Читать книгу One More Night - Jennifer McKenzie - Страница 12
ОглавлениеGRACE EXHALED SLOWLY, pushing thoughts of her date—no, it wasn’t a date—her meeting with Owen out of her mind, and focused on her line budget. Because the breakdown of costs for the engagement party Owen wanted to throw was far more important and interesting than how he’d rocked those dark jeans. Okay, more important, at least. And if she just hurried up and finished the stupid budget, she could work on something else. Something unrelated to Owen Ford and his family.
She fanned her face and checked the numbers on the page again, but her mind wandered back to those jeans and the way his butt looked in them. Dangerous ground. Would have been dangerous even if he was her type, which luckily, he was not.
Grace wasn’t looking for a playboy or a casual relationship. In fact, she wasn’t looking for anything right now. Not with the summer upon her and an absolute flurry of weddings over the next eight weeks. Each one would be given the same amount of attention and care because each couple had trusted her with their special day.
And that’s what she should be thinking about. Not Owen’s butt.
She actually managed to lose herself in the numbers for a couple of hours, making notations and edits. Using what she’d learned from previous weddings to make the next one better.
But when her phone rang, the ringtone an elegant measure of Beethoven that she used for work, her brain snapped to customer-service mode and seated there. Even when she saw the caller was Owen.
“Mr. Ford. How can I help you?”
“I thought we agreed to be on a first-name basis, Grace.”
The way he said her name sent a brief curl of pleasure into her bones. In his mouth, her name wasn’t cool or patrician. It wasn’t formal or chaste. It was soft and sexy. The kind of name a woman slipped on when she wanted to seduce someone.
Grace pushed the pleasure away and focused on business. “Well, then, Owen, what can I do for you?”
“I wanted to set up a time for you to come to the wine bar. See the space and layout, so you can get an idea for it.”
“Great.” She was already pulling up her calendar, which was synced to all her devices. “When were you thinking?”
“How about tonight?”
Grace’s fingers stilled on the keyboard. There was no reason she couldn’t go tonight. She had nothing planned and it would be better to see the space now, so she could start drawing up options immediately. And yet, she didn’t confirm. Because she’d just spent the morning having brunch with him.
“Unless you’ve got a hot date?”
“No.” Now, why had she answered that query immediately? Almost as if she was worried he’d think she was unavailable to go on a hot date with him. Which she was. She cleared her throat. “Tonight would be fine.”
But even as she took down directions on location and time, her mind continued to wander. And every time, it flashed on that hot butt in those hot jeans.
Not. Good.
* * *
OWEN SWIPED A CLOTH along the already clean bar, earning a glare from Stef, the bartender he’d poached from La Petite Bouchée, the restaurant owned and cheffed by his soon-to-be sister-in-law. It hadn’t been an intentional poaching.
He’d needed some extra help for the summer and Stef had wanted the extra hours to help pay for her next semester of schooling. It wasn’t his fault that Stef loved Elephants and working for him so much that she’d asked if she could make the position permanent. And it wasn’t as if he’d left Julia or her restaurant short-staffed. He’d interviewed and found a qualified candidate to replace Stef at the restaurant before getting Julia’s agreement. Not that this stopped her from claiming that he owed her.
But hell. He’d not only attended a wedding-planning session with her, he was going to make sure she had an amazing engagement party, too. And he was going to keep it a surprise. So, really, she owed him.
He swiped the cloth across the bar again, this time earning not only a glare from Stef, but also a comment. “You sure you got everything now?”
“No.” And he wiped again, grinning as he did.
Stef rolled her eyes and plucked the cloth out of his hand, replacing it with a glass of water. “Go,” she told him. “Mingle. I’ll make sure the bar top stays clean.” She would, as well as juggling multiple drink orders, keeping an eye on the customers and prepping the bar for tomorrow.
Owen nodded and began to move around the room, but he kept one eye on the door and when it finally opened and Grace walked in, he smiled.
