The Borrowed Boyfriend (23 page)

Allison raced into the great room and opened the front door to see Grady’s car peeling out of the driveway with its windows lowered and loud opera music blasting from its stereo. Queenie came thundering down the stairs wearing a leopard print bathrobe and slippers. “Sugar, what happened? I thought I heard screaming!” She stared out the open door and at the empty spot where Grady’s car had been, then set her worried gaze on Allison. “Oh, no, baby. Oh, no…”

Allison collapsed into tears, falling into Queenie’s outstretched arms. Then she broke down and told Queenie everything.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Grady intended to drive straight to Virginia, but he found himself taking a detour through Boston instead.

“My boy!” Grandma O’Brien pulled back the door with a pleased smile. “Why on earth didn’t you say you were coming?” She wore a simple gray shift and what she called sensible shoes over thick stockings. A lilac and navy crocheted shawl draped around her shoulders, and her hair was in a silvery bun. Her slate-blue eyes were the same as Grady’s and the years hadn’t diminished their luster. She hugged him tightly around the shoulders, then beckoned him forward. “Come in, come in! It’s blustery outdoors!”

Of all the people in the world Grady felt he could talk to, his grandmother came in at number one. While he loved his folks dearly and they loved him, his mom and dad were very reserved—both in their reactions and with their emotions. In contrast, Grandma O’Brien always said what she felt, and meant what she said. He’d loved that about her since he was a little boy. As he’d grown into a man and realized what a rare gem she was, he’d come to love her even more.

“So, lad,” she said as she shuttled him indoors. “What brings you to Boston?”

“If it’s all right with you, I’d like to stay with you a couple of days.”

“Of course, of course! Go get your bags and I’ll put the kettle on.”

Grady understood that nothing could be discussed without a nice cup of tea. Before she turned toward the kitchen, she gave him a sly perusal. “I won’t be wrong in thinking that this is about a girl?”

Grady heaved a sigh and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “You won’t be wrong.”

“And it’s not that Katie Fagan we’re talking about either,” she said, with a knowing nod. What was his grandmother, clairvoyant?

“Grandma, how did you—?”

“My Grady wouldn’t come to Boston unless it’s serious. This one—whoever she is—is special. Now! Let me start that tea, and we can talk about it.”

Two pots of tea later, Grandma O’Brien set down her delicate china cup with a thoughtful look. He’d gone ahead and told her the whole sordid story. He didn’t see the point in sugarcoating things around his grandmother. Not when she could see straight through him anyway.

“Well, Grady, I must say, that’s a fine kettle of fish you’ve gotten yourself into. More like a stew actually.”

“I know it sounds bad.”

“No, not bad. Just a wee bit complicated.” She adjusted the shawl around her shoulders. “So, tell me. Is this company, Bella Fortuna Wine Designs, really worth it?”

Grady frowned. “I don’t know. I mean, it seemed like the right fit in the beginning. But now, I guess if it doesn’t happen, I can live without it.”

“And the girl?”
 

Grady thought back to that heart-pounding moment on the cliff, when Allison had begged him not to drop her and he’d said he’d never let her go. The situation had been so intense, with both their senses heightened. It was life or death, and when he took Allison’s hand, it was almost like she’d saved him and not vice versa. Since his breakup with Meg, he’d been going through the motions, but not really living the way a man should live. Allison made him want to be that kind of person again. Someone who could trust a woman with his heart.

“Can you live without her?”

Grady shifted in his chair. “I can live without a lot of things if I put my mind to it.” And he could too. Hadn’t he proven that with his move to Virginia? He didn’t need Seattle with its host of unhappy memories. Just like he didn’t need Kate, or Allison Murphy for that matter. Grady was good at business, but he was an expert at moving on.
 

She leaned forward and studied him a long moment.

“Ah, but you don’t want to. Do ya, now?”

“I never said—” Grady tried to look away, but Grandma O’Brien grabbed his chin, turning him to face her.

“Ya didn’t have to say a thing. It’s written in your eyes.”

