The Boyfriend of the Month Club (29 page)

Grace sat there and nodded. What was Pop trying to say?

“At first, I thought this anxiety thing was just some bull the doctors made up because they couldn’t figure out what was really wrong with me. But Jim—that’s my therapist, you’ve heard me talk about him, hell of a guy—he’s got me thinking the docs are right.” Pop shook his head. “Never thought I’d see the day I succumbed to some girly nerve problem, but there it is. I’m holding all this tension inside me. Jim says it’s because I’m stewing about something that’s not going right in my life. Well, what would that be? I said. I have the perfect life. So he had me write everything down in this.” He picked up the leather journal. “All my thoughts, feelings, crap like that. And guess what? It’s costing me a hundred bucks an hour to figure out I’m worried about the store.” He ended with a disbelieving chuckle.

Grace cleared her throat. “What exactly are you worried about, Pop?”

“It’s like this, Tomato. My father worked his tail off to make Florida Charlie’s a success. Not just for himself, but because he wanted to hand down something of value to the next generation. I want to do the same for you and Charlie. I know Charlie’s not interested in the store, but one day fifty percent of it will be his, just like fifty percent of it will be yours. I always knew when the two of you were kids that you’d be the one to carry on the business. Charlie never felt the same way about the store that you did. And that’s okay.” He picked up the spreadsheets. “I have to tell you, though, sweetheart, the business isn’t the same as it was when I put it in your hands two years ago. That’s partially my fault. I didn’t train you well enough, I think.”

Pop was blaming
her
for the decline in business? She’d worked her tail off to bring Florida Charlie’s into the twenty-first century. Was it her fault the economy had taken a nosedive in the past few years? She thought about all the things she could bring up—decreased tourist dollars, rising competition. But they felt like empty excuses.

“What are you trying to tell me?”

“I’m trying to tell you the same thing my father said to me when I thought I knew more about the business than he did. I may be your father, Grace, but when I tell you something about the store, I expect you to listen. As long as my name’s on the deed, I’ll make the ultimate decisions.”

In all the years Grace had worked for her father, she’d never heard this tone of voice from him. She felt her cheeks go warm. “You’re right, Pop. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Good. I’ve been going over the spreadsheets, trying to figure out where we’ve been losing revenue. Once I study these a bit closer, then I want to meet with you again and come up with some new strategies.”

“Have . . . have you had a chance to look over the proposal I gave you? About keeping the store open on Sundays?”

“I have.” He paused. “It’s actually a well-thought-out plan, but I’d prefer to keep it as a last-minute resort. I feel confident we can keep the same hours we always have and still get back to where we were financially.”

Grace fidgeted with a loose thread on the chair arm. She wasn’t sure whether to get up and join the rest of the family outside or sit here and talk to Pop some more.

“So what was it you wanted to talk to me about?” Pop asked.

“It was the roof thing,” she said.

He pulled his reading glasses out of the case and put them back on. “I’m glad we’ve had a chance to get this out in the open. Tell your mother I’ll be done here in a few minutes, just as soon as I finish this row of figures.”

“Sure, Pop.” She took a look at him, head already bent over his desk again, punching numbers into an old fashioned handheld calculator.

She hadn’t been chastised by her father.

She’d been brought down a notch or two by her boss.

After supper Grace drove home to find Joe’s black Range Rover parked in her driveway. With Joe standing next to it. It occurred to Grace that Joe didn’t have a key to her town house. She didn’t have a key to his either. On the one hand, she was glad to see him. She’d hated the way they’d left things on Friday. But if he was in horny rugby player mode, then for the first time in their relationship he was going to be disappointed because they had some serious talking to do first.

“Hey,” she said. “How was the tournament?”

“Second place.” He kissed her on the cheek and wrapped her up in a hug, and any intention of refusing Joe anything went out the window. The truth was, if he pulled her inside, she’d probably follow, no questions asked. She’d never felt so powerless in a relationship before. It bothered her, no doubt about it. “I can’t stay. I promised my mother I’d have dinner with her tonight.”

“She’s in town?”

“Just for a week or so.”