She looked good. But then, in Owen’s opinion, she always did. Her pale gray jeans were tight and paired with a black T-shirt and a dark blue jacket with white polka dots. Her hair was down, the blond strands spilling over her shoulders, loose and free.
“Miss Monroe. Twice in one weekend. Are you stalking me?”
The pinched look around her mouth softened just as he’d hoped. “If you’ll recall, you issued me a personal invitation. And the preferred honorific is Ms.”
Owen offered his arm, pleased when she barely hesitated before taking it. “Well, Ms. Monroe, let’s start the tour.”
She loosened up a little more as he took her around, pleased to show off the bar and his hard work to improve it. But when he asked her to stay for a drink, she declined.
“I really can’t.”
“Big day of wedding planning tomorrow?” By the way she looked up at him and then looked away, Owen knew that wasn’t it.
“Something like that.”
His natural inclination was to let it go. He’d found the subtle-nudge approach to be usually far more successful than a direct request. But he had a feeling that with Grace, subtlety would get him a whole lot of nothing. “Just one drink. It’s early.”
She checked her watch. “I still have work to do tonight.”
“All work and no play...”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Then she must be a wise woman.” And Grace was wavering. “Have you eaten?”
“Not since brunch.”
And there was his answer. She wanted to stay; he merely had to provide the opportunity. “Then consider this a working dinner. You can try some of the foods. Research for your party.”
She tilted her head to look at him. Her blond hair, free of its sleek knot, fell around her shoulders. Owen would bet money that it would feel as cool and silky as it looked.
“I won’t bite,” he joked and was rewarded with a rosy flush coloring her cheeks.
“Owen—”
He cut her off. “It doesn’t have to be long. I have some pull in the kitchen. You’ll be back working before the sun sets.” Seeing as that was a couple of hours away, he figured it was a safe promise.
“Owen,” she said again. But when he broke out his patented sad face, she capitulated. “No more than an hour.”
“Sixty minutes or less.” Unless he could talk her into changing her mind. It wasn’t exactly a date, but it wasn’t exactly not a date, either.
Or it wasn’t, until they were halfway through their meal and she said, “You realize this is only a business relationship.” Which it clearly wasn’t or she wouldn’t feel the need to clarify.
Owen simply smiled and popped another bite of food in his mouth.
Grace put down her fork, carefully and quietly so that he doubted there would have been a sound even if the bar was dead. “I shouldn’t have stayed.”
He quickly swallowed his mouthful. “Of course you should have. You were hungry and we have food here.”
“You’re my client.”
“This again? I’m not a client. I’m not the one getting married.” And never would be. There was nothing wrong with marriage. For other people. Maybe he’d change his mind someday. But not today.
“Close enough.” She pushed her plate toward the center of the table. “I should go.”
“Stay.” He placed a hand over hers. “Just until you’ve finished eating.”
Grace slid her hand out from under his. “I’m done.” She slid out of the booth. “If there’s anything wedding-or engagement-related, please call me.”
“But, otherwise, lose your number?”
Her smile wasn’t cheerful. “I wouldn’t be that harsh.”
But it was basically what she meant. Owen ignored the disappointment pooling in his veins and slid out of the booth, too. “I’ll walk you out.” Just because she’d told him he didn’t have a chance with her was no excuse not to be a gentleman.
“That’s not necessary.”
“Grace.” And this time there was no underlying teasing in his tone. “I’d like to.”
She nodded and anchored her purse over her shoulder. No chance of her leaving it behind, so he’d have an excuse to call her.
They walked toward the large wooden door. Neither of them spoke until they were outside.
“So.” Grace’s fingers curled around the strap of her shoulder bag. “I guess this is it.”
Owen kept his tone light. He was good at keeping things light. “I’m sure I’ll see you at the party and the wedding.”
She nodded, but didn’t expand on his comment and Owen nodded, too. He was interested in her, attracted to her, but if she didn’t feel the same way, he wasn’t going to throw himself at her.
“And I’ll call you if I have any engagement-party questions.”
“Please do.”
He waited until she was a block away and out of sight before he headed back inside.
