Downhome Darlin' & The Best Man Switch (36 page)

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Authors: Victoria Pade

BOOK: Downhome Darlin' & The Best Man Switch
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Mitzi edged away from Grant, as close to the pool as she could safely get. “Don't come a step closer,” she warned him, “or I'll jump.”
He rolled his eyes. “I just want us to talk this through—quickly.”
Of course, so he could find Mr. Moreland and continue his one-man crusade to save his store.
“There's nothing more to say,” she said.
He tightened his grasp on her arm and she squirmed to get away. “Mitzi, I—”
True to her word, she inched closer to the water, but Grant wasn't letting go. They scuffled for a moment, wrenching this way and that as onlookers shouted encouragement. Just when Mitzi thought she might finally wrestle her way free, Grant got the upper hand—and no wonder. He had a five-inch, sixty-pound advantage. But she was more wiry. As she attempted to duck under his arm. her heels slipped on one of the tiles and she felt herself losing her balance.
As her arms looped in circles, and Crant grabbed at her desperately, either hoping to steady himself or her or both, Mitzi was overcome with a sense of déjà vu. And as they both hit the cold water in their best clothes, her mind finally found the perfect words to describe their relationship.
All washed up.
10
T
ED LEANED against the bedroom door, a sage expression on his face. “You know, I think everyone should be married.”
Bundled up in one of Mona's thick pink terry-cloth bathrobes, Grant scowled up at his brother. His dunking in the pool had left him soaked, cold and without clothes. Not to mention without Mitzi, who Brewster had gallantly offered a ride home. His brother's happily wedded bliss was giving him a headache.
“What's the matter?” Ted asked him.
“I'm worried about the store,” he said automatically.
But it wasn't true at all. He was worried about Mitzi.
Mona and Joy were off hunting down some of his father's old clothes from the attic for him. The trouble was, once he was dressed again, Grant didn't know who he should run after—Mr. Moreland, or Mitzi. He had a sinking feeling that both would welcome his arrival as enthusiastically as the onset of the flu.
“You can't live for business, bro,” Ted said philosophically. “That's what the past day has taught me.”
Grant gawked at his brother in open amazement. “When have you ever lived for business?”
Ted shrugged. “Hey, what was that boat ride you sent me on about? And while we're on the subject, what happened to all that gas you said you'd put in the tank?”
Grant squirmed with guilt. “I'm sorry.”
“Hey, I don't care. It brought me Joy.” Ted cackled at the unintentional play on words. “Brought me joy, get it?”
Grant's lips turned up limply in a half effort of a smile. Ted really was happy. He couldn't believe it. The dyed-in-the-wool bachelor was really just a fluffy little lamb willingly following Joy. And he, Grant, had brought this romance about by forcing Ted out on that boat. He'd managed to set Ted up with a wife while his own romance had capsized. Suddenly, he felt a surge of pure envy.
“Why don't you go after her?” Ted asked.
Grant shook his head. “My relationship with Mitzi has been a disaster from start to finish, from a punch in the jaw to a splash in the pool. Nothing's gone right.”
Nothing except the two days when they impossibly, blissfully and undeniably fell in love. And now it was really over. Kay and Marty had flown in tonight, and Mitzi would be flying back to New York tomorrow morning. Grant stared grimly at his bare toes buried in the thick white pile carpet. “Do you think Mona has any aspirin?”
Ted laughed. “Why don't you call Mitzi?”
“That wouldn't help. You should have seen her. Every time I opened my mouth, she just got madder.”
His brother nodded. “And no doubt you were probably explaining how important it was to you to save the store.”
Ted sank onto the bed next to him and steepled his fingers, mulling over the problem. He gave Grant an intense stare. One day with Joy the psychology major, and suddenly the man was Leo Buscaglia. “What's really the problem with you two, Grant?”
Grant sighed. “There is no problem. It's just that Mitzi's been through so many bad relationships, she's positively love-a-phobic, so she won't believe anything I say at this point. She thinks I'm a workaholic, like all the other men she's gone out with.”
Ted looked as though he'd have to think that one over. “So what you have, as the man said, is a failure to communicate .”
