The Borrowed Boyfriend (8 page)

“Sounds like she’s got a great sense of humor. I can’t wait to meet her, and Brevard.”

Grady didn’t know where the time had gone. Allison’s stories about her friends had not just been entertaining, they’d helped the time fly. They were already approaching Portland and nearing the exit to 295. While Grady hadn’t been particularly nervous about playing Allison’s boyfriend, he hadn’t liked the thought of going into the situation unprepared. Getting a handle on Allison’s friends in advance made him feel far more ready for the week. Plus, they sounded like fun people. Grady found himself thinking that he might actually enjoy this vacation.

“Deb and Patrick are the ones with dinner duty tonight,” Allison continued. “Deb is a pro bono lawyer specializing in women’s rights. She’s got really short brown hair and runs marathons just for fun. Sometimes her partner Patrick runs with her.”

“What does Patrick do?” Grady asked as he took their exit. They turned onto a side road and headed east to hook up with Highway One.

“He’s the golf pro at the club near where Deb lives in the DC suburbs. They met when she was representing a woman in a divorce case whose husband had been openly carrying on with a very rich widow on the course. And when I say ‘openly,’ I mean in broad daylight. Poor Patrick caught the two of them in action right by the fourteenth hole, and then had to give a deposition.”

Grady shook his head in wonder. “Wow.”

“I know, right?” Allison said in tones of disbelief.

“What happened with the case?”

“Deb’s client took her ex to the cleaners.”

“It seems things worked out for everyone, then. Except for the cheating husband. How long have Deb and Patrick been together?”

“Three and a half years. Deb had just started practicing when they met. That was one of her first cases.”

The GPS signaled for them to make a few consecutive turns and he and Allison stayed quiet as they drove through the darkness, anticipation filling the air. He couldn’t help but feel excited. Grady loved the beach, and Allison had told him the rental property sat right on the oceanfront. According to his navigational map, they were almost there.

Grady centered his hands on the steering wheel, setting everything in its proper bracket in his mind. “Thanks, Allison. That was a very good wrap-up. I think I’ve got it straight now.”

“Just in time!” she said, gleefully grinning and waving to someone in the driveway framed by their headlights. A quaint beach bungalow came into view. It was two stories tall with white clapboard siding and a red tin roof. The tail end of a wraparound porch led to the back door, which was just few steps up from the sandy gravel drive studded with seashells. High northern bayberry bushes hugged the house’s perimeter, giving it a fortressed effect. Grady also thought he spied the telltale signs of sweet fern, meadowsweet and staghorn sumac illuminated by the cheery glow emitting from the cottage’s windows. The early burst of unseasonable warmth the East Coast had experienced over the past few weeks must have tricked them into blooming early.
 

Grady returned his attention to the statuesque beauty flailing her arms about wildly and shouting excitedly. She wore a colorful flowing coat and had a turban wrapped around her head. Big gold bangles knocked into each other on her wrists as she bounced up and down. “Let me guess,” Grady said, grinning. “Queenie.”

Chapter Nine

The second Grady put the car in park, Allison leapt from it. “Yay! I can’t believe it! Queenie!”

She raced to Queenie, who folded her in her arms amid the colorful fabric of her coat. Queenie’s splendid natural curls cascaded to her shoulders from the turban on her head as she hugged five foot seven Allison to her. They briefly pulled apart to stare at each other in wonder before yelping “Eeeek!” in unison, hands waving toward the sky.

“Oh my gosh!” Allison cried.

“Girlfriend!” Queenie shrieked back.

“Ahhhh!” they both screeched together.
 

At that precise moment, a tall, slim, man appeared from around the side of the house, carting firewood. He had chocolate-brown skin, cropped salt-and-pepper hair and heavy, black-rimmed eyeglasses. He acknowledged Grady with a nod, then raised his brows at Queenie and Allison. “Don’t you love it how women squeal?” he put in amid their high-pitched revelry.
 

Grady had a feeling he was going to like this guy. “You must be Brevard,” he said, holding out his hand.
 