The table they’d been at was untouched—no doubt his staff expected them to return and finish the mostly full plates. Owen bussed it himself, letting his hands work while his mind whirred.
Not that he had a whole lot to think about. Grace had made it clear that she preferred to act as though the attraction between them didn’t exist.
“Shot down by the blonde?” Stef asked when he brought the half-filled water glasses to dump at the bar.
Owen noticed Mal sitting at the bar grinning. “I wasn’t shot down.” He thought about that for a moment. “No, you’re right. She totally shot me down.” He was man enough to admit it.
Mal gave him a healthy pat on the shoulder. “Do you need a moment to cry into your water?”
“I might.”
She and Stef shared a snicker.
“I’m glad you can find my humiliation amusing. I may have to swear off women forever.” When neither of them said anything, Owen helped out. “See, this is the part where you both assure me that it’s her issue that has nothing to do with me and that I’m an excellent catch who any woman would be lucky to date.”
Silence.
“Nothing?” he asked. “Seriously? Not even a consolation hug?”
“There, there.” Mal patted him on the back. “Now you know how all those women you loved and left felt.”
“I didn’t love and leave. It was always a mutual decision.”
“Is that what they thought?”
The conversation had taken on a serious tone and Owen was glad when Stef moved to the other end of the bar to check on her customers.
“Of course they did.” Just because there hadn’t been long, drawn-out discussions on the topic didn’t mean they hadn’t been in agreement.
“You sure?” Mal tapped a finger against the side of her glass. Her gaze drifted. “Sometimes you might think you know the other person’s feelings only to realize at the worst possible moment that you were wrong.”
And they were veering again. Owen absorbed her words fully, then asked, “Are we talking about you now?”
Mal sat up, her attention snapping back into place, that raw emotion he’d briefly glimpsed ducking back under a neutral look. “No, I’m simply pointing out that getting shot down might be good for your personal growth.”
“Not that I’m admitting to anything, but I think I’ve done enough growing.” And if Grace wanted to pretend that this sizzle between them wasn’t there, she was certainly within her rights to do so. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t be available should she change her mind, but then he was good like that. Always looking out for the happiness of others.
Owen smiled at his sister. “So what brings you out here tonight? Boredom? Ennui?”
Mal smirked. “You know those words mean the same thing.”
He slid onto a bar stool, keeping one eye out for a patron who might use it instead. “Yes. But one is all fancy and French.”
Mal glanced around. “Someone you’re trying to show off for?”
“Just practicing.”
* * *
GRACE KNEW THE engagement party would go perfectly. At least, on the surface, which was all that mattered.
No one cared if the DJ’s car broke down or if the fish they’d selected for the entrée was unavailable due to a typhoon last week. They didn’t care if there weren’t enough seats for everyone or if there was one lone bathroom for three hundred guests and someone had just thrown up all over it. All they cared was that Grace took care of it.
Her job was as much about minimizing damage on the day of the event as the actual planning. And she took great care to control as many variables as possible. Like her attraction to one Owen Ford.
She’d managed to plan the engagement party, including another visit to Elephants, without running into him. Some people might think her cowardly or even unprofessional by choosing to schedule her visit when she knew he wouldn’t be there. But Grace saw it as taking advantage of opportunities.
She’d been meeting with Julia and Donovan about their wedding and Julia had mentioned that Owen was working at the restaurant all week. Was she supposed to ignore the snippet of information? Purposely delay her visit by a week so that she wouldn’t appear to be avoiding him?
And she wouldn’t avoid him tonight, either. She’d be too busy to chat with all the various jobs and duties she and her team would be attending to, but she wouldn’t avoid him.
She was already at the wine bar, preparing the initial setup even though the party didn’t start for another four hours. Her team of three would arrive in forty-five minutes, but for now it was just Grace and a pair of Elephants staff members prepping for tonight.
Grace was glad for the solitude. Glad Owen wasn’t here to grab her attention and refuse to let go. She hadn’t gotten to bed until almost four in the morning after a wedding the night before. The bride and groom had wanted to party, as had everyone else in attendance, and Grace had been required to negotiate a time extension on the fly while her team checked to make sure the caterers wouldn’t run out of food and drink.
