It Started With A Pregnancy (Furever Yours Book 6) Page 13

  Grant knew that Rebekah cared way more about the dog than she was letting on. In fact, he had a feeling that she cared far too much about a lot of things, and that’s why she wasn’t allowing Grant to get too close to her. To test his theory, he bent down to clip the leash to Angus’s collar and said, “Is that your way of telling Mommy that you want to go surfing with Daddy? Maybe we’ll teach your brothers or sisters how to surf, too.”

  Rebekah didn’t roll her eyes this time. Instead she looked at the clock on her phone screen. “We should probably get going before we end up stuck in rush-hour traffic.”

  Apparently, playtime was over.

  * * *

  Grant figured the rental car company would be adding a cleaning charge to his bill to get rid of the wet, salty dog smell from the back seat. But seeing Angus enjoy the water so much made the extra expense well worth it.

  “So what are you going to tell your aunts about the bird sanctuary?” Rebekah asked when they finally pulled out of the parking lot. It was nice to have her full attention, where her head wasn’t buried behind a laptop or an electronic tablet.

  “I’m going to tell them that it’s a great program, but the licensing requirements they operate under are way too narrow to be a fit for what they want to accomplish. Furever Paws has too many species for something like this to make sense on my aunts’ property. With their finances being so strained, it just isn’t feasible in the foreseeable future.”

  “I agree. You know, I see how close you are to your aunts, and it makes me wonder why you haven’t spoken to your Uncle Gator on their behalf.”

  The skin along the back of Grant’s neck prickled. “Spoken to my uncle about what, exactly?”

  “Oh, you know. You could use your smooth-talking marketing skills and put in a strong word to him and suggest that he repay that missing money.”

  Grant was glad that the light to the highway on-ramp had turned red and he didn’t have to pull over to the side of the road so he could pivot and face Rebekah. “You actually think my uncle has something to do with their investments going bad?”

  “It doesn’t appear to be as simple as just some failed investments.”

  “Are you saying they suspect it was embezzlement? That my aunts believe this, too?” A heavy weight settled in the pit of Grant’s stomach and he wanted to have this out, convince her she was wrong, but a horn sounded behind them and he had to resume driving.

  “I’m not sure what exactly your aunts believe at this point. But I think it’s a little odd that you are always in town to help boost their revenue, but you’ve never really questioned why there was a need to boost it in the first place.”

  “It’s not odd,” Grant said.

  “Is burying your head in the sand a better way to put it?”

  “Is that what you think I’m doing, Rebekah?” It was on the tip of Grant’s tongue to suggest that she should be familiar enough with the concept, seeing as how they walked on eggshells every time the subject of her pregnancy came up. But he decided to come at it from a different angle. “I prefer to believe that people are innocent until proven guilty.”

  They both knew that Rebekah kept expecting the worst where he was concerned, but he couldn’t tell if his words had hit their mark because Rebekah didn’t take the bait. She simply held herself stiffly, her eyes fixed on a spot outside the windshield.

  The outside sounds of traffic filtered in and the urge to say something else pressed against the back of his throat. Eventually she would come to see that Grant was serious about being a father. Eventually, he’d prove himself to her. But it wasn’t going to happen today. And in the meantime, his uncle wasn’t there to speak for himself and needed defending more.

  After at least ten minutes had gone by, he finally spoke. “Listen, there’s no way Uncle Gator would do that to his own sisters. At least, not intentionally. I mean, he can be a little arrogant, but that’s because he really is good at what he does. It’s how he made his fortune. That doesn’t make him a crook—especially not when it comes to his family. Whitakers look out for each other. You don’t know him, so you don’t trust him. Fine, that’s understandable. But even if you don’t believe me when I say that that’s something he just wouldn’t do, there’s also the fact that it doesn’t make sense. It’s just not logical. With all the money he has, he doesn’t need to steal from Bunny and Birdie.”

  “It wasn’t my place to bring it up.” She shifted her legs to the side, so that her body was angled toward the door, as though she were dismissing him. “Forget I said anything.”

  Emotionally, he wanted to say that she was right and it really wasn’t her place to discuss his family’s issues. However, logically, he knew that she oversaw the finances for the animal shelter and was merely repeating what she’d heard from the people who’d been hired to look directly into the matter.

  Still.

  “Obviously, there was some mismanagement of finances going on, and obviously it happened under Gator’s watch. But that doesn’t mean it was intentional.” At this point, Grant didn’t know if he was trying to convince her or himself. There was no way his uncle was capable of something so underhanded. The whole thing had to be an accident or a misunderstanding. “It’s just that you don’t know Uncle Gator like we do.”

  “You’re right. I probably don’t really know any of you Whitakers. I just work for your family.”

  Grant felt frustration vibrating against the back of his throat, but he held the groan back, not wanting to insult her any further. “I’m not saying you don’t know any of us. You’re around Aunt Bunny and Aunt Birdie every day and they’re pretty much an open book. Obviously, you know me better than anyone else who works there...”

  He trailed off when she tilted her head his way and cocked an eyebrow at him. Okay, so she was probably right to question that statement. They knew each other physically, but did either of them really know the other that well? That was a whole other conversation, though.