Brevard shifted his load and gripped Grady’s hand firmly. “Pleasure. I take it you’re Grady?”

“Guilty. Can I give you a hand?” he asked, indicating the pile of logs.
 

“Thanks, I’ve got it.”

Grady scanned the drive, noting two other cars in place besides his: a Lexus SUV and a vintage Volvo. Just beyond them, he spied the outline of a stone chimney, and gray smoke curling from it into the night. There was a nip in the air, but neither Queenie nor Allison seemed to feel it.

 
“Let me add a few of these to the fire,” Brevard said, “and I’ll help you get your bags.”

Grady thought of the bedroll and sleeping bag in his trunk. “No, that’s all right. We really don’t have a lot, but thank you anyway. I appreciate the offer.”

Brevard shrugged and began to move away. “Cold beer’s in the fridge,” he said as the women pulled apart, then collapsed together again with more gleeful shouts. “You might need it.”

Grady laughed and turned back toward Allison, who’d stopped her hugging and now was dragging Queenie in his direction. “Queenie,” she said brightly. “I’d like you to meet—”

“The
boyfriend.
” Queenie sharply arched an eyebrow, her dark eyes boring into his.
 

Grady held his breath. He wasn’t often at a loss, but Queenie was formidable—and more than a little scary up close. If she knew why he was really here, she’d probably thrash him.
 

“I hope you have honorable intentions.”

“Of course,” Grady answered, finding his throat a bit scratchy.

A nanosecond later, Queenies lips parted in a grin. “Look at you!” She whacked him across the shoulder with approval. “What a big strong man! And, handsome!” She nudged Allison. “You’ve done
good,
girlfriend.” She lowered her voice a notch. “What’s he looking so pale for? Did I say something?” Her innocent gaze was on Grady. “I hope you didn’t…? No, no,
no,
sugar! I was just playing, that’s all.” It was Grady’s turn to be embraced in a bear hug. “Come here and get some Queenie love!”

Allison pulled them apart with a laugh. “That’s enough, Miss Madame.”

“Oh, shucks. I was hoping you’d share.” Queenie’s mouth puckered in a play frown, then she said brightly and in a much more sophisticated tone. “Laticia Morris, nice to meet you.”

Grady took her manicured hand and shook it, glancing briefly at Allison, who appeared ready to burst into giggles. “Grady O’Brien. It’s really great to meet you, Latic—”
 

“Please,”
she said with a genuine smile. “Call me Queenie.” She chuckled warmly. “Otherwise, my girlfriend here won’t have a clue who you’re talking about!” Then she wrapped her arm around Allison and started chattering again as she escorted her toward the house.

“You look awesome, Queenie.” Allison pulled back to survey her as they walked. “And svelte! Where did the rest of you go?”

“On a five-mile walk four times a week,” Queenie said, glowing.

“Seriously?”

Queenie batted her eyelashes and asked coyly, “Does it show?”

Allison laughed and gave her a squeeze before they headed up the beach house steps arm in arm.

“Don’t mind me!” Grady shouted after them. “I’ll just get the luggage!”
 

Allison turned suddenly. “Oh, sorry, Grady! Do you need help?”

“No, you go on ahead. We don’t have that much anyway.”

Across the length of the driveway he saw Allison’s eyes widen. “And what we don’t need right away, we can grab later!”

“Good thinking,” he said, giving her and Queenie a thumbs-up.

Grady popped open the trunk of his car, his residual tensions easing. If the interaction between Allison and Queenie was any indication, playacting as Allison’s boyfriend this week would be a breeze. The women would spend all their time focused on each other, and the men would scarcely get noticed. Maybe that’s what Brevard meant about the beer. Grady chuckled to himself, thinking he was going to like Brevard, and Queenie was an absolute riot. Underneath that brazen bravado was a very warm woman. Grady could see why Allison loved her, and the feeling was obviously mutual. Grady slung his backpack and Allison’s canvas tote over one shoulder, then hefted their two carry-on bags from the trunk. Grady appreciated that Allison didn’t overpack like some women he knew, meaning Kate, who had to pay excess baggage fees wherever she went.

