Something About You Read online

  Nodding decisively, Robert lifted Morgan from the counter and told her to grab the plates.

  “Is there anything I can do?” Grant asked.

  “Go sit down,” Robert said with a quirk of his lips. “Unless you wanna make sure Morgan doesn’t drop any of the plates.”

  “I won’t!” Morgan said from inside one of the cupboards. She came out with three plates and despite her protestations, Grant was slightly worried she would be unbalanced.

  “How about I stand behind you, just in case?” Grant said, closing the cupboard door. Morgan thought it over and then nodded. Keeping a small distance between them, Grant made sure Morgan was all right getting to the table, and then poked his head back around the door. “Silverware?”

  Robert pointed out the drawer and Grant busied himself with getting the knives and forks. It was an odd feeling, the domesticity of it all, mostly because Grant had never had it with anyone. There had been a couple of boyfriends in the past, but none that were overly serious, and definitely none that Grant had felt comfortable enough to want to live with.

  Morgan was an easy kid to like, even if Grant had only met her twice, but then his friends were always telling him how good he was with kids. Robert was something else. Attractive in all the ways Grant liked, but reticent and apprehensive when it came to addressing Grant. Grant doubted it was anything to do with him, but even if he could break the ice, he was sure they both had secrets enough that would make it difficult.

  Still, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

  Robert brought out the plate of bacon and toast and Grant slipped into one of the seats, grinning as Morgan hauled herself up.

  “Don’t stuff yourself,” Robert warned Morgan, who nodded dutifully, but still loaded up her plate with bacon and toast. Robert rolled his eyes, so Grant figured it was a usual occurrence.

  The silence that fell wasn’t completely awkward, but it took Grant a little while to talk himself into actually addressing Robert. “Where’s good around here for nature walks and stuff like that?”

  Looking startled, Robert blew out a slow breath and then shrugged. “This is for your – what are you writing, blog, book, what?”

  “Haven’t decided yet. I’m not employed,” Grant said, feeling a flush rise on his cheeks. “Told my friends I was because I didn’t want to deal with their opinions on me getting up and leaving.”

  For the first time, Robert’s expression softened, and his smile was a touch more genuine. “Wanted to leave that bad, huh?”

  Grant nodded, trying to find the right words to explain. He picked at his bacon, giving a sideways glance to Morgan, who was preoccupied with her own breakfast. “I’ve been feeling restless in the city for a long time. Travel writing seemed like the best use of my time – especially as an excuse for finding new places that might strike me as permanent.”

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Robert pointed out. The wistful expression from the day before was back, and Grant wondered what had caused Robert to come here specifically, and where he was from originally. There were aspects of Robert’s accent and mannerisms that made Grant think of New York, but he couldn’t be sure. Asking Robert in front of Morgan probably wasn’t the wisest idea, so he settled for talking about himself.

  “I thought about going further inland, maybe Wyoming or Montana and do the cattle ranches and stuff like that, but the coast held more appeal.” Grant shrugged as he put some bacon on a slice of toast and folded it over, trying not to stare at the amused expression on Robert’s face. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Robert said innocently. “Far be it for me to criticize someone’s eating habits.”

  Grant stared him for a beat. “I don’t know whether you have your own,” he pointed out. “Probably for the best.”

  Robert snorted, but went back to eating his breakfast. Grant managed to stop before saying something stupid like I hope I get to see it at some point and scaring Robert off before they even got started. Well. That was if Robert was even gay. At the moment, the odds were on bisexual or straight, and Grant wasn’t about to count his chickens.

  “Do you run this place alone?”

  Robert swiped the last of his toast through his sauce. “I have a housekeeper, Helene. She comes in every afternoon to clean. Otherwise it’s just me.”

  “And me,” Morgan said, pushing at Robert’s shoulder. “Don’t forget about me, Daddy.”

