Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) (4 page)

“Yes, I paid her in cash.”

“How much did you give her?”

“Six thousand dollars.”

He smacked his palm against his forehead. “When did you pay her?”

“Four days ago. The day I moved in. Why?”

Four days. Damn it. If he’d called ahead, none of this would be happening. If he’d let his family know he was coming home as soon as he’d gotten the invitation from Tyler, this place would’ve been empty and waiting for him. Just him. The sweet brunette and her backpack full of bills would have kept on going instead of moving into his closets and barging into his bathroom. But he hadn’t called. He’d wanted to surprise them, and instead, he was the one surprised, and now he’d be stuck with this woman, because unless things had changed since the last time he talked to Tyler, there was no way in hell his mother would still have that rent money.

“What’s your name again?” He couldn’t remember for the pounding in his skull, and since she was leaning toward this side of hot, thinking of her as The Girl Scout seemed kind of raunchy.

Her hesitation was subtle but her unease was clearly growing. “Elaine Masters. From Miami. So how is it that you own this house but didn’t know your own mother had rented it out?”

“My grandfather died last year and left this place to me, but this is the first chance I’ve had to come home. Work keeps me out of the country most of the time. Last I’d heard, my brother was living here.” He started looking for the bread again, more to give himself something to do. He’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t gazing into those baby blues of hers. And right now he needed to
think
. And pray his mother hadn’t gambled away that money.

“What kind of work?” She stepped forward and opened a cabinet, pointing at the bread.

He took it with a nod of silent thanks as he pulled the loaf from the shelf. “Cinematography.”

She slammed the cabinet door so hard the hinges rattled. “Cinematography? You mean, like, a videographer?”

He hadn’t said arms dealer or evil scientist, but her instant scowl suggested he had. “Yeah, sort of. Ever heard of
One Man, One Planet
?”

“Yes.” Her answer was clipped, her lips pressed into a tight line after she spoke.

He pointed at his chest with his thumb. “Director of photography and coproducer until a few days ago when I quit.”

It felt good to say that. He’d quit. Not because he was running away from the mess of Blake and Miranda, but because he wanted to move forward toward his own plans.

“Do you spend much time in LA?” She sounded more like she was asking if he’d ever been
convicted
, or just arrested.

“Not if I can help it. I don’t like Los Angeles.”

“Why?”

He took two slices of bread from the bag and set them on a plate. “It’s soulless. I spent a lot of time there when I was first starting out but the fake got to me pretty quickly. Glad to put that town in my rearview mirror.”

The wind howled outside, a lonely moan that rattled the windows. A draft from under the door wafted across his bare feet, and he tried to recall the last time he’d been cold. Blake didn’t like to shiver on camera, so they tended to shoot where it was warm, and Grant had forgotten what a winter in Bell Harbor was like. Now he was starting to remember why he’d avoided them.

“So now you’re back in Bell Harbor to do what? Stay? Pass through?”

Clearly his motives were suspect to this woman, but why, he could not imagine. He wasn’t the one traveling around with stacks of cash stuffed into a bag.

“I’m here for a while. Like I said, I just quit my job, so things are a little up in the air for me.” He found the peanut butter in another cabinet and went back to the refrigerator for the jelly. Elaine had retreated to the edge of the kitchen, eyeing him with a new wariness. It made him feel as if he was being unreasonable, and wrong somehow. But this situation wasn’t his fault. Then again, it wasn’t hers either. This problem was Donna’s.

“Look,” he said as he spread some jelly on the bread, “I’m a nice guy, and I’m a tired guy. I’m going to eat this sandwich and go to bed. If you want to spend the night here, that’s fine. Or you can go to a hotel. Either way, I’ll try to get your money back tomorrow. OK?”

He hadn’t counted the stacks in that backpack, but there was certainly enough to keep her comfortable someplace besides his house, still he wasn’t some asshole who’d insist she leave tonight, especially in this brutal weather. He glanced up at her and thought he saw her dash away a tear, but she blinked fast and looked out the window as if evaluating her options.

