Claire grinned. “I’d been working on it since the moment we met. But apparently it took being locked up in the middle of a blizzard to get him to listen long enough to hear that he’s all I want.”
Grady grabbed the pot from the kitchen and returned to pour a round for the table. “I tried to warn you, I’m terrible at relationships.”
“He’s not wrong. Poor guy’s had his heart broken more than his fair share,” Freya said.
Leaned back in his chair, Grady held his stomach and groaned. “Thanks for letting us crash here. Even if we could make it all the way to the house, I don’t think I could handle it right now.”
“I promised Ryder I would pretend we were still engaged until after the gala. In return, he helped me to get the job at Parson’s.”
Asher glanced at Sophie, his eyebrows raising a question in a secret lover’s code. Smiling sympathetically, she nodded, and Asher said, “You’re both welcome to stay here as long as you need. We can pretend the roads are impassable for at least another few days and skip the damn gala if you want.”
Sophie jabbed her finger into his ribs. “You just want to skip the gala. I want to see you in a tux again.”
He grimaced. “I would kill to skip Patricia’s party to celebrate herself. But if Grady wants us there, I will go.”
“Seriously, I know you wanted to give us space, but please, both of you, do you want to move in here for a month or two while you find a place? Or two places, whatever you decide, but at least to getbothof you out of Mallory Manor?” Sophie dropped her eyebrows and smiled.
Claire threw her head back in laughter, slapping her knee in enjoyment. “I call it Mallory Mansion.”
With a shrug, Grady nodded. “I call it Patricia’s Vanity.” He looked to Claire, and her eyebrows raised. The corner of his mouth turned up in question, like the exchange Asher and Sophie had shared. The simple, familiar gesture stirred a tendril of heat that ran through his veins like a shot of smooth tequila.
Still holding his gaze, Claire grinned. “Yes, please. If you’re sure you don’t mind. I have to go back to Phoenix to pack, and then I start work in six weeks.”
Suddenly shy, Grady felt a bubble of anxiety in his gut. “Want some company? If you have much stuff, we could drive it up. Make a vacation out of it.”
“I’d like that.”
A frown lowering his brow, Asher looked out at the snow-covered front yard. “Grady, while you’re on such a roll, proving to be a normal, decent human being, and therefore not what your mother had hoped for you, while stealing your brother’s fiancée, pretty much fucking up your parent’s gala anyway, are you going to quit your job?”
“What? No. I can’t—”
“You can’t keep doing what you’re doing. It’s sucking the life out of you.”
“Lincoln—” Grady tried to reference his business partner.
Sophie interjected, “Lincoln loves his job. He’s resilient and clever. He’ll be fine without you. No offense.”
“Do you know how much my parents invested in my law degree? How much blood, sweat, tears, and timeIinvested?” Grady leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his damp hair.
Zane shrugged, rising from his chair. “Did I mention my architecture degree? Twelve years in the Navy? And now I brew beer. Things change.” He poured a warmup and leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping the boiling hot liquid with a satisfied grimace.
Freya hopped to her feet and nodded to Claire. “Come on, let’s raid Sophie’s closet.”
Brow scrunched, Claire sported a puzzled grin. “Um, okay.”
Sophie shrugged as she said, “It’s a thing.”
Asher stacked the licked-clean plates from the table and set them in the sink. Turning on the faucet, he methodically hand washed the dishes. A month after Asher had returned from the Navy, he’d hardly been able to make much more than toast, having lived in a tiny apartment and eating takeout or galley food. Now, he was cooking breakfast—albeit bacon so crispy it melted in your mouth—and doing dishes. Grady took a lot of credit for that from their time as roommates.
Grady rose from his chair but was dizzy all of a sudden and gripped the kitchen counter to steady himself. “Intervention?”
With a careless shrug that Grady knew was anything but, Zane said, “A tardy one.”
Asher’s mouth turned downward in concern. “It’s scary, fighting for what you want. But maybe it’s time.”
Nodding, Zane moved closer and patted him on the shoulder. “Your family will come around. Or, if they don’t, on the plus side, Patricia may stop talking to you.”
Grady stood upright and pushed down the anxiety, washing it away with a heavy inhale. “That would be amazing. Imagine not having to deal with my mother anymore... Who am I kidding? I’m not that lucky.” Continuing to steady himself with regular influxes of oxygen into his lungs, he paced the kitchen.
