As she waited for Dylan to come back out, a pulled up the drive. She blinked and rubbed her eyes before staring at the silver BMW. Oh, no, not now. What in the world did he want?
Her former fiancé bounded from his expensive vehicle with his usual panache, like a favored son on his way to play polo, perform brain surgery, have an audience with the pope, or some other exalted activity too rarefied for the common folk.
He looked the same as always, but Gracie’s vision had changed. The once handsome face now appeared weak and fatuous in the stark sunlight. Pompous and arrogant. Snooty and deceitful. She could go on, but what would be the point? He represented a closed chapter in her life.
“Gracie, darling,” he said, strolling toward her.
MacDuff ran over to Baxter, sniffed the expensive loafers, and barked a warning. The jerk scooted him away with a disdainful toe.
Baxter wasn’t a “dog person,” as he always said. As if that excused his dislike of Gracie’s pet. He wasn’t much of a people person either, except when it suited him to be. She’d overlooked both annoying habits for too long.
“Hello, Baxter.” She ducked and evaded the embrace he tried to bestow upon her.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Have you now?” she asked, confused by both his comment and presence. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He gave her his most-winning smile, the one that expected a smile in return at the least, sex in return at the most. When she didn’t respond in either of the preferred methods, he frowned, took out his handkerchief, brushed off the step, and sat down beside her.
She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I thought I made it clear that I never wanted to see you again.”
“Now, Gracie.” His patronizing tone bugged the hell out of her. “You’re not still angry with me, are you?”
“Not really. Frankly, I’ve been too busy to give you much thought.”
“Now that I’m here, we can resolve our problems.”
She looked at him and blinked. “What problems?”
“My life is a mess without you. I can’t find anything in the townhouse. I never have clean laundry. There’s nothing decent to eat in the refrigerator. I want you back, Gracie.”
She shook her head. Just like Baxter to equate the loss of the physical comforts she had provided with the loss of her. “It’s nothing a competent personal assistant couldn’t remedy.”
“That’s not what I want, Gracie.” He draped his arm around her shoulders, but she shrugged him off. “Do you want me to tell you the truth?”
“That would be a novel experience.”
Chapter Thirty-one
In a rare display of discomfiture, Baxter brushed his hand through his hair, disturbing its normal perfection, before he remembered himself and patted it back into place. “I hate it that you’re not there when I come home at night. I miss those little notes you used to leave on my mirror in the morning. I want to wake up and have breakfast in bed with you on Sunday mornings.” He took her hand in his and squeezed until she met his gaze. “I’m sorry about Jillian.”
She fixed him with a searching look. “Just Jillian?”
“The others, too.” He pulled the cold, impersonal two-carat diamond ring he’d chosen for her the year before from his pocket and held it out. “Take it back, please,” he said, almost strangling over the unfamiliar word.
She knew Baxter and his moods. This one seemed sincere and repentant, but for how long? She could only envision them repeating the same mistakes in the future. And deep down she had to share the blame for the problems that had come between them. In her heart of hearts, she had never really loved him. Not the way she loved Dylan. “I’m sorry, but I—”
He talked over her refusal. “I see no reason we can’t move up the wedding to early fall or late summer.”
Gracie’s jaw dropped. What parallel universe did he live in? The one where everything she said was indecipherable static while his wants and desires were received with unqualified acceptance? Not in this lifetime. Not again.
“Not gonna happen, Baxter.”
“Then where are you planning on living?”
“What do you mean?”
“If you aren’t coming back, you should make arrangements to have your things removed from my apartment.”
She should have seen that one coming. His way of reminding her that if she wasn’t going to be useful to him, he wanted her out of his life. And she sure wouldn’t be able to afford a place as nice as his on her own. She wished she’d never moved in with him. “Of course, I’ll take care of it as soon as I return.”
The screen door slapped shut, and a throat cleared behind her. “Ahem.” And with the sound, for just a moment, she perked up. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Gracie stood, tripped on her shoestring, and tumbled. Dylan caught her, brushed her off, and slid his arm around her waist.
“There you go again, Grace. Tripping over your own feet.” Baxter’s condescension filled her with the urge to slap him. “Although graceless is closer to the truth.”
His perceived irony of her name had been one of his little jokes that she had never found amusing.
“I like her name,” Dylan said. “It’s perfect for her.”
“What?” She glanced at him in pleased surprise.
“Well.” Baxter narrowed his eyes on the hold Dylan kept on her arm. “Dylan Bradford,” he observed. “What are you doing here?”
“Baxter Delacort,” Dylan said in the same over-bred stick-up-his-butt tone Baxter had used. “I’ve been staying here.”
“You’re a guest at Liberty House?” Baxter sniffed. “Unless you brought someone to party with, it doesn’t seem up to your usual style.”
Dylan’s arms encircled Gracie’s waist and drew her back against him. “Everything about it suits me just fine.”
Gracie swiveled her head between them. “You two know each other, I take it.”
“Of course,” Baxter said.
“How?”
“We were at prep school at the same time,” Dylan explained.
“Small world,” Gracie drawled. “Baxter, I’ll be right back. I was just seeing Dylan off.” She started to pull him down the steps behind her, but he dug in his heels. “Come on.”
“I’ve decided to stay.”
Her eyebrows shot up her forehead. “No you haven’t.”
“You might need me.”
Prickles of irritation crept up her skin. “For what?”
He looked meaningfully at Baxter. “This or that.”
“I can handle this or that myself, and I don’t want you staying out of some misguided sense of loyalty, jealousy, responsibility, or whatever it is you feel.“
“I’ll stay if I want to,” he said.
“That’s just it. You don’t want to stay. You want to go. And you should. Now.” She shooed him away with her hands like a pesky fly. “Go now.”
Gran pushed open the screen door. “Oh, good, Dylan. You’re still here. You left your phone on the table. It started beeping.”
“Thanks, I’ll need that.” He took the phone and glanced at his texts, and then did a double-take. “My sister’s having her baby. It’s not time yet.” He pushed his hands through his hair and left it standing on end. “I’ll call Linc on the way to the airport.” He bounded down the stairs, stopped and returned to Gracie. “Now I really do have to go.”
“Everything will be fine.” She let him take her by the hand and pull her away from the porch. “But you should go. Immediately.”
“I’m sorry,” he said when they were out of earshot of the porch. “I don’t want to leave you here with that asshole.” He stopped beside his car and crossed his arms. “You said it was over between you. From what I overheard, he doesn’t believe it.”
“So he says.” Gracie stared in fascination as the tips of Dylan’s ears turned red. “But what’s it to you? You were planning on leaving anyway.”