When she’d finally crawled between her clean sheets, she’d been so exhausted that she almost forgot to set her alarm. And when it had gone off at six this morning, she wished she had forgotten. But she had her Pilates class at seven and she never missed that unless she was out of town.
Being tired and having a headache were not good excuses. So she’d slipped into her workout gear, grabbed a bottle of water from her tidy fridge and was warming up in the gym ten minutes before class.
But keeping to her routine didn’t fill her with any sense of clarity or moral satisfaction. She just felt more tired.
She would be glad when tonight’s event was over, though no one would ever know. On the surface, she’d be poised and friendly, her exhaustion hidden beneath a polite veneer.
By the time her team arrived, Grace had moved the tables and chairs into her preferred groupings and downed two bottles of water to keep hydrated.
It had been a warm day and was promising to be an equally warm night. Her thin silk T-shirt was beginning to stick to her back. “Hayley, will you check on the AC, please?”
Nothing would put a damper on a party faster than having guests uncomfortable.
“Right away.” Hayley scampered off to do as she was bid while Grace went over the event plan with the other two members of her team. They all knew the plan, but Grace made a point of holding a quick overview on-site at every event she threw.
While it was usually unnecessary, those rare occasions where they caught something that had been overlooked made it a worthy practice. Hayley returned and Grace doled out jobs so they’d be ready come showtime.
The staff Owen had handpicked for this evening were beginning to trickle in. Grace took a moment to speak to each of them personally, making sure they knew that, while technically this party was for Julia and Donovan, in fact it was for all the Fords, so any problems or issues should come directly to her. All part of the full-service experience she provided.
The staff were cheerful and quick to lend a hand to transform the room into an elegant space. It helped that Elephants had good bones, with its long white bar, dark flooring and sleek furniture.
Grace had chosen to forgo a traditional tabletop flower arrangement, those blooms that sprang up and demanded to be seen. Instead, she’d gone for something a little smaller, a little less typical and a little more Julia and Donovan. She’d found beautiful white birdcages with a white stone bird perched atop and stuffed them with small blue flowers that poked out from between the bars. The effect was cheerful containment on the tables covered in pristine white cloths. She trucked in some fake trees, leafless and dark, and strung them with small fairy lights. She’d created some temporary chandeliers out of wire, wrapped in a feathery material and strung with the same fairy lights. With the lights in the wine bar turned from their usual pinky hue to soft white, the space turned from a hip see-and-be-seen establishment to one of classic elegance with a modern twist.
Grace stepped back from fixing a light string that was drooping instead of artfully swooping and surveyed the room. A swell of pride filled her chest. It was beautiful, yes, but more than that it had a sense of the couple the party was being held for.
While anyone could appreciate that the room was worthy of a photo shoot in a magazine, those who looked closer would spot the attention to detail. The two typical flower arrangements, a bustle of lavender, blue and white by the front door, were set up in trifle bowls. The guestbook on the edge of the gift table was set with a silver Montblanc pen identical to the one Donovan always used. There were other little touches of tradition and style that fit the couple.
“This looks amazing.”
Grace recognized Owen’s voice and blinked before turning, a polite smile already in place. But she felt it waver when she looked into his face. His easy grin and the way he seemed to be checking out her instead of the room. Hadn’t she been clear that nothing could happen between them? “Thank you.”
“How long did this take?” He reached around her to finger the tiny cages on the table, the movement making the small flowers inside rustle.
Grace felt the heat from his arm sink into hers. She took a small step sideways, away from Owen. “I got here around two.”
“Amazing,” he said again, but this time he was definitely looking at her.
Grace felt the heat creep into her cheeks. She knew she didn’t look awful. Even during setup, she was careful to maintain her image. Hair pulled into a tidy ponytail, clean jeans with no rips or loose threads, a simple, black silk T-shirt and ballet flats so she could do any necessary hard labor. But amazing was a bit of a stretch.
