He wasn’t in Yachats anymore.
And yet, he should feel comfortable. He should feel at home. But he didn’t. He thought of Hannah. Glanced at his watch and knew she was getting ready for the event. Knew she hated him by now. Or maybe she didn’t care. Either way, it wouldn’t be long before she realized what Grant had done regarding the bar. He’d meant it when he’d said she should have everything she wanted in life. Even if it broke his chest in half that he wasn’t one of them.
She might not want him, but he trusted her. So much that he’d stake everything he had on it. Risk everything.
Then why the fuck are you sitting here instead of being with Hannah?
He glanced at the twelve board members around the table. He had come back for this. Walked out on her, to sit here with a dozen old men waiting to vote on who got to run this company. All he wanted was be back with Hannah. In her little house. Maybe working with Cal on his business. Opening his own investing firm on that little Main Street.
All of those ideas were ridiculous. Because Hannah didn’t want him.
His father always told him that a good businessman knew when to cut his losses. Too bad Grant’s entire stomach was aching at the fact that he’d left his wife. They were over. And they’d never had a chance. She was right. Whatever they saw in each other had been impulsive.
So why did he want to get the hell out of there and find the next plane to Oregon?
“Let it be noted in the minutes that Laythem Inc. is set to vote on a proposal for a change in CEO,” seventy-year-old, white-haired Gary said.
Grant sat forward in his chair. He was a member of his own damn board, which meant he had a say, and thank God his mother wasn’t there. Though she was likely lurking somewhere around the skyscraper waiting for word on if she was going to inherit a huge company.
“Shall we take a vote on the matter of Grant Laythem remaining CEO of Laythem Inc.?” Gary initiated and looked around at everyone ready to cast their hand for or against Grant in keeping his father’s company.
Grant finally exited the conference room, rubbing his temples between his thumb and middle finger.
“Grant?” Harvey called, hustling up to him. “We need to talk. There’s a situation.”
“Seriously, Harvey, I can’t right now. I’ve been in that damn meeting for over three hours, I’m hungry, and I need a minute to process everything.” Grant picked up his pace, hoping Harvey would get the hint, and headed to his office down the hall. He was reeling from the stress of the last few hours and hadn’t realized he’d literally sat on the edge of his seat for damn near the entire thing.
“But, Grant, there’s—”
“Seriously, Harvey, I can’t take on more drama until I decompress.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he rounded the corner to his office and heard someone yelling.
“I don’t give a good goddamn if he’s in a meeting. I said I’d wait. And I’m waiting.”
He recognized that voice. That vicious, sexy, stubborn voice.
He walked into his office sitting area to see poor Sarah, his assistant, trying to kick Hannah out.
“Hannah,” Grant breathed, taking in the sight of her. She was in ripped jeans and a T-shirt, and her hair was messy, like she’d been on a plane for five hours. Which clearly she had been, since she was standing in front of him.
Her blue eyes turned to lasers. “You,” she said and stomped toward him. “You have no right to give me all of your shit. I was just telling Harvey that and he ran off—” She glared at Harvey, who was now hiding behind Grant.
Grant chuckled. God, he’d missed her and her sass. The woman could take care of herself. He had no doubt. But she also made everyone pay for undermining her. He had to be careful how he played this, though. She was here, in New York, to see him. He couldn’t falter or give in. He had to feel her out. It had broken his heart once when she’d told him no—he couldn’t bear to hear it again. So he had to stay calm, cool, and collected.
“Why don’t we take this in my office?” Grant said and showed her to the adjoining door. “Sarah, hold my calls.”
He walked her into his office and unbuttoned his jacket as he sat behind his desk and grabbed a bottle of Jack and two tumblers from the bottom drawer.
He poured the liquor and slid her a glass. She just walked up to the desk, placed her hands on it, and leaned toward him.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked him harshly.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. Playing the part of calm and cool was tough, since her mouth looked so damn kissable.
Focus, Grant.
“I’m here because six months ago you rode in on a boat to fuck with my life, then two weeks ago you rode in on a plane to fuck with my life. Now I’m just waiting for you to book a train ticket and really round out your mission of messing with me through all modes of transportation.”
He grinned. “Well, I’m very well versed in travel methods.”