Under the circumstances, he guessed her distress made sense. That was her money they were talking about. And although
he
knew she was safe from him,
she
didn’t know that. He knew he wouldn’t kick her out with no place to go either, but she didn’t.

A burdensome sense of chivalry overcame him—brought on by his extreme fatigue and hunger, no doubt, because although he
was
a nice guy, he wasn’t
that
nice. He wanted her gone. Still, he had to make the offer. “Not exactly Miami out there, huh? All things considered, I suppose if you want me to stay someplace else, I could. And I guess I should call my mother.”

Chapter 4

“THERE HE IS! OH, CARL,
come and say hello. You remember my oldest son, Grant, of course. And this is Elaine. She’s renting the house.”

It was nearly nine o’clock in the evening when Delaney and Grant arrived at his mother’s house. A couple of black Labrador retrievers bounced around and barked as if they’d never before seen people, and Donna was equally aflutter, her cheeks stained pink as she hugged Grant so enthusiastically his breath came out in an amplified gasp.

“OK, Mom. Glad to see you too,” he said, smiling and patting her on the back as if reminding her to let him go.

Donna’s manatee sweatshirt had been replaced by a peach-colored cardigan that did nothing for her complexion, and Delaney started to mentally
make her over. It was a hazard of her job as a stylist, constantly re-dressing people in her mind. Grant’s mother had been pretty once. Delaney could see that in her delicate bone structure and the color of her eyes. With a just little effort, this landlady might even be attractive.

Delaney could not say the same for the house, however. This place needed a complete overhaul. It was faux–Swiss chalet on the outside, but inside it was Early American tacky. Cheap ginger-colored
paneling, rust-and-avocado plaid upholstery on a gargantuan sofa, and salmon-colored shag carpet, circa 1975. Family photos in mismatched frames hung on every spare inch of wall, and where there were not pictures, there were stuffed and mounted animal heads. Deer, ram
s,
rabbits, and something that looked very much like a garden-variety billy goat.
S
omebody around here liked to shoot stuff. Awesome. If the conversation about her money went south, Delaney just might end up on the wall.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Donna said to Grant. “You could’ve knocked me over with a two-by-four when I heard your voice on the phone!” She tugged his arm, leading them into the lemon-yellow kitchen. A big pine table filled much of the room, and a wilted poinsettia sat in the center. Leftover from Christmas, no doubt, although from the looks of it, Christmas five years earlier.

“We didn’t even know if you’d make it to the wedding,” Donna continued. “Your brother said he’d tried to call you weeks ago but couldn’t get through. Oh, he’ll be so glad to see you.”

Grant looked around the house as if taking in all the knickknackery of his childhood home, and Delaney found herself wondering just how long it had been since he’d been back to Bell Harbor. Judging from his mother’s behavior, it had been quite a while.

“I’ve been pretty deep in the jungle, Mom,” Grant answered. “Not much cell reception when you’re thirty miles from the nearest tower.”

“Oh, yes. Of course. Now let me look at you.” Donna cupped his face with both hands. He was a good head taller so she had to reach up. It was a sweet moment, mother and son, and Delaney felt like an intruder, but Grant had been pretty insistent she come along. Probably so that as soon as she got her money, she’d leave.

“Look at that face,” Donna said, smiling, turning his head one way and then the other. “Oh, my, how I’ve missed that face. Except for the beard, you look just like your father.”

Grant caught her hands with his own and moved them away. Probably because his mother seemed just on the verge of pinching his cheeks. “It’s nice to be home, Mom. You look good.”

“Oh.” She reached up and fluffed her short blonde hair. “You’re sweet. Isn’t he sweet, Carl?”

Delaney turned to find a tall, lanky, white-haired man leaning against the counter, wearing a fuzzy blue bathrobe over black-and-red flannel pajama pants. He lifted a can of soda by way of a greeting. “Nice to see you again, kid. Sure has been a while. Can I interest anyone in a sloe gin fizz?”

“Oh, Carl, don’t be so silly. No one likes those.” Donna waved her hand, shushing him.

He cocked a white eyebrow. “Amaretto sour, then? Phil Collins?”

“It’s a Tom Collins,” Donna said, then turned back to her son and Delaney. “How about coffee?”

