Chapter Ten
Grant was running down the beach for the fourth time in two days. He needed some way to reset his mind. But with every thump of his feet in the sand, he only thought of Hannah more.
It was clear she was giving him the silent treatment lately. He’d felt it the past few days since the “scuffle at the bar,” as she’d called it.
He’d call it a brawl that got her hurt. And every time he looked at his beautiful wife and saw the light blue bruise lining her cheekbone near her eye, he wanted to kill that drunk. He didn’t give two flying asses that the man hadn’t technically hit her. She had gotten hurt. Put herself between two men in a fucking bar fight!
His mind was screaming at him, and Grant just ran faster. With the way he was feeling, he could be halfway to Washington by now. Staying along the beach and pounding sand until he got this rage out of him.
Faster still. Thinking of all the things he wanted to do to Hannah. He wanted to smack her ass and tell her that she was never to put herself in danger. He wanted to toss her over his shoulder and keep her in bed on the brink of orgasm for a week until she was begging and dying from the torture and agreed to any terms he had.
She was stubborn. And she was trying to buy that bar. But he had thought that after that fight, she’d not want a thing to do with the place. Grant had walked in to escort her home and had never been so terrified in his life. Seeing his petite wife get tossed around, then use a bat to defend herself, had made his heart stop.
He’d never seen a woman look so capable yet so fragile in his entire life.
He didn’t know what the hell to do. He needed her to come to New York with him now. But she was dead set on owning her bar. Maybe once she got that, she could hire a manager and check in on the place once a month. He’d happily fly here with her to do that. So long as it meant she stayed out of harm’s way. He needed to wrap this up, though, because he was done playing. He wanted his wife. Their two weeks had dwindled down to a couple of days and still . . . no sign that she would stay married to him.
He’d made headway, but in the end, he wasn’t sure it was enough to convince her to be with him.
Grant was starting to see the familiar beach that was on the back side of Goonies. He was close to home. Decided he should just run there. Hoping Hannah would finally talk to him. Because he was almost out of time, and he’d taken two steps forward with his wife, and then a step back. He needed to get her to agree, once and for all, that they belonged together. Then he could finally get her to come to New York with him, and she could have her bar from afar. What woman wouldn’t love that option?
He quickened his pace. Running through town, he rounded the corner and saw Hannah’s little place come into view. What he wasn’t ready for was the limousine parked in front of it.
He started to slow, breathing hard and putting his hands on his hips as he walked to the limo. The back passenger window rolled down. A tight blonde bun and pair of oversize Dior sunglasses greeted him.
“You know that the closest airport to this godforsaken place is an hour and a half away?” his mother said. Her lips were tight, painted pink, with wrinkles lining them.
“What are you doing here? How did you even find me?” Grant said, furious and yet not completely surprised. His mother opened her car door, forcing Grant to take several steps back. She looked like she always did. Sharp knee-length skirt and matching blazer with dazzling jewelry. She stepped from the car with entitlement and rigid grace.
“Since you’ve been ignoring my calls, I decided to track you down.” She examined her nails. “And I heard there was an investors’ meeting this weekend. Thought I’d take the chance to see how you intend to spend my money.”
“It’s my money, my company. Dad left it to me.”
“I’m still his legal widow.”
Grant took a deep breath and glanced at the ground. He had to find his calm or he would lose his damn mind.
“You can’t contest the will,” Grant finally said.
“Oh yes, I can,” she said with a happy smile. “And I can even take the company.”
Grant laughed. That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. She could contest the will, fine. Go to trial. Sure. Didn’t mean she’d win. Because the will was not only clear about Grant inheriting the estate, but that Grant got the company, and if anything happened to Grant before he could hand it down to his child, it still had to be a Laythem the company went to.
“I don’t know how much you’re spending on your lawyer, but you can’t get the company. And I’m tired of talking to you about this, Mother.”
“You treat me worse than your father,” she snapped.
“Oh, absolutely I do. Frankly, I’m not sure why he supported you as long as he did, but I won’t do the same.”