“Can I do anything to help?”
“It’s all under control.” She was happy to give the party line. “Your only responsibility is to enjoy yourself.”
“You sure? I am the host. I’ve got the suit and everything.”
And a fine suit it was, cut slim to show off his physique and made out of poplin. The light gray shade set off his dark coloring and he wore it with a plain white dress shirt, the top two buttons left undone.
Grace yanked her gaze away from that small patch of exposed tanned skin. She had no business thinking about that skin, wondering if it would feel warmed by the sun or if it would taste like sugar, rum and mint.
Her eyes fell to his feet and the bright green kicks he wore. The tightness banding her lungs loosened.
This was who Owen Ford was. The kind of man who not only wore bright green kicks, but also wore them with a designer suit. The kind of man who didn’t get serious. Not the kind of man she was looking for at all.
“It’s all handled,” she told Owen, drawing in a calming breath. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready.”
* * *
OWEN WATCHED GRACE glide off, noting the way her jeans clung to her long legs. What he wouldn’t give to feel them wrapped around his waist.
“Here.” He blinked when a bar napkin was shoved in his face, then saw his sister grinning. “To wipe the drool from your chin.”
Owen accepted the napkin and dabbed at his chin. “Thanks.”
Mal’s smile widened. It was good to see her laughing. She hadn’t done enough of that lately. “Of course, it’d be better if Grace would quit giving you the brush-off.”
“True.” Owen tucked the napkin in his pocket. “She does like me, though.”
“She has a funny way of showing it.”
“Grace has some funny ideas. Says she can’t get involved with me because I’m a client.”
“Does Donovan know you’re planning to steal his bride and marry her in his place? Tacky, Owen, and just when the two of you were starting to get along.”
Owen snorted because the idea of him marrying anyone was a joke. “Maybe you should tell Grace that and put in a good word for me while you’re at it.”
“No.” Mal seemed to relish turning him down. “I won’t be your wingman.”
“So you just came over here to harass me?”
She nodded. “That and to help you with your drooling issue. You are the host tonight, Owen. Show a little couth.”
“A little—” He started to laugh, long and hard. He’d missed this snarky side of his sister. Even when it was directed at him. For the past few months, she’d been muted, all her color washed away. He threw an arm around her now, wrestled her into a headlock the way he had when they were kids.
“Owen, if you mess up my hair, I’m going to kill you.” But she was laughing, too.
He grabbed a handful of strands and gave a light tug. “How’s that for couth?”
“A poor showing.” Mal extracted herself—but only because he let her—and smoothed her hair. “Very poor. See, Owen, it’s behavior like that that keeps me from acting as your wingman.”
He laughed again. “If I promise not to touch your hair anymore, will you do it?”
“No.” She took a quick step back, hands raised to deflect any further hair-touching.
“What about if I act as your wingman, too?”
Her face fell. Damn. He’d thought she was doing better, was moving past whatever had happened between her and Travis.
“My offer to beat him up still stands,” Owen said. Yes, Travis was one of his best friends, but Mal was his sister.
Mal’s eyes were sad, her voice soft. “No. I appreciate the support, but it’s not necessary. No fighting required.”
Which was good because Travis was a good two inches taller than Owen’s own six foot one and his friend outweighed him by fifty pounds, all of it muscle. So really it would have been less of a physical beating and more of an “I don’t know what happened between you and Mal, but fix it because I promised her I’d beat you up and I’d prefer not to lose a tooth.”
“You sure?” This time when he put his arm around her it was to give her a hug.
“Positive.” But she held on to him a second longer. “Thanks, Owen.”
He watched his sister go, wondering if there was something else he could do to help. But Mal was proud and refused to tell anyone what had happened.
Owen grabbed a bottle of water from behind the bar and cracked it open. Which was why he thought it was better not to get too serious when it came to relationships.
Sure, he could end up like Julia and Donovan or his own parents, but they seemed to be the exceptions to the rule. Most people didn’t last, and wasn’t it better to go into the relationship with that already in mind?
