by Mia Sheridan
"Sure." I smiled weakly.
When she left, I sat down on the bed, my eyes narrowed on the ring on my finger. I recalled Diane Fernsby saying she knew Grayson had bought a ring for Vanessa, though he'd never had a chance to propose. I hadn't imagined this ring was an engagement ring because of the unique center stone, but I'd been wrong. "He gave me the ring he’d intended to use to ask her to marry him," I whispered disbelievingly. Anger and hurt lanced down my spine and I twisted the ring until it came off.
"Scaly beast," I murmured halfheartedly under my breath. But, somehow, calling him a name didn't diminish the hurt. Calling him a name didn't repair the tiny fissure in my heart, the one his blindingly beautiful scales had created.
**********
After taking a shower and letting the conversation with Vanessa roll off my shoulders as much as possible, I went downstairs in search of Grayson. We were going to have a sit-down and talk about exactly what I was supposed to be doing in this strange, uncomfortable situation.
I called hello, but when I didn't receive an answer, I walked outside to find Shane tinkering with the fountain. He had a small toolbox on the ground next to him and was leaning all the way over the apparatus in the middle of the empty well. "Hey," I said.
He sat up, smiling at me. "Hey there."
"I was hoping someone would be interested in getting this thing fixed at some point," I said, smiling.
He smiled more broadly. "It seems it just needs a new part. I'll run into town tomorrow and pick it up."
I nodded and there was an awkward silence before we both started laughing softly. He grinned, and I saw so much of Grayson in his smile. He really was a very handsome man—more boyish-looking, whereas Grayson was striking, but just as tall and masculine. "Do you know where Grayson is?" I asked.
His smile faded. "He went into town for dinner."
My heart plummeted. Grayson leaving without a word—leaving me to fend for myself in this awkward situation—only confirmed that I mattered very little to him. "Oh, um, with Vanessa?" I whisper-croaked and then cleared my throat.
Shane shook his head slowly, his eyes focused on my face. "No. Vanessa drove out to see her parents."
I let out a breath. "Oh. Right." I hadn't even thought about Vanessa growing up here, too. My belly clenched when I thought about all the history these three had together. And I wondered where I fit in amongst them, deciding I probably didn't fit in at all. Temporary, Kira. You're temporary.
Shane sat down on the edge of the fountain and nodded his head next to him, silently asking if I'd like to sit, too. He offered me a tentative smile. I walked the few steps and took a seat, turning and facing him. He studied me for a moment, and I blushed under his gaze.
"Can I ask how much you know about the situation with Vanessa, Gray, and me?"
So we were going to cut right to the chase. "Not much," I answered honestly. "Just that Grayson and Vanessa were . . . together, and you and Vanessa got married while he was in prison." I bit at my bottom lip.
Shane pressed his lips together. "And that, naturally, he feels betrayed by us."
I nodded, my eyes trained on his face, trying to read his expression. If I had to assign any name to the emotion that seemed to cross over his features, I'd pick grief. Strange. "Naturally," I murmured.
"There's more to it than that," he said. "I love my brother, Kira."
I nodded and strangely believed him. His expression was so somber and filled with sadness. "Then why?" I asked.
Shane exhaled a deep breath. "I really owe it to Grayson to explain first. I realize we've put you in an awkward situation—and with no warning. I just wanted you to know we've tried everything." He shook his head. "He won't answer letters, won't take phone calls. The only thing we haven't done is strap him to a chair with duct tape and force him to listen to us."
I laughed without much humor. "You might want to consider it. Men in general can be stubborn and prickly—I find The Dragon especially disposed in that direction."
Shane squinted at me, smiling with amusement. "The Dragon? Is that what you call him?"
"Only when he breathes fire and goes flapping around the house."
"Flapping around the house." Shane's grin broadened. "Charlotte said as much, but I could hardly believe it about my serious, detached brother. Then I saw him sliding down the bannister like the child he never was . . ."
"Oh, that? We were just settling a bet."
