of the meals he’d had looked or smelled as good as this one. Maybe it was just the thought of sharing the homey dish with Beth, the fact that she’d made it with him in mind. It almost made him wish, just for an instant, that their facade could be real.
Whoa. Where had that thought come from? That was a little more of a hearth-and-home road than Grady traveled. And anyway, Beth had probably just been thinking about her father when she made dinner, not him. He didn’t need to get all “relationshipy” over a damned chicken. But as he glanced around the dining room, taking in the photos on the buffet, the china settings in the hutch, the floral tablecloth with embroidered edges, he felt like he was back at his grandmother’s table. The setting warmed him, settled his stress…and gave him pause.
What was he doing here? Playing house? Or helping a friend? Or serving his own interests?
The return to the simpler world he’d left behind in Stone Gap was simply…uplifting. A temporary feeling, he was sure, one that would pass in a few days. He’d be itching to get back to the frantic pace of New York before long.
“Looks delicious, Beth.” After filling his plate, Grady gave the platter to her. He laid his napkin on his lap, picked up his fork and speared a piece of chicken.
Reggie cleared his throat. “We say grace in this house,” he said.
Damn. Grady put the fork down. In that moment, he felt like a five-year-old caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Beth looked as surprised as Grady. “Dad, we don’t—”
“Yes, we do.” Reggie nodded in Grady’s direction.
“Uh, yes, sir. My apologies. It’s been a while since I had a family meal.” And an eon since he’d said grace at the table. Ida Mae had been the only one in the Jackson family to insist on pausing before eating. Grady’s busy, workaholic parents rarely ate dinner with their sons at all, saving family dinners for major holidays. Even then, they were quiet affairs, where the loudest sound was the scrape of a utensil against the china, a socially unacceptable noise that earned a sharp glance.
“You want to do the honors, Grady?” Reggie asked.
Grady exchanged a what do I say to that? glance with Beth. She gave a slight shrug and dipped her head, leaving him on his own. Sink or swim.
There was no way Grady was going to sink, not again, and not at a family dinner with people who weren’t even his family.
He cleared his throat. Then cleared it again. “Uh, dear God, thank you for this meal and for the people around this table.” He paused. What else was he supposed to say? He tried to think back to his grandmother’s prayers, and hit upon the one she said most often, letting the words babble out of his mouth before he thought them through. “Season our lives with goodness and my words with salt in case I have to eat them later.”
Beth snickered. Reggie let out a huff. Grady vowed to never, ever, ever participate in impromptu prayer again.
“Amen,” Grady said, before he added any more of Ida Mae’s pearls of prayer.
“Well. That was different.” Reggie raised his head and opened his eyes. “Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.”
Thankfully, he didn’t seem offended, just…amused. That was good. “It was one my grandmother always said,” Grady said. “She didn’t believe in taking anything too seriously.”
“And I suspect that kind of thinking got her in trouble sometimes?”
Grady chuckled. “More than once. But that was part of what I loved about her. My grandmother was…refreshing. Honest yet loving. I’ve never met anyone quite like her.”
Refreshing. That was the adjective he’d used for Beth a couple days ago. Two women in his life that were a far cry from all others.
“I didn’t know Ida Mae that well,” Beth said. “I wish I had spent more time with her. She sounds amazing.”
“I didn’t realize you knew her at all,” Grady said. Ida Mae, he was sure, would have loved Beth. She was the kind of girl a boy brought home to meet his mother, Grandma would have said. That was, if the boy had a mother who cared about the kind of girl he brought home. Grady often wondered why his parents had had children, because they seemed to forget their three boys as soon as they were born.
Beth nodded. “I met your grandma a few times at the general store. Every time, she was so sweet to me and never forgot what my favorite candy was.”
“That’s a good thing for a man to remember, too.” Reggie wagged a finger in Grady’s direction before he turned back to his daughter. “I might not have been the best husband in the state of North Carolina, but I always remembered how much your mother loved Almond Joys. If we had a fight, I’d bring home a handful of them. I swear, she liked those better than flowers.”
A soft, melancholy smile filled Beth’s face. “I remember that. Whenever I went trick-or-treating, I’d be sure to get a few to bring back for her.”
Father and daughter sat in silence for a minute. “There were some good days, weren’t there, Bethie?”
“Yes, Dad, there were. Before…” Beth’s voice trailed off. “Well, before.”