Delaney stole a glance at Grant. Was she supposed to stay? Take the money and run? What was the etiquette here? One thing she did know was that she had a deplorable lack of options overall. If the house really belonged to him, the contract she’d signed was null and void. Which was made doubly irrelevant by the fact that she was pretending to be something, and someone, she was not. But the money was legally hers and they were obligated to return it.

“Coffee, sure,” Grant said. He pulled out a scarred wooden chair for Delaney. OK. She was supposed to stay. At least for a while longer.

Donna’s hands smoothed the front of the peach cardigan. “So, I see you two have met, obviously. That must have been a bit . . . interesting.”

“You could say that,” Grant said, sitting down next to Delaney. “Did it occur to you to tell me you were planning to rent my house?”

Donna’s cheeks flushed. “We tried to tell you, honey, but it was so hard to get ahold of you. You could call more often, you know.”

Carl sat down on the other side of Delaney. “Have you ever tried a sloe gin fizz? They’re delicious.”

“Not now, Carl,” Donna said, resting a hand on his shoulder before turning to fuss with the coffee pot. “Anyway, we tried to tell you, Grant, but the point is, you didn’t know. So I guess you’ll have to find another place to stay for a while. Your sisters are coming home for the wedding, and of course my sister Tina will be arriving soon, but I suppose you could sleep on our couch.”

He didn’t look too happy about that suggestion.

Delaney hiccupped.

“Or,” Grant said slowly, “we could give Elaine her rent money back and she can find a different place to live. I’m for that option. So please tell me you still have it.”

His mother seemed very focused on those coffee filters all of a sudden, and a pressure began to build inside Delaney’s lungs, as if she’d lounged for too long inside a steam bath.

“Have what?” Donna asked.

“Her rent money.”

His mother turned around slowly. “Not exactly.”

“What does
not exactly
mean?” he asked.

“It means no. I don’t have it. I spent it.”

The pressure expanded and Delaney’s next hiccup was actually painful. Of course this woman had spent her money. Because why should this current streak of bad luck stop now?

“All of it?” Grant’s voice took on an edge. “You spent six months of rent money in just four days? How? At the casino?”

“No.” Donna looked indignant, then chagrined. “Well, yes. A little of it, but not all of it. There have been wedding expenses, you know. Plus I wanted to get Tyler and Evie something really nice as a gift. Your brother has done so much for Carl and me, you just have no idea. Of course you wouldn’t because you’re never around. But everyone keeps telling me I have to pay for things and not just take them, so this time I used real money. It’s a wonderful present. Tyler and Evie are going to love it.” She took a big breath and plucked a coffee filter from the stack. “But yes, the money is gone.”

Delaney clenched her fists under the table. Gone, gone, gone. The money was gone and so was all her hope for a fast resolution to this latest dilemma. Every dollar she had left was in her backpack, and although it was certainly enough to keep her head above water for a few months or maybe more, being out six grand was a big dent in her finances.

Grant wiped both hands across his face, pressing his fingers against his temples for a full five seconds. Delaney looked at Carl.

He mouthed the words, “Sloe gin fizz?”

She shook her head but wondered if she should say yes. She could use a drink right about now.

Grant let his arms fall to the table with a thump, and he sighed. “OK, Mom. Then we can just return whatever you bought them and get a refund from the store, because Elaine needs her money back. She needs to find another place.”

Yes, she did need to find another place, and she did need that money back. Maybe the paparazzi’s interest in The Scandal would wane soon, but until it did, going home to Beverly Hills was not on Delaney’s list of viable options.

Donna’s face flushed a rosy shade of
I’m in trouble
as she popped the filter into the coffeemaker. “Return the gift? Well, I don’t really expect we can return it.”

A muscle twitched in Grant’s jaw, and his fingers drummed on the table. “Can’t return it? Why? Is it monogrammed?”

“No, but it might be branded.”

“Branded? What the hell did you buy them?”

Donna opened the can of coffee and scooped up some grounds. “A cow.”

Grant’s mouth dropped open in tandem with Delaney’s but he recovered slightly faster while she was still trying to breathe.

