18. Brian
18
brIAN
A fter the banquet, I was ready for a stiff drink and a warm bed, preferably with Grace curled up next to me. But I had to take it down a notch and talk to Duke first.
Nevertheless, I was flying high and so fucking proud of Fran I couldn’t contain myself.
“Dad, I can’t breathe,” Fran said against my chest.
“I can’t help it. I’m so happy for you.” Tears pricked my eyes.
She batted her lashes at me, beaming. “Are you crying?”
“Men don’t cry,” I teased.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without you,” she said.
Parents, guests, and school staff were mingling and saying goodbye.
Mr. Taylor came over to us, his bald head glistening. “Fran, congratulations again. Mr. McCauley, your daughter will do great things one day. But I wanted to take a minute, if I may. Fran, I understand you’ll be graduating a year early next spring. Therefore, I would like to offer you an internship next summer before you start college. It would only be for a month, but it could meld into something more, maybe summers during your college years.”
Fran was nodding faster than I could track. “Yes, I would like that very much. Thank you.”
“Good,” Mr. Taylor said. “We’ll be in touch.” He took his leave.
I hugged Fran. “Wow!”
“I know, right? Dad, I've never been so happy.” She checked the room. “Where’s Grace? I want to tell her.”
I’d lost track of the Hart beauty when Fran came down off the stage. “She might be in the ladies’ room.”
“Is she staying the night?” Fran asked.
I hadn’t thought about that. Though the snow was beginning to pile up the last I checked when I’d gone in search of Grace before dinner.
“Fran.” Nora’s high-pitched voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard, for some reason.
“Go,” I said to Fran. “I’ll call Grace.”
My gut churned as I felt a sense of doom. I hoped she hadn’t decided to drive back to Boston in this weather.
Her voicemail picked up, and I left a message for her to call me. As Fran chatted with Nora, I headed toward the ladies’ room, wondering why I hadn’t asked Grace where she was staying for the night.
As I approached, Janet Welby was coming out of the restroom. “Brian, you must be so proud of Fran. But you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Is Grace in there?” I asked, knowing I had no color in my face.
“No, she isn’t. I saw her leaving about fifteen minutes ago, maybe.”
“Thanks.” Not waiting for Janet to say anything else, I jogged outside and searched the parking lot for her Subaru.
Snow was falling at a steady rate, covering cars and piling up. I didn’t see a Subaru. The majority of vehicles were high-end BMWs, Mercedes, Cadillacs—and the list went on.
I ducked back inside and called Grace again. I got the same response but didn’t bother leaving another voicemail. So I sent her a text. Then I returned to Fran to find Ryan holding my daughter’s hand.
He didn’t flinch or let her go. He stood his ground, his chin high. “Mr. McCauley, is everything okay?”
“Dad, did you find Grace?” Fran asked.
I didn’t want Fran to worry. “I left her messages. She probably got on the road before the storm got too bad.”
“Let me know,” Fran said. “If you don’t mind, Nora, Ryan, and I are going to watch a movie in the student lounge. We’re still on for breakfast in the morning?”
I hugged and kissed my daughter. “Go, and have a good time. And yes, I’ll see you at eight a.m.”
“Oh, and Dad, don’t forget. We need to apply for my passport soon.” Then she dashed off, happy and content.
Passport? I growled as I thought of the folder of mine that contained her birth certificate, the folder Sabine had.
The room had cleared out, and I decided to head to my hotel. The night was still early, so a stiff drink would be great. I’d been drinking club sodas, since I wasn’t a fan of champagne.
An hour later, I pulled up to the valet at the hotel. It had taken me several minutes to clear my windshield, but I’d spent the bigger chunk of that hour in conversation with Janet, who’d asked if Fran could spend spring break at her Cape Cod summer home with Nora next week. I trusted Janet, and I needed to loosen the apron strings. Arturo wasn’t a threat, although I would prefer it if Fran spent that week with me. Still, before I agreed, I wanted to talk to Fran about it at breakfast to make sure she wouldn’t rather hang out at my new place in Boston.
