Chapter Four
For the umpteenth time Stacey glanced at her phone. Where was Grant? She frowned. A better question was why was she concerned? The guy was always late to Therapy Tuesday. This shouldn’t feel any different.
She sipped from the Chinese teacup and glanced outside the restaurant window. This late in the afternoon, a blanket of crisp, chilled air had replaced the pockets of sunshine, and the fact summer was almost here was the only reason butterflies had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach. That’s all it was.
In the distance, the top of Chinaman Hat was shrouded in the glow of the setting sun. Rays of light bounced off the mountain’s slightly rounded peak. Maybe her offering hadn’t helped with the Leo situation, but surely it’d work eventually? It had worked for Aidan Ross, Grant’s foster brother, and it’d worked for her sister, Carly, too. Both examples added to the claims of others in the area who’d sworn they, too, had found their one true love.
She might still be waiting, but there had to be something to it.
Grant slid into the seat across from her and reached for her hand. “Sorry I’m late.”
How come she never noticed how hot he looked when he smiled? Or how good his hand felt on hers when he squeezed it in greeting? He’d done it countless times before, only this time her heart hammered and she was left fighting like hell to bring it under control.
“You say that like it’s the first time instead of a weekly thing.” Thank God her voice was steady. Carefully, she set her cup down and reached for the teapot.
“Hey, Therapy Tuesday’s supposed to be laid-back,” he protested as she poured his tea. “This is cheaper than real therapy, remember? Besides, when have I ever not shown up?”
Steam wafted out of his cup. “Yeah, yeah.” She pushed it toward him and set the teapot down. “Lucky for you this isn’t an official therapy session. I’d be charging you extra for being late all the time.”
He snorted. “Like you haven’t kept me hanging, too.”
“Oh, please. I’ve rearranged my work schedule to be here every week.”
Their weekly dinner at The Chinese Stop was their answer to long workdays and bad dates. It was a chance to touch base with each other, and, honestly, was something Stacey looked forward to. Sometimes they’d even head back to her place for a movie, complete with popcorn and a bowl of miniature candy bars.
Her cheeks flamed at the memory of the last time Grant was in her bed, at the way she’d kissed him, straddled him, all set to…
Yeah, a movie was probably not something she should plan on tonight. In fact, they should probably stay away from her bed altogether. At least for a little while.
Stacey tapped her open menu, determined to bring their friendship back onto firmer ground. “Are you going for the duck or the special? Mei-Ling swears the special tonight is particularly good.”
Right on cue, the Chinese hostess appeared at their table. “She right,” she said, lifting her chin in Stacey’s direction. “The special is good.”
Grant looked dubious. “Can’t you give us a hint? One tiny hint?”
“No.” Mei-Ling clucked as she wiped at a spot on the dark table. The dragon-shaped ornamental pin at the top of her perfectly coiffed hair shone in the shaft of afternoon light. “You know my son. He say special just that. Special. He make whatever he want when someone order. You order before. It’s good.” She nodded her head as if willing Grant to admit it was good.
“It was, but I don’t know. I’ve had enough adventure this week,” he muttered, reaching for the battered menu off to one side.
“I can relate.” Stacey had definitely had a bunch of memories in the surprise column the past few days, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t up for a couple more. “But I’ll take the special.” She stared at Grant. “And if you’re good, I’ll give you a bite.”
“I’ll end up with half of it, anyway. Same as always.”
“You aren’t complaining, are you?”
“Of course not.” He looked a tad offended.
“Didn’t think so.”
“I’ll take the number five combination,” he said, closing the menu.
Mei-Ling chuckled. “When you two gonna marry?”
Stacey nearly choked. To cover her reaction, she grabbed her cup and took a sip, the tea burning its way down her throat.
“Well,” Grant drawled. “I imagine that Stacey will get married when she finds ‘the one.’”
“Hey.” She frowned as she cradled the teacup in her hands. “There’s nothing wrong with searching for the right guy.”
“There is if it means dating idiots like Cleo.”
“Leo.”
“Whatever.” Grant went back to studying the menu like he hadn’t already ordered.
Stacey shot the hostess a small smile. “And I imagine Grant’s never gonna tie himself to a woman.” For more reasons than one, but she decided to keep it light. “You never know when one will expect him to at least know how to boil water. Which, come to think of it, is most women. Judging from his cooking skills so far, he’s not going to find anyone anytime soon.”
“Oh yeah? Dennis teach you.” Mei-Ling pointed across the crowded restaurant toward the kitchen. “He very good.”
Grant smiled and leaned forward, capturing Stacey’s gaze. “You can’t cook, either. Maybe that’s why you haven’t found him yet.”
“I can, too.” She straightened in her seat. “I just don’t do it a lot.”
“Whatever.” He raised his head and waggled his brows at the older woman. “But if I learned how to cook, or heaven forbid, found a woman to cook for me, I wouldn’t come here very much, and that means I wouldn’t get to see you, Mei-Ling.”
Stacey rolled her eyes and held up a hand to shield her face from him. “Not gonna happen,” she said to the older woman in a stage whisper, pointing in his direction with her free hand. “Commitment issues.”
Mei-Ling laughed, the sound pure and strong even in the noise surrounding them. “Like you two already married.” She shook her head and walked away, her thin frame belying the strength that emanated from her. “I get this going for you,” she said over one shoulder. “You relax.”
The satisfaction Stacey felt soon disappeared when she caught the sexy half smile on Grant’s face. A thrill shot through her and she breathed in deeply, biting down on her lower lip.
Relax.
Right.
…
When was he going to settle down?
Before the other night, with Stacey, it’d have been an emphatic never. Now…
Grant frowned. What the hell was he thinking? It was still a never.