Grady sat in the middle of a private moment between Beth and her father. A thousand unspoken things hung in the air, questions in Grady’s mind that he had no right to ask. What had happened to Beth’s mother? What did Reggie mean by “there were some good days”? Was it connected to whatever had so consumed Beth Cooper’s life that she didn’t have time to date? Surely her father had a visiting nurse or something, right?
For a few minutes, there was only the sound of eating and the occasional cough from Reggie’s ravaged lungs. Then Reggie said, “Pass those damn-near-amazing rolls, please,” and the tension at the table eased. Grady handed him the basket of warm Parker House rolls, and then slid the butter his way.
“So, Grady, quick quiz,” Reggie said. “What is my daughter’s favorite candy?”
“Dad! That’s not fair to ask.”
“He should know it. He should know everything about you. Any man who dates my daughter better damned well be paying attention to more than her curves.” Reggie gave an emphatic nod. “My own dad used to say that to me when I started dating, and it’s good advice.”
The older man turned to Grady and stared at him. Grady squirmed in his seat. Beth’s favorite candy? How was he supposed to know that? He wanted to look at her for some kind of hint, but Reggie’s attention was laser focused, and Grady was pretty sure he’d get caught if he tried to cheat. He’d already messed up grace. He had a feeling he better get this right, or he’d be failing some kind of invisible test. Grady scrolled through his high school memories in a rapid microfiche of images.
“Reese’s peanut butter cups,” he said.
Beth’s eyes widened. “That’s…that’s right.”
“Well, good. Glad to see the boy is paying attention. Pass the potatoes, please.” Reggie put out a hand. After he’d refilled his plate, he took a few bites, then turned back to Grady. “It seems to me that you care a great deal about my daughter. When are you planning to make it official?”
Grady nearly choked on the bite of bread in his mouth. Make it official? He’d signed on to be a boyfriend for a night, not a lifetime. “Uh, I don’t know, sir. Beth and I haven’t really talked about that.”
Reggie’s face pinched with disapproval, then the wrinkled nose and furrowed brow yielded to worry and something that looked like regret. “I’d like my daughter to be settled with a good man before I’m gone—and not to upset this lovely meal, but we all know that’s not far away. Heart disease is a cruel mistress who wants her due,” Reggie said. “Don’t start smoking, son. Not now, not ever.”
Grady dropped his gaze to his plate, because all he could see was the flashing ambulance lights and Dan being loaded in on a stretcher. Heart disease was a cruel mistress indeed. Dan’s doctor had given him a prescription for three things: more activity, no smoking and less stress. The longer Grady sat in this town without working capital to get the company running again, the more stress he added to Dan’s life.
“I want my daughter to have a happy life,” Reggie went on, “one that doesn’t revolve around caring for a bitter old boxer who takes ten thousand pills a day.”
“Dad—”
“Let me say my piece, Beth. I was a terrible father. A worse husband.” He eyed Grady. “Tell me you won’t be either of those.”
“I won’t.” That, at least, was the truth. Grady had no intentions of continuing this charade after tonight. And even if he ever did settle down, he vowed to be better than his father had been.
Then he glanced at Beth. Worry creased the space between her brows, shimmered in her eyes. Despite the big show of taking a second helping of potatoes, Reggie had barely touched his meal.
Everything about the man, from his skeletal frame to his lily-white skin, said he was on borrowed time. The hiss of oxygen every time he took a breath added an exclamation point. His gaze as he’d spoken had been filled with entreaty. Please let me know my most prized and precious person will be okay after I’m gone.
Grandma Ida Mae had been one of those people who showed up at the neighbors’ house with a casserole when someone in the family was sick. She was first on the scene after a storm to help someone clear their driveway of debris. She’d volunteered to feed the hungry, and set flags at the base of headstones on Memorial Day. She was the kind of person other people aspired to be.
The kind of person Grady had never been. His entire adult life had been focused on building his company, amassing a financial stockpile to fund his ventures and his personal excesses. He’d accumulated things, not friends, and when he’d lost damned near everything and saw the eyes of the people he had hurt, he’d realized how empty that kind of life could be.
Sitting beside him was a man who had a life with real value—a town he loved, a home, and a daughter who loved him fiercely. A man with one simple dying wish. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to give Reggie a little comfort. Grady didn’t have to actually act on his promises—just keep them until…
Well, until. Even after just an hour spent at his table, Grady didn’t want the man to die anytime soon. He liked Reggie, a man who came across as frank and stubborn, two qualities Grady looked for in employees, in friends, and in himself. And he liked Beth. More and more every minute he spent with her.