After handing the keys to the valet, I walked into the hotel and faltered a step. Grace was in the lounge area, sitting on a couch with her phone to her ear. I’d never been more relieved to see her and that she hadn’t driven to Boston in the snowstorm.
I headed in her direction, my gaze riveted on her. She had one leg crossed over the other, and with the slit in her dress, she was showing skin. Instantly, my thoughts went straight to ripping that garment off her, tangling my hands in her long hair, and licking every inch of her body—until I noticed the panic in her eyes.
What was wrong now? Had something happened to her dorm mate Andie again? Duke?
As if she knew what I was thinking, she cupped the phone. “Everything is fine. I’ll explain in a minute.”
I wasn’t sure how much my heart could take tonight. One minute I was on a high, and the next I wanted to strangle an innocent boy for liking my daughter, and then Grace had me in knots in more ways than one.
“I’ll be in the bar.” I stabbed a finger at the entrance.
She gave me a nod.
The bartender, gray-haired with a goatee, slid a napkin in front me as I sat down at the bar. “What will it be?”
“Bourbon neat. Buffalo Trace, if you have it.”
“We do.” He made quick work of serving me.
My cell vibrated in my suit jacket pocket. I groaned, seeing Arturo’s name.
His text: Any luck talking to the gangs?
Me: Chris Vargas is asking around. He’ll call me as soon as he finds something. We’ll be in touch.
Arturo: I have a suspicion about who stole my shipment. I’m hoping the gangs can confirm it.
Me: You know it’s inside your organization.
In my experience, it was either a mole working for a competitor or some brave asshole who prayed for death. Because whoever it was, Arturo would kill him.
I waited for a response, but none came, which was fine. I didn’t want to deal with him. I was dying to know what Grace was up to. I didn’t have to wait long for her to join me.
Grace huffed as she hung her coat on the back of the barstool next to me. “I’m sorry. I saw your text but didn’t listen to your voicemail. I was too busy trying to find a hotel room. I struck out. So I have to drive home tonight.”
“No, you’re not. The roads are shit tonight.”
She frowned. “Yeah, and there’s not a hotel room available in town or anywhere nearby. I should’ve booked a room before I left Boston. But I planned on returning tonight, since the banquet was only two hours long.”
“Stay with me.” The words came out before I could think. The two of us in a hotel room was asking for trouble.
She gave me one of her ball-squeezing smiles. “What? No. Maybe I can stay with Fran in her dorm room.”
My gaze roamed her rosy cheeks, heart-squeezing brown eyes, and lips that were tempting me to kiss her right there in the bar. “Fran and Nora have a small room with twin beds. I have a suite. You can take the bed, and I’ll take the couch.”
Not the best idea, given that I was a second away from not being that gentleman I wanted to be, especially with how my damn body was going haywire as I looked at her in that tight-fitting dress.
Grace curled her hair around her ear. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Honestly, the way you look in that dress, probably not.” I chuckled nervously. “But we’re two grown adults.”
“Who are restraining from ripping each other’s clothes off?”
I smirked. “True, but I am not making a play until I talk to your brother. As I said, we do this right.” The sex would be off the charts—that much I was certain of—but I wanted more than just sex with her.
“Fine, I don’t want to drive home, and I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. I could use a hot shower and a warm bed.”
I gave her one of the two room keys I had in my suit pocket. “Why don’t you go up and settle in? Room 426. I have phone calls to make.”
I needed to call Detective Stuart to see if he’d gotten his hands on my folder. If not, I needed to book a flight to Nashville. In the meantime, I could use another glass of bourbon or two. I would need all that liquor to help me pass out so I would keep my hands off Grace. As much as I wanted to be a gentleman, I knew that everyone had a breaking point—including me.