  “Sorry baby,” Robert said, running a hand through Morgan’s curls. She had a head of brunette hair just like her father, curls thick, though there was something about her smile that was nothing like Robert’s. Grant wondered who her mother was and if she was still in the picture somehow.

  “I bet you work really hard, huh Cherie?”

  Morgan’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

  “Sweetheart,” Grant said immediately, not wanting to look at Robert. Was it weird to call someone else’s child sweetheart? Back home it was just natural, but Grant didn’t want to overstep. “That’s all right isn’t it?”

  It was as much a question to Robert as it was to Morgan.

  Morgan nodded, smile widening. “I love it. What language is it?”

  “French.” Grant leaned across the table, as if to be conspiratorial. “It’s the language my Mom taught me.”

  Eyes wide, Morgan nodded, looking delighted. “Daddy only speaks English. French is awesome.”

  “Thanks,” Robert said dryly. “You’ll have her wanting to learn French immediately.”

  “Can I?” Morgan asked, sounding enthusiastic.

  “Hey,” Grant said holding up his hands, “You’re the one that brought that up.”

  Robert couldn’t argue with that, but he rolled his eyes and gave Morgan a long look. It was a pretend stern look, but Grant could see the way his lips were twitching, and his eyes were bright. Morgan obviously knew it as well because she was pulling a face that Grant knew well from his nephew; look as innocent and appealing as possible.

  “Does that look really work?” Grant said in a mock-whisper.

  Robert grinned. “Well,” he gave Morgan a quick look. “We’ll find out soon.”

  “Only a few words, Daddy,” Morgan said and even then, it wasn’t a whine. She just let out a soft sigh. “But if you don’t want me to–”

  “Oh, she’s good,” Grant said appreciatively. “I wonder whether she gets it from you.”

  Robert looked surprised, but not uncomfortable. “You’ll have to find out.”

  It had been a long time since Grant had flirted with somebody and though he couldn’t be sure that was happening right now—especially with Morgan still in the room—it was nice to think it might have been.

  “Daddy,” Morgan said, sighing the last part, lips pursed.

  “All right, Morgan, all right,” Robert said, leaning in to press a kiss to the top of Morgan’s head “If Grant doesn’t mind, as long as he’s here, he can teach you some French words. But only if he lets me know what they are.”

  Grant looked incredulous. “Do you believe I would teach your child swear words, Robert?”

  “I don’t know,” Robert said, narrowing his eyes. He was grinning though, so Morgan giggles, a hand pressed to her mouth. “You might have a streak, Grant.”

  “True,” Grant allowed. “I promise to tell you exactly what I’m teaching your daughter.”

  They held each other’s gazes just to watch Morgan’s giggles increase and then Robert laughs. “Agreed.”

  Morgan let out a cheer and then demanded Grant teach her some words. Robert shook his head.

  “What did I tell you that you had to do before anything else?”

  There was a long silence. “Tidy my room.”

  “Yes, young lady,” Robert said. “I don’t want to find them spilling out into the hallway again.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” Morgan said with a long sigh and then stared at her plate. “Would you clear up for me?”

  Grant smothered a smile behind his hand. He had no doubt that Mor
gan had Robert wrapped around her little finger and that Robert didn’t particularly mind it from the way he rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yeah, baby, I can.”

  Jumping down from the table, Morgan yelled, “Bye Grant,” before rushing out of the door.

  Robert made a face, playing with the handle of his mug. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Grant said softly. “I think she’s great.”

  The dimples were a killer, Grant thought at the way Robert was smiling, looking down at his plate. It was easy to see why someone wanted to give him a daughter. The smile gave way to an almost sad expression and he looked up at Grant hesitantly. “Not everybody thinks so.”

  Grant could understand that. “Kids aren’t for everyone,” he agreed.

  Robert sat back in his chair, contemplative almost and then he shrugged, as if trying to convince himself of something and then huffed. “Makes dating a little difficult.”