She waited for him to ask her to join them, even though she’d already eaten, but he didn’t. He had to know that she was expecting an invitation. Was this Joe’s way of punishing her for finding out Brandon had been at the hospital during Pop’s attack? Grace hoped not. It reeked of pettiness. And Joe wasn’t like that. At least, Grace didn’t think he was.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve thought about Friday afternoon all weekend long. I’m sorry, Grace. I was a jerk. You can be friends with anyone you want. Even Farrell.”

“Thanks. I was waiting for your permission on that.”

He grinned. “Are you always going to be a smart-ass?”

“I don’t know. How long do you think we’re going to be together?”

The instant she said it she wished she could take it back. But maybe it was good to give their relationship a push. She needed to see where it would land, even if it was someplace she didn’t like.

“I was hoping we could take it slow and see where this goes,” he said cautiously.

“Am I your girlfriend, Joe?”

He seemed taken aback by her question. “If you don’t know the answer to that, Grace, then we’re in trouble.”

She sighed. “You have no reason to be jealous of Brandon Farrell.”

He nodded like he already knew. “I don’t want to talk about Farrell anymore. Let’s talk about next weekend.”

Valentine’s Day. Grace’s heart did a nervous flip.

“I thought maybe we’d go up to St. Augustine. I think it would be good for us to get away from here.”

“An overnighter?”

“Sure. Can you leave after lunch on Friday?”

Next week was Speed Week, the countdown to the Daytona 500. Thousands of tourists would descend upon the city and it was Florida Charlie’s busiest time of the year. It was an unwritten rule that everyone worked the weekend of the race. No exceptions.

But Grace had been working so hard, these past few months especially, and the results had been less than stellar. Pop had even insinuated that she was behind the store’s recent decline in sales. Did it matter if she wasn’t at the store for a couple of days? She would work extra all week to make sure everything was in tip-top shape and she’d leave Penny in charge. Other than that, all Grace could be was an extra set of hands.

“I’d love to go to St. Augustine with you,” she said, feeling herself grin ear to ear.

The St. Valentine’s Day Curse was finally going to be lifted.

26

A Tangled Web

Speed Week was crazy, as usual. Daytona Beach was overrun with tourists and Grace was thrilled for the extra business, but she was also exhausted. She’d spent the first half of the week working from opening until long after closing. Besides the regular managerial duties, she’d spent hours prepping the store in anticipation of her upcoming absence. At her insistence, they’d dropped the Cupid costume from Gator Claus’s wardrobe and Abuela had come up with a very sharp NASCAR outfit for him to wear, complete with a checkered cap. Even Pop had approved. He noticed the hours Grace had been putting in and commented on it.

Grace hadn’t planned to tell him about her weekend getaway with Joe, but she couldn’t lie to Pop. Especially not about something that could affect the store.

“I’m going away for the weekend,” Grace said. “I know Sunday is the big race and Saturday is going to be huge for the store, but I think everything is under control here.”

Pop seemed a little taken aback at first. “All right,” he said slowly. “If you say everything’s under control at the store, then I have no problem with you taking off the weekend. But is there something I should know, Tomato? Or rather,
someone
I should know?” There wasn’t so much disapproval in Pop’s tone as disappointment. Why hadn’t she told the family about Joe yet? Despite Abuela’s dream and any niggling reservations in Grace’s mind, it was past time she officially introduced Joe as her boyfriend to the O’Bryan clan.

“Actually, you’ve already met him. He’s Dr. Fred’s replacement at Sunshine Smiles.”

Pop nodded like he remembered Joe. “The guy at the store.”

“How about I bring him to supper on Sunday?”

“Good idea,” Pop said.

It was now Friday, and as far as reputations went, Friday the thirteenth, Grace decided, had gotten the shaft. Who had proclaimed it an unlucky day? The weather was heavenly—a tart, crisp sixty degrees. Cool enough to wear jeans and boots and a light sweater, and comfortable enough to walk around all day and never feel anything other than absolutely perfect. But then, maybe she would have felt the same euphoria if it had been hot and muggy or raining or even snowing (although that would have been something). It was hard to tell, because the root cause of Grace’s current happiness wasn’t the weather.

