Holidays at Crescent Cove (4 page)

Normally she'd bristle if a man called her a pretty girl. But she didn't mind at all when Seamus did. Because it was as if he treated her like . . . like . . . a daughter. Why couldn't her father be like Seamus McGuire?

Chapter Five

“
Y
OU MAKE ME
look like an idiot,” Jake groused as he pulled his father's Chevy up to Grace's apartment building.

Seamus laughed. “You don't need your old man for that. Now, go to her door like a gentleman.” He started getting out of the car.

“Are you coming, too?”

“Nope, I'm getting into the backseat.”

Jake gritted his teeth, but he couldn't stay mad. His father had gotten by all his life on his charm, even with his own children. Jake left him to it and climbed the stairs to Grace's apartment.

He stood at the door for a second, wondering what she'd be wearing this time and steeling himself not to say something stupid. He'd inherited a bit of his father's charm, but not when it came to Grace. Maybe because she didn't react the way most women did and it kept him off balance. Hell, they hadn't even been on a date.

The door opened while he was standing there. Jake started, Grace let out a squeak.

“Sorry,” he managed.

“I saw your car and was coming down,” she explained.

They both smiled awkwardly; Grace locked her door and they went downstairs without speaking.

“I asked you guys out,” Grace said as they reached the ground floor. “To celebrate. So no fighting about the check, okay? It's my party.”

“You know that's not going to happen. Dad will insist on paying.”

“And hand you the bill.”

Jake laughed. “You have his number all right.”

“So how do we play this?”

“My suggestion is you let me pay.” He hesitated. “You can pay the next time.”

He waited to see if she would say,
There won't be a next time,
but all she said was. “Sounds like a plan.”

He opened the car door and Grace saw his father sitting in back. “Good evening, Seamus,” she said, and Jake could hear the underlying laughter in her voice.

She and Seamus kept up a lively flirtation as Jake drove to the restaurant. It would serve his father right if he dropped them off at the door and drove away. But then he would have to take the chance of Seamus making things even more awkward. And besides, no way was he going to miss dinner with Grace, even if he had to put up with his dad's shenanigans.

He was grown man, ran his own business, a fairly lucrative one. He'd been independent for almost two decades, and his father still treated him like a child. He knew it was through love, but it was damn annoying. Not to mention cramping his social life considerably. Every woman Jake even looked at twice became instant fodder for his father's marriage plans.

He just hoped Seamus didn't chase Grace away.

He did drop them off at the door, but only long enough to park the car. He hurried back before Seamus, the Incorrigible, put his foot in it.

The Rusty Nail was a casual restaurant, the decor nautical chic, with friendly wait staff, good food, and a lively bar that catered to the old-timers in the off season. Jake was sure Grace had chosen it because it was one of his father's favorites. How she'd learned that fact was a mystery to him. But it was like Grace to find out.

The hostess led them to a booth where his father helped Grace into one side then sat down in the other, stopping a third of the way in, leaving no room for Jake even if he had intended to sit next to him, which he hadn't.

“Lambs to the slaughter,” Grace said under her breath as Jake slipped in beside her. They both laughed, while Seamus beamed beatifically from the other side of the table.

Dinner went well, with Seamus flirting with Grace and joking with Jake. The three of them talked about the carousel and Jake's plans for the arcade renovation.

Seamus reminisced about the old dance hall that sat like a broken ruin at the end of the boardwalk, how it had since been used as a roller rink, then an antique flea market, and several other attempted enterprises that failed to take. They knocked around some ideas about how to bring it up to code and back in style.

This took them through dessert and coffee. After dessert, Seamus sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Imagine all three of you girls home again.”

“It is kind of strange,” Grace agreed. “I didn't expect Bri or Margaux to ever come back to stay. Just goes to show you.”

“Sure does,” Seamus agreed. “The three of you used to come over on a summer night all bright with stars in your eyes. We used to call you gals the step sisters.”

“The step sisters?” Grace asked. “Did you think we were all from the same family?”

