Grant rubbed his chin, then glanced around the room, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at her. “Well, now it’s turned into an even bigger mess. They’re going to expect you at dinner, and they’re going to expect us to act like a couple.”
“Pfft. Are you kidding? That’s a piece of cake.”
Grant stared down at her. “How is that a piece of cake?”
She leaned forward and straightened his collar, then brushed a lock of hair off his forehead. For some reason, he got a soft look in his eyes, and she felt a shiver of desire race through her. “See? That right there was a total girlfriend move. I just act like you belong to me, and they’ll buy it.”
“I see.” He appeared to think this over for a minute. “I hate to deceive them.”
“I don’t. You want them to stay out of your hair, don’t you? To quit pushing dates on you that you don’t want? Because if you do want them, I’m more than happy to break up with you in the next thirty seconds and you can go to dinner a bachelor.”
“No,” he said thoughtfully. “Your plan could work. I don’t suppose there has to be much kissing. We can just hold hands.”
“Oh, there’ll be kissing,” Brenna said. “You were pretty rusty at it.”
“I was not.”
“You were. And they’re not going to find it believable if we’re not all kissy on each other.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him.
He looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprang another head. “And you’re okay with kissing me?”
She snorted. “It’s just kissing, Grant. It’s not a marriage license. Don’t you ever kiss people you don’t give a shit about?”
“Of course not.”
“Oh.” Well, it seemed like they were two different creatures, then. “Huh.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I’m your assistant. I’ll just think of it as assisting you.”
He considered her for a long moment, and then sighed. “You’ll have to change for dinner.”
She gave him a mock-lascivious look and ran her hands down her front, over her br**sts. “Want me to wear something slutty?”
The look he gave her could have peeled paint. “No.”
• • •
Grant paced in the living room of the main lodge, his thoughts in turmoil. When he was mulling through a problem, he liked to pace in front of the large stone fireplace. It was the feature he’d liked best about the cabin, and he often walked back and forth in front of it to work through a problem. Exercise always cleared his mind.
Normally it helped. Today? Not so much.
In one afternoon, it seemed that his calm, ordered life had been completely torn open and upheaved.
His family was here. That was a pain in the ass, but an expected one. He enjoyed seeing his sister, Elise. She was quiet, gentle, and wouldn’t probe on painful subjects. She seemed to know instinctively the kind of company he needed and was happy to just be quiet moral support for her brother. Elise wasn’t the problem. It was his parents. Or rather, his mother, since his father tended to give in to everything his mother wanted. Justine Markham was not used to hearing the word no.
She’d flown to his side the moment he’d returned home for Heather’s funeral. She’d been sympathetic and caring and handled all the details while Grant wallowed in his grief. It was only after the first anniversary of Heather’s death had passed that she’d started to press him a bit.
You should date.
You’re too young to be a widower, Grant. Get back out there.
I can introduce you to a few lovely girls, Grant. I just hate to see you so lonely and unhappy.
You’ll want children someday, Grant. I want grandchildren. It’s not going to happen if you keep mourning a woman who’s been dead for years.
His mother’s arguments had gone from sympathetic and understanding to annoyed and frustrated. So he’d been grieving for a while. So what? He’d loved Heather. Why shouldn’t he miss her? Why did his family insist on pushing him toward other women? It wasn’t as if he had a biological clock that was ticking. He wasn’t even thirty yet. Plenty of time to meet someone new and start over again.
People just needed to back the hell off.
Of course, that was what made Brenna’s absurd defense of him so bizarre and out of left field.
He’d been simmering with irritation when his family had started in on their favorite subject, though he hadn’t been surprised that his mother had invited a girl to dinner. He expected that sort of thing from Justine.
But he’d been shocked as hell when Brenna had grabbed him by the collar and kissed him, and then pronounced them as a couple. His parents’ stunned looks of astonishment probably echoed his own, but Brenna had taken her lie and ran with it. She’d been incredibly believable, too, reaching over and playing with his hair as they’d driven back to town, acting affectionate and silly toward him. He imagined that would be how she would act in a relationship normally.
He should have nipped her lie in the bud. He didn’t like deceiving his family. Elise had looked hurt that he’d never mentioned things to her, and his mother had looked briefly furious, then just confused.
And yet for some reason, he didn’t correct Brenna. He’d let the lie stand, let his parents think that they were an item. Why? He had no idea. Brenna’s defense of him had surprised him. And even though it was a ridiculous concept, she had a point. If they pretended to have a relationship, his parents would back off their continual persistent attempts to find him a new wife.
It was just surprising that this had come from Brenna, of all people. Annoying, careless, rebel without a cause Brenna. The perpetual thorn in his side. The worst employee ever. The most infuriating and useless woman he’d ever known.
The only one who had come to his defense this afternoon.
He should point out to his parents that it was just a joke. That he wasn’t dating Brenna at all and that she would be the last person he’d date, with her purple hair and loud ways and her complete lack of respect for him. He’d just bring it up casually before dinner and send Brenna on her way. She wouldn’t be hurt in the slightest. She had an iron hide when it came to him. They bickered at each other all day long at work.
Grant adjusted the collar of his shirt, frowning. He’d changed into a jacketed suit that wasn’t too formal, but his parents didn’t care for casual dining. He hoped Brenna realized that. With a grimace, he realized he probably should have given her more instructions on what to wear.