Grant wolfed down his food while he listened to her talk. She seemed as if she was rambling a little bit. He wondered if she regretted their time together the previous night, or all the times before.
“I think after you’re officially out of the Marines,” she continued, “we’ll have a big garden party. It should be warm enough at night by then. Stefan and I have already started planning it; we’ll set the date for a few weeks after you EAS out.”
“Push it back further than you think,” he told her. “The armed forces are notorious for screwing you over and delaying things.”
“Will do,” she said and gave him a mock salute.
Grant couldn’t help himself. He leaned over and kissed her.
“Mm,” she said. “Spicy.”
He laughed, relieved that she still seemed receptive, and finished his meal. He hadn’t felt this happy in forever, he thought. Even if all the stuffy old Connecticut money didn’t like him, so what? He was used to living with less. Maybe he could find a job as a private security officer. He and Kate could rent a small apartment.
“Are you drifting off?” she teased.
“I thought you said I was supposed to be taking it easy,” he said with a half smile.
“Yes, but not like you can lie around and sleep all day. I meant more like gentlemanly leisure. Play a few rounds of golf, do a bit of horseback riding, some tennis, hang out at the club. There’s a charity polo match coming up that we are going to be attending. You’re going to need clothes and a better watch.” She wrinkled her nose at the giant watch on his hand.
“That doesn’t sound like a calming itinerary,” Grant told her.
“It’s better than what we had planned originally,” Kate countered. “Walter had this idea that you would jump into various committees and initiatives at The Holbrook Foundation, and he wanted you to somehow be involved in his company. He was going to put you in international sales.”
“Oof,” Grant said, making a face. “I am not qualified for any of that.”
“Honestly, you probably are,” Kate told him. “The majority of people at that level are fake it-’til-you-make-it borderline sociopaths. Sales is all about learning what people need and finding a way for your product or service to help them achieve their goals. The fact that you don’t think you’re the greatest thing since Facebook means you would probably be pretty good at it. Plus, you’re tall and handsome, and people respect that.”
“Maybe, but still,” Grant said, unconvinced, “I don’t have any international experience.”
“You were in the military, and you worked with US coalition forces. You also speak Spanish and some French,” she reminded him.
Grant grimaced and said, “Only conversationally, and only because there are so many first-generation immigrants in the forces. You sort of just pick it up.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Kate said. “And don’t worry about that for now. Calm and relaxing.”
“But the wealthy-people version,” Grant said.
“Exactly!” she replied with a wink. “Let’s go. We need to at least order you some better clothes.”
“What’s wrong with these?” Grant asked as he got up to follow her.
“The pants don’t fit right. Your thighs are too muscular.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her and said, “They are, are they?”
Kate blushed but continued, “Also, your shoulders are too broad for normal off-the-rack clothes. Large shirts will drape off of you, and clothes that fit at your waist are too tight in the shoulders.” She plucked at the shirt he was wearing. “Doesn’t this pull a bit? It was tailored for your father.”
“He’s about my size,” Grant said, confused.
“He’s been lifting weights recently. He used to be heavily into running and biking, but he gave it up after the fire. Now he does more swimming and weight lifting. He’s bulked up. These are his old clothes that couldn’t really be altered anymore.”
Grant shrugged. “I think it’s fine, really.” As long as he’d known, he never had clothes that fit properly. It was whatever his mother could purchase for cheap at the local thrift store, and in the military, it was whatever was in regulation.
“We’re going to buy you something that fits,” Kate told him as they got into the waiting car and headed into town. After a short drive, the car pulled up in front of a clean, elegant storefront with a mannequin wearing a suit in the window.
She took him into the menswear shop. “Mr. Lee is going to make some shirts and pants for you, as well as a suit and some pants for riding.”
“Don’t I get to choose fabric or anything?” Grant asked.
