Sweet Little Lies: Heartbreaker Bay Book 1 (20 page)

“It’s good to see you, Grandpa. You sound good, your cold’s gone from last week, huh? How are you feeling?”

“I’m not telling you shit. You were a terrible influence on my son. You encouraged him to be a good time, to party, when you knew—” He jabbed the cane at her for emphasis. “It’s your fault he’s dead. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

This
hit her hard but she did her best to ignore the hurtful words. “Grandpa, it’s Prudence.” She purposely kept her voice low and calm so that maybe he would do the same.

No go.

“Oh I knew who you are. I knew you for what you were the first day I saw you,” he said, “when Steven first brought you home. He said ‘this is Vicky and I love her,’ and I took one look into your laughing eyes and I knew. All you wanted to do was have fun and you didn’t care what fell by the wayside. Well, I’ll tell you what, our business fell by the wayside because he wanted to spend time with you, not that you even noticed. Our business went into the ground because of you, because you didn’t care if he had to work—”

“Dad worked,” Pru said. “He worked a lot. Mom just tried to get him to enjoy life when she could because he did work so hard—”

“You were trouble with a capital T, that’s what you were,” he snapped out. “And you still are. Told you that then and I’ll tell you again. You’re Trouble to the very bone.”

She’d frozen to the spot. She’d had no idea that her grandpa had called her mom Trouble, that he thought she’d been a bad influence on her dad simply because she’d wanted him to have a life outside of work.

The irony of this was not lost on her.

What
was
lost on her was how long she must have stood there, mouth open, gaping, letting old wounds reopen and fester because her grandpa grabbed something from the tray by his bed and chucked it at her.

She ducked and a fork skidded across the floor.

“Okay,”
she said, raising her hands. “That wasn’t nice. Grandpa, I’m not my mom. I’m not Vicky. I’m your granddaughter Pru—”

“I don’t have a granddaughter!” A piece of toast came hurtling her way, which she also dodged. “You killed him, Vicky. You killed him dead, so go rot in hell.”

The words spilled from him, cruel and harsh and this stopped her cold so that she didn’t duck quickly enough the next time.

His mug caught her on the cheek.

“Ouch, dammit!” she said straightening, holding her face. “You’ve got to listen to me—I’m not Vicky!” She went hands on hips. “Grandpa, you are not two years old, you need to stop with the temper tantrums!”

“That’s right,” he yelled. “I’m not two, I’m a
million
and two. I’m old and alone, and it’s all your fault!”

Up until that very moment she’d somehow managed to separate herself from what he was saying, but suddenly she couldn’t. Suddenly she wasn’t feeling strong and in charge and on top of her life. She was just a girl who’d lost her parents, who had a grandpa whose elevator didn’t go to the top floor. She was doing the best she could with what she had, but it wasn’t adequate.

She wasn’t adequate, as proven by her track record of no one loving her enough to stay with her, and the terrifying thing was, she didn’t know how to be more.

“Get out!” he bellowed at her.

Paul appeared in the doorway, looking startled. “What’s going on, Marvin?”

“What’s going on is you let her in!” And in case there
was any doubt of the “her” in question, her grandpa stabbed a spoon in Pru’s direction.

“Okay, now let’s just take it down a notch,” Paul said, doing his orderly thing, moving between Pru and her grandpa. “Put that utensil down, Marvin. We don’t throw stuff here, remember?”

But Marvin couldn’t be deterred. “It’s her fault! Get out,” he yelled at Pru. “Get out and don’t come back, you tramp! You son-stealer! You
good for nothing free-loading hussy
!”

Michelle poked her head in, her eyes wide. “Paul, you need help?”

“We’re good,” Paul said evenly. “Aren’t we, Marvin?”

“No, I’m not good! Can’t you see her? She’s standing right behind you like a coward. Get out!” he bellowed at Pru. “
Get out and stay out!
”

Michelle slipped into the room and put her hand in Pru’s. “Come on, honey. Let’s give him some alone time.”

Pru let herself be led out of the room, heart aching, feeling more alone than she ever had. Her grandpa had never been the best of company but he’d at least been someone who shared her blood, her history . . . and now he wasn’t remembering any of that and all she did by visiting him was upset him. She might have to stop coming entirely and then she’d be completely alone.