Shane tilted his head. "I think you're good for him. And I had hoped he would be more willing to listen to us now that he's found happiness with you." Embarrassment gripped me. How would this man feel when he found out the truth? Maybe there was no reason for him to. If Grayson hadn't simply up and left without even saying goodbye to me, I could have asked him. And why had Charlotte set this up? I had thought she wanted to see Gray and me together. I couldn't understand it, and I couldn't help feeling betrayed even though I couldn't figure out exactly why.
"Well, he didn't kick you out anyway, right? That's a start."
Shane smiled. "Yes, that's a start." He stood up, offering me his hand. "Charlotte and Walter are having dinner with friends. She put something in the oven and it's just about time to take it out. Join me for dinner?"
I took his hand and stood up. "Sure."
We went inside and he took Charlotte's stuffed chicken out of the oven and I mixed up a small salad. We sat and ate together as Shane told me about the software business he'd started in San Diego. It sounded like he loved it, and it allowed him to work from home as well.
"So you had no interest in making wine?" I asked, taking a bite of salad.
He shook his head. "No interest and no skill. Computer technology has always been my thing. When my father left me a little chunk of money, I used it to start my own firm."
I nodded. "Well, luckily your brother did want to make wine."
He nodded, but his expression was somber. "Yes, luckily."
I told him a little bit about myself, skirting around the fact that I was estranged from my father—it would only invite questions. Once we'd eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, I told him I was going to head to my room and read since it'd been a long day and I was tired. More truthfully, though, I was nervous he was going to start asking questions about Grayson and me that I wasn't prepared to answer.
After getting ready for bed, I decided to send Grayson a quick text. I had felt like we were building something between us, though I refused to try to define it at this point. Surely he was upset and vulnerable right now with the unexpected arrival of his brother and ex-girlfriend. Perhaps he could use a friend. I grabbed my phone and typed in: Are you okay? —K
I waited several minutes, but when there was no response, I picked up my book and tried to focus on the story I’d been reading. When Grayson still hadn't sent me a message an hour later, I turned off the light and hugged my pillow, closing my eyes and trying desperately to will myself to sleep despite the early hour.
**********
I came awake with a start, the feel of strong arms lifting me out of bed. I struggled, kicking out with my legs and flailing my arms until the person holding me let out a loud, "Oomph," dropping me on the soft bed and coming down next to me. My eyes met Grayson's in the semi-darkness, his expression pained as if I'd made contact with something vulnerable.
"What are you doing?" I hissed, coming up on my knees. I could feel my hair a wild mess all around my face and down my back. He rolled to his side and lay looking up at me, his head on my pillow, his eyes dreamy looking.
"You were supposed to be in my bed tonight," he slurred.
"Your bed?" I asked. "You expected me to . . ." I leaned in, inhaling. "You smell like liquor and cheap perfume." I tried to keep the hurt out of my voice. He was likely too drunk to notice anyway.
Grayson came up on one elbow. "Some blonde was all over me at the bar."
"Oh." What was I supposed to say to that? I fisted my hands on the tops of my thighs, despairing. His ex shows up so
he goes to a bar and lets a stranger grope him? Why couldn't you have come to me, Grayson?
"But apparently," he said, running a finger along my bare thigh, "I don't like blondes anymore. I like redheads. Or brunettes. Or the perfect mixture of both. I like you." He squinted up at me, his expression suddenly confused. "Why aren't you in my bed?"
I scoffed, turning my head away from him and crossing my arms over my breasts. "You must be kidding. You take off without so much as a word to me, leaving me to contend with your brother and your ex. And then you get drunk and let women grope you in a bar, and you expect me to be conveniently waiting at home in your bed? What do you take me for exactly?" I seethed, anger mixing with the hurt.
Grayson leaned up higher. "I take you for my wife." His smile was filled with intimate warmth despite his inebriated state.
I raised my chin, refusing to let him charm me. He had hurt me. "In name only."
