Summer Temptation (Hot in the Hamptons Book 2) (2 page)

He looked up and my heart broke at the sight of tears in his kind gray-blue eyes.

He cleared his throat. “Me? I’m fine.” He tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Just fine.” Then he stared at his drink, lifted it, and took a sip.

Okay then. At least I’d tried.

When the bartender returned with my water and a menu, I gave him a quick, “Thank you,” and went in search of my hamburger options. My mouth watered, remembering the enticing charbroil smell that’d drawn me inside.

The older gentleman spoke. I lifted my head and found him looking at me. “I’m sorry,” I said, closing the menu. “What did you say?”

“Today would have been my fiftieth wedding anniversary.”

Would have been
.

“Proposed to my wife right out there on the porch.” He motioned to the window with his hand.

A beautiful spot overlooking the ocean. So romantic.

“This place has changed owners over the years, but we come back on this date, every year, to celebrate. The kids talked about having a big party…but my Lilly couldn’t hold on. A stroke took her from me. Three months ago.”

Darn strokes. Evil things. My heart ached for his loss as well as for my own. Even though my grandpa had survived
his
stroke, he could no longer communicate or take care of himself. And he no longer recognized his family. In my mind, maybe death would have been easier to deal with. “I’m so sorry.”

“And here I am.” He looked down at his drink. “Didn’t know where else to go.” He lifted his sad eyes to mine. “It seemed like a good idea yesterday, when I made the reservation, but now… I don’t want to be here alone.”

This sweet old man reminded me of my grandpa: same glasses, same white hair, and the same quiet, gentle manner.

Just then the hostess came over, holding a menu. “Mr. Kenzy. Your table is ready.”

“I, uh…” He slid off the chair clumsily, like he’d stiffened up during the time he’d been sitting. I hurried off my own stool to steady him. “I don’t think…” He hesitated.

An idea popped into my head, something that would, perhaps, cheer us both. “Would you give us a moment?” I asked the hostess. At her nod, I turned to my new friend. “I don’t have any pressing plans.” Storme and Kelsey might disagree, but this was something I had to do. “I know it’s forward of me, but I’d be honored to join you for dinner, so you wouldn’t have to eat alone. I’m happy to listen to stories about your wife, if you feel up to sharing them, to celebrate her life and your almost fifty years together. You don’t have to pay for me, I’ll —”

“No plans? You?” He looked me up and down, his expression a total ego boost. “On a Friday night? What is with young men today? A bunch of idiots.” He shook his head in disgust.

I smiled. He was absolutely adorable.

Holding his arm out in front of him, bent at the elbow, same as my grandpa used to do, he said, “My name’s Murphy. Would you care to dine with me on this fine afternoon?”

I slid my hand into the crook of his arm. “I’m Leigh. And I’d be honored.”

Murphy told the hostess, “I’m ready now.” He glanced over at me with a smile. “And it seems my table for one has turned into a table for two.”

“Certainly, sir,” she said with a courteous smile. Then she led us outside to a lovely table on the patio overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.

The food delicious, the company enjoyable, and the view fantastic, the evening ranked up there with the top ten best dinner dates I’d ever had…until a younger, taller, much handsomer version of Murphy approached our table.

And he didn’t look at all happy.

Nick Kenzy

U
n-fucking-believable. After the overwhelmingly shitty day I’d had, plus fighting the late day summer commute, on a Friday no less, to get to my grandfather’s house in the Hamptons – and pounding on the door, almost to the point of panic, before checking the garage to see the car he rarely drove anymore, missing, he’d gone to the restaurant, after I’d specifically told him not to. My heart pounding, a mixture of stress, anger, and relief surging through my veins, I approached his table, recognizing the back of his favorite red sweater vest immediately. It wasn’t until I was a few feet away that I realized he wasn’t alone.

What the hell? I stopped mid-stride, ducking to the side, watching without being seen, unable to believe my tired eyes. Right there in front of me, a mere few feet away, sat my grieving granddad, across from a stunning woman, who looked to be younger than his youngest grandson, which would be me, smiling.

Her light-brownish-reddish hair fell over bare, porcelain-colored shoulders. She wore a simple sundress made of some colorful, shimmery fabric. It didn’t cling to her breasts, didn’t expose her cleavage, yet on her it looked sexy and alluring and…she was on a date with my grandfather, a man at least fifty-years her senior.

Why?

Who was she?

I continued forward, coming to a stop beside him. “Murphy.” I ignored his dinner guest. For now. “I told you to wait for me.” I didn’t like him driving in the summer traffic.

He removed his napkin from his lap and blotted some steak sauce from his lips guiltily, wiping away the evidence. Like I couldn’t tell by what remained on his plate that he’d eaten a steak, even though his doctor had told him no more red meat. “But my reservation was for four o’clock. It’s the only one I could get. You said you couldn’t make it that early.”

Because I had a job; at least, I’d had one during our conversation yesterday. God I needed a drink. “I told you I’d get out here as soon as I could. That we’d go to a different restaurant.”

“But I wanted to come here. We
always
come here. Your grandmother loves this place.”

Loves, present tense, not loved, past tense. Had Murphy lost his mind? “Grandma’s dead.” The fact that she loved this restaurant no longer mattered.

Grandpa’s dinner companion sucked in an affronted breath.

Shit. I must have said that out loud.

