That was really a low blow. Outraged, Brenna pushed forward. This was rude and cruel and thoughtless of them. And if someone was going to be thoughtless and obnoxious to Grant, it was going to be her, damn it. She was never cruel, at least.
“Don’t,” Elise told her in a soft voice as Brenna pushed forward. “They always do this.”
“Not today,” Brenna said cheerfully.
She stepped between Grant and his parents. “You can’t invite this chick to dinner tonight.”
“Brenna,” Grant said, now turning the warning voice on her.
Justine regarded Brenna for a long moment as if sizing her up, and then smiled. “I’m afraid it’s too late, my dear. She’s already been invited to dinner.”
“Then uninvite her,” Brenna retorted. “Having her there is rude.”
Elise covered her mouth, her gaze flicking to Justine.
“Uninviting her is even ruder,” Grant’s mother replied, the smile on her face still. Her voice had gone a little brittle, as if remaining polite were testing her patience.
Now Brenna was getting angry. Grant put a hand on her shoulder, trying to pull her backward and separate her from his parents. Why was he defending them when they were harassing him? An idea struck, and she gave Justine a little smile. “I guess this ruins the surprise, then.”
“Surprise?” Reggie asked.
Brenna turned and put her hands on Grant’s collar, tugging him down and kissing him full on the mouth. She turned back to Justine, Reggie, and Elise. “Grant didn’t want to tell you guys until after dinner. He likes to keep people guessing.”
“He does?” Elise asked, clearly shocked as her gaze flipped between Brenna and Grant and then back to Brenna.
She glanced up at Grant, but he was still standing there, his mouth slightly agape, staring down at her. She leaned up and bit his lower lip, tugging on it in a sensual move of ownership. “So shy. It’s adorable.” She looked over at Justine and smiled again, this time a genuine smile since she now had the upper hand. “That’s why you can’t invite this girl. She’s just going to see me and my boo being affectionate all night.”
And just to make her words have punch, Brenna gave Grant a slap on the ass.
• • •
The car ride back to Bluebonnet was rather silent. Only two suitcases were able to be squeezed in the trunk of Brenna’s car, so Elise sat in the middle of the backseat, her legs tucked close, suitcase in her lap. Her parents were sandwiched on each side of her, and all three looked extremely uncomfortable. Brenna was pretty sure they were wishing that they’d rented a car after all.
And no one was talking. Occasionally, someone would bring up a safe conversation subject—the weather, the business, Dane’s engagement, Colt’s shotgun wedding, Bluebonnet—but then the conversation would quickly die again. Brenna suspected that it was partly due to the fact that she kept reaching over and toying with Grant’s hair at the nape of his neck in a possessive gesture.
It really was fun to infuriate people. And today? She’d infuriated a whole car full of people.
Of course, Grant could sell her out with a word and a look. He didn’t have to be part of this charade. The fact that he wasn’t speaking up told her that he liked her plan at some level and was going along with it because it benefited him. It was strange to be on the same side as Grant for a change, but she didn’t like the way his parents had hounded him.
Plus, he wasn’t a bad kisser. It probably would have been better if he’d responded, but his breath had been fresh and sweet, his lips firm, and he was just the right height. She could have done a lot worse for a fake boyfriend.
She drove them to the only bed and breakfast in Bluebonnet—the Peppermint House. Grant said nothing while she let his family out of the backseat, simply grabbing bags and carrying them up the walkway of the red-and-white Victorian.
“We’ll be back to pick you up in a few hours for dinner,” Grant finally told them, kissing his mother and sister on the cheek.
“I have reservations at a nice sushi place in Huntsville,” Justine said. “Is that okay with you and . . .” she trailed off.
“That’s fine with us, Mother.” He gave her a tight smile. “We’ll be back to pick you up at five.”
Grant said nothing to her on the drive back to the Daughtry Ranch, which told her that she was probably in trouble. They pulled into the parking lot of Wilderness Survival Expeditions, gravel crunching underneath them. “Hey, there’s Pop,” she exclaimed cheerfully, then honked her horn at Pop, who was under the hood of Grant’s Audi. She rolled down her window and stuck her head out. “How’s it going, Pop?”
A hand tugged on her arm, dragging her attention back inside. “Turn off the car, Brenna. We need to talk.” Grant’s voice was reserved and utterly polite. It was a sure sign that he was furious at her.
Brenna shrugged and turned off the car, waving at Pop.
Grant moved around the car to her side, grabbed her by the arm, and began to pull her toward the main lodge. Pop looked at them in surprise, and Brenna allowed Grant to drag her into the cabin. Best to have him yell at her without Pop wondering what was going on, at least.
They stormed inside together, Brenna trailing after Grant. As soon as the door was shut, Grant whipped her around, turning her to face him. That made Brenna roll her eyes at all the dramatics. You’d think she’d done something wrong, with the way he was acting.
“Brenna, what the hell were you thinking?” His green eyes were frowning at her through his glasses.
She plucked his fingers off her arm. “Your mom’s kind of a beast, dude.”
“I am not a dude, and she is my mother. Show some respect.”
“I’ll show some respect when they respect you,” Brenna told him. “Inviting some chick out to dinner as soon as they got here? So they can hook you up? That’s just plain rude. They’re not thinking of your feelings. They’re tired of you being in mourning because it harshes their parental buzz or something. It’s awful and they had no right to do that to you.”
He looked surprised at her vehement defense of him.
She was a little surprised at herself, too. Crossing her arms over her chest, she shrugged. “I was just trying to help you out.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’m not used to people defending me.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. “You’re welcome, I guess.”