  Apparently not too early to have the relationship talk. “I can imagine. Still, anyone who really cares about you will love Morgan.”

  “I wish that were true,” Robert said with a wry smile. “I can’t tell you how many people take one look at Morgan and go running.”

  People. Not women. Possible that Robert was definitely not straight, then. “Then they didn’t want to invest. You find a way to make it work if you have to. Besides,” he added because in for a penny, in for a pound, “I’d snap you up in a heartbeat.”

  Grant’s chest constricted, feeling embarrassed that he had said anything at all, and curled his hands into fists, wanting to take it back immediately. Robert was staring at him, face impassive, and Grant didn’t know what to make of it. Robert’s facial expressions were getting more difficult to read and Grant hoped he hadn’t just ruined whatever little thing they had going there.

  “Thanks,” Robert said, his voice low, but sincerity in his eyes. “I appreciate that.”

  “Yeah, well,” Grant said, fiddling with the edge of the table. “You want me to clean up?”

  Robert’s look was more scathing. “You’re a guest, Grant. That means you don’t do the washing up.”

  Grant shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t offer.”

  “How very Canadian of you,” Robert said dryly, but he was grinning.

  Grant took up some of the plates anyway and carried them through to the kitchen. It was awkward for a moment, but Grant refused to let the mood between them shift into something uncomfortable. “Thanks again for breakfast. Is there a curfew in this place?”

  Robert laughed. “No, Grant, there’s no curfew. Your door key should get you into the main door. I would just ask you’re quiet and don’t make too much noise when you come in.”

  “Don’t worry,” Grant assured him. “I know you need your beauty sleep – and that Morgan would hate her father be grumpy tomorrow morning.”

  Another laugh, and this time Robert told him to get out and stop distracting him. Grant smothered a laugh of his own and did as requested, though part of him wished he could stick around just a little bit longer.

  Chapter Two

  The town itself was busy when Grant finally left. He had his wallet, keys and notebook, ready to get writing about whatever he found that was appealing. He wondered whether they had a farmer’s market – though it would probably be a fish and harbor market?

  Robert’s B&B was situated on the main street, but tucked away into a little cove, which explained why Morgan spent so much time at the beach. The sun was shining, beating down against the back of Grant’s neck and he cursed under his breath. Taking a trip to the coast and forgetting sunscreen? Somewhere, his mother was lamenting the lack of common sense.

  There was a convenience store halfway down the road, Grant remembered from the night before, so he figured they would most likely carry it. Everyone gave him a curious look as he passed, confirming Robert’s statement that not many people had stayed at the B&B – he doubted many strangers came to the town at all.

  Grant was so busy looking at the stores and the harbor that he didn’t see the person before they plowed into him, knocking him almost off his feet. He managed to shoot out a hand to catch a box from falling. A young woman was staring at him, looking a little frazzled. “Sorry. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, sounding breathless. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you.”

  “No harm done. Can I help with those?”

  She had four boxes, one of which Grant saved, and she sighed. “I’d be grateful. I’m only going to the convenience store.”

  “I was headed there anyway,” Grant assured her and took two of the boxes, lightening her load.

  The woman led the way, casting furtive looks at him when she thought he wasn’t going to notice. “You’re on vacation here?”

  Grant nodded, hovering while she elbowed open the door. They managed to both shuffle inside without further incident and she nodded toward the back of the shop. “I came on a whim. I’m staying at the B&B.”

  “With Robert?” The woman’s face lit up as she smiled. “Nice guy, and Morgan’s cute.”

  “She is,” Grant agreed. The woman was smitten from the way pink colored her cheeks, and he could understand why. He was just as smitten, not that he was about to bond with her over that. “Have you known him long?”

  “He’s not really the kind of guy who leaves the B&B much.” There was a wistful tone to the woman’s voice. “I’m Darcy, by the way.”

  “Grant. I’m glad you told me; you’ve been “woman” in my head because I didn’t know what else to refer to you as.” Grant didn’t know why he was telling her that, but it was too late to do anything about it.