"Let's change that. Tonight. Earlier . . . you were willing." He momentarily looked very vulnerable and my stupid heart stuttered. "Please, Kira, tell me you want me. I just . . . I want you, I need you." His voice sounded raw. He needed me? So I was nothing more than a convenience. Nothing more than a way to temporarily slake his physical desires. But I wanted more than his lust. I wanted . . . Oh, God, I wanted his heart. My chest filled with sudden panic.
"Are you still in love with her?" I blurted out.
Grayson's expression hardened immediately, and he pulled himself to his feet, obviously—even in his drunken state—having no question about to whom I was referring. He stared down at me, the look on his face suddenly cold and removed.
"You're not going to answer me?" I lifted my chin, refusing to look away, hating that he had such an overwhelmingly physical presence, especially standing over me as he was. His gaze was piercing, his ebony eyes seeming to see right into me.
"I don't want to hurt you, Kira. But the situation with Vanessa, my brother, and me isn’t any of your business. It has nothing at all to do with you," he stated.
If he hadn't wanted to hurt me, he had a funny way of proving it. Pain sliced through my chest, but I held his gaze. I would not let him know how his words had caused a pit to open in my heart. I barely wanted to acknowledge it myself. "Please just go," I said, my voice unwavering. "I don't want you. I don't want you at all."
He ran his hand through his hair, seeming to be deliberating something, looking as if I was the one hurting him. But then he swayed slightly on his feet, catching himself, letting out a sharp breath. He swore softly, turning and walking out of my room, closing the door softly behind him.
If they weren't staying here, I would leave for the sanctuary of my cottage. I had planned on sleeping with Grayson tonight. And now, sleeping in a room in the same house as him felt unbearable.
I collapsed on my pillow, hugging myself, refusing to cry.
**********
If I had thought the dawn of a new day would have The Dragon flapping into my room and begging for forgiveness, I would have been sorely disappointed. In fact, I barely saw him at all over the next few days. Evidently he had escaped to the winemaking facility, installing new equipment and ensuring everything was in working order. Or at least, that's what I learned from Shane, who seemed nearly as frustrated as I was that Grayson was ignoring all of us. Clearly Grayson didn't even care if our marriage appeared to be a sham.
"I'll just stick around and put myself in his face whenever possible," Shane said. "Eventually I'll wear him down." He winked at me, although he didn't look particularly convinced by his own statement.
As for me, I wasn't willing to do the same. In fact, my MO had usually been to run from hurtful situations, and that was my instinct now. But I had a party to plan and the clock was ticking on that. What had I been thinking to give myself such a short window in which to do it? I could barely remember now. All the same, invitations had gone out and people were expecting an event, an event The Dragon surely wasn't going to put on. It was up to me, even though, at this particular point, it was difficult to remember why it even mattered at all.
I spent the first part of the week cleaning up Grayson's office and trying to make some sense out of the financial files, Walter helping me where he could, since he'd been the one keeping things updated as much as possible, although he didn't know the programs as well as I did.
"Walter," I asked, as he went through the accounts payable with me, "do you think I could see some of the financials going a few years back? I don't want to overstep my bounds, but I want to get a better idea of where things started going downhill for the winery." I thought if I understood why things had crumbled (literally and figuratively) so quickly once Ford Hawthorn had become ill, I would better be able to help manage the vineyard accounts, maybe even offer some advice to Grayson—not that he deserved it. I should probably watch in glee as he failed to fulfill his vow. But I couldn't do that. My heart wasn't in it, and I wanted to see Gram's money go to good use as well.
Walter cleared his throat, and I thought he looked slightly uncomfortable. "The records weren't well kept back then. Everything was neglected once Mr. Hawthorn became ill."
"But surely there's something? If I could just take a quick look at whatever there is, I think it might help. Really, I don't know if I can help now if I don't understand what happened in the past."
Walter was quiet for so long, I didn't know if he'd heard me. But when I looked up, he was staring at me intently. I almost startled. I'd never seen a look that was anything other than impassive on Walter's face. "I'll see what I can find," he finally said.
"Thanks, Walter."
Later that day, when Walter brought me a stack of CD-ROMs, he looked me pointedly in the eye and said, "These are the accounting records going back five years."
"Oh," I said, stepping closer to him to take the discs, "thanks so much."