  “My point is that my family dynamics—especially where Uncle Gator is concerned—are kind of complex.”

  She leaned her elbow against the door so she could prop her head on her hand. “If you say so.”

  “Hear me out,” Grant said, even as he was thinking she probably would’ve preferred to take a nap. “My dad was the first of the Whitaker siblings to sell their property. He made a modest amount, but when he moved to Florida, he funneled all that money into the surf shop originally owned by my mom’s parents. Gator always gave my dad a hard time about choosing his wife’s family over the Whitakers. Anytime I came to visit over the summer, my uncle would immediately welcome me into the fold and would often remind me that family should always take care of each other.”

  “So that explains why you’re often in town helping out your aunts,” Rebekah said.

  “It also explains why Gator couldn’t have possibly embezzled that money. At least, not intentionally. He has always been adamant about looking out for his sisters.”

  “You said not intentionally,” Rebekah pointed out. “So isn’t it possible that Gator took the money thinking that he could eventually pay it back? Which is still, by definition, embezzlement.”

  “I know the definition of embezzlement.” Grant gripped the steering wheel defensively. “You’re not the only one who took business courses in college.”

  “I guess your constant beach attire threw me off,” she replied, confirming his suspicion that she never took him seriously. She yawned. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you about your uncle or your family’s finances.”

  “Then what do you want to argue with me about?” he asked. “Because you sure as hell don’t seem to want to talk to me about our children.”

  * * *

  He’d made that layered comment earlier about being innocent until proven guilty and it had taken every fiber of strength she possessed not to remind him that, with two chil
dren on the way, her first duty was to protect them. If that meant holding reserving judgment until Grant proved himself, then so be it.

  Rebekah knew she should now take the opening, to explain to him all of her fears about becoming a mother. But she also just wanted to close her eyes and nap. Unfortunately, her phone rang and she wasn’t able to do either.

  She looked down at the screen resting in the center console cupholder. “It’s my mom.”

  “I figured that, based on the word MOM across the top and the big picture of Sheila Taylor underneath.” Grant’s voice held a sarcastic edge and she couldn’t really blame him for being frustrated at the interruption.

  “I’ll let it go to voice mail,” Rebekah offered.

  “No, go ahead and take it. Our conversation has waited this long. It can certainly wait another few minutes.”

  Rebekah slid her finger across the screen. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hey, Dimples. Your dad and I are running late. We won’t get to the restaurant until after six.”

  “What restaurant?” Rebekah glanced at Grant as though he could tell her that she wasn’t crazy.

  “Aren’t we supposed to meet you and Grant for dinner tonight?” her mom asked. “I have it in the calendar app you set up for me.”

  “That was last Tuesday, Mom. Did you set it up as a repeat event again?”

  Her mom said something, but her voice was muffled, probably because she’d pulled the phone away from her ear and was tapping at her screen. Finally, she came back on. “Yep. It looks like we’re having dinner with you two every Tuesday and Friday for the next five years.”

  Rebekah’s phone pinged with a message. She glanced down, then sighed. “Dad’s texting me. He wants me to know that you guys will be running late tonight. So I guess his calendar got scheduled wrong, too.”

  Grant gave her a side-eye and she lowered her phone and said, “My parents are wonderful with kids, not so great with technology. They thought we were supposed to have dinner tonight.”

  “Who are you talking to?” her mom asked, and Rebekah realized she should’ve covered the receiver.

  “I’m in the car with Grant. We had to go to a bird sanctuary near the Outer Banks. We’re on our way home now.”

  “Oh, that’s perfect, then. If you’re on Highway 64, we can just meet you in Raleigh and nobody will be late.”

  “But, Mom, we didn’t actually have dinner scheduled.” Rebekah squeezed her eyes shut.

  “We can stop and meet them for dinner,” Grant offered a little too loudly.

  “Actually, we can’t.” Rebekah saw a spot of gray fur on the back seat and her heart lunged with hope. “We have Angus with us.”

  Upon hearing his name, the dog lifted his head and let out a half-hearted yip.

  “Who’s Angus?” Sheila asked. “Is that a dog?”

  “He’s one of the dogs from the shelter. I’m fostering him. Temporarily.”

  “Since when did you become a dog person, Dimples?”

  “Long story,” Rebekah grumbled.

  “Good thing we’ll have time for you to tell us over dinner.”

  “But, Mom, I just said we can’t meet for dinner because we have a dog with us.”

  “I’m sure we could find a pet-friendly restaurant in Raleigh,” Grant offered a little too cheerfully, considering the fact that he’d just gotten done telling her to stay out of his family’s business. So why wasn’t he staying out of hers?

  Rebekah could feel her eyes widening in horror as she shook her head at him while simultaneously putting a finger to her lips. But she was too late.

  “I’ll start looking for a place now,” Sheila said happily. “I’ll call you back.”

  Over the next hour, her mom called three more times with questions about what time they would arrive—five o’clock; Grant’s favorite type of food—Mexican; and Grant’s second-favorite type of food since Via Rancheros only allowed service animals. In between those calls were her dad’s texts with screenshots of his calendar app settings and follow-up questions about how to reset the year.