  Thankfully, Darcy just laughed. “Yeah. Definitely not telling you what I was thinking.”

  Grant wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Darcy put her boxes onto one of the shelves and pointed Grant to his own shelf.

  “Thanks for your help”, Darcy said when they were done.

  Voices filtered in through the open door. Grant assumed it was the owner of the store and some customers. He felt awkward, having walked into the back room of a store without addressing the store owner first. When he said as much to Darcy, she waved him off. “Sval’s fine. He saw us come in, so he knows why you’re here.”

  “I actually need to grab some stuff.”

  Darcy nodded. “Cool. Thanks again for your help and maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “I don’t know when I’m going home,” Grant offered, “so I’d say that’s likely.”

  Darcy preceded him out of the storeroom, and Grant started to search for the sunscreen and whatever else caught his eye. It had been a long time since he’d been in an independent convenience store, especially one with so many items catering to the harbor folk. Knives for fishing, fishing lures and rods, bait.

  Sval was a middle-aged man with an Eastern European accent, and he greeted Grant warmly as he placed the items on the counter. “Found everything you need?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Grant said, tugging out his wallet. “You have a well-laid out store.”

  “Thank you,” Sval said, smile wide. “Are you here for long?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” Grant handed over the money. “I’m writing about this place for a book. I think it’s appealing enough to keep me here a while.”

  Sval nodded, cashing up and handing Grant his change. “I hope to see you again.”

  “You too,” Grant said and left the convenience store behind. At least everyone—so far—in the town was friendly. He realized he had a question and popped back into the store. Sval immediately looked up, amused. “Sorry,” Grant said, “is there a farmer’s market around here?”

  “Ya,” Sval said, coming around the counter to point Grant in the right direction. “It’s separated from the harbor market, which has the fish and sea food. Turn left at the end of the row and you can’t miss it.”

  Grant could have found that without Sval pointing him the way, but he didn’t wan
t to be rude by pointing it out. Instead he thanked the man once again and started to apply the sunscreen as he walked down the row. There were a myriad of other shops including crafts, furniture—all home-made, a bank, a small salon, and many more. It had everything you could need, and Grant was reminded of his home. He was sure his mother would love to vacation here, spending all of her time around the lake, or even going around the harbor and interrogating everyone about what kind of fish they specialized in and whether she could have a trip on their boat. Grant laughed to himself at the imagery.

  The farmer’s market was definitely hard to miss. The road widened out into a type of courtyard full of stalls, both permanent and temporary, and a wealth of sights and sounds that were almost overwhelming. Bread, sweets, vegetables and machinery. They had everything, and Grant almost couldn’t believe they fit everything into such a small space.

  Maybe Robert would appreciate some fresh vegetables. He already claimed he didn’t cook, so maybe after the breakfast he had been given that morning, he wouldn’t mind if Grant cooked him dinner at some point. Grant winced at his own train of thought. He had known Robert less than a day cumulatively. He needed to get a grip.

  Still, the vegetables did look nice.

  By the time he left the market, laden down with goods and wares he probably didn’t need, his stomach was rumbling. It would be easier to drop the packages back at the B&B and then grab some lunch. He would have to ask Robert if he could store some food just while nobody else was in the B&B so that he could make lunch and dinner without having to spend money on eating out.

  The door was open when he arrived back at the B&B, propped open with a door stop, and Grant can hear Robert talking in the dining room. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, so he navigated the stairs with caution, not able to see above the packages and not wanting to trip over Morgan if she was in the hall. Thankfully he got to the room with minimal effort, but as he dropped his packages on the bed, he heard raised voices from downstairs.

  Hovering on the landing, he could hear Robert say, “Just get out. Right now!”

  When he peered around the stairwell, he could see a brunette figure – male – with jeans and a hoodie say, “I’ll see you soon,” and then disappear out of the door.