“They are either still at university or working or just off. There’s a ton of art events in southern Europe right now, so a lot of them are over there. Everyone usually comes back for the summer. We’ll probably spend some time on Martha’s Vineyard. They’ll fly in for a few weeks to spend time with family.”
When the match was finally called, Nancy waved them down. “Come take a picture.”
Grant set the picnic hamper down and followed a wobbly Kate to the podium where the players and the press milled around.
“Kate Thurlow!” a rich baritone voice said.
Grant watched as a handsome man in a polo uniform strode over to Kate, picked her up, twirled her around, and then kissed her. Grant felt his lips curl back. He had his gun in a holster on the small of his back, and he resisted the urge to grab it and shoot the man in the head. Kate giggled and blushed as she tried to wriggle out of the polo player’s grasp.
“We were so good together, Kate. Come with me. I’m going to Monaco to play,” he said with a thick South American accent.
“I can’t—”
“Who the hell are you?” Grant interrupted.
“Goodness,” said Kate’s grandmother, fanning herself.
“I’m the man she’s going to marry,” the polo player said with a mischievous grin.
“The hell you are!” Grant snarled.
Kate finally pushed the man off of her.
“Fernando’s just being dramatic. He’s from Argentina. He can’t help himself,” she told Grant.
Grant was tired of these men Kate had a history with popping out of the woodwork, and he decided then and there that if this rich Argentinian said anything to him about being a conquistador or a murderer, he would break his jaw.
“Fernando, this is Grant, Mr. Holbrook’s—my boss’s—son.”
Fernando held out a hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Grant shook it but did not return the smile.
“Kate and I are very good friends,” Fernando stated. “I believe we will be seeing quite a lot of each other, Mr. Holbrook.”
Not if Grant had anything to say about it.
“Come in for a picture,” Nancy called to them. They crowded in front of the camera.
“Smile!” Nancy said.
Grant scowled. “Let’s go,” he said.
“But I need to talk to—”
“I don’t care. We’re leaving. Get in the car.”
He snatched up the picnic hamper and Gus and stalked off, the two women following behind him. He loaded up the car, and Kate and her grandmother climbed in, and they set off.
The sky was overcast, the setting sun giving the clouds a faint glow. Kate chewed on her lip and stared out the window. Her grandmother snored softly in the back seat.
“Stop crying!” he yelled at Kate as she sniffled next to him.
“Why are you so mean to me?” she sobbed.
Grant was at the end of his patience, and he was feeling hurt.
He snapped at her, “Are there any other men you’ve slept with that I should be aware of?”
