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She watched them together and saw that Paul might be a millionaire but that he adored the woman in his arms, and really was trying to make the best of the situation where she’d found herself.
I bet if I were a millionaire everything would be a game to me, so I’d want to create my own game.Melinda didn’t know which way was up. Remember, Grant is good, so Paul is good. Grant is good, Paul is good. Grant was good. Was he good? Was he right?
And was there a way for her and Grant to live a happily-ever-after? Perhaps, if...
If what?The words were a bitter gust through her mind.
It was impossible. Pathetic. She was trying to turn a hookup into a fairytale, and life didn’t work that way. Life offered windows of fun but eventually everyone disappeared or disappointed. It was a matter of time.
Melinda shivered. Cold wafting from the open door? No, it was a wake-up call from a distant land called reality. The reality was that with their rescue, their window was closing. Time to figure it out.
Suddenly the room was too small, the chilled air too thick. Her legs were stuck to the floor. Her clothes wrapped her too snugly. She tugged at the collar of her sweater. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything but escape.
They were staring at her. She kept her voice as cold as her heart.
“Right, then. What’s the timeline on getting out of here?”
~
Grant watched the train wreck in front of him as if in slow motion. How the hell was it up to these three people to hash out his future, and he, ringside and useless? What if, after this damned abrupt interruption, Melinda never wanted to see him again? What if DiMario said something that threw Grant’s credibility into question? Grant’s mind raced to find anything over the past year and a half of friendship that would send him sprawling under the bus. Dammit.
But Paul seemed to be behaving himself, if a bit pompously, and Melinda was holding her own. Melisa was in no state to drive anyone at the moment, but Grant knew she was made of strong stuff. She’d pull it together.
Melinda’s comments had warmed him but not eased his uncertainty.
Foolishly, he’d imagined a leisurely morning together, a further softening of the questions between them, developing a plan that they reconvene after the cabin. Another amazing dinner tonight.
This is not a vacation, his mind reminded him. This was an experience she wanted to put behind her. He was an experience she wanted to put behind her.
“Who drove what?” He aimed to match Melinda’s cool.
“I met Bryan in Dillon to pick up your rig with the plow,” Paul answered, and Grant’s eyebrows rose. “It’s more difficult to manage than I’ve given you credit for.”
Grant nodded slightly in acknowledgment. Not too little too late, but about damn time.
“I drove the Land Cruiser,” Melisa said, her eyes clear now. “And I stopped by the grocery store to send you home with food.” She looked from Melinda to Grant. “Both of you. Grant, we’ve been in touch with your dad and let him know where you were.” Her gaze jumped sideways. “Uh, the gist of where you were. You can share other details, if you like.”
“Thank you,” Grant said as he met her eyes. “That was thoughtful. And”—he extended his hand—“it’s nice to meet you. I’ve been hearing about you for a while.”
Melisa turned to Melinda.
“Has Paul told you that I’d be happy to drive you home, Melinda?”
Melinda nodded.
“Excellent. Please allow me to do that for you. You can kick me out immediately, if you like. The past few days, as you said, have been pretty brutal for me. I’d see it as an act of kindness if you let me rest tonight with the certainty that you’ve been escorted home safely.”
Grant was relieved to see Melinda nod again. He longed to be the one to tuck her in at home, but if it couldn’t be him, then Melisa. She struck him as the nurturing type.
“All right, then,” said Paul. “Where are your things? I’ll carry them to the car. Ah. Perhaps you need a short while to collect them? Please go ahead. Grant and I can discuss our next steps.”
“Can I help you make sure you’ve got everything?” Melisa asked, and Grant stiffened.
Melinda’s things were in the bedroom, and the bedroom had sex written all over it. The blankets were mostly off the bed, Grant’s belt was on the floor, and—Oh, God, the condom.
“Thank you, but I can take care of it,” said Melinda.
“Can I help?” Grant asked.
