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Chapter 2
“Hey, boss, we putting salmon on the menu?” Winslow, one of two cooks at the Mousehole, peered at the specials board, which they revised every morning according to what local foods were available.
“I’m going down to the harbor now to see what they’ve got.” Grant tossed a dishrag into the laundry. “Tony, you got things covered here?”
His manager nodded, waving a hand for him to leave. Grant headed out the back door to the one-bedroom house located behind the tavern. He pulled the salt-and-pine air into his lungs.
One of the reasons he’d bought the Mousehole was its location close to downtown yet isolated in a grove of redwood trees that stretched toward the forested hills. Not to mention, the house meant he was only a few feet from work.
After taking the mail out of the box, he went inside and tossed his keys on a table. He shuffled through a few bills, pausing to look at a postcard from his friend Kate Rochester, who’d worked at the Sugar Joy bakery a couple of years ago before she’d left to embark on adventures with her new husband.
Pleased, Grant read Kate’s happy message about her discovery ofpane di segaleduring a trip to Rome. He pinned the postcard to his bulletin board and pushed the blinking light on the answering machine. His younger brother’s voice crackled through the tape.
“Hey, man, I know you’re not looking forward to coming up this weekend…considering I’m marrying a goddess, thanks for that…and since I don’t want anything to mess this up for Alice, I need to talk to you. Call me.”
Suppressing a sigh, Grant picked up the phone and dialed. “What?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Nathan replied. “How are you?”
“Sorry.” Grant pulled a hand down his face. “But your message sounded ominous.”
“It was supposed to, Prince Charming.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. First of all, one of Alice’s friends came down with mono, so the wedding planner is having a fit over the fact that we have an extra seat and no one to put in it. Therefore, Mom is lining up women for you like they’re in a beauty pageant, which she was planning to do anyway but this seating thing has her even more militant. I overheard her talking about moving you to another table so she could seat you between two eligible women. And don’t forget Vivian’s going to be there. Without a date, according to Alice.”
Grant sank onto the edge of the sofa. “I can’t do this.”
“You have to. Mom will lose her shit if you don’t show, and that will seriously fuck things up for Alice, which means I’ll have to kill you. My bride is expecting this to be her perfect day, and there is no way I’m letting my big brother ruin it because he’s too pansy-assed to face a group of stunning single women.”
AndVivian. Who apparently was still eligible. Considering her pedigree, that was a surprise.
“Yeah, okay. I’ll be there.”
“Grow a pair, man. It’s just a few hours, right?”
More like a full weekend, but if it were up to his mother, he’d be engaged before he left San Francisco on Sunday night. Some of the women would have the same idea—not because of him, but because of his family. When you were the eldest son of the founder of the Intellix Corporation, a multinational computer technology company, people tended to notice that first.
In some ways, that was a good thing. He’d learned early on to figure out who wanted something from him, which made it easier to weed out the few real friends he’d had. But over the years, his guard had gotten thicker and heavier, reinforced by his parents and then by the woman he’d expected to marry.
“I’ll be there,” he assured his brother. “But I take no responsibility for Mom’s actions.”
“Dude, Mom doesn’t even take responsibility for her actions.” Nathan laughed. “That’s why she’s Queen Busybody. The wedding stuff has her anxiety about you kicked up to level eleven. You were supposed to be married first. And what, you’re pushing forty now?”
“I’m thirty-five, dickwad.”
“Tick tock, man. When Alice was showing Mom her wedding gown choices last year, she said Mom was worried that if you ever get married at your age, there’s no way your bride will be able to wear white.”
“For fuck’s sake. Is Alice wearing white?”
“My bride is an angel. Of course she’s wearing white.”
“You are so whipped.”
“Like cream, bro. Being whipped is underestimated. You should try it sometime.”
“How about I just come to your wedding and keep the peace?”