Owen sipped his water and glanced at his sister, who was talking to Stef and smiling. But the cheerful expression didn’t reach her eyes.
Yes, it was definitely better to keep things light and casual. And a hell of a lot less painful.
* * *
GRACE TWITCHED THE HEM of her silvery-gray dress into place, ran a smoothing hand over her hair and slicked on a coat of pale almost-nude lip gloss as she eyed her reflection in the mirror of her compact. It was her standard event-planner uniform. Finished off with sapphire-blue kitten heels and a discreet pair of silver hoops at her ears, she looked cool and elegantly classic.
She knew some planners preferred suits. An exhibition of power and control, a statement that they were in charge and could handle any issue, but she found the same aura could be projected without looking as though she’d come straight from the boardroom. And, in her mind, she really shouldn’t be standing out at all. She and her team should move seamlessly among the crowd, looking like every other guest, just with earpieces.
She fussed with her dress again. Something looked off or maybe it was the twin flags of color on her usually porcelain skin. Grace pressed the back of her hands to the offending warmth on her cheeks, breathing slowly until the rosiness began to fade.
Better. Now she just looked as though she’d gotten a little sun. Which she might have if she didn’t have weddings every weekend.
Not that she was complaining. It was all part of her five-year plan, of which she had one year left to complete. She’d successfully started her own business, had three employees reporting to her, planned at least twenty weddings a year and last year had bought her own condo, a gorgeous one-bedroom with soaring loftlike ceilings on the downtown side of False Creek.
Surrounded by other affluent, educated types, Grace Monroe had come a long way from her roots and was proud of what she’d accomplished, even if her family didn’t understand. They didn’t have to. She was satisfied, which was more important.
She was actually a little ahead of schedule, since she hadn’t planned to buy the condo until next year. But she’d booked a wedding of one of the local hockey players, which had gotten her front-page coverage in not just the newspapers—both in print and online—but local magazines, too. All of that would have seen an increase in her business on its own, but when coupled with the inclusion of the wedding in a national lifestyle magazine that had dedicated an issue to the country’s most popular athletes, well, she’d hired that third assistant and receptionist pretty quickly.
“Grace?” Hayley spoke through her earpiece.
“Coming out.” She’d snagged access to the assistant manager’s office for the night for storage and anything else. Like changing clothes.
Grace locked the door behind her as she left. All her employees had stored their bags and purses inside, plus whatever financial items might be put in the assistant manager’s filing cabinet.
She adjusted her earpiece, eyes scanning the room. “What’s going on, Hayley?”
“The photographer just texted that he’s not coming.”
Small problem when Grace considered what else could go wrong. “Thank you, Hayley. I’ll handle it.”
The photographer was a new one whom she’d used once before and been pleased with his work, but she wouldn’t be using him again if he wasn’t reliable. And he clearly wasn’t. She’d be removing him from her list of contacts immediately.
Luckily, Grace had a solid list of vendors. She called Sherry Sanders, one of her most dependable photographers, and begged her to come for a last-minute gig tonight.
She’d figured the mention of Julia and Donovan’s names would be enough to pique Sherry’s interest, and she was right. Sherry had promised to grab her equipment and get there as soon as possible. Because there was a good chance a picture from the party would end up in one of the provincial papers, a photo credit line that would create an uptick in business. Not to mention, if Julia and Donovan were happy, they’d probably book Sherry for the actual wedding. And no serious photographer would be foolish enough to turn down the opportunity to work what looked to be one of the most talked-about weddings of the year.
By the time Sherry arrived and Grace had issued instructions about the number of family members and other important people in the couple’s lives, their style and general preferences, and made sure her team knew that Sherry was going to be handling all the photography, the wine bar had filled up. Grace recognized many of the guests. The who’s who in the city’s social scene, familiar faces in the papers’ society pages and industry professionals who were often as well-known as their restaurants. They glittered in expensive summer dresses and well-tailored suits. Jewelry and wineglasses shimmered under the lights.