He glanced at his best friend as she stared out the window and sipped her tea. The woman might be petite, but she had balls of steel and didn’t mind taking on people and situations way bigger than she was. She was also obstinate about finding some perfect guy, a fact that annoyed the hell out of him. That kind of love wasn’t realistic or guaranteed, so why bust your ass trying to find something that might not exist?
The hell of it was, as much as she obsessed over finding “the one,” he wouldn’t change a damn thing about her. No, as far as he was concerned, Stacey was perfect.
His attention was drawn to her hands when she set her teacup down. Even now he remembered the way they skimmed over his body the other night… He gave himself a mental shake. Why relive something that’d only torture his dick?
“Julian wants a dinner at Chinaman Hat,” she said absently. “Soon, he said. I wonder if it’ll be too cold for him?”
“Let me guess,” he said smoothly. “Julian’s your new boyfriend.” The words came out easily, but felt…wrong. He frowned. Wrong because she’d just broken up with Cleo/Leo the other night. Otherwise, he didn’t give a rip as long as she was happy. He smothered the taunting voice in his head that insisted the whole thing was a load of bull.
“Unless you think I’m desperate enough to pursue a nearly octogenarian who, by the way, has been happily married for sixty years, then sure.” The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, and he couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away. She had full lips, pouty lips, and damn if he didn’t want another taste. “But, sadly, I don’t think Julian would trade Martha for someone like me.”
He sucked in a deep breath and forced his brain into gear. “Sixty years? Do people really still stay together that long?”
“They’re living proof. Anyway, Julian’s one of my best clients.” She leaned forward, her eyes lighting up. “He’s been with me since I quit my waitress job at the resort last year, and he’s been pimping Dinners for Two to everyone he knows. He’s better than any ad I could place.”
Dinners for Two. He understood the concept behind it—putting together romantic dinners for guys who didn’t have a clue how to impress a woman on their own—he just didn’t get why. What kind of guy made such a big fuss over planning a simple meal? Grant preferred throwing a couple of steaks on the grill or ordering takeout. Both were easy to execute, and both tasted pretty good.
Still, he nodded but said nothing. That was the beauty of their relationship. He didn’t have to make small talk, didn’t have to fill voids in conversation with her. She made everything easy. And he’d fight damn hard to make sure none of that changed.
“He sent a text just before you got here. He wants to meet to discuss the next few dinners, but he wants the very next one at Chinaman Hat.” She sighed, the sound soft and wistful and very feminine. “So romantic.”
He narrowed his gaze. “I never could understand why people consider it romantic. It’s a hunk of rock. Great for climbing, hiking, and biking, sure. But romantic?”
“It’s the story behind it, silly.”
He shook his head. “Some mythical Chinese dude treks over the Pacific Ocean, settles here, and falls in love with a local. Refuses to go back to China and tells his dad that he’d just as soon stay here as a rock than leave the woman behind. Then poof, he ends up a rock.” He snorted. “Who’s dumb enough to believe that a guy’d do that? Let alone the whole rock thing.”
“Apparently, not you.” She sat up and pierced him with a hard stare.
“You’re such a dreamer.”
“I’m a romantic. I believe in two people finding happiness in each other.”
“Is that why you focus so much energy on finding your prince charming? Why you read all those relationship blogs and watch YouTube videos?” He’d never thought about it before, but now he was curious. “Because that’s the only way for you to be happy?”
“I never said it was the only way.” She bit her lower lip, a sure sign that the cogs were turning in her brain, and her face took on a dreamy look as she stared off in the distance. “But finding the right guy to spend my life with…it’s something I’ve always wanted for myself, something deep and meaningful that’d make life larger and brighter and fulfilling. You know, like what happens on the Hallmark Channel movies.”
Holy fuck, she was serious. “That’s a lot of pressure to hang on one guy. Kind of stifling, really.”
She blew out a breath and frowned. “What’s so wrong about finding someone you just click with?”
“Not a damn thing.” He wanted to point out that the two of them clicked, that they had something deep and meaningful, but something stopped him. The last thing he wanted to do was lead her on. That’d make him the worst kind of jerk, not to mention ruin something he considered pretty damned amazing.
He stared at her over the rim of his teacup, and by the time he set it down, he knew he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. It’d probably cost him, but what the hell? “You have your act together better than a lot of women I know. You don’t need to find some guy to make you what you already are—perfect.”
She blinked at him. “Um, wow. Thanks, Grant.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You two still fighting?” Mei-Ling set a couple of steaming plates in front of them. “You marry, I tell you.”
Grant shook himself out of the soft way Stacey was looking at him and waved Me-Ling off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll marry her when fortune cookies grow on trees.”
“You wanna tree? Dennis could make. He make all the fortune cookies here, too. He hang from tree.” She made a motion with both hands, showing a cookie hanging from a branch, by the looks of it.
Stacey’s eyes lingered on him a moment longer, but then she smiled up at the woman. “His cookies are the best, Mei-Ling,” she said. “I can’t wait to read what words of wisdom he’s got for us today.”
Her smile was radiant, reaching across the table and tugging at Grant’s chest.
He gave himself a mental shake. Radiant? What the fuck was wrong with him?
She inhaled deeply and glanced down at her plate. “This looks great, by the way. I’m glad I ordered it.”
“Trust me,” the older woman said, reaching for the teapot and refilling their cups. “I know what you like.” She set the pot down. “You two, you like each other. You gonna marry.”
Something about the whole exchange settled uneasily on Grant. It was dumb. There wasn’t any doubt that he loved Stacey, would do anything for her. But marriage to anyone? Definitely not until fortune cookies grew on trees.