Last Call (22 page)

Sunny jumped to her feet and barely contained
the urge to slap Robby

He grabbed her and pulled her into a tight
hug. “
I
don’t think of it that way. I love it as much as you
do. But that’s the way these Holden people see it. Do you really
think someone like Gavin cares about the Blackout? Or you?” He
stepped away from her, but kept a firm grip on her shoulders. “He’s
not going to let this little bar stand in his way of turning
Anticue into a resort.”

She flopped down into the chair and let her
head fall into her hands. Everything Robby said made sense. Why
would Gavin risk his career, and millions, over a nothing-special
bar or a woman he’d just met?

Sunny felt as if her heart was being slowly
extricated from her chest. She liked Gavin and didn’t want to
believe he’d been using her. But when she put her emotions in a box
and buried them in a deep hole, allowing her to think logically,
nothing else made sense.

So what did she do now? Confront him?

It’s not like he would come right out and
say, “Yeah, baby, I’m using you. Can I do it some more?”

Did she tell him to leave and never come
back? Or, did she play along and make him think she remained
oblivious to his game?

If she played along, at least she'd have a
chance at figuring out what he was up to and what his plans for
moving forward were. And, okay, it would also give her the chance
to have more great sex. She was a woman. Gavin was an amazing man,
with an incredible mouth. If he was using her… well, she refused to
feel guilty for using him for her own selfish pleasure.

She needed to think this through, and she did
her best thinking while pounding copper in her workshop. She pushed
her chair back, got to her feet, and gave Robby a quick hug. “I’ll
be in the workshop if you need me.”

As Gavin pulled onto the lane leading to his
grandfather’s house, a hum ran through his body. He’d always
recognized a subtle, internal shift as he drove the long lane,
breathing in fresh, country air, listening to the gravel crunch
beneath the tires. He never bothered to analyze the feelings or try
to label them, until today. Surprisingly, it was similar to the
feelings of contentment he’d found in Anticue… along with a sense
of being home.

As he approached the house and outbuildings,
his grandfather exited the barn, exactly where he expected to find
him. If the sun was up, his grandfather would be outside. The only
unknown was if he’d be on a tractor in the field, in the barn
working on a piece of equipment, or making repairs to one of the
outbuildings.

A broad smile spread across the old man's
face as he crossed the yard to greet Gavin. “Hello, son. What a
pleasant surprise.”

Gavin stretched as he exited the car, then
extended his hand in greeting as Granddad reached his side.

Big mistake.

His grandfather’s eyes narrowed, and he
pushed Gavin’s hand aside. “That formal stuff works fine in your
business dealings, but I want a hug from my favorite grandson.”

“I'm your only grandson.”

“Yeah, well, all the more reason for you to
give me a hug.”

Gavin wrapped his arms around his grandfather
and gave him a tight squeeze. As he registered his grandfather’s
small frame, shock rocketed through him and his breath left in
whoosh. He took a step back and studied the man who’d raised
him.

How old was he?

Gavin ran the numbers in his head and came up
with eighty, or damned close to it. How had he gotten so wrapped up
with his life that he hadn't realized his grandfather was getting
old?

He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I hope
it’s okay I showed up without much notice. As I said in my message,
I was down by Wilmington. I wanted to see you while I was that
close.”

He was intentionally vague as to where he’d
been, hoping his grandfather wouldn’t ask questions. If he said
he’d been in Anticue, his grandfather would be curious and would
want to know why. Lying wasn’t an option and, well, neither was
telling the truth. He couldn’t open himself up to the disapproval
that would come from divulging that information.

Unfortunately, he’d seen that look too many
times over the years, and he didn’t want to see it again.
Disappointing his grandfather was unacceptable.

“Of course it's all right that you came
here,” Granddad said, with a pat on Gavin’s shoulder. “You don't
need permission to come home.”