Grace spotted Donovan’s parents and sister across the room. Gus Ford looked a lot like his sons, a blend of Donovan’s stoic seriousness and Owen’s easy smile. He wore a suit as well as they did, too. So clearly, there was no reason for her to get all jittery over the way Owen filled out his suit. It was simply good genetics. Like pheromones. Which Grace chalked up to animal instinct. Something she had overcome, much like her nontraditional childhood.
Evelyn was petite and energetic. Her eyes were bright as she chattered to her husband. Her elegant lilac dress set off her dark hair and complemented the deep indigo tie Gus wore. Grace smiled. She’d never had the opportunity to dress as a couple, except for Halloween, and she’d stopped participating in the costume and candy-consuming ritual when she was ten.
Grace headed over to greet them in person and assure them that they could come to her if they had any questions or concerns.
“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Grace Monroe.” She held out a hand to the brunette standing with Gus and Evelyn. Even if Mallory hadn’t looked like a taller, sleeker version of her mother, Grace would have known they were related by the way her parents looked at her. A mix of pride and love showered over their lone daughter.
“Mallory Ford.” Her grip was firm, the sign of a woman who lived and succeeded in a man’s world. “This is outstanding. Really. I can’t believe it’s Elephants.”
Grace decided she liked Mallory, or at least liked her taste. She seemed to look beyond the surface to note the effort and time that had gone into making each choice. Her strapless dress was aqua and gathered at one side with a slit that provided a peek of leg. With the wrong accessories or on a shorter, curvier woman, it might have looked trashy. But Mallory, with her hair left down to cascade down her back, simple gold drop earrings and bangle bracelet and matching shoes, looked upscale and luxe. Which Grace imagined she was. “Thank you.”
“I agree.” Evelyn looked around, appreciation clear on her face. “I know it’s our place, and I can recognize so much of it, yet it looks different. Like a version created just for Julia and Donovan.” Which was exactly what Grace had been going for. Evelyn clasped a hand around her husband’s arm. “Isn’t it wonderful, Gus?”
“Better than wonderful.” Gus’s voice was as warm as his eyes. “You’ve done a fantastic job, Ms. Monroe.”
Grace felt the warmth from the pair of them seep into her, like a flower absorbing the heat of the sun. She clasped each of their hands in turn, wrapping them with both of hers. “Please, call me Grace.”
She jumped when she sensed someone move up beside her and the scent of clover with a hint of smoke, like honey by the campfire, surrounded her. She knew that scent. She loved that scent, but wished she didn’t.
“How come you never say that to me?” Grace tried not to stiffen as she turned to look at Owen.
“Owen.” Evelyn seemed delighted to see her son. Grace wished she felt the same. Instead, she was left with a discomfiting heat swirling beneath her skin. Mallory hugged her brother and whispered something in his ear that made him throw back his head and laugh.
Grace felt a bubble of envy and shifted a step away, out of reach. She wasn’t jealous of Mallory, just of the easy relationship she seemed to have with her brother. Grace hadn’t spoken to her own brother in six months. Not since the last time she’d been over to visit the family farm. But then despite the only sixteen-month age gap, she and Sky had never been close. Different priorities, different lives. Sky had decided to stay on the family farm and take over the business with his pregnant girlfriend. While she had done the opposite.
Gus moved to stand beside her by one of the tables. “I like these.” He was admiring the birdcage of flowers, running a thick finger along the cage much as his son had earlier. Grace shoved away the thought of Owen’s hands caressing anything, even a stone bird, but her ears were attuned to the conversation he was having with his mother and sister. And she had to lecture herself not to inhale deeply before his scent drifted away, replaced by lemon cleaning products, the spicy shrimp appetizers being passed around and her own grapefruit-and-mint perfume.
“You’ve done a fine job, Owen. Julia and Donovan are going to love this.” Evelyn laid a hand on her son’s arm. “Really love it.”
“I hope so.” Owen’s tone was cheerful, as though Grace hadn’t just brushed him off. Again. “Grace certainly worked hard enough.”