“Yes.”
Ted smiled thoughtfully. “Let me ask you this. Did you tell her that you love her?”
“Of course,” Grant exclaimed.
Then he frowned.
Had he? Before they'd made love, he had wanted to give her a clear indication of the depth of his feeling for her.
“I think I love you.”
There. That was pretty darn clear.
Wasn't it?
He sank a little lower. “Well, okay, not in so many words, but I think it was implied.”
Ted clucked his tongue. “Grant, Grant. What's the matter with you? Don't you know anything about women? They have to have these things spelled out. You can't just imply love.”
He couldn't believe he was to the point where his brother was giving him romance tips. “I know how to conduct my own affairs, thank you.”
“Is that what you want from Mitzi? An affair?”
“No!” Why was he having such a hard time making himself clear?
“Then what do you want?”
Grant rolled his eyes, fearing he might explode. “I want to get married!” he screeched at his brother. But when he heard the words come out of his mouth, he was amazed.
Maybe his experience with Janice had made him reticent to say the words that needed to be said. Maybe he had been just the tiniest bit hesitant to make that commitment. But now that the proverbial cat was out of the bag, everything became crystal clear in his mind. “I want to get married again. To Mitzi. I want Mitzi to be my wife.”
It was so clear to him now. Why hadn't he told her last night? Or, for that matter, the first time he'd ever clapped eyes on her?
Maybe because it had taken what he felt for Mitzi to make him understand spontaneity, and romance. And letting loose. Kay had been right. He had fallen loopy in love. At last!
As Grant had his revelation, Ted beamed him a satisfied grin. “You know, I sometimes think I am Mr. Love.”
Grant jumped up and began pacing. “How am I going to get Mitzi back and deal with Mr. Moreland, though?”
Ted stood up and reached into his pocket. “Here,” he said, tossing a small metal object to Grant.
Grant caught the key and frowned. “What's this for?”
“My boat.”
Grant took the key slowly, as understanding dawned. “But Moreland...”
Ted grinned. “Is my headache now. Don't worry, bro. Joy and I will convince the man to lay off Whiting's. Joy's got a lot of pull with her dad, and she knows how much the store means to all of us.”
Grant stood, tossing the key in his palm. Maybe it was crazy to trust Ted to handle things, but sometime in the past week he'd become comfortable with crazy. It was the idea of going back to his old plodding life that frightened him. He wasn't just riding off to rescue his relationship, but also the person he'd become with Mitzi. “Thanks, bro—I owe you one.”
Ted shrugged casually. “Just chalk it up as another freebie from Mr. Love.”
Grant dashed toward the door but was stopped by his brother hitching his throat. He turned.
Ted grinned as he nodded toward Grant's pink terry bathrobe. “I know you're eager, but shouldn't you wait for some clothes?”
 
MITZI BURROWED DOWN in the tubful of bubbles and polished off her third glass of champagne. No sense letting the stuff go to waste. “You were completely wrong about Grant,” she announced to Kay, who was standing in the doorway, tanned and disgustingly happy-looking, despite the worried frown on her face. A true friend, Kay had pulled herself away from her new hubby and her new home at Mitzi's hysterical call. “He's completely wrong for me. A total workaholic.”
“Except that you're in love with him,” Kay guessed.
“So? I was in love with the others, too.” She sighed. But when Tim had become a monk, she hadn't felt this heartsick. Nor when Mike had married his model. When Jeff had eloped with a jockey, she hadn't experienced the same sense of betrayal as when Grant announced his intention to run after Mr. Moreland.
She was in love with Grant.
“Maybe he was so stunned by Ted's getting married that he wasn't thinking straight,” Kay said. “Heaven knows, I'm stunned.”
Mitzi frowned, trying not to give the plausible argument any credence. But Grant had been perfectly attentive before Ted and Joy's disappearance came up. She shook her head. “This time, I'm not going to be the dumpee. For the first time in my life, I'll be the dumper, thank you.”
“What difference does that make?” Kay asked.
“None, really, except that I won't have egg on my face. That's got to be some consolation.” Unfortunately, she didn't think the pain she would suffer from the breakup would be any less for her taking the initiative in its demise. And the end result was the same. It was back to needlework and parrots for her.
