Love Me Sweet (A Bell Harbor Novel) by Tracy Brogan Page B

Elaine said as they climbed back into her little piece of shit Volkswagen that he could hardly fit his legs into. It was dark and cold, just like his mood.
    Grant didn’t respond. His ears were still ringing from the shellacking he’d just received from his mother. Apparently there was some resentment built up there, but what did she expect from him? She’d married Hank just months after Grant’s father had died, and Hank, that SOB, had made it perfectly clear there was no room in the house for Grant after that. So he’d left.
    Then Hank took off, and Carl showed up. Grant was busy working by then and trips home were harder to schedule. He’d been back a handful of times over the years and hadn’t intended to stay gone for so long, or be so unavailable, but every opportunity to come back to Bell Harbor had gotten trumped by a new assignment. He didn’t get to the top of the heap by saying no to job opportunities. Bad timing and logistics had kept him away from his grandfather’s funeral, but he’d been in Phnom Penh. He couldn’t have gotten home even if he’d wanted to. And sure, maybe he had been a little careless about keeping in touch, but his mother didn’t need to rip on him about that in front of a total stranger.
    “So . . . yeah,” Elaine added when he said nothing. She turned the ignition key and the engine reluctantly coughed to life. “We seem to have a situation here. What do you suggest we do about that?”
    He clenched his fists inside his gloves.
    Shit.
    Shit. Shit. Shit.
    What could he suggest?
    He couldn’t just evict her. This problem was not Elaine’s fault, and even if she did have a backpack full of money, she was still out six months’ rent. What if she took them to court? That’s all he needed. Her suing him right along with Blake. What a huge pain in the ass that would be. Somehow he had to pay her back, or find one of them another place to stay.
    Grant pushed his hair back from his eyes. He was in serious need of a trim. He also needed a suit for his brother’s wedding. And a car. And groceries. And some decent winter clothes. And about fifteen hours of uninterrupted sleep. Now he understood why babies cried when they got too tired. He was miserable. He should have stayed in the fucking jungle. Civilization was too complicated.
    “OK, so look,” he finally said as Elaine slowly backed out of the long, snow-covered driveway, “here’s the thing. I’m going to be busy with family stuff for the next few days or so. You probably figured out my brother is getting married soon. So I can try to find a place to stay, or you can look around, or go back to the hotel, but in the meantime . . .”
    His voice dwindled away. It was a crazy idea. A crazy, stupid idea. They were complete strangers, after all, but he’d lived in enough cramped cabins and campsites to know that living in close quarters wasn’t that big of a deal. Not for him, anyway. If he was able to ignore Miranda in twenty-five square feet of jungle clearing, he could certainly handle himself around this girl.
    “In the meantime, what?” she asked.
    “We could both stay at the house.”
    “You want to live together?” The car lurched to a halt as she plowed into a snowbank and got them stuck.
    “Just for a couple of days until I can figure something else out. I mean, you can move out whenever you decide to, but the truth is your rent money is gone and I don’t have it to give back to you. I might in a week or so but not right now.”
    “Don’t you have friends you could go stay with? Or live with your mother?” she asked, punching the gas pedal and digging the tires farther down into the snow.
    Figures a Miami native wouldn’t know how to rock a car out of a snowbank.
    “Straighten the wheel and tap the brake while you accelerate.”
    “What?”
    “Trust me. It’ll adjust the torque on the tires and give you better traction. And don’t floor it. Just give it a little bit of gas.”
    Three more tries