Her grin turned sinister. “Well, it will be interesting to see what the board has to say when they vote in a couple days.”
Grant quickly searched his mind. There were no issues to vote on. Nothing on the table.
“Vote?” he asked for clarity.
“Yes. Did you know that the majority of the board at Laythem Incorporated can dictate who is CEO of the company?”
Hot lava fueled only by rage started pumping through his body.
“You cannot get the board to toss me over and elect you CEO.” He enunciated every word carefully, because he’d never been so angry in his entire life.
Those lips that he was certain were cemented into a permanent scowl crooked up at the corners with amusement.
“That’s up to the board. And you’ve been playing house, it would seem.” She tossed a disapproving look over her shoulder and waved at Hannah’s home in dismissal. “Meanwhile, the board is concerned when they don’t hear from their CEO in almost two weeks. I’d say that I don’t have to toss you over. You’re doing a fine job of that on your own, dearest.”
She pinched his cheek, and Grant wondered how the woman who’d given him life was so cold. He was nothing to her. He knew that. She cared about money and power. Honestly, he’d always wondered if she’d gotten pregnant with him just to keep her hooks in his father. His father’s only mistake in life had been falling for the wrong woman.
“I’m gone for a week and a half and you’re threatening a hostile takeover?” he said quietly.
“It’s business, dearest. Which is why I’m here,” she said with a perk in her voice. “I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking to invest in some company around here. A pretty heavy sum.”
“So?”
“So, I was curious what has you looking all the way out here and draining the family trust.”
He wanted to point out the “family trust” was his father’s money and Grant’s. Though Grant was new as CEO, he still made good money, contributed to the business, and had been worth millions on his own before his father’s will. He didn’t owe his mother an explanation about anything. She was sniffing around because she was worried he’d drain the account before she could try to get her talons into it with this contesting-the-will nonsense.
Still, Grant’s money was his, and he sure as hell wanted nothing to do with his mother.
He did, however, want his father’s company and what he’d left him. Not because he was interested in the extra money or power. It was because he wanted to carry on what his father had built. To add to it. Make him proud. And there was no way in hell he’d let his mother ruin all his father’s hard work. She’d sell off the company, bleed it dry, or God knew what. No. He refused to ever let that happen.
“I see your grapevine of spies are still earning their paychecks,” Grant said coldly.
“I hardly need spies when three different millionaires come running to one small town. Wasn’t exactly detective work, dearest.”
Grant took a calming breath, although there was nothing calming about it. His mother had shown up to cause trouble and monitor Grant. Now she knew about the event. He didn’t know if she’d go so far as to show up there, but he wanted her gone. At the end of the day, Grant needed her to accept the situation she was in and move on. She had enough money to live on comfortably, but still no technical job, other than a taste for making his life miserable, and Grant had everything to gain.
“I hope you enjoy the Pacific Northwest. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said and started to walk toward the front door when he heard a set of car tires come to a stop in front of the house. He turned and found Hannah getting out of her little car with a bag of groceries in hand.
“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at his mother, who was still in front of her monstrosity of a limo, taking up the entire driveway.
“I highly doubt it, my dear,” she said to Hannah.
Hannah frowned, and Grant hustled back to try to head her off.
“Well, this is my driveway you’re parked in,” Hannah said, walking up.
His mother had that condescending grin again. “Ah, now I see what you’ve been doing out here,” she said to Grant, just as he reached by Hannah’s side.
He felt rage radiate from Hannah, and Grant couldn’t blame her. Hell, he felt it, too. Instead, Hannah turned to Grant and smiled. “Sweetie, if you want to order bitches to be delivered to the house, make sure they come in their original packaging. I think Amazon Prime throws in that option for free now.”
Grant wanted to laugh and high-five his wife all at the same time. No one ever spoke to his mother that way, and he liked Hannah’s sass coming out. Also nice to know it wasn’t reserved for just him.
“Oh, she’s a foul-mouthed one.” His mother spoke like Hannah wasn’t even there, which clearly made the rage boil higher. “Well, take all the time you want in this place. I’ll see to things in New York.”