I put my hands on them, but he held them as he said, "Like you said, it's easier to help in the present if you understand the past. I hope these are useful."
I frowned. "Yes . . ."
Walter let go of the stack, nodding his head to me and walking stiffly away. What had that been about?
I didn't have time to begin going through the discs until I had the current files updated, so I put my effort into that. I also sought out Vanessa in the kitchen and asked if she had time to help me with the party preparations. We'd already received a handful of RSVPs, enough to make me slightly nervous—people were going to show up; we'd better be ready. And I could use some assistance. I explained the theme to Vanessa and showed the lists I'd made so far.
"Oh my goodness, of course. I'd love to," she said. "What an incredible idea."
"What's an incredible idea?" I heard in a deep dragon timbre from behind me. We both whirled around to watch Grayson as he strode to the refrigerator and took out several bottles of water, Sugie Sug trailing behind him. My eyes raked over Grayson. I hadn't seen him in days and it felt like my eyes had been starved. He was sweaty and gorgeously flushed. I looked away, feeling pained by my reaction to him. Clearly, he was completely unaffected by me now that Vanessa was around.
"Kira's party idea," Vanessa said. "Did she tell you? It's a fairy-tale masquerade—"
"She told me," Grayson said, opening a bottle of water and taking a long drink. I watched as his throat muscles worked, swallowing the water, and when I looked up at his face, his eyes were zeroed in on me. I looked away again, pretending to concentrate on my list. I felt my cheeks flush and wanted to kick myself.
Vanessa looked at me excitedly. "My very favorite fairy-tale character is Tinkerbell." She laughed. "Is that dumb?"
I smiled at her. "Not at all. As long as you can convince Shane to dress up as Peter Pan."
She laughed again, the sound as musical a sound as I'd ever heard. She'd be the perfect Tinkerbell. She'd be the perfect anything. I looked at her standing there in her long coral-and-white-striped halter dress, her hair sleek, golden, and straight to her shoulders. She was perfect. I
hated her. No, I didn't. I liked her—I hated that I liked her. Why couldn't she have been a big ol' bitch? "I'll make sure he's a masculine looking Peter. With just enough boyish-ness. Just like him."
"What?" I asked distractedly. I shook my head, forcing myself back to the conversation. "Oh . . . Shane . . . Peter Pan, right."
I glanced up at Grayson who was slowly screwing the cap back on the water bottle, his expression hard, a small tick working in his jaw.
Sugie tentatively sniffed Vanessa's feet and Vanessa leaned down, her hand petting Sugie's head quickly and then drawing back. "I feel like I'll hurt her every time I go to touch her," she said, her voice filled with sympathy.
"You won't," I said. "She needs love more than anything. The only thing that will hurt her is holding it back."
Grayson stared at me for a moment and then without a word, turned and walked out of the kitchen. Sugie followed him, looking back at the doorway and letting out a small moan, then lowering her head and running to catch up to Grayson.
My heart clenched in pain. I looked back at my list to hide my face from Vanessa's probing eyes. He couldn’t even pretend to like me, for appearance's sake? What must Shane and Vanessa think?
"I'm sorry, Kira," Vanessa said. "Our presence is putting a strain on your marriage. We should go—"
"Not on account of me, no. Shane and Grayson have something to work out. I won't get in the way of that." I'd be gone soon enough, but Shane would always be Grayson's brother. I refused to be the reason Grayson didn't give him a chance to—at the very least—explain himself. Whatever physical interest Grayson had in me was long gone. And I could see why. Who could compete with Vanessa? She was beautiful inside and out, and I felt like the witch Grayson called me—ugly, ragged, and excluded. No one ever wanted to be with the witch, after all. Not in the end.
Charlotte came bustling into the kitchen a few minutes later, shooting nervous looks between Vanessa and me. Since Shane and Vanessa had arrived, I hadn't gotten any alone time with Charlotte, but whenever I did see her, she seemed to be wringing her hands and saying prayers under her breath. It didn’t give me a lot of confidence this situation would turn out well.