Seamus chuckled, completely amused with himself. “No, it's because you were like steps.” He held his hand over his head. “High.” Moved it chin level. “Medium.” Down to the table. “Low.”

It seemed to Jake that Grace's face fell with the hand.

“I get it,” she said, with what sounded to him like false laughter. “I was the runt.”

“You were the youngest,” Jake said.

“You were the petite one,” Seamus corrected. “The McGuire men always had a taste for petite women.”

Jake shot a fulminating look at his father, who smiled complacently at him. He glanced at Grace, then did a double take. Was she blushing?

“And I have a thing for men who can flirt on a full stomach,” she quipped back.

She seemed totally at ease. Jake must have imagined that blush. Probably just the restaurant lighting.

The waitress brought the check, and Seamus quickly snatched it from her hand, then handed it to Jake. Beside him, Grace cut back a laugh and looked at her coffee cup.

Jake nudged her under the table. And they both almost lost it.

Finally the bill was paid and they were on their way out of the restaurant. At the entrance to the bar, Seamus stopped.

“There's a couple of buddies of mine.” He waved to two locals sitting at the bar and they motioned to him. “I think I'll just stay and chat for a while. Don't worry about me, I'll get a ride home. Thanks for dinner, my dear.” He leaned over and kissed Grace's cheek. “Take this boy out dancing or something.” He winked and practically jogged into the bar and his friends.

“Not subtle, my dad.”

“No, but he's so cute.”

Not always,
Jake thought.
Not always.

T
HEY DIDN'T GO
dancing, for which Grace was grateful. She'd worn her four inch heels and they were killing her feet. Even so, the top of her head barely came to Jake's nose. And everytime she glanced over at him as they walked to the car, she was on eye level with his mouth. And she couldn't resist the little thrill that effervesced inside her.

She was a woman, single. Of course she would be attracted to a good-looking man. It didn't mean anything. She was sure he was just being polite. He liked her okay, but she reminded herself not to get any ideas.

The McGuire men might like petite women, but Grace had no illusions about herself. She wasn't petite; she was short. She was not delicate, she was substantial, not fat, but she'd never be considered thin. And as far as she was concerned if you didn't have thin genes like Bri, it was too damn much sacrificing for a size six.

She liked herself. And that was enough for her—most of the time.

Jake parked in front of her building and Grace started to get out.

“I thought maybe we could have a drink at that new bar around the corner,” he said. “It's still open. Or is it too late? You have to work in the morning.”

“So do you,” Grace said.

“Yeah, but since we're both our own bosses, the only people to yell at us if we come in late tomorrow are ourselves.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They walked back toward Main Street. It was colder now, and Grace pulled her coat collar up to her ears. And that's when Jake moved closer and put his arm around her. She pretended not to notice, though she had to admit it was nice.

They reached the bar, The Four Hops, much too soon. Inside, it was combination of trendy and woodsy, with a big fireplace burning Duraflame logs. It wasn't crowded; it was off season and late on a Sunday. They stopped long enough to hand their coats to a coat check person, who Grace sincerely hoped was not depending on tips for her living.

Then found seats at a round pub table. Grace put her purse on the table and climbed onto the high stool; Jake pulled his stool around closer, so instead of facing each other, they were shoulder-to-shoulder, more or less.

They ordered drinks and fell into a somewhat awkward silence.

We should have kept walking,
Grace thought. She was better on the move, and so obviously was Jake.

The bar maid returned with a cognac for Grace and a Jameson's for Jake.

“I've enjoyed tonight,” he said. “But I should apologize for my dad. He sometimes doesn't know when to leave well enough alone. I hope he didn't make you feel uncomfortable.”

“Not at all.”

“I've been meaning to ask you to dinner, I don't know why I didn't, I'm usually pretty outgoing.”

“Could be the part about living in a fishbowl that put you off.” Grace took a sip of the cognac, let it warm her down to her stomach.

Jake pushed his glass back and forth beneath his fingers. “I do feel like everyone is watching every move.”