Gavin followed his grandfather across the
yard and into the house. The first order of business was a trip to
the kitchen, where Gavin was promptly handed a glass of iced tea.
“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, sir.” A smile crept over his face as he
thought of the breakfast he and Sunny shared in bed. His original
plan had been to get up and head to his grandfather’s early, but he
didn't want to leave. When he offered to fix breakfast, she was so
excited to eat “real food” he’d been further inspired to feed it to
her in bed.

Granddad didn’t spend any more time inside
than was necessary, so once they’d both been outfitted with a large
glass of tea, his grandfather pivoted on the heel of his worn-out
leather work boots and headed to the front porch.

Gavin took a seat in the porch swing, which
had been his favorite place to spend time as a kid. He couldn’t
curl up in a ball in the seat like he did at ten. But he still took
comfort in the familiar squeak of the chain as he pushed his foot
against the porch’s wide plank flooring and set the swing in
motion.

Listening to the creak of the swing and the
kerthunk
,
kerthunk
,
kerthunk
of his
grandfather’s rocker, Gavin felt so far removed from his life he
could easily pretend none of it existed. No hassles. No worries. No
deals to be made… or not made.

“What’s on your mind, son?”

Startled, Gavin jerked his attention to his
grandfather. “Nothing. Why?”

“You didn't come here to visit for the hell
of it. It's written all over your face. Something's eatin' at ya.”
His grandfather smiled a toothy grin and pushed back in his rocker.
“Woman trouble?”

Gavin took a drink of his tea and looked at
the barn, the outbuildings, and the fields in the distance,
remembering how it had all looked to his ten-year-old self. Nothing
on the farm had changed, but he saw it all differently now.

Since everything with Sunny on a personal
level was great, he wouldn’t say he was having
woman
trouble.
He didn’t even think he could narrow his problems down
to one thing. He had the unsettling suspicion his problems ran more
along the lines of the sum of the parts, rather than the individual
pieces.

Using diversion tactics—commonly known as
changing the subject—he said, “Everything’s fine. What's going on
around here?”

Not the least bit fooled, his grandfather
smiled, then allowed the directional change. “There’s a new cook
down at the diner. She’s a spry young thing, not even seventy yet.”
Granddad rocked in his chair. “I think I’m going to invite her to
bingo at the senior center.”

Gavin stopped swinging and stared at his
grandfather while scanning his memory. “That’s the first time
you’ve ever mentioned a lady friend.” His grandmother had passed
away before Gavin was born, and in all these years it never
occurred to him that his grandfather never remarried. Hells bells,
he’d never even dated.

His grandfather had always seemed old,
because when you’re ten, everyone is old. Looking back on it now,
he would have been in his late fifties when Gavin came to live with
him. “You never dated when I lived with you. Why?”

“I was too busy raising you to be worried
about dating.” His grandfather shrugged. “My priorities changed
after you came to live with me.”

Deep-seated despair and disgust flooded
Gavin, and his skin felt like it shrank to three sizes too small.
What a selfish bastard he was. In all these years, he'd never
recognized the sacrifices his grandfather made. Had he ever even
thanked him?

Gavin needed to work. He needed physical
labor to help him sort out the feelings of frustration and
self-loathing squeezing him. “What were you working on in the
barn?”

“Got some rotten boards that need to be
replaced. I’m ripping out the old ones, so when I get the new
lumber delivered it won’t take no time at all to get it nailed in
place.”

Gavin looked down at his khakis and polo
shirt. It was a good thing he still had a closet full of old work
clothes here. Filled with purpose, he jumped from the swing and
headed toward the door. “I'll get changed.” He looked over his
shoulder at the old farm truck. “Does the truck still run?”

His grandfather seemed confused at Gavin’s
sudden burst of energy, but nodded and said, “Sure.”

“Good. We’ll get a supply list together, then
go into town and pick up the replacement boards and nails
ourselves.” He hadn't planned on spending the day working, but the
idea excited him. It would allow him to work off some of his
frustration and do something for his grandfather, other than
writing a check. He’d also have the added bonus of proving to Sunny
and Robby that he could be useful.

