She thought he’d been checking out that woman? Oh, boy howdy was she wrong, and he told her as much.
Grace wasn’t deterred. “You didn’tnotcheck out her cleavage,” she said. “Which is fine. Boobs are great. But the boobs here are looking for rings and 401ks.”
Boobs are great. What a thing for a stranger to say over breakfast. He took a deep breath. “That’s cynical.”
“That’s me.” She held out her hand. “Let me properly introduce myself. Grace Bennett. Mother of Tegan Bennett, bride-to-be.”
Ah, for fuck’s sake. Frank sighed as he shook her hand, his brain playing catch-up as he quickly re-organized his assumptions about this strange woman. He’d only met Wyatt’s bride-to-be twice, but now he could see the resemblance. “So that’s what this is about? You’re worried the wedding will be awkward because of a bit of a misunderstanding.” And the fact that Frank hadn’t been friendly in the least.
“Yesterday wasn’t my finest hour. And when I realized you must be here because of Wyatt, and we’re going to spending all week together in some capacity…I just wanted to do my part here.”
“No need to apologize. It’s water under the bridge.” Frank picked up his coffee. “So you were roped into this week, too?”
“A gift from my daughter.”
He toasted her with his mug. “A gift from my entire team. A few of them have come here over the last two years, and they thought it was my turn, that I could do with some peace and quiet.”
She laughed. “And then I happened.”
“And then you happened.” The right side of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “You think I need you to run interference for me?”
Her gaze raked over him, shrewd and knowing. “I doubt you need anyone to do anything. But you also seem a bit…this isn’t your scene.”
“You just said it wasn’t yours, either.”
“No, but it’s closer to mine. If I squint, I like a lot about this place.”
He could appreciate that. If he were in a different head space, or here with Bianca, he could probably enjoy it, too. “Don’t let my black mood affect your fun this week, Ms. Bennett.”
She made a face. “Please don’t call me that. I’m Grace. Just Grace.”
“My apologies. Grace, I appreciate your offer. And deflecting the first wave of attacks, as it were. But I’m…” Now it was his turn to pull a weird expression. It reflected the weirdness he felt inside. “I’m a mess. I lost my wife a year ago to cancer, and as you saw last night, I’m not over that.”
“Of course not,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine.”
No, she couldn’t. Nobody could. He nodded gruffly. “So, you can understand why I’m not doing macramé.”
Her lips twisted at how he said it. “Do you even know what it is?”
He was pretty sure it was something knitting-adjacent. Didn’t matter. “It’s something I won’t like.”
“That’s…probably accurate.” Grace took a deep breath, and Frank was almost amused by the restraint she was exhibiting. Officially, he was still grumpy.
Unofficially, he liked the way Grace had decided she was his bodyguard.
He didn’t need protection. But it had also been a solid forty years since anyone had thought he did, and it was oddly endearing. There was something about Grace Bennett, like she might actually be…a friendly face over the next week.
Frank had a lot of acquaintances. He had a couple of blood brothers from service. And he’d had Bianca for thirty years. He hadn’t needed friends, not really.
And now here was this woman. Flighty, emotional, half-cocked in almost everything she did as far as he could tell, but also damn earnest and intent on redeeming herself for behavior that really didn’t need redemption.
He should tell her that. Soon. Right now, she was throwing herself on an emotional grenade for him and he was pretty sure it made her feel better, so he’d let her continue.
“And I’m guessing you don’t want to do kayaking or a picnic for two,” she said.
“Correct on both counts.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, if anyone asks, feel free to throw my name out there as your activity beard. And I guess, uh, well, I’ll see you around.”
She pushed away from the table and headed straight for the door. He watched her go. He didn’t feel anything inside. She thought he’d been checking out that other woman’s breasts? Ha. If he were going to check anything out, it would be the curve of Grace’s bottom in her shorts or the pale stretch of her legs.
But he wasn’t. He was completely disconnected from the part of him that used to appreciate women for their shapes and curves and softness.
He was going back to the cabin to catch up on the much-needed sleep he’d missed out on the night before. And then he had big plans for the rest of the day. A hike, a beer, and a big, shady tree someplace quiet.