It was nearly seven, so he guessed Kate had already landed in San Francisco. He’d text her later tonight to see how her flight was, and let her know he and Allison had arrived at the beach without incident.
Well, nearly without incident,
Grady thought, recalling Allison’s highway hysterics. He didn’t entirely blame her for falling apart under the circumstances. Now that they were here and she was reuniting with her friends, she hopefully felt better. Grady’s perspective on the situation had certainly improved. He’d met Queenie and Brevard, and had apparently passed muster. That was two down and four more introductions to go, with Allison’s other girlfriends and their significant others.

Grady had counted cars and surmised one of the couples had yet to arrive, which was perfect. He wouldn’t be pressured to get to know everyone at once. He guessed that Deb and Patrick were in the house. Since they’d volunteered to fix the first night’s dinner, they must have arrived early. As Grady approached the wooden steps leading up to the house, the rhythmic pounding of waves seemed to swell and the scent of salt heightened in the air. The smell of burning birch and the image of a blazing hearth inside made the retreat all the more inviting. Grady couldn’t wait to meet Patrick and Deb, and see what was for dinner. He’d also like to take Brevard up on one of those beers.

Chapter Ten

Allison threw her arms wide and greeted Deb with a hug. Deb drew her in tightly with her forearms, keeping her flour-dusted hands in the air. “Welcome! Welcome! Just preparing a fish fry.” Allison saw whitefish on the counter, a bowl of beaten eggs, another bowl of flour, and a smattering of herbs and spices standing in bottles nearby. “We picked some up at the market on the way here.”

“Sounds delicious,” Allison said, greeting Patrick next.
 

“Hi, lovely.” He leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek. “Where’s the boyfriend?”

“Just bringing up the rear!” Queenie proclaimed loudly. “And he’s got one too. A nice one.”

“Queenie!” Allison exclaimed while Brevard cleared his throat by the fire, where he repositioned a few logs with a poker.

“What?” Queenie asked, forcing a blank expression.

Deb grinned at Queenie. “That good, huh?”

“Why don’t you judge for yourself?”

Grady stepped through the entrance wielding their luggage and Brevard went over to help hold the door. “Evening, everyone!” Grady entered and Brevard shut the door behind him as he set his things on the floor. Hardwood gleamed beneath area throw rugs, catching the glow of the firelight.
 

Grady’s gaze took in the low-hung ceiling with exposed beams and the cozy great-room area with expansive framed windows facing the sea. A rustic farm table was positioned in front of two of them. It had a bench on either side and the table was set for eight. Glowing candles, protected by hurricane globes, adorned end tables flanking the plush plaid sofa and were also positioned elsewhere around the room. A fat one was set on a bookshelf, beside two high-end stereo speakers from which mellow jazz played.

Artwork and knickknacks with a nautical theme were tastefully distributed throughout. A replica of a nineteenth-century schooner stood on the mantel, and matching decorative seashell pillows were carefully arranged on each hefty canvas-covered chair facing the enormous stone hearth.

“Great place!” Grady said, accepting Patrick’s outstretched hand.

“Patrick Howard, nice to meet you.”

Grady smiled at the tall, tanned man with sandy-colored hair and light green eyes. “Thanks for including me.”

“Any friend of Allison’s is a friend of ours.”

“Especially a boyfriend,” Queenie added devilishly.

“Okay, Queenie,” Allison warned lightly. “Knock it off.”

Deb smiled at Grady. “I’m Deb Thompson. We’re so glad that you could join us.” She nodded to a door at the far side of the stairs and to the right of the kitchen. “Your room’s over there, if you guys want to settle in.”

Allison viewed her with surprise. “You gave us the master?” The rule was that the first couple to arrive got first dibs on a room. Since Allison always arrived alone, she’d never felt right taking the biggest room for herself, even when she knew she’d be forced to share it. In these houses, the master was often the only bedroom on the first floor and the one made for romance, with its own en suite bath. The other rooms upstairs generally shared a hall bath.