Again with the eyes? She’d said something similar about Kate when she’d met her, but that assessment had not been complimentary. Grady should have guessed it was a mistake introducing a casual girlfriend to his grandma. She’d known something was wrong with their relationship right away, though she’d blamed it on Kate. Grady understood that was easier for her than faulting her own grandson.
 

“It doesn’t matter what I want,” he told her. “Allison kicked me out, remember?”

She released his chin and gave his cheek a pat.

“Out of the beach house, yes. But not necessarily her life.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. There’s no hope here.”

“Grady O’Brien, bite your tongue! There’s always hope. That’s precisely why you came to see me. You knew that in your heart, but you needed to hear the words out loud. The way you describe her, Allison sounds lovely. She may even have a touch of that Irish temper.”

“I never said she was Irish.”

Grandma O’Brien arched an eyebrow. “You can have the temper without the nationality, lad. In any case, a woman who asserts herself is a strong woman in my mind.”
 

Great. She hadn’t even met Allison, and already his grandmother was taking her side.
 

“But the O’Brien men are made of strong stuff. They’ve always been tough enough to take it. Just look at your late grandfather.”

“Grandpa? What does he have to…?” Grady viewed her with surprise. “You don’t have a temper. I’ve never known you to get angry with anyone.”

“That’s because you never asked your grandfather. He was the salt of the earth, solid. But not so good at showing his emotions, even though he felt them deeply. A bit like your father, I suppose.” She shot Grady a wink. “I was a frightful newlywed, I was. Always yelling and screaming.” She gestured dramatically toward the ceiling. “Bringing the whole house down.”

“Seriously?”

“Mark my words, I was a terror.” She chuckled. “But that was only because I didn’t understand how greatly your grandpa loved me. Once I learned that, it was fairly smooth sailing.” She appeared wistful a moment, her gaze on the china tea service. It was then that Grady recalled it had been one of her and her late husband’s wedding gifts. She lifted the pot, offering to refill his cup, and Grady accepted. She handed it back to him with a melancholy smile. “I loved your grandpa a lot in return. He was a very good man. And so are you, Grady. That’s why I know you’ll make a fine husband one day.”

“Thanks, Grandma.” It was hard to get to
husband
from where he was now. His “ex” Meg had betrayed him, he was about to dump Kate and Allison had just sent him packing. No matter what his grandmother thought, the sting of Allison’s rejection had felt final. What was worse, Grady couldn’t fathom a way to fix things. He actually
had
planned to buy her company in a calculating, premeditated manner. Now that Allison knew the truth, he couldn’t very well retract it.

His grandma eyed him astutely. “When I said you were in a stew, you may have mistaken my meaning. A stew can make a marvelous meal. Sometimes you just have to let it simmer. You give Allison a little space to think about what she’s missing. Meanwhile, you can think about it too.” Grandma O’Brien’s blue eyes twinkled. “Mark my words, the two of you will be coming back together.”

His grandmother was being so kind. He only wished he shared her confidence. The doubt must have shown on his face, because she took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t worry, lad. If Allison has half the smarts you say she does, she’s not going to let a man like you slip away. You’re a wonderful catch, Grady, and I’m not just saying so as a relation. I’m speaking as a woman.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Allison morosely sipped her drink, tuning out the revelers around her. But she was only wallowing on the inside. Outwardly, she was doing her best to appear perky. Allison was tired of being the downer in the group, and weary of ruining everybody’s vacation. Her friends had taken the news about Grady pretty hard, meaning they were all furious at him. At least, they were trying to act furious, but the women were doing a better job of it. Bruce had slipped up, saying that Grady wasn’t actually a bad guy, before Carla had elbowed him. And Queenie had to squelch Brevard’s comment about Grady’s daring rescue. Patrick was the only man who hadn’t rushed to Grady’s defense, mainly because Deb had sternly crossed her arms and shot him a don’t-you-dare look.

“Here, Allison.” Carla enthusiastically reached across the table and tilted the miniature food coloring bottle over her mug. “Yours isn’t green enough.”