You already are . . .

She walked home slowly even though it was misting and she was wearing just the sundress and sandals. Her heart hurt. Rubbing it didn’t assuage the deep ache that went behind the bone to her wounded soul. She missed her mom. She missed her dad. And dammit, she’d missed feeling whole.

She
missed feeling needed. Wanted. Like she was crucial, critical to someone’s life. A piece of their puzzle.

Instead she was a tumbleweed in the wind, never anchored. Never belonging to anyone.

With her head down and her thoughts even lower, she nearly ran right into someone on the street. Two someone’s, locked in an embrace, kissing as if they were never going to see each other again. The man’s arms were locked around the woman, an expression of love and longing on his face as he pulled back, still holding the woman’s hands.

Had anyone ever looked at Pru like that? If so, she’d forgotten it, and she didn’t think one could ever forget true love. All she wanted, all she’d ever wanted since the day she’d lost her parents, was for someone to care enough to come into her life and stay there.

Her chest tightened and her throat burned, but she refused to give into that. Crying wouldn’t help. Crying never helped. All crying did was make the day a waste of mascara. And since she’d splurged on an expensive one this time in a useless effort to give her lashes some volume, she wasn’t about to waste it.
Get it together
, she ordered herself.
Get it together and keep it together. You’re okay. You’re always okay . . .

But the pep talk didn’t work. The lonely still crawled up her throat and choked her.

The man smiled down at the woman in front of him, his gaze full of the love that Pru secretly dreamed of. He took his girl’s hand and off they went into the rain, shoulders bumping, bodies in sync.

It
broke her heart more than it should have. They were complete strangers, for God’s sake. But watching them made her feel a little cold. Empty.

A crack of lightning lit the sky. She startled and then jumped again at the nearly immediate boom of thunder, sharp and way too close. Skipping the wroughtiron entrance to the courtyard, she instead ran directly into the pub.

She stood just inside, her eyes immediately straying to the bar.

Finn stood behind it with Sean, who was addressing everyone in the place, and all eyes were on him.

Except for Pru, who was watching Finn. He stood at Sean’s side, his blank face on. Though Pru knew him now, or was coming to anyway, and she could tell by his tight mouth and hooded eyes that he wasn’t feeling blank at all.

“So raise your glasses,” Sean concluded, lifting his. “Because today’s the day, folks, our first anniversary of O’Riley’s, which we modeled after our dear departed Da’s own pub, the original O’Riley’s. He’d have loved this place.” Sean clasped a hand to his heart. “If he were still with us—God bless his soul—he’d be sitting right here at the bar with us every night.”

The mention of this loss would normally have made Pru’s heart clutch because of her family’s part in their loss, and there was certainly some of that, but she hadn’t taken her eyes off Finn. He wasn’t sad. He was pissed. And she thought maybe she knew why.

His dad hadn’t been anything like hers. He hadn’t cuddled his sons when they’d skinned a knee. He hadn’t shown them love and adoration. He hadn’t carried
them around on his shoulders, showing them off every chance he had.

But for whatever reason, Sean was telling a different story. She had no idea why, but Finn’s feelings on the matter were clear.

He hated this toast.

“We miss him every single day,” Sean went on and finished up with a “
Slainte!
”

“
Slainte!
” everyone in the place repeated and tossed back their drinks.

Sean grinned and turned toward Finn. He said something to him but Finn didn’t respond because he’d turned his head, and as if he’d felt Pru come in, he’d leveled his gaze right on her.

If she’d thought the oncoming storm outside was crazy, it was nothing compared to what happened between her and Finn every time they so much as looked at each other.

You’re trouble with a capital T
.

Her grandpa’s words floated around in her brain, messing with her head, her heart.

One look into your laughing eyes and I knew. All you wanted to do was have fun and you didn’t care what fell by the wayside
.

