New Year's Wedding. Muriel Jensen

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ couldn’t help the little glow that started in her heart. Sisterly support. “I meant the scene—”

      There was a smile in Corie’s voice. “I know what you mean. I’ve made a few scenes myself, so it’s hard for me to criticize anybody else’s. Don’t worry about it. Nobody cares.”

      Except for the millions of people who probably now saw her as a bratty diva and an abuser of the deaf. “You’re not embarrassed?”

      Corie laughed. “No, we’re not embarrassed.” Cassie heard Ben’s laugh. “Listen, we’re all meeting for lunch at someplace called...uh...”

      “The Bay Bistro,” Ben shouted into the phone. “Grady knows it. Can you be there in ten minutes?”

      Cassie went to Grady, who was now placing her packages in the jump seat. “Can we be at the Bay Bistro in ten minutes?”

      He straightened and tried to smooth his hair, mussed by the tight quarters in the back of the truck cab. “Sure.”

      “Sure,” Cassie relayed, helping bring order to Grady’s hair with her free hand. It was thick and coarse. She resisted the impulse to run her fingers through it one more time.

      His gaze collided with hers, seeming to ask her to. She dropped her hand and had to look away to concentrate on what Ben was saying.

      “Great. Tell him he’s paying,” Ben said. “See you then.”

      She smiled at Grady. “He says you’re paying.”

      “Tell him he still owes me for the night I went into the river after a DUI and he watched me.”

      She tried to but Corie had reclaimed the phone. “Cassie?”

      “Yes.”

      “We all think it’s fun to be related to someone the press is making a big deal over. So don’t worry.”

      “But it’s a bad big deal.”

      “This family will turn it into something good. It’s what we do. See you in ten.”

      “Right.” Well, right on the “seeing her in ten” part. Turning this press nightmare into something good was going to require a miracle.

      * * *

      GRADY DROVE THE three blocks to the edge of downtown, then turned down a side street to the old mill that had been converted into shops and a restaurant. The Bay Bistro was on the third floor. Cassie, he noticed, looked worried.

      “Forget the news,” he advised gently. “They’re your family. They don’t care.”

      She turned to him with open disbelief. “That’s what Corie said, but of course they care. How can they not? When I met them in Texas, I kept everything to myself, hoping it would just go away. I didn’t know then that someone had recorded it.”

      “Again, I’m sure it’s not a big deal to them.”

      “Jack has to be disappointed. He worked so hard to get us all together again, and his little sister turns out to be a monster diva who yelled at a deaf woman! And the whole world knows about it!”

      “Big fuss over nothing.”

      She huffed a breath. “Grady, I’m the piece of the family that’s been missing and I...”

      He heard something in her voice somehow deeper than the words she was saying. He turned to her as he pulled into a spot right in front of the mill and shut off the engine.

      “What if I’m a disappointment? What if they’ve been waiting all this time to get me back, they’re impressed to learn than I’m a model, then find out...I have all these...issues?”

      “You have nothing to fear here, Cassie. The Mannings and the Palmers are the best people you’ll ever meet. Everybody’s got their issues, so they’re all tolerant of everyone else’s. Jack came back from Afghanistan with nightmares. Corie’s life was sometimes so awful that she became a thief. Just relax. All they care about is that the three of you are together again. Come on.”

      He went around to her side to help her out, then caught her hand and hurried her so she wouldn’t have time to relive the cell phone video that had taken up permanent residence in her head.

      He escorted her before him into the old mill’s elegant downstairs with shops off of a central atrium, then caught her hand again and ran for the elevators, doors closing as they hurried. If he could get her upstairs before the family arrived and distract her with the spectacular view and a glass of wine, she might get over her nervousness.

      He was vaguely aware of her pulling against him as he shouted to the lone man inside to hold the elevator. But he thought she was just having trouble keeping up in her boots.

      “Grady...” she said.

      “Come on!” he encouraged, walking quickly. “If we get there first, I can tell the waiter that Ben intends to pay. He has a tab here.” He warmed to that thought above all else. “He’ll hate that. Ha!”

      The man held the door from closing as Grady hurried into the car, drawing Cassie in beside him. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders as she struggled to catch her breath. The door closed and the car began to rise.

      He patted Cassie’s back as she gulped in air. He was happy with the day, glad to have the opportunity to help her relax before her family got there. He was anxious to see his friends, anticipating all of them around the table, talking and laughing while sharing the bistro’s outrageously delicious food.

      So, he was completely unprepared for what happened next. Cassie caught his hand in a biting grip, her fingernails drawing blood as she let out a high-pitched, ear-splitting scream.

      She began to shake him and point to the door. “No! No! No!”

      “Cassie—”

      “No!”

      All right. No. No, what? He wasn’t sure, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out she wanted out of the elevator. The man who’d held the door for them did so again, his eyes a little wider this time as they reached the third floor and the doors parted.

      Cassie gasped and ran out into a hallway that spilled right into the restaurant, only a few feet from the hostess’s stand. She stopped and noisily drew in air, her arms wrapped around herself, her cheeks crimson.

      She looked mortified and somehow isolated. Her hands shook. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, then added grimly, “Remember that issue left over from my childhood I mentioned that I still deal with?”

      “Yeah?”

      “It’s claustrophobia.”

      “Yeah,” he said. An inch of skin was scraped off his left hand. “I guessed that.”

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО СКАЧАТЬ