Allison couldn’t believe she was drinking green beer. Then again, it was St. Patrick’s Day. “I’m good, thanks!” she spouted as cheerfully as possible.

Carla was their party planner. Apart from packing green food coloring in her purse, she’d bought them all festive headbands. They held glittery shamrocks bouncing high on tiny springs like alien antennae, and made them all look like lucky Martians. Never mind that no one in Ireland wore anything like this. Ever. Not even in mythology.

Brevard’s headband was apparently bothering him, because he kept trying to prevent it from knocking against the earpieces on his eyeglasses. Every time he repositioned it, his glasses popped forward off his nose and then he had to fix them. When he slid them back on, the headband rose off his head. Poor Brevard; it was a losing battle. Though he seemed to be keeping a sense of humor about it. He took a big swig of beer and Allison watched his lips turn green. She glanced around at their group, noting they all looked like they’d been sucking on lime-green popsicles.

They were seated around a large table that was actually two tables pushed together in the smallish pub. Despite the meager offerings on the menu—bangers and mash, lamb stew, burgers and sandwiches—the place was packed. Perhaps because it was one of two restaurants in town. The other was the organic pizza place, a carry-out and delivery operation that didn’t sell beer. As such, Ye Olde Irish Pub was the natural happening spot for tonight.
 

After spilling her guts to her girlfriends yesterday, Allison was relieved to be somewhere that served as a distraction. She didn’t really want to talk about Grady anymore, because that only dragged thoughts of him to the surface, when she was working her hardest to push them under—and keep them there. The other women had been very kind and reassuring, but also a little upset that Allison had felt the need to deceive them. Okay, Carla had been upset, in her sweet Carla way. Queenie had gone ballistic, ranting on about how Allison should have trusted them enough to tell them the truth, but then she’d stopped and apologized when she’d realized she was only making Allison sob harder. Deb, in her typically neutral manner, had reserved judgment. In the end, they’d all said they were sorry for making Allison feel so much pressure. That it wasn’t what any of them had intended.

They’d concluded with a tearful group hug, then Deb had offered a practical solution to their sudden dinner problem: the four women could make it a girls’ night and fix something together. The Mexican meal theme, complete with tacos and margaritas, was Carla’s brainstorm. That third margarita had seemed like a great idea to Allison at the time... It looked a lot less appealing in retrospect this morning. Allison had woken up with a horrible headache and a big case of Grady hangover. She still couldn’t believe how far he’d been willing to go to seal his deal. No wonder he’d jumped at the chance to play her boyfriend. Allison’s heart ached at the notion that he’d been so calculating. He’d underhandedly tricked her into believing he was something he wasn’t: a guy who was starting to fall for her.

“Allison?” Queenie, who was sitting to her right, nudged her. Allison looked up to find a waiter with a notepad waiting to take her order. She hadn’t even noticed him appearing at their table, but apparently everyone had given their orders but her. “What would you like, sugar?” Queenie asked her. “A burger maybe?”

“Perhaps she’d like something Irish?” their waiter asked, putting on a brogue. Allison couldn’t help but think of Grady and her heart sank. She wanted something Irish all right. But what she wanted was in an alternate universe with no connection to reality. If only Grady had been the sort of hero Bruce sang about, rather than a manipulating jerk, he might be sitting here with her now. Kate’s bitter words haunted her and they held a searing truth. Grady made a pretty good package—on the outside. But for Allison, it was what was on the inside that mattered most. She’d gotten a glimpse of Grady’s soul and it was a dark, dismal and profit-driven place. “I’ll just take the burger, thanks,” she answered, forcing herself to smile again. “With fries.”

She took another sip of beer, determined to go easier on the alcohol tonight. St. Patrick’s Day or not, one was her limit. Deb was seated on her left and had volunteered as their designated driver, so she wasn’t drinking. She waited until the conversation picked back up among them, then patted Allison’s arm in solidarity. “You made the right choice,” she said sotto voce, pretending to be talking about the menu. But Allison was smart enough to know that she wasn’t.