She couldn’t do this. She’d thought she was doing the right thing by helping Finn find some fun and adventure in his life but now she knew she wasn’t. Worse, she felt too fragile, way too close to a complete meltdown to be here. And yet at the same time, she was drawn, so terribly, achingly drawn to the strength in Finn’s gaze, the warmth in his eyes. She knew if he so
much as touched her right now, she’d lose the tenuous grip she had on her emotions.

Go
.
Leave
.

It was the only clear thought in her head as she whirled to do just that but Finn’s warm, strong arms slid around her, turning her to face him.

He’d caught her.

“I’m all wet,” she whispered inanely.

His eyes never left her face. “I see that.”

“I’m—”
A mess
, she nearly said but the ball of emotion blocked her throat, preventing her from talking. Horrified to feel her eyes well up, she shook her head and tried to pull free.

“Pru,” he said softly, his hand at the nape of her neck, threading through her drenched hair. There were tangles in it but he was apparently undeterred by the rat’s nest. Pulling her in slowly but inexorably, his lips brushed her forehead. She could feel his mouth at her hairline as he whispered soothing words she couldn’t quite make out.

She melted against him. No other words for it really. He was real. He was solid and whole. He was everything she wanted and couldn’t have, no matter how badly she ached for him. She’d already wandered way off the track she’d set for herself, a fact that was now coming back to bite her hard because . . .

Because she was falling for him.

And what made it even worse; her day, her life, this situation . . . was that she not only wanted him in her life, she was desperately afraid and increasingly certain that she
needed
him as well.

She
almost cracked at that. Almost but not quite.

But God, she couldn’t seem to let him go.

Finn tightened his arms on her, pressing his cheek to the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t. And she didn’t know if she’d ever feel okay again so she pressed her face into his throat and let herself take another minute. Or two.

Or whatever he’d give.

Finn
cuddled Pru into him, alarmed by her pallor, by the way she trembled in his arms, the tiny little quivers that said she was fighting her emotions and losing. Her dress had plastered itself to her delicious curves, her long damp hair was clinging to her face and shoulders.

Pulling back, he took her hand and led her to the bar so he could grab a fresh towel. He started to dry off her wet face and realized it was tears, not rain. “Pru.”

“No, it’s nothing, really,” she said quietly, head down, his fearless fun whisperer . . .

“It’s not nothing,” he said.

“I just . . . I need to go.”

Yeah, not going to happen. At least not alone. Finn turned and jerked his chin at Sean, wordlessly telling him he was in charge of the bar.

Sean nodded and Fin took Pru’s hand, leading her down the hallway, not in the least bit sorry for leaving
Sean in the lurch. After that stunt toast Sean had just given, Finn was saving his brother’s life by leaving now.

“Finn, really,” Pru said. “Really, I’m fine. Really.”

“And maybe if you say really one more time, I’ll believe you.”

She sighed. “But I am fine.”

She wasn’t but she would be. He’d damn well see to it. He took her to his office.

Thor leapt off the couch where he’d been snoozing, immediately launching into his imitation of a bunny. Bounce, bounce, bounce while bark, bark, barking at a pitch designed to shatter eardrums. “Thor,” he said. “Shut it.”

Thor promptly shut it and sat on his little butt, which shook back and forth with every tail wag that was faster than the speed of light. The result was that he looked like a battery-operated toy dog.

On steroids.

Pru choked out a laugh and scooped him up. “Why are you here, baby?”

“He got done at the beauty salon and Willa had to go before Jake could pick him up, so I said I’d take him for you.”

“It’s not a beauty salon,” she said, face pressed into Thor’s fur, doing a bang-up job at keeping up the pretense of being fine.

“Babe, it’s totally a beauty salon,” he said. “When I walked in to pick him up, Willa was presiding over a wedding between two giant poodles, one white, one black. The black one was wearing a wedding dress made of silk and crystals.”

She slid him a look. No more tears, thank God, but
her eyes were haunted even though she did her best to smile. “Wow,” she said.

“Impressed by the lengths Willa’s shop goes to make money?” he asked.

“No, I’m impressed that you can recognize silk and crystals.”

“Hey, I’m secure in my manhood.” He took Thor from her and tucked the dog under an arm. The other he slipped around her waist. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I’m taking you home. You look about done in.”