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“YOUR SISTER ISN’T SETTING us up,” Farren insisted, but Grady knew better. This poor woman was delusional. He settled into his seat, tossing up the footrest. A quick glance at his feet told him he had a hole in the toe of one sock. Come to think of it, there could be a hole in the sole, too. He didn’t care enough to check.
“You’ve quit your job for this?” He pressed, shaking his head. Delphine had a lot to answer for.
She nodded once. “My boss wouldn’t allow me to have a sideline business. He said Singles Fest would directly compete with the hotel by hosting events. I had no choice but to leave. The more my plans came together, the more committed I became.” She looked frustrated.
“Did you sign a non-compete?” Maybe Delphine hadn’t suggested she leave her job. Then again, she knew people at the top over at the Sands. Someone or something drew her back here on a regular basis. He wouldn’t put it past her to put the idea of discouraging Farren into her boss’s head.
“A what?”
He sighed and realized he’d need to slow down.
“When you were hired,” he said in a reasoning tone, “did you agree that if you left you wouldn’t compete for their business?”
She frowned, but this was important, and she shouldn’t need her hand held, not if this would be her new career. Going into business for yourself was not for the weak-kneed.
“No, I didn’t sign anything like that.” She waved both hands. “Besides, there’s little chance of competing. I’m after a different demographic. Most single parents can’t afford a place like the Sands. Not everyone who’s divorced or widowed and raising children is a doctor or lawyer or stockbroker.” She snorted. “Those people don’t have any problem finding second wives and husbands and they can afford the Sands.”
He detected a slightly bitter undertone to her last comment. He set that aside as too personal. He didn’t care anyway.
“To be clear, you want to make a living from broke people. That’s an interesting demographic.”
Her brows knit and she looked confused by the question. He reacted to the way she nibbled her full lower lip in consternation.
“Well, when you put it that way—sure, it sounds less than ideal—but I’ll go for quantity.”
“Bargain basement matchmaking,” he said with a note of wonder. She believed this would work. No one could be this naïve.
“Sort of. But not that.” She looked so sure of herself, so committed, it took his breath. “When you make a decent living wage but have children, the money needs to go further and can’t stretch to dates or meeting for a glass of wine or going to the movies and using a babysitter.” She glared at him as if her troubles explaining herself were his fault.
He rubbed his chin and felt the lack of a shave. How long had it been, anyway? He scrubbed the scruff. A haircut and a shave were overdue.
“I must look like a bear,” he muttered as the hole in his sock seemed to grow bigger as the seconds ticked by.
Startled, she giggled. The sound was crystalline and chiming. He almost smiled back at her.
“Yes, a bear. That’s exactly right. But not a sleek black bear, more like a brown one. You know the ones you see in nature shows rubbing their backs on trees?”
He stared at her, but she was still lost in her imaginings of him in the woods. Her eyes shone with humor and her pouty soft lips curled up at the ends.
“Fine, I’ll do something about it,” he grumbled. She’d just compared him to a grizzly. At least the bear had an excuse.
She shrugged her beautiful, smooth shoulders. “No skin off my nose if you want to look like an old coot.”
Old coot? Now she was being deliberately rude.
“I’m thirty-four.”
“Big deal. Old is in your attitude, not the number of years you’ve lived.”
“Now, who sounds like a senior citizen?” he prodded. “Would I be welcome at Singles Fest? I’m recently single again.”
He hadn’t thought of his situation in these terms before, but it was true. And he needed to get a handle on the market she was targeting. She seemed mixed up about where the profit would come from.
She shook her head no, which proved how confused she was. “Your situation is different. You were dealt a terrible blow, and everyone needs to grieve. But, given time, you’ll find someone. When you’re ready you’ll have loads of women falling at your feet. You’re Grady O’Hara and infinitely eligible.”
“You called me an old coot and disparaged my attitude, not to mention the bear in the woods comparison and you think women will find me attractive?” This was fun. And somewhere Delphine was laughing. He’d call her when this was over. Despite cutting her out of his life, he wanted to rub her face in this mess.
“You’re rich and single. With no children. Unless you’ve got some hidden away?”
At his head shake, she went on.
“Also, you’ve shown yourself willing to commit to marriage. Any woman in the market for a man would want you. Despite your supreme grumpiness. Besides, you don’t have children, so technically you wouldn’t fit in with what I have in mind.”
He wanted to growl like the bear he supposedly was.
“You can’t make a living on single parents alone. You’ll need to expand to other markets. Your boss at the hotel knew that you’d come to that conclusion, given time.” If she knew he was rich and single and showed no interest in him other than what his motel could bring to her business, then he could let her talk. And if thirty-four was an old coot, then how young was she?
Farren looked to be near his own age, but he was a poor judge of women’s ages. Veronica had seemed young and carefree when they’d met. She’d been willing to travel the world at a moment’s notice as his assistant, never complaining about the lack of personal time.
He knew why that was now. Hindsight and all that. He closed the door on the memories of how easily he’d been taken in. She’d been efficient, kind, and caring. The other employees sang her praises and Delphine had taken to her. Of course, she had because Delphine had hired her.
He snorted and Farren jumped at the sound. An idea formed but before the kernel could sprout, he crushed it. No.
Still, what if?
It would certainly get Delphine out of his hair. Maybe she’d give up on her relentless pursuit of a wife for him. You’d think she’d have learned the same way he had, but no. Here she was, sending this hapless woman to him.
A woman who likely needed a lot of guidance to get this idea off the ground. Or, conversely, needed to be scared off her plan.
Either way, he was the one to help her.
“I have a proposition for you,” he said with the same smile he’d tried earlier. But this time, she didn’t startle so easily. Good. She must be getting used to him.
“You’re going to help me? Because the Fourth of July is right around the corner.”
Clearly, he’d missed some salient points, but whatever. “Sure, I’ll help. But first, I have a condition.”
She looked wary but interested.
“I hate Delphine butting into my life. For lots of reasons, I want her to back off. I need you to pretend we’ve hit it off.”
“In what way, exactly?” She leaned forward, avid. Farren Parks had no poker face. None at all. He had her and he knew it. This time when he smiled, she didn’t flinch.
“Romantically.”
“You want me to what?” Shock drained her face of color, but this was not the time to pity the woman.
“Tell my sister you got in here and I turned on the charm and now, we’re dating. Tell her I’m helping you with Singles Fest. In return, you can do whatever you want with The Landseer. Fill it with parents and children if you want. Bring in a swinging singles club if that works. But you have to spend the summer here and pretend that we’ve got something going on.”
Her face had now turned blood red and her neck looked ready to explode.
“Need a pat on the back?” he offered. That might help this all go down easier.