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knew she had. The kind of sadness that only came from a child of a parent who didn’t love them.
And this she wouldn’t stand for. Not for Grant. He deserved better. He cared, and this woman—his mother—clearly didn’t. She needed to get to the bottom of a few things real quick. Grant had barged into her bar a few days ago and handled things in his way. It was Hannah’s turn to step in now.
She handed Grant the bag of groceries. “Please take these inside.”
“I’m not leaving you out here with her.”
She looked Grant dead in the eye. She needed him to see she could handle herself. She knew they were still not on speaking terms because of the bar fight. But she needed him to believe in her a little bit. She could handle this. She’d been silent in her mind the past few days and trying to figure out what the hell she and Grant were going to do. And if there was any chance of their lives ever merging, she needed to start dealing with the reality of how different their lives were.
She had a drunk slob for a father, and Grant had an evil queen for a mother.
Some fucking fairy tale we’re rocking here.
Grant looked at her for a long, long moment. He took the bag and nodded once. There was a flicker in his expression that told her he understood that she needed to be out here, with his mother, for a moment alone.
She watched him go inside and gently shut the front door.
Hannah returned her attention to his mother.
“What is your name, dear?” she asked in a light tone, as if she hadn’t just insulted the hell out of Hannah a moment ago.
“Hannah Hastings.”
“Well, Miss Hastings. I’m Lillian Laythem. I’m glad to see you didn’t take the name, as that would be quite a burden to carry.”
“Why are you here?” Hannah asked.
“To see my son. He has his hand in a lot of cookie jars, one of which doesn’t belong to him. He’s just like his father that way.”
“What does that even mean?” Hannah asked, trying for cool, wanting information, but also wanting to slap this woman silly.
“You don’t know? Grant’s father passed away recently.”
“Yes, I do know,” Hannah said. She also knew that Grant was still struggling with it. Knew that he didn’t talk about his father much without a lot of pain rising up.
“Well, as the widow, I have a vested interest in seeing to my husband’s estate. Grant is trying to take everything from me.”
“Grant wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh? Because you know him so well? His father was a romantic, too. Fell head over heels for me. Then he grew tired of me and was on to the next woman, the next adventure. And yet, I looked the other way. Stayed his devoted wife while he lived an entirely different life without me.” She paused for a dramatic sigh. “I hope you were wise enough to sign a prenup, because when this fight over my dearly beloved’s estate is settled, Grant is going to come out in the hole. If he doesn’t drag you down with him first.”
She turned to get into her car. “You may want to think about what I’m telling you, dear. The Laythem men are takers. They take your youth, your heart, your money, and try to leave you with nothing.”
She closed the door, and Hannah stood there, having no idea why bile was rising in her throat and she felt the need to retch.
As she watched the limo back out of her driveway and pull away, she wondered how much of what Lillian had just said was applicable to Hannah. Grant had already threatened to take her bar if she hadn’t given him the two weeks of trying to make it work. Was he really just an adrenaline chaser? Only wanting her because she was a challenge?
No . . . she didn’t think so. She thought back to the way he held her, the way he fought for her, the way he owned her . . .
But she liked that. Asked for that.
She shook her head. She didn’t know what to think. She did know that people weren’t always what they seemed. She just needed to know if it was Grant or Lillian who had the false front.
She walked inside and found Grant with his palms on the edge of the table, leaning over it. He was sweaty from what looked like a run, his T-shirt clinging to his muscles, and black shorts showing off his tan, toned calves.
“Hannah, are you okay?” he said, walking toward her.
He hugged her and then set her away to look her in the eyes.