Even now, the worry and desire to keep her father calm and healthy was evident in her words, and the way she glanced at her dad from time to time or gave him a light touch as she got up to refill his water or retrieve more rolls from the oven.
Maybe it was the homemade food. Or the floral sofa. Or the crazy idea that he couldn’t fix the big things in his life, but he could fix this small one, that made Grady veer left when he’d been on a decidedly right-turn-only course.
“Sir, I care very much about your daughter,” Grady began. Where was he going with that statement? There was still time to change the subject, to talk about candy bars or favorite cookies. “And…and I’d love to make that a permanent relationship.”
Beth’s fork landed with a clatter on the stoneware plate. Her eyes widened. “You…what?”
“Wonderful!” Reggie’s face transformed from pale and tired to flushed and excited. “This is such wonderful news. Best news I’ve had…well, in a long time. It deserves a celebration! Bethie, remember that champagne we keep in the bottom drawer of the fridge? Why don’t you grab that? I can’t think of a better reason to uncork that bottle.”
“Dad, I don’t think—”
“I have one child, and I want to celebrate her engagement. Or soon-to-be engagement.” Reggie gave Grady a wink. “I expect you’re going to give her the full experience with a ring and a formal proposal, right?”
Grady nodded. He couldn’t have formed an intelligible sentence right now if someone offered him a million dollars. He glanced at Beth’s shocked face, then at Reggie’s ecstatic one, and wondered what the hell he’d just done.
* * *
“What. Was. That?” Beth whispered under her breath. She’d dragged Grady into the kitchen to “help open the champagne.” Behind the refrigerator door, she gave him a little shake. “What were you thinking?”
“Just trying to give your dad some peace.”
“By offering to marry me? I’m not getting married, Grady. Not to you or anyone. Not even—”
“To give your dying dad one less thing to worry about?” Grady reached down and retrieved the champagne from the fridge. “Listen, I’m not really asking you to marry me. We’ll just pretend for now. I can’t…” Grady shook his head and looked away. “I just think it’s the least I can do.”
“The least…” She shut the fridge door, opened a cabinet and retrieved three champagne flutes. The last time anyone had used these had been her mother’s fortieth birthday. That had been one of the last times she’d seen either of her parents truly happy.
She ran a finger along the delicate curve of the flute. This is such wonderful news. Best news I’ve had…well, in a long time. Her father had been smiling. Laughing. Talking in exclamation points.
“We don’t even know each other,” Beth said.
“Ah, but I know your favorite candy.”
She propped a fist on her hip. “How did you know that?”
“Whenever we had a big test in geometry, you’d have a handful of those bite-size Reese’s cups on your desk and down them like they were speed.” Grady laughed.
“I forgot all about that.” Beth shook her head. She was oddly touched that he could remember a detail like that from fifteen years ago. “I hated that class. And tests made me nervous, hence the chocolate binge.”
“For me, it’s junk food.” He leaned against the counter. “Whenever I get worried about something, I’m all about burgers and fries and pizza. As a matter of fact, I had pizza for lunch today.”
“You did? What were you nervous about?”
He hesitated before answering, and she wondered what he wasn’t sharing. “This whole ‘pretend boyfriend’ thing.”
Somehow, that didn’t ring true to Beth. Grady might have been shy, as he’d said, in high school, but he was an accomplished, capable businessman now. What could possibly have him stressed?
And why did she care? This was all pretend and all so very temporary. “These glasses are dusty. I should wash them.” She turned away to the sink. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll give you the referral to the Realtor and train your dog. You did your part, Grady.”
Now you can leave me to handle the rest on my own, like everyone else in my life has.
He grabbed the dish towel from where it hung on the oven door, put his back to the counter and dried the glasses as Beth washed them. “My grandmother was the kind of woman who would invite a perfect stranger to dinner or let some down-on-his-luck man stay at her house for free. She was generous to a fault. I…well, I haven’t been. I’ve made more than a few mistakes of my own, mistakes I can’t rectify, at least not yet. It’s been a long time since I’ve done anything I can feel really good about. But I can do this.”
“How are we going to pull it off? A dinner is one thing, an engagement…” She shut off the water and lowered her voice. “We barely know each other.”