“Grant wouldn't lead you on, Mitzi. I don't know what's come between you.”
“A department store,” she said.
Her friend raised a golden eyebrow curiously. “Are you sure it was Whiting's, and not Jeff and Mike and Tim?”
As the question sank in, a flush of understanding heated Mitzi's cheeks. It was true. The moment Grant's mind had turned to business, a switch had flipped in her brain. Grant had been wrong, but she'd been overly defensive. All she could see was that he was putting something ahead of her, and their plans, like all the others. All she'd been able to feel was her own disappointment, and anger, and heartache. And instead of telling Grant her concerns, she'd tossed him into a pool.
“Oh, no!” she groaned, suddenly flooded with regret. What had she done? How differently the evening might have ended had she kept her temper and tried to understand the family turmoil he was going through, and not jumped to the conclusion that Grant would always put her second.
The doorbell rang, and Kay smiled. “Hold that thought, Mitz.” She disappeared through the bedroom and to the living room, probably to open the door for Marty, who was no doubt wondering what had become of his bride.
‘“The thought' is that I'm such a dope!” Mitzi moaned to herself. In frustration, she slapped the now-lukewarm water next to her, sending a spray of bubbles into the air, some of which landed splat on her face. She attempted to wipe them off, resulting in more suds on her face, and worse, in her eyes. She blinked several times to clear the stinging.
Footsteps approached via the bedroom, and she asked Kay, her voice in despair both from her soapy eyes and her soap opera life, “How on earth am I ever going to apologize to him now?”
A deep chuckle—not Kay's—rumbled from the doorway. Mitzi froze.
“I don't expect an apology.”
She blinked double time to try to focus on Grant, who stood in the doorway in a dark suit and tie, looking devilishly handsome. Her heart did handsprings, though her tongue remained firmly tied.
Grant grinned, then from behind his back brought out a glass. “May I join you?”
“Oh, I...” She stammered, then finally came up with, “Sure.”
He perched on the side of the tub. Even though he'd already seen all of her there was to see, Mitzi felt self-conscious being covered only by jasmine-scented foam.
“I'm sorry, Mitzi. I shouldn't have run off half-cocked like that.”
“I was the one who ran off,” she protested, sitting up, nearly throwing modesty to the wind. She hoped those bubbles held up for a few more minutes.
“But you were right.”
“I was wrong.”
They laughed. “Maybe we were both wrong,” Mitzi admitted.
“You would be wrong if you thought I would put anything ahead of you and me again,” he said, leaning close to her. “I love you, Mitzi.”
She gasped. “Say that again?”
“I love you,” he repeated happily. “I want you to many me.”
“I love you, too,” she said, but the words caught in her throat. Had she heard him correctly?
He came so close their lips were almost touching. “Will you marry me, Mitzi?”
Would she? “Yes!” she cried, not stopping to think that just five minutes before she'd been espousing a dump-or-be-dumped philosophy. The rocky road of singlehood and her years as the Typhoid Mary of romance were far behind her already.
She looked into Grant's eyes and felt waves of emotion connecting them. People could fall in love in a week. She had. There were men who wanted the same things out of life that she did. Out of the millions and millions of people on the planet, she had found one. The unlikely odds, and the luck she'd found, brought tears of gratitude to her eyes. She'd never been so happy as she was right this moment.
“I love you, Grant,” she said, realizing suddenly that this was the first time she'd ever told him the words she had so yearned to hear herself. “Will you forgive me for being such a dope?”
He chuckled, then bent down and brushed his lips against hers. “Forgive me,” he said. The moment they kissed again, they were lost. Heat swirled through Mitzi's body, and building desire, as they thoroughly indulged in what would surely become one of their favorite pastimes for the next few decades.
Grant pulled away reluctantly, barely noticing that the front of his suit was soaked with suds. He did notice that Mitzi's soapy cover was quickly disappearing. With effort, he drew his gaze away from her flawless breasts. “I've got news. For the second time in one week, Ted's offered to step in as best man for me.”

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