While I didn’t know the woman and could have cared less what she thought of me, the hurt in my granddad’s eyes made me apologize. “I’m sorry.” The last thing I wanted to do was hurt his feelings, especially knowing how difficult today must be for him. “I didn’t mean…”

Angry, unfamiliar yet mesmerizing green eyes stared up at me. “Of all the insensitive…”

I stopped listening, her straight white teeth and perfectly shaped pink lips distracting me.

“…should be ashamed of yourself,” she finished up, her voice pleasing, if not for the scolding tone. And that scolding tone rubbed me the wrong way. Who the hell did this stranger think she was? She didn’t know me. Didn’t know the day I’d had. Didn’t know my granddad. Hadn’t been dealing with his broken heart, declining health, and diminishing eyesight, all while trying to keep a demanding job in New York City that comfortably supported us both.

A job I no longer had. I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose to keep my head from exploding. I inhaled, exhaled, and then focused on the stranger judging me. “And who might you be?” I’d tried for a congenial tone. I’d failed.

“This is Leigh,” granddad answered for her, as if the name ‘Leigh’ should mean something to me. As if he’d ever mentioned the name ‘Leigh’ before — he hadn’t, I would have remembered. As if by simply stating her name I would have all of the answers to all of my questions.
Who the hell is she? Why is she here?

“How do you know Leigh?” I asked, seething.

“We met in the bar.”

I watched her, sitting quietly, so beautiful and sexy, like she had every right to be there. Well, she didn’t. Nice clothes. She had money. Perfectly put together in a very appealing package. Then it hit me. I knew exactly who Leigh was, and I wanted to strangle her for preying on a heartbroken, lonely old man.

“Damn it, Murphy.” I felt my tie squeezing my throat, so I yanked it off. “Can’t you see what she is?”

Grandpa looked Leigh over, confused, trying to see what I saw.

“A prostitute,” I said, probably louder than I should have. Someone dropped a piece of silverware on their plate. Someone close by gasped, probably a female, but I couldn’t be certain. Conversation quieted down as people in our general vicinity turned their attention to us.

I didn’t give a crap. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. My head throbbed, my blood pressure had to be approaching stroke range, and I had reached my limit of bullshit for the day.

Granddad shook his head. “No.”

“Why else do you think a young, beautiful woman would pick you up in a bar?” I asked, exhausted and needing to sit down.

Leigh shot to her feet. “Because he looked sad and lonely,” she snapped, balling up her napkin and throwing it down on the table. “Because he told me today would have been his fiftieth wedding anniversary, only his beautiful Lilly couldn’t hold on to celebrate it. I offered to help him celebrate their life together and honor her memory on this very special day because he was here all alone.” She glared at me then, turned, and yanked her purse from the back of her chair. “And because he reminds me of my own grandpa, who I’ve been missing very much.”

She wiped an eye.

Fuck. Me. Either this Leigh was an Academy Award winning actress I’d never heard of, or she was telling the truth.

She reached into her purse, took out her wallet, and threw two twenty-dollar bills down on the table.

“My treat,” Murphy stood and handed her back her money.

She shook her head, refusing to take it.

He shot me his ‘I’ll deal with you later’ look, then pushed me aside so he could draw Leigh into a hug. “I gave you my phone number,” he said, patting her back. “Whenever you’re missing your grandpa, you give me a call, okay?”

She sniffled. “Thank you, Murphy. I will.”

I could almost feel the scorn of people sitting around me for the way I’d misread the situation. That’s it. I was done. Too tired to apologize, too tired to care, too tired to deal with one more fucking thing today, I plopped into my granddad’s chair.

The waiter joined the party. “Is everything okay over here?” he asked, eyeing Leigh like a puppy in love before shooting me a nonverbal ‘You’re an asshole.’

I pointed to granddad’s rock glass. “I’ll have what he’s having. Make it a double. No ice.” And please, don’t spit in it.

Without a glance my way, Leigh gave my granddad a sweet kiss on the cheek, said her goodbye, and left, as beautiful from the back as she was from the front: classy, composed, and too well-mannered to call me a fucking idiot.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” Granddad said, sitting down across from me in the seat Leigh had just vacated, watching me as I watched her leave.

If I’d had the energy, I would have pointed out he never would have spoken like that when grandma was alive. In fact, his use of profanity seemed to be on the upswing lately. Maybe I should mention that to the doctor at his next appointment.

“She’s really something, isn’t she?” he said, his tone softening. “Reminds me of my Lilly when we first met.” His tone took on a dreamy quality, as if remembering the day. Then he smiled. “I can sure pick em’ can’t I? Your granddad’s still got it.”

That smile, again, when I hadn’t seen it in months…and he was smiling because of Leigh.

My drink came and I chugged it down. Then Murphy insisted I eat something before he’d let me drive. While I scarfed down a cheeseburger and fries, he ate a piece of the chocolate layer cake he and grandma used to share on their anniversary while he spoke at length about his earlier dinner companion.

“She’s staying with a friend in Wainscott, over in East Hampton.”

Probably with her boyfriend, who no doubt had more money than I did.

“You owe her an apology, you know.” He used his napkin to wipe some chocolate icing from his upper lip.

Maybe I did. “How do you propose I go about doing that? Do you have her telephone number?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I only gave her mine.”

“Do you know where she’s staying in Wainscott?”

He shook his head again. Then his eyes widened. “But she did mention she and her friends are going to a big bonfire Sunday night.” He smiled. “I bet you could find out where.”