She took one last look around the store. The aisles were neat, the inventory was full, and the cashiers were ready. Penny promised to call if there were any disasters, so at noon, feeling confident there was nothing left for her to do, Grace slipped off to her town house and packed her weekender. By two p.m, she and Joe were headed north on I-95 to St. Augustine.

Grace flipped on the radio, then leaned back in her seat to relax. Maybe she’d take a nap.

“Welcome to The Track, speedsters! It’s Speedway Gonzalez taking you round and round Day-to-na Beach,” said the voice on the radio. “We’ll be live all day bringing you the latest in race events. Right now, we’re at the bikini Jell-O wrestling match, and I don’t know what’s jiggling more: the girls or the Jell-O!” This was followed by a roar of obnoxious male laughter in the studio background. Speedster’s minions were in top form.

Grace reached over to turn the dial.

“Leave it on,” said Joe. “The guy’s funny as hell.”

“True,” Grace said, “although not very politically correct.”

Joe glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “If you really find it offensive we can listen to something else.”

It would be hypocritical to turn the dial, not when Grace listened to the show herself when she was alone in the car. And although she occasionally did laugh out loud, she wasn’t proud of it. Listening to Speedway was like . . . catching a glimpse inside the enemy camp. Most times she listened more out of a sick curiosity than anything.

“Do men really think like this?” Grace asked. She could practically see the inside of Joe’s brain churn, trying to figure out the best way to answer. “Be honest.”

Joe shrugged. “No. And yes. It’s like any parody or sarcasm, it’s exaggerated, but there’s always a kernel of truth hidden somewhere.”

Grace couldn’t argue with that. So they listened as Speedway went into detail on the contestants and gave a play-by-play account of the match. The show picked up momentum when he began taking callers.

“Can I just say that this whole Jell-O wrestling thing is a disgrace?” said a female voice.

“Who am I talking to?” Speedway asked.

“This is Loretta,” said the caller.

“Loretta, aren’t you the chick we turned away because you couldn’t fit into the bikini the sponsor provided?”

“Absolutely not! I would never degrade myself in that way.”

“So how would you degrade yourself?”

“I wouldn’t do anything to degrade myself!” Loretta sputtered.

“Loretta, sweetheart, that’s not what you said. You said you wouldn’t degrade yourself in
that
way. Which implies . . .”

Joe turned down the volume. “Don’t tell me that Loretta, or whatever her real name is, isn’t getting her rocks off going one-on-one with Speedway.”

“You think she’s a fake?”

“More like a groupie.”

Joe sounded so sure of himself that Grace couldn’t help but play devil’s advocate. “Maybe she’s exactly what she claims to be. Maybe she’s tired of hearing Speedway degrade women on the radio. Maybe, just maybe she wants to empower herself.”

Joe threw her a look she couldn’t interpret.

“What?”

“Don’t be so naïve, Grace.”

Something about this conversation didn’t sit well with her. “Enlighten me, Joe.”

“I’m just saying there are some women who like this kind of attention, and there are plenty of guys who are willing to give it to them.”

“Like the kind of woman who walks into a rugby bar wearing a short dress?”

He sighed. “I thought we already hashed that out.”

“So are you the kind of guy willing to
give them
this attention?”

Joe pulled his SUV into a rest stop and killed the engine. “I never claimed to be a saint.” He turned in his seat to look at her. “Where is all this coming from?”

Good question. Grace could kick herself. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned starting off her romantic weekend with Joe. She shouldn’t let Speedway get under her skin. But she was tired, and her head was suddenly buzzing with visions of Melanie and her claim that Joe wanted to bring their relationship up to the “next level.” Grace was certain Melanie’s claim was bogus. Plus, there was the fact that Joe had made a point to tell Grace that he didn’t mess around with his office staff. But Melanie was beautiful and she wanted Joe. What man wouldn’t be tempted under the circumstances? Joe himself just admitted he was no saint. He was also no Felix Barberi, either. Grace didn’t want to punish Joe for Felix’s sins, but she also didn’t want to be stupid.

“Joe, I think there’s something important you should know. About Melanie. She’s seriously obsessed with you.”