She turned and went to get back in her limo.
“You know that’ll never happen,” Grant said.
“It already is. Have fun with your mistress.” She gave another dismissive wave.
Hannah hiked the groceries on one hip, and with more anger and pride than he’d ever heard come from her, she said, “I’m not his mistress, I’m his wife.”
That made his mother stop.
Turn.
A look of pure horror washing over her face.
Jesus Christ, what the hell am I doing?
Hannah’s brain was churning out a million emotions a million miles a minute. She’d just gone to get groceries, never expecting there to be a fricking limo in her driveway and to be insulted by Joan Rivers’s long-lost sister.
And she didn’t know what this lady’s deal was, but it was clear Grant didn’t like her, so she’d felt the need to stand up for him. For herself. For them.
The woman was still by her open-door limo, but for the first time, she looked Hannah in the eye.
“Grant wouldn’t be stupid enough to get married,” she said.
“I don’t know who you think you are, or who you actually are, but you’re on my property,” Hannah said. “So you can take your overly diamonded-up ass out of here.”
The woman smiled wide, and it looked evil. The Botox tried to contain it, but she somehow managed to at least muster a grin.
“Why, my dear, I’m Grant’s mother.”
Hannah’s entire heart dropped to her feet. She had no idea what to say or how to even process that this woman was responsible for Grant’s life. She was starting to wonder if this clearly awful woman had something to do with the permanent sadness behind his eyes. The same sadness she knew she had. The kind of sadness that only came from a child of a parent who didn’t love them.
And this she wouldn’t stand for. Not for Grant. He deserved better. He cared, and this woman—his mother—clearly didn’t. She needed to get to the bottom of a few things real quick. Grant had barged into her bar a few days ago and handled things in his way. It was Hannah’s turn to step in now.
She handed Grant the bag of groceries. “Please take these inside.”
“I’m not leaving you out here with her.”
She looked Grant dead in the eye. She needed him to see she could handle herself. She knew they were still not on speaking terms because of the bar fight. But she needed him to believe in her a little bit. She could handle this. She’d been silent in her mind the past few days and trying to figure out what the hell she and Grant were going to do. And if there was any chance of their lives ever merging, she needed to start dealing with the reality of how different their lives were.
She had a drunk slob for a father, and Grant had an evil queen for a mother.
Some fucking fairy tale we’re rocking here.
Grant looked at her for a long, long moment. He took the bag and nodded once. There was a flicker in his expression that told her he understood that she needed to be out here, with his mother, for a moment alone.
She watched him go inside and gently shut the front door.
Hannah returned her attention to his mother.
“What is your name, dear?” she asked in a light tone, as if she hadn’t just insulted the hell out of Hannah a moment ago.
“Hannah Hastings.”
“Well, Miss Hastings. I’m Lillian Laythem. I’m glad to see you didn’t take the name, as that would be quite a burden to carry.”
“Why are you here?” Hannah asked.
“To see my son. He has his hand in a lot of cookie jars, one of which doesn’t belong to him. He’s just like his father that way.”
“What does that even mean?” Hannah asked, trying for cool, wanting information, but also wanting to slap this woman silly.
“You don’t know? Grant’s father passed away recently.”
“Yes, I do know,” Hannah said. She also knew that Grant was still struggling with it. Knew that he didn’t talk about his father much without a lot of pain rising up.
“Well, as the widow, I have a vested interest in seeing to my husband’s estate. Grant is trying to take everything from me.”
“Grant wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh? Because you know him so well? His father was a romantic, too. Fell head over heels for me. Then he grew tired of me and was on to the next woman, the next adventure. And yet, I looked the other way. Stayed his devoted wife while he lived an entirely different life without me.” She paused for a dramatic sigh. “I hope you were wise enough to sign a prenup, because when this fight over my dearly beloved’s estate is settled, Grant is going to come out in the hole. If he doesn’t drag you down with him first.”