As he headed for the door, his grandfather
said, “If you decide you want to talk, I’m here.”

Gavin backtracked, leaned over, and wrapped
his grandfather in a strong hug. “I don’t say it nearly enough, but
I love you.” Forcing the crack out of his voice and the lump in his
throat to break loose, he added, “Thank you… for everything.”

***

“Callie, stop fidgeting. Why are you so
nervous?”

Callie forced her hand away from the front of
her skirt and gave her mom the best fake smile she could muster.
“I’m not nervous. I…”

Her mother didn’t know about last night’s
fiasco in Anticue, or this morning’s conversation between Callie
and her father, and Callie wanted to keep it that way. It wasn’t
that her mother didn’t like Gavin. She’d always welcomed him into
their home and treated him like one of the family. But she also
always maintained he was too old for Callie.

Every time Callie protested, by reminding her
mother that Daddy was twelve years her senior, her mother would nod
and give Callie a look that said, “Exactly.” Callie never wanted to
consider, even for a brief moment, that her parent’s marriage might
have problems. She’d learned to avoid the discussion by avoiding
conversations that involved Gavin.

Now, she was more than a little suspicious
about her parents' seemingly perfect marriage. Given the
circumstances of her father’s acquisition of the company, she
questioned if their marriage had been anything more than one of her
father’s carefully orchestrated plans.

“You what, dear?”

Her mother’s concern snapped Callie out of
the depressive musings and back to the present. She flipped her
gaze to her mother's and studied her soft, blue eyes.

Daddy wasn’t who she’d grown up believing him
to be. Gavin wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. Could her
mother be something different, too? Something more than a
self-absorbed woman. “I guess I’m a little nervous about this new
dress. It’s more revealing than I usually wear.”

Pride radiated from her mother’s eyes. “Yes,
it is. But it’s a beautiful dress, and you’re gorgeous.” The corner
of her mother’s mouth lifted, and her expression turned
conspiratorial. “I bet Jason will agree.”

“Jason?” Callie coughed to clear her throat.
How did her mother know about him?

Her mother’s gaze drifted across the
clubhouse to where Jason stood. “He’s a nice young man.”

“Yes, he is.” Callie’s voice cracked. She’d
made a fool of herself last night, but through it all, he’d been
nothing but kind and compassionate. She wasn’t in any hurry to
rehash last night’s events, or trust that any man was as he seemed
on the surface. But she did want to thank him again for his help
and for being so kind. “I think I’ll go say hello.”

Overcome by an urge she couldn’t stop, Callie
wrapped her arms around her mother for a hug. It was hard to tell
which of them was most shocked when Callie added. “I love you,
Mother.”

***

By seven thirty it was obvious Gavin wouldn’t
be attending the party, and Callie found herself experiencing an
odd mix of emotions over his absence. Out of habit, she constantly
watched the door, looking for him. But when it came right down to
it, she didn’t want to see him.

Max, on the other hand, wasn’t handling
Gavin’s no-show well, and she feared her father was going to have a
stroke. Callie, along with everyone else in attendance, had heard
her father repeatedly leaving messages on Gavin’s cellphone. It was
impossible to miss the barked, snarly commands for Gavin to “Call
me.”

None of his calls were returned, and the
longer the night went on, the more furious her father became. She
was still upset about their morning conversation and the
realization that her father would accept Gavin’s infidelity
if
necessary
for the cause. But he was her father,
and lifelong habits of worrying about someone you loved weren’t
broken in a matter of hours.

She looped her arm around his and gave him
her best little princess smile. “This is a wonderful party. I’ve
never seen Lorraine so happy.”

He cut his eyes to her, and though his stare
was cold and harsh, his words were soft and kind. “Trying to soften
me up so I won’t kill Gavin?”

She laughed and squeezed his arm tighter. “He
did send flowers and a note.” Although, Callie suspected her father
was more upset with Gavin’s defiance than his disappointing
Lorraine through his absence. When her daddy spoke, he expected
everyone to listen.