A curl of pride wound through her. Not that she didn’t believe she deserved the accolades, but it was always nice to be recognized. And then she felt guilty for brushing him off, since he hadn’t been trying anything. Not this time.
She flicked a glance at him. He was looking back. She felt her breath catch, took that deep breath she’d been avoiding and caught a full breath of that smoky sweetness that was all Owen. Her knees wobbled. Or they might have wobbled on a less tightly controlled person. Grace simply locked her knees and turned her full attention to Gus, who was now scarfing down both the spicy shrimp and the slices of warm baguette being served with it, wearing the beatific look of a man on a diet.
“Not too many, love,” Evelyn called.
“I know, I know. I’ll eat some green stuff, too.” But Gus winked at Grace as he grumbled and then leaned forward as though to impart some wisdom. “She’s always pushing me to eat green stuff. But I really only like it when I grow it myself. You didn’t by any chance create a green-free menu?”
Grace laughed at his hopeful look. “I’m afraid not. But since Julia is a French-inspired chef, it’s all been cooked in lots of butter.”
Gus’s eyes lit up as he called over his shoulder to his wife. “I’ll eat some green veggies when they come out, dear.”
Evelyn smiled. “It’s a celebration. Try everything, just don’t overdo it.”
Gus went back to stand with her, the two of them drawing Mallory into a conversation about a guest they wanted her to meet. Owen moved closer to Grace, hovering by her side, not touching, but close enough.
She got another whiff of him and tried to take only shallow breaths. “My dad had a heart attack at the end of last year.” His voice was low in her ear, his breath warm on her neck. “She’s still worried.”
“Of course she is,” Grace murmured. Mallory had excused herself and left Gus and Evelyn standing together, their heads almost touching as they whispered and smiled. Grace had known them for only a couple of minutes and already she could see how in love they were. It would be hard to recover from losing a love like that. Her heart skipped a beat. Of course, she had to find a man she liked enough to go on a second date with—okay, fine, a first date—before she jumped ahead to love and marriage and a lifetime of togetherness. “That must have been hard.”
“It was. For all of us.”
Grace tilted her head to look at him. His mouth was close to hers and she knew she should step back, but she was afraid she’d bump the table. Yeah, right. The table. That was what was holding her in place. “He looks good.” But she didn’t turn her head toward Gus. She was caught in Owen’s gaze.
“He does.” Owen reached out to brush a strand of hair off her neck. Grace felt the sharp buzz of attraction race through her. “He’s doing well.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” And although she hadn’t known Gus Ford even an hour ago as anything more than the founder of the family company and father to Owen and Donovan, she was glad. Grace didn’t always understand her own parents and she knew they didn’t understand her, but despite their sometimes contentious relationship, she loved them and would be devastated if they fell ill.
“Thanks.” Owen brushed the side of her neck again, though Grace was pretty sure that the strand of hair wasn’t there anymore. She knew she should mind, should take that step back, table or not, and remind both Owen and herself that their relationship was strictly business. She didn’t move.
“And how are you handling it?” Her voice was soft.
“Fine. Most of the time.” He shrugged and moved closer. She could feel his body heat radiating through her thick silk dress, could imagine the hard bunch of his muscles beneath that stylish summer suit. “Maybe you want to hug me? Make it all better?”
And just like that the moment dissolved and washed away on the realization that Owen wasn’t serious. Not about anything. Grace took that step away and didn’t bump the table. “Nice try.”
Owen grinned. If he weren’t so charming, he’d be obnoxious. Actually, she bet he could be obnoxious despite that overabundance of charm. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
She could, but she didn’t. Instead, she pretended that one of her employees was calling her through her earpiece and excused herself from the little family grouping, but she risked a glance over her shoulder as she strode away and saw Owen watching her go, a sleepy appreciation in his eyes.
Grace didn’t want to find him appealing. Not with his insouciant manner, his casual attitude toward most things and his bright green sneakers. But she did. She made herself keep walking as a quiet ache unfurled in her chest.
