I nodded. “Yes. Thank you for the ride Grady. And for the undeserved kindness.”
He grunted in reply, and I made my escape before the man did something crazy like walk me to my door. Thankfully he didn’t do that, but I was more than aware of the car idling in the circular driveway while I searched my clutch for my keys. “Lipstick. Cash. Compact. Breath mints. NO keys.” I went through the purse three more times just to make sure before I returned to Grady’s car. “I don’t have my keys. I’m sorry.”
He sighed and leaned over to push the passenger door open again. “I guess that means you’re bunking with me for the night.”
“What? No! That isn’t necessary. I’m sure they’re on the floor of your bar somewhere.”
“I’m exhausted and my house is that way,” he pointed in the opposite direction of the bar and patted the seat. “My place or nothing Margot.”
I knew he meant what he said, and I didn’t want to repay his kindness by being difficult, so I dropped into the passenger seat and nodded. “Thank you. I feel like I’m saying that to you a lot tonight.”
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Not as much as I thought it would.
Chapter 4
Grady
Margot was inside my home, which was not something I ever thought would happen, but now that she was here and looking around, I braced myself for whatever criticisms she might have. Not that I cared. I found the American farmhouse within days of buying the bar and fell in love with it. After a year of updating the plumbing, heating and light fixtures, it was home. I loved it, and with Carlotta’s help it was nicely decorated in what she called masculine colors. It looked like an adult male lived here, not a bachelor or a college kid.
I set the alarm out of habit, even though it was mostly unnecessary in Carson Creek, and kicked off my boots determined to brush off whatever cutting remark was about to fall from Margot’s lips.
“This place is nice,” she said on a sigh and looked up at the exposed wooden beams. “Very masculine.”
So far, so good. “But?”
She turned to me with a knowing smile. “Could use more personal touches. This could be a model home for the lack of personal details, but it’s nice.”
“I’ll let my decorator know,” I grunted in response, because I was expecting snooty and critical, not complimentary. I smiled at her shocked expression. “Tired?”
“Thirsty.”
I nodded for her to follow me into the kitchen. “Flat or sparkling water?”
“Something stronger.”
I turned from the fridge and watched her as she watched me, a small smile on her lips. “Beer.” I pulled two brown ales from the fridge and set one in front of her frowning face. “It’s beer, or it’s water.”
She eyed the bottle as if it might jump up and bite her, and I reached out to put it back in the fridge. “Wait.” Her hand shot out and grabbed my wrist the same as she had at the bar. “I’m not being critical, but beer has too many calories.”
“A few extra calories won’t kill you Margot. Just walk a few extra steps tomorrow,” I growled and popped the cap on both bottles.
She eyed the bottle carefully and read every word on both sides of the label, still trying to find a way out of drinking it.
“Margot?” She gasped as if startled and looked up at me. “Michael and Adam’s twins are probably really adorable. Probably even have those matching bonnet things with their names on ’em to tell them apart.”
She growled and picked up the bottle, taking two impressive gulps before she slammed it down on the kitchen table with sigh. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“But it did the trick,” I told her and set my beer down and headed back to the living room to grab a bottle of whiskey from the bar. I poured two shots and handed one to her. “Didn’t it?”
“Jerk,” she growled and accepted the shot, which she knocked back impressively. “Yeah, that hit the spot.”
I set the bottle down between us and dropped down into a chair with a grunt. “So Margot, if you want kids, why have you waited so long?”
“You mean my age?”
I shrugged. “No, I mean you’ve been divorced for a while now, so what’s with the wait?”
She contemplated her answer for a long time, and took a long swig of beer. “Honestly? I just didn’t think about doing it on my own, and since I’ve sworn off men I figured that part of my dreams would simply go unfulfilled.”
“You don’t want a man?”
“Not really,” she sighed and then sat up a little taller. “No, I don’t. Michael and I were friends for a long time, and he wasn’t honest with me about who he was. Unlike my other exes, I cherished his friendship, and clearly I misread everything, which is a mistake I refuse to make again.”