“A cow?” he said.

“Yes. A cow.” Donna turned and faced them squarely. “Evie is always talking about how unhealthy meat products are these days, what with all the hormones and bad feed and all that. And my friend, Dody Baker, she said she’d recently bought herself a cow that gets fed only fresh green grass and it gets to live on a farm until its time comes. A happy cow. And I thought, what a nice present.”

“A cow,” said Carl, pulling a cigarette from the pack on the table. “This is news to me. Or should I say
moos
?”

“You take that nasty smoke outside, Carl,” Donna said.

He nodded and lit the cigarette anyway.

Grant leaned forward toward his mother and splayed his hands out on the tabletop. “OK, so how much did the cow cost?”

Donna avoided his stare and put another scoop of coffee in the maker, snapping the lid shut. “Well I couldn’t just buy them the cow without getting them the freezer too. That’s really where the money went. In the freezer.”

“That’s what I call cold cash,” Carl murmured to no one in particular.

Delaney might have laughed if she hadn’t been so transfixed by the oddity of it all. If anyone needed a reality show, it was these people.

“You bought them a cow and a freezer.” Grant’s voice was flat. He didn’t sound all that shocked, but Delaney thought a slaughtered cow and a freezer to keep it in was quite possibly the grisliest wedding present ever. Maybe it was a Midwestern thing.

“Does Tyler know that’s what you bought them?” Grant continued.

“Of course not. I want it to be a surprise. So don’t you tell him either.” She turned to fill the coffee pot with tap water, talking even as her back was to them. “You know, this is partly your own fault, Grant. The house only belongs to you because your grandfather’s dying wish was that you’d move back home and rejoin this family. But you didn’t do that, did you? No. You just kept gallivanting around the globe and shunning us.”

Grant popped back in his chair as if he’d been cuffed on the chin. His cheeks flushed. At least the little bit Delaney could see above the facial scruff. There were broad currents of family history here, and it piqued her curiosity, but at the moment she was just a spectator.

“I wasn’t gallivanting, Mom. I was working. And I wasn’t shunning anyone either.”

Donna turned back so fast that water splashed from the pot. “The hell you weren’t. You’ve been mad at me ever since the day I married Hank. Don’t think I don’t know that.”

Hank? Who the hell was Hank? Delaney stole another glance at Carl.

He blew smoke from the corner of his mouth without moving his top lip. “Hank, second husband. I’m number three. Third time’s a charm.” He nodded at Delaney, looking for her agreement. She smiled weakly, because really, what else could she do? She shouldn’t be here right now. She had more than enough of her own family drama to contend with. She didn’t need to be a part of this one. She just wanted her money.

Grant sighed beside her. “Mom, this isn’t the time for that discussion. Right now we have to figure out where to get the money to pay back Elaine and get her out of my house.” Grant’s gaze passed from his mother to Carl. “I don’t suppose you have any money?”

Carl shook his head, not looking the least bit concerned. “Nope, sorry, kid, but I’d be happy to make you a beverage. I find that most problems are more easily solved after everyone has enjoyed a cocktail.”

Delaney felt inclined to agree but decided to keep her mouth shut. If only she’d done that with Boyd she wouldn’t be in this mess now.

“Do you have any money, Grant?” Donna stepped forward, ignoring her husband and apparently forgiving her son for the shunning and the gallivanting. She put her hand on Grant’s arm. “Maybe you could pay Elaine and then I could pay you.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have an extra six grand lying around, Mom. Most of my cash is tied up in a work project right now, and until Blake decides to stop being an asshole, I can’t get my hands on any of it. He wants to sue me for breach of contract.”

His mother pulled her hand back and pressed it to her heart, but her sigh wasn’t despondent. It was full of infatuation instead. “Oh, that Blake Rockstone. What a fella.”

“Did you not just hear me say he wants to sue me, Mom? He’s an asshole.”

Delaney had only seen Grant’s TV show once or twice, and she’d thought the host was about as engaging as a Styrofoam cup. He had the same overprocessed quality too. She recognized Botox when she saw it, and he’d had plenty.