  Really, it wasn’t Rebekah’s fault that she and Grant never got the opportunity to talk about her pregnancy again before they arrived at the restaurant. If Grant had kept quiet when her mom called, they wouldn’t be going to dinner with her parents in the first place.

  Ever since she’d first slept with the man, nothing had gone as planned. It was as though they were reading the same instructional manual, but they were always on different steps in the assembly process.

  If they couldn’t get on the same page and have an actual conversation, then how would they ever manage to truly parent their babies together?

  Chapter Twelve

  When they arrived at the restaurant, Rebekah went straight to the restroom. She’d gone before they left the beach, but her bladder seemed to be holding less, while her stomach was trying to hold more.

  Although, currently she had no appetite whatsoever. She wanted to blame it on the fact that they’d had a late lunch, but really it was because her tummy was a bundle of nerves. Grant had met her parents before, but this would be the first time they had the chance to ask him all those questions Rebekah hadn’t been able to answer herself last Tuesday.

  You can do this, she told herself in the mirror over the sink. But the reflection staring back at her didn’t look too convinced. Taking a deep breath, she steeled her spine and headed back to the restaurant lobby. She only hesitated when she saw that her parents had already spotted Grant and Angus.

  “Nice to see you again, Mrs. Taylor.” He held out his hand in greeting, but her mom pulled him into a tight hug instead.

  Angus, of course, loved her dad. It was like an animal instinctively knew when a person was trying to avoid it because they then centered all their attention on that one individual.

  “I hope you took your allergy medicine, Mike,” her mom said as the dog sniffed away at her father’s freckled legs below his cargo shorts.

  “I did, but I’ll sit on the other side of the table, just in case.” Her father gave her a quick peck on the forehead. “Looking healthy, Dimples.”

  Her dad must have been lying because two minutes ago in the bathroom mirror she’d looked anything but healthy. At least, mentally. But she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

  “So tell me how you ended up a dog mom,” her mother said when everyone finally took their seats on the patio.

  The server brought a small dog dish with water and took their drink orders while Rebekah told them the story about Angus, leaving out the parts where she’d sat on the porch of an abandoned house talking to the stray dog. “There wasn’t any room at the shelter to house him last night, so we took him home.”

  “We?” Her dad wiggled his eyebrows before giving her mom a knowing look. Oh, great. She hadn’t meant to let that part slip. But it did kind of add to this whole pretense that she and Grant were actually together.

  “Here, boy, don’t lick that,” Grant said to Angus, who was going to town on a spot of spilled barbecue sauce under the table. At least, Rebekah hoped it was just sauce.

  “Sounds like you and Grant are getting a test run at being parents.” Her mother smiled. “How’s it going?”

  Rebekah opened her mouth to argue that it wasn’t like that, but Grant spoke up first. “So far, so good. I have a feeling that twins are going to be a little bit more work—although this guy eats enough for two.”

  Her parents laughed and Rebekah felt her molars grinding at the fact that Grant could so easily make jokes about their situation. That he could be so casual and unaffected about the amount of stress that they’d be under less than a year from now. But that was Grant, always making things sound better than they were. The guy currently had his charm level turned up to the lay-it-on-thick setting.

  “It’s actually taken some adjusting,” Rebekah
said. “I was away from my office today and now I’m behind on everything.”

  “You’ll get to it, sweetheart,” Grant said, placing his hand along the back of her neck. Rebekah practically shot out of her chair before she remembered that they were supposed to be pretending to be in a loving relationship. “Those budget reports will still be there when you get back on Monday.”

  He used his thumb to massage the knot forming between her shoulder blades and it felt so amazing, she wanted to arch her neck and moan in delight. But they were sitting across from her parents and his words only brought on more anxiety. “Yeah, they’ll still be there when I get back, along with all the work I’m supposed to do on Monday, as well.”

  Her mom leaned forward to grab a piece of cornbread from the basket, then offered the mini crock of honey butter to Grant. “Our daughter has always been very orderly. Never liked leaving anything to the last minute. But you’ve probably already picked up on that.”

  “I got that impression the first time I met her.” Grant nodded before taking a big gulp of his sweet tea. “And then it was reaffirmed when I saw that her townhome was set up like one of those model homes. Not so much as a dish in the sink or a throw pillow out of place.”

  “Sorry to break it to you, Dimples,” her father chuckled. “But as soon as those babies start walking, you can kiss that fancy white sofa and all those breakable knickknacks goodbye.”

  Rebekah gulped. She loved that sofa. It had been her first major purchase after college and it made her feel like an adult who was in complete control of her life. The thought of changing her whole living room just to accommodate children had her tapping her feet under the table.

  “You should’ve seen her watching Angus last night when he got up on that couch.” Grant teased. “She kept glancing over at his paws for any sign of dirt.”

  “That sounds like Rebekah, all right,” her mother agreed. “No time for messes in her schedule.”

  The server came to take their order and Grant kept his hand casually draped along her shoulders as he whispered to her. “I’m not very hungry. Do you want to share something?”