3. Margot
Chapter 3
Margot
I don’t know if it was part of his plan or not, but Grady’s words stopped my tears instantly. I glared up at him, all too aware of just how close we were. So close that I could see the threads of light blue and dark blue that swam together to give his eyes their unique hue. I blinked hard to swipe my mind free of his handsome face, and gave his chest a shove, which did nothing, because the man was a big as a house.
“What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
His lips twitched with laughter. “It just means that I hope you’re not sad about living another year. Aging is something none of us can avoid, no matter how hoity toity we are.”
I snorted at his glib words about aging. He wasn’t just a man, he was a young and good looking man. “This coming from a man who’s barely thirty, if he’s a day.”
“Thirty-two as of today, thank you very much.” He flashed a wide grin that was equal parts handsome and annoying.
I rolled my eyes at the pride in his eyes, the easy way he just blurted out his age. “Come to me when you’re pushing fifty. Not that I’m fifty,” I rushed to clarify. “I’m forty-seven and even that number I share reluctantly.”
“And?” There wasn’t a hint of surprise in his voice, or revulsion either. “You sure as hell don’t look forty-seven, and who cares if you do. You’re successful, beautiful and rich, that’s enough for any man. More than enough.”
His words stunned me, mostly on account of our contentious relationship, which was admittedly, mostly my own doing. “That’s really what you think? I don’t need compliments because you caught me crying.”
Grady laughed. “Believe me, I wouldn’t lie to make you feel better.” He flashed a slow and sexy smile that sent heat flaming throughout my body. “Stuck up as hell on top of everything else,” he added with a wink. “It’s all true.”
That’s why I believed him, because for all of his faults, Grady was an honest guy, especially where I was concerned. He never hesitated to tell me what he thought of me, good or bad. Mostly bad, given our relationship, and for that reason his compliment touched me even deeper.
“Thank you Grady. Really.” Before I could think better of it, I wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed him tight, all too aware of the mounds of rock hard muscle. My nipples tightened with arousal, and when he hugged me back, that earlier heat turned to an inferno charged with pure electricity. I pulled back with a gasp. “Thank you.”
He didn’t linger on the hug thankfully, and slid from my side of the booth and returned to his side. “You can’t cry over cake.”
“I thought it was spilled milk,” I told him, and sat up a little taller when an amused grin split his face, teeth so white and stark against his tan skin and red beard.
“I say never cry when there’s food in front of you. It just feels wrong.” He shrugged again and finished off his cake in four enormous bites before he turned his gaze to me again. “So why were you crying if it’s not about aging gracefully?”
I shoved a bite of cake in my mouth and chewed slowly. It was sweet and rich and fluffy, and the perfect distraction. But Grady was an expert at waiting people out, and after another bite of cake, I found myself telling him everything. “My last ex-husband Michael left me for our mechanic, Adam. They fell in love and have been living their happily ever after since the divorce, before the divorce if we’re being honest.” And apparently I was being totally honest with my sworn enemy. “And today he decided to share his wonderful news with me, that he and Adam have adopted adorable twin girls.” Saying it out loud left a nasty taste in my mouth and I gulped some water.
“Are you still in love with him?”
I laughed. “Goodness, no. The divorce was necessary and inevitable, only I didn’t see it until it was too late. Michael did the right thing by initiating the divorce, because he knew I never would.”
Grady’s brows dipped in confusion. “But you’re not in love with him?”
“No,” I laughed. “I love Michael, and I probably always will. We were, and mostly are, still great friends, but we should not have mistaken that for the kind of love that leads to marriage. It was just my own dumb luck that by the time I figured it out, my years of having children were behind me.” And that was the part I couldn’t get past, wouldn’t forgive Michael for taking from me.
“Says who?”
“Says who, what ?”
“That your years of having kids are behind you? It’s not the eighties anymore Margot, women are having kids well into their fifties, especially women like you. With money.”
I shook my head at his words, all of them. “You can’t be serious. A woman my age, pregnant?” I laughed.
“My mama’s friend Charlene is fifty-six and she has a one year old boy. She and her second husband have been together for a few years and weren’t trying, but one day she just popped up pregnant.”
I couldn’t deny how much his words filled me with hope, but hope was a bad thing for a woman like me, a woman my age with no prospects for a man. No desire either. “Definitely fertility treatments,” I said dismissively.
“Doubtful, since Mama called him an oops baby.” He shrugged. “She’s like an aunt to me, so I didn’t get into specifics about how she made her baby. The old-fashioned way I assumed.” Grady distracted me for a moment by taking the last bite of my cake. “Anyway, all I’m saying is that it’s not too late if you really want to have kids.”
I sat there and stared at him, shocked by his words and the kindness I hadn’t earned. “Thank you for saying that. I don’t deserve your kindness and I am well aware of that, but I think I needed to hear that.”