“With every one of them cheering us on.”

“Yeah. Do you mind?”

Grace thought about it. Of course they couldn't just play things by ear, be spontaneous let things go where they might go; not with everyone waiting to see if the relationship would take. It didn't have a chance under those circumstances. “No. It just makes it harder to act normal.”

“Yeah.”

“So what do you want to do? We can announce that we're just friends, which we are.”

“True? But I'm not averse to seeing where things might go.”

Grace laughed. “You sound like a lawyer. Why don't we just play it by ear?”

Her purse began to buzz.

Grace just looked at it. Who would be calling her this late on a Sunday night? There could only be one person, the last person she intended to talk to.

“Do you need to answer that? It might be important.”

“I doubt it.” She reached in her purse and checked caller ID. Her parents' landline. The call went to voice mail He didn't leave a message. She slid the phone back in her purse. “No, nothing important.”

“What's wrong? Do you need to take the call? Really, it's okay. I won't be offended.”

“Thanks, but I don't. It's my father. He hasn't called me in nearly four years so I think he can wait.”

“You . . . don't get along?”

“You could say that.”

“And that's what upset you this morning at the diner. The article about the case they're defending.”

Grace sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that. It was just such a shock.”

“That his firm would be representing that Cavanaugh guy?”

“Didn't Nick tell you?”

“Nick didn't know. Just said the two of you were estranged.”

Margaux hadn't told Nick, Grace realized. Margaux knew it was something she didn't want known, and hadn't even told her husband. The true measure of a friend.

She looked at Jake. Was she ready to talk about it? Was Jake the person to tell her side of the story to? Would getting it out in the open finally lay it to rest? And she realized the answer was yes.

“Well, here's what happened . . .”

Strangely enough it only took a few minutes to tell from first meeting Sonny Cavanaugh until the current case. And yet it had colored her whole life for the past four years. “It doesn't sound like much now, but . . .” She shrugged, not knowing how to say it.

“You feel responsible.”

“Well, yeah, how did you know?”

“Because I know you.”

She gave him an incredulous look.

“I mean you just seem like you always want to do what's right.”

Grace smiled, a little sadly. “When Margaux and Bri and I were growing up, we had this secret hideout.”

“I know. I've been there.”

“You have?”

“Connor showed me. He said it was a place that made wishes come true.”

“What a sweetie. It's more like it's where we dreamed of what we would be when we grew up.”

“You wanted to save the world from the bad guys.”

“How did you guess?”

“You always rode the white horse.”

He remembered that? “I was pretty naïve.”

“You were cute.”

Her phone buzzed again. She growled at it.

Jake stood. “Come on, let's get out of here. And maybe we can outrun that noise.”

He helped her on with her coat and guided her out the door, where his arm slipped around her, naturally, like it had never left. They walked back toward her apartment and Grace began to wonder what was going to happen next.

Halfway up the block Jake stopped, turned her around and pulled her up into a kiss.

She had been expecting it and not expecting it, and now that she was here, she relaxed into it, let the kiss pour over her, warming her like the cognac had before.

It ended as quickly as it had begun and as seamlessly, and they were walking down the street toward her apartment.
Her apartment
. Grace took a deep breath.

They had almost reached her building when a man stepped out of the shadows. Jake automatically pushed Grace behind him.

She grabbed at the back of his coat. “Careful.”

What was going on? Crescent Cove was a safe town. She peered around Jake's arm and her heart stuttered to a stop, then banged, stuttered, and began to race.

She wasn't afraid, just taken off guard, and incredibly defeated. On top of everything else, he had come to wreck her personal life. She stepped out from behind Jake.

“What are you doing here?”

“I tried to call.”

Yeah, but it must have been her mother calling a few minutes before. He would never been able to make it to Crescent Cove from Hartford in that time. She should have answered the phone like Jake had suggested. Her mother must have been trying to warn her. So why hadn't she left a message? Because she probably guessed that Grace would erase it without listening.