She turned to get into her car. “You may want to think about what I’m telling you, dear. The Laythem men are takers. They take your youth, your heart, your money, and try to leave you with nothing.”
She closed the door, and Hannah stood there, having no idea why bile was rising in her throat and she felt the need to retch.
As she watched the limo back out of her driveway and pull away, she wondered how much of what Lillian had just said was applicable to Hannah. Grant had already threatened to take her bar if she hadn’t given him the two weeks of trying to make it work. Was he really just an adrenaline chaser? Only wanting her because she was a challenge?
No . . . she didn’t think so. She thought back to the way he held her, the way he fought for her, the way he owned her . . .
But she liked that. Asked for that.
She shook her head. She didn’t know what to think. She did know that people weren’t always what they seemed. She just needed to know if it was Grant or Lillian who had the false front.
She walked inside and found Grant with his palms on the edge of the table, leaning over it. He was sweaty from what looked like a run, his T-shirt clinging to his muscles, and black shorts showing off his tan, toned calves.
“Hannah, are you okay?” he said, walking toward her.
He hugged her and then set her away to look her in the eyes.
“I’m fine. What, did you think she’d hit me or something?”
“No, she has a way of spinning lies to make people feel like shit.”
She looked at Grant. At her husband. The man she’d said yes to after two weeks, and she wondered how she’d got in this mess. How she felt like she knew him so well, yet maybe didn’t.
No, she did. She had to. Because if there was one thing she trusted, it was her gut. And deep down she knew Grant was a good man. He wouldn’t lie to her, take everything from her. He wouldn’t.
“She talked about your dad,” Hannah started slowly. Grant’s face twisted from anger to sadness, back to anger. It was clear how much he loved his father and how much pain he was still in from the loss. There had been no sign of any emotion other than bitchiness on Lillian’s face.
“I don’t need to know what she said to you about him.” Grant’s dark eyes stared straight through her own and into her soul. “The only thing that is important to me is that you know he was a good man. The only mistake he ever made was loving her. She took everything from him. Even now, she’s still trying to take everything.”
Hannah frowned. Lillian had said exactly the opposite. But she had also said that while being frosted in diamonds like a frickin’ blonde Elizabeth Taylor. Hannah was more and more confident that she knew Grant, and if his mother was a sign of anything, it was what Grant had had to struggle with his whole life. Hannah would never want anyone, especially him, to judge her based on her father. So she wouldn’t do that to him. She’d believe him.
Trust in him.
“I have no doubt your father was a wonderful man.”
Grant nodded once. “Thank you. Did she say anything else? Why she was here?”
“She said she was here to see you. You’re trying to take what’s hers? Something like that.”
Grant breathed deep. “I’m not taking anything from her.”
“I believe you,” Hannah said. And she did. She honestly did. She’d suspected that Grant was well off, and now seeing his mom, that was confirmed. But what she didn’t know were the details. Would he really be in the hole? The term prenup stuck in her mind, and she couldn’t figure out why it refused to unstick. Only one way to get a gauge on this . . .
“She asked if we’d signed a prenup.”
Grant’s eyes darkened, and his expression shifted just enough that she could tell he didn’t like that.
“We don’t need one,” he said shortly.
Hanna’s chest stalled. “How come?”
He cupped her face. “Because I trust you.” He searched her face. “Do you trust me?”
She looked at him. Those deep pools pulling her in. His warm hands, capable yet gentle on her face.
“Yes, I do trust you,” she whispered.
He kissed her softly. “I’m sorry about the other night at the bar.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry, too.”
“I just can’t lose you. The thought of anything happening to you . . .”
“I’m okay,” she said. “This is my life here. You have to trust me that I can handle things.”
“I want you happy. I know you love that bar. I still hate you having to throw yourself into something dangerous.”
She nodded. “I know. And I hate that I feel like I don’t quite know everything there is to know about you.”
The tip of his nose brushed hers, but he didn’t say anything. He just hugged her close, and Hannah let his warmth wrap around her. Her heart recognizing him, needing him. Her mind ticking once more . . .
Maybe we really are too different to ever work.