Grady stared at me, and I wondered if he was counting my wrinkles because he was silent for so long. He took his time to clear the table and wipe it down before he handed me another bottle of water. “Drink.” Before I could tell him to stop barking orders at me, he turned and bent over to pick up the contents of my purse, and I was struck speechless at the sight of his backside.
It was firm and round, and the tightness of his jeans hugged his thighs in a way that would make any woman get ideas. He wasn’t just a big man, he was fit and graceful, like a lion had taken the form of a man. He turned and handed me the items in his hands. “Um, thank you.”
He gave a short nod. “Let’s get you home.”
I shook my head and dropped my lipstick, compact and cash into my purse. “That’s not necessary. I am perfectly capable of finding my own way home.”
He sighed and clenched his jaw in irritation. “Yeah Margot, I know that you know how to get to your house. But it’s late, and you’re not exactly sober.”
“Not sober, no, but the water, food and the sugar helped. I’m tipsy, if that. And I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a real laugh. “Good, because I’m nobody’s knight in armor, or in anything else. I’m just a concerned citizen helping out one of my own, because that’s what we do here in Carson Creek, isn’t it?”
I nodded, surprised by his spirit of community. He’d been in town for a few years now, but still most people—myself included—considered him an outsider.
“And if you don’t come willingly, I’ll be forced to throw you over my shoulder and strap you in. Either way is fine by me, sweetheart.” He strolled away, a move that offered another excellent view of his firm backside encased in perfectly worn denim.
I was half tempted to test out his threat, but there was a reason that I kept my distance from him, that I made sure we never got too close or too friendly. Grady was too much man. He was too hot, and too masculine and too darn charming. He oozed enough sex appeal to fuel my late night fantasies, and after Michael I’d sworn off men. Permanently. “Fine,” I told him agreeably when he returned, and stood with my purse clutched to my chest as if it were my virtue.
“Good girl,” he growled and put a hand to my lower back, giving me gentle nudge down the back hall of the bar and through the rear exit.
I stopped a few feet away from the gorgeous sparkling royal blue vintage sports car with the stark white racing stripes down the middle. “ This is your car?”
Grady scowled at me and his hand fell away from my back, leaving me cold. “What’s wrong with my car? Not fancy enough for you? Not luxurious enough?”
“Nothing,” I sighed, realizing that he’d misunderstood my question, or not, I guess based on our history. “I guess I expected you to drive a giant pickup truck, or maybe an SUV.”
He folded his arms and stared me down. “On account of me being such a redneck?”
“No, because you’re such a giant of a man that I didn’t think you could fit in something so small.”
His lips twitched once and split into a smile which quickly turned into a laugh. “That’s what she said.”
I blinked at the joke, and a second later my own laughter bubbled up as I realized what I’d said. “Funny.”
“Yeah,” he sighed and opened the passenger door for me. “I’m very flexible,” he said and wiggled his eyebrows. “And it’s roomier than it looks.”
I slid into the buttery white leather of the passenger seat and hummed appreciatively. “Nice,” I told him sincerely and wiggled my butt against the plush seat. Grady closed the door and I took a moment to look around the pristine car, I realized he was right, it was downright spacious. “Did you fix this car up yourself?”
“Some. My kid sister did most of the restoration. She’s a mechanic and specializes in restoring classic and antique cars, in case you want to get revenge on your ex.” He grinned and I smacked his thigh as his words sank in. “Too soon?”
“No. Is she beautiful?”
“She’s my sister,” he grunted. “And she’s twenty-five.” He squirmed in his seat and turned the key which produced a loud rumble underneath me.
“I could be a cougar. Carlotta told me so.”
Grady’s gaze went to me at the stop sign, his blue eyes raked in every inch of my body with appreciation and his hands gripped the steering wheel tight. “No doubt about that. Just, not with my sister.”
I laughed. “Protective much?”
“Over protective,” he corrected and maneuvered the car towards my small Georgian revival style home. I’d spent a great deal of effort renovating and decorating it to make it my own, knowing Carson Creek would be my forever home after my divorce from Michael. “This is you, right?”
I nodded. “Yes. Thank you for the ride Grady. And for the undeserved kindness.”
He grunted in reply, and I made my escape before the man did something crazy like walk me to my door. Thankfully he didn’t do that, but I was more than aware of the car idling in the circular driveway while I searched my clutch for my keys. “Lipstick. Cash. Compact. Breath mints. NO keys.” I went through the purse three more times just to make sure before I returned to Grady’s car. “I don’t have my keys. I’m sorry.”
He sighed and leaned over to push the passenger door open again. “I guess that means you’re bunking with me for the night.”
“What? No! That isn’t necessary. I’m sure they’re on the floor of your bar somewhere.”
“I’m exhausted and my house is that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction of the bar and patted the seat. “My place or nothing Margot.”
I knew he meant what he said, and I didn’t want to repay his kindness by being difficult, so I dropped into the passenger seat and nodded. “Thank you. I feel like I’m saying that to you a lot tonight.”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Not as much as I thought it would.