“True. But the charade won’t be for long. I’m only staying in town long enough to get Ida Mae’s house on the market. Then our ‘engagement’—” he gave it air quotes “—will all be long-distance. When I’m not here, you can tell him whatever you want about calls or texts you’re getting from me. Your dad will feel better that you’re going to be taken care of, and maybe the little reduction in stress will…give him more strength.”
The unspoken words: give you a little more time with him.
Tears filled Beth’s eyes. All these months, she had shouldered the burden of her father’s illness alone. The weight of those responsibilities and worries seemed Herculean. Now Grady was offering to help, in a tiny way, by alleviating her father’s biggest worry, and giving her a gift she couldn’t refuse. And if relieving this stress truly did help her father…it could pay off in an increase in days she’d get to spend with him. Maybe weeks. Dare she hope, months?
“You really think we can pull this off? I mean, I don’t want to put you out or add to what you have going on right now.” She didn’t even know much about what that was, except for Monster, who had curled up in the ex-pen beside his treat and fallen asleep. The fact that she knew so little should have been a red flag. There were stresses and worries in his eyes that he wasn’t sharing. Little doubts that told her she should ask more questions. “We’re pretty much strangers. It’ll be awkward and weird.”
Awkward and weird didn’t even begin to describe it. Insane was a better word. Everything she knew about Grady she could fit on a grain of rice, and her acting skills were about zero. Not to mention she was going to be lying to her father.
Beth glanced over her shoulder at Reggie, sitting at the dining room table, the remote in his hand as he caught some of the baseball game while he waited for the champagne and celebration of a lie. She noted his hunched shoulders, his too-thin frame. For the last year, she had watched her father’s eyes slowly shift from warm and optimistic to depressed and worried. Sadness filled the air around him, a cocoon he had lost the strength to escape. But tonight at dinner, for one short moment…
He had been happy. Engaged. Part of her life. There’d been a lightness in his features, a smile dimpling his cheeks. “Maybe…” she said softly, “if we could make my father believe it, he would become more involved and less distant.”
“I’ve only been here an hour or so,” Grady said, “and I’m not always the most observant man on the planet, but I can see how much work you’re doing to take care of him. The medicine dosing, doctor appointments, cooking, cleaning. On top of that, you’re running your own business, which I know is incredibly time-consuming. Maybe this…relationship we’re sorta having can make it easier for both of you, just because your father will feel more…settled.”
She thought of the restlessness and worry he’d shown in the last few months, how much time he spent worrying about her instead of himself. “He would. But still, pretending to be engaged is a lot harder than pretending to be dating.”
Engaged couples touched. They flirted. They kissed. They even…well, pretend engaged couples might not do that. Surely she could handle a little flirting and kissing. Couldn’t she?
“And there’s…the physical part.” There, she’d said it.
He gave a slight nod. “True. But we have kissed once. Hell of a kiss, if I remember right.”
She raised her chin. “I’ve had better.”
He chuckled, then shifted closer to her. The heat in the kitchen ratcheted up a thousand degrees. “Oh, really?”
“You’re not the only man I’ve ever kissed, you know.” But he was the only man whose kiss had left her unable to think about anything else. Even now, just glancing at his mouth as he spoke quickened the warmth in her belly. The one other long-term relationship she’d had, with a guy she’d been engaged to for a split second, never distracted her like this. She had finished washing the glasses, but the water kept on running behind her.
“Right now, Beth Cooper, I’d like to be the only man you’re kissing. Because I liked kissing you…” he shifted closer still “…very…” another step “…very…” he put a hand on her waist “…much.”
Was he pretending? Being real? Did she want to know the answer? She opened her mouth but no words came out. Instead, she leaned forward a few degrees, and before she knew it, they were kissing again. Grady’s lips skated across hers, featherlight, kissing the edges of hers, with care, almost…reverence.
Damn it. She wasn’t going to fall for him. Nope. Not gonna happen.
Of their own accord, her arms went around his waist, and she shifted into his body, sliding into place as if she was the missing yin to his yang.
“If you two kids are done making out in my kitchen, I’d sure like to toast this happy news.”
Her father’s teasing voice jolted Beth back to reality. She stumbled back, hitting the counter with her hip. A sharp pain ran down her leg. “Ow. Uh… We should—”
“Get back in there.” Grady cleared his throat, grabbed the champagne flutes, then tucked the bottle under his arm and headed back into the dining room.
Beth stood there a second longer, her fingers on her lips. What had just happened?