Page 14 of Lovers at Seaside
Chapter Five
GRAYSON LEANED OVER a drawing table at Grunter’s studying the design for the Texas office of the Collins Children’s Foundation. During the weeks of Parker’s radio silence, he’d completed designs for the two remaining sites, but he needed her approval on both the site designs and the railing before he could begin work. He’d come to Grunter’s to try to distract himself from thoughts of her, but here he sat, replaying every word they’d said, feeling her lush curves against him, seeing the look in her eyes when he’d finally found the strength to haul his butt out of her house. He’d had a heck of a time leaving, but the fierceness that burned through them like an electric current every time they kissed made it nearly impossible to break the connection. If he’d stayed, he wouldn’t have been able to keep from taking more, and as much as he wanted her, she was still his client and she was dealing with some heavy stuff. He needed her to have a clear head before he allowed himself to get lost in her. Plagued by a full-on mental Parker Collins invasion, needing her approval to move forward professionally and wanting it to move forward personally, he was nearly worthless.
Hunter barreled out of the office in a fit of laughter, with Clark, their business manager, on his heels. He and Hunter had grown up with Clark, and after college they had hired him to run the business. Grayson counted himself lucky to do what he loved, with people who meant the most to him. They got into each other’s faces sometimes, took each other for granted, gave each other grief. But that was part of any family. His mind traveled back to Parker, who had never known the love and loyalty that usually came with family. And yet she’d taken it upon herself to teach a bitter dying man the value of family. The knot in his gut tightened.
Clark hiked his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m heading out for the night. Got a date with my gorgeous wife.” Last summer Clark and his wife, Nina, had gone through a rough patch. Thankfully, they’d found their way back into each other’s arms.
Grayson forced himself from his sour mood long enough to say, “Enjoy, buddy.”
Hunter peered over Grayson’s shoulder. “That for the foundation or for Parker’s house?”
“Foundation. Texas site.” Hunter and Grayson had both been awarded the contract last summer, but Hunter had just fallen in love with his fiancée, Jana Garner, who had been opening her own dance studio at the time. Grayson had taken on traveling for the project so Hunter could remain on the Cape with Jana. Parker had arranged for a smithy—a workshop—for Grayson to use near each of the sites, but there was nothing like working in the shop he and Hunter had renovated with the help of their eldest brother, Pete, and their good friend Blue Ryder, both skilled craftsmen.
“What are you going for?” Hunter asked. They were both stubborn, talented designers. Hunter was known for his ability to create intricately detailed sculptures, while Grayson made his mark with larger, bolder statements of architectural art, like railings, gazebos, furniture, and hibachis that were sold all over the Cape.
“I’m not sure. The Texas office is purely minimalist.” Grayson ran a hand through his hair and looked up at his brother. He and each of his three brothers were tall, dark, and athletically built, but people often mistook Hunter for his twin. Hunter hated that, since he had a few years on Grayson, and Grayson had a hard time seeing the resemblance, given that Hunter wore his hair shaved military short, giving him a harder look than Grayson. Grayson had nothing but respect for his brother, so he chose to take the remark as a compliment.
“Minimalist? You need me in on this one. Shove over and let me in there.” Hunter elbowed him out of his chair, which he gladly gave up. He was too restless to draw anyway. Plus, Hunter was better at finite details.
Grayson paced, thinking about the woman he was trying so hard not to think about.
“How’d it go with Parker this morning? Did you nail down the designs for her railings?” When Grayson didn’t respond, he said, “Bro?” a little louder.
“Huh?”
Hunter’s face split into a knowing grin. “You want to nail Parker, don’t you?”
“Come on, Hunt.” He scrubbed his hand down his face, hoping to erase his confirmatory smile. Yeah, he wanted to get closer to Parker, butnailsounded wrong when connected with her. It was too cold, too harsh, and not at all indicative of the emotions he’d been feeling lately—or over the past few months.
Hunter crossed his arms over his chest, still grinning like a fool. “That’s it, isn’t it? You’re totally into her. Wow, Gray. All this time I thought you were frustrated because she was always changing her mind.”
“She can be a pain when it comes to design decisions, but so are tons of clients,” he said in her defense.
“And?”
“And she’s going through a tough time.” He told Hunter about Bert and the situation with Abe.
“So put the old jerk in his place. Make him be civil,” Hunter said. “It’s not like you to let a woman deal with that stuff.”
“Can’t.” Grayson leaned against one of the workbenches and crossed his arms, mirroring his brother’s posture—another Lacroux trait, tying down the arms that wanted to hit something. “She needs to do this. I’m going with her, and if it gets out of hand I’ll step in. But I can tell this is something she needs to know she handled on her own.”
“Doessheknow that? Because women send all sorts of silent messages we’re supposed to pick up on.”
“I see Jana’s trained you well,” Grayson teased. Jana was every bit as stubborn as his brother, and somehow they made the perfect couple. He’d never seen Hunter happier or more at ease than he’d been since he and Jana had come together. “I don’t know if she realizes it yet, but she will.”
Grayson and Hunter’s phones vibrated at the same time. They whipped them out and said, “Pete,” in unison, then read the group text.The Beachcomber tonight? Seaside gang has babysitters.
Pete and his wife, Jenna, owned a year-round bay-front home as well as a summer cottage in the Seaside cottage community where Jenna had spent summers since she was young. She and her friends from the community each had their own families now, and they still spent summers in Seaside. Over the years the Lacrouxs had all become enmeshed in their close-knit group.
“Oh, yeah. Jana’s been wanting to go out.” Hunter lifted his eyes to Grayson. “You in?”
The Beachcomber was a waterfront restaurant and bar, the perfect place for Parker to chill out and let go of all the stress she was dealing with. Grayson wasn’t about to let her hide away in that big house on the bay. Not when he wanted to help her get through her grief and come out on the other side just as whole as she’d been when Bert was alive. Knowing his warm, funny friends would take to her as quickly as he had only made him that much more determined. Parker needed him. She just didn’t know it yet.
“Oh yeah,” he said to Hunter. “Plus one.”
PARKER TRIED EVERYTHING to keep herself from thinking of Grayson, but she was beginning to think there was no distraction big enough for the job. It had been easier when she was on location filming for twelve hours a day, when she couldn’t see his face, fall under the spell of his rich, sexy voice, or get lost in his eyes, which said he wanted to take her and take care of her in equal measure. She’d already gone for a walk on the beach with Christmas, which had been a good distraction for a while. Her curious dog had decided to chase a bird. He’d broken his leash and scared five families by barreling over their towels and knocking over their umbrellas. By the time he’d finally given up on the bird, Parker had apologized a dozen times, signed a few autographs, and sworn she was going to kill her dog. But when Christmas ambled back to her, his tongue lolling out the side of his smiling mouth, murder went out with the tide. She’d fallen to her knees and chided him as any good mom would, then loved him up, getting nice and sandy with him. Once the families he’d scared saw how sweet the big oaf was, they’d also wanted to give him love, which Christmas soaked up, and Parker did, too.
She’d showered and changed into a pair of old cutoffs and her comfiest black tank top with graffiti-style writing that read, MUSTACHERIDES $5. A leftover from her teenage foster care days, it had been washed so many times it was soft as butter. She’d bought it for a buck at a consignment shop after being caught in a downpour, and together with her favorite shorts, she was wearing the perfect outfit for another night of horror movies and junk food.
