Home > My True Love (The Steeles at Silver Island #2)(9)

My True Love (The Steeles at Silver Island #2)(9)
Author: Melissa Foster

“Yeah. She should be ready to paint in a day or two.”

“Great. Listen, Grant, I know you’re just biding your time while you figure out what you want to do for work, but it’s nice having you around.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it.” Grant didn’t have to work another day in his life. He had plenty of money in the bank even without touching his trust fund or his disability income. He’d saved nearly every penny he’d earned during his several years with the Special Forces, which had been a mere pittance compared to the small fortune Darkbird, a civilian company that carried out covert missions for the military, had paid him for every mission. After six years with Darkbird, he had a few million tucked away, but he’d lose his mind if he didn’t work, and working with his hands was exactly what he needed.

“Registrations are rolling in for the holiday flotilla. If you’ve got time, I thought we could brainstorm ideas for the marina’s boat. With your help, I think we can blow the competition out of the water.” Brant’s parents ran the marina, and they hosted the Island of Lights Holiday Flotilla that took place the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Boats would be decorated to the nines, and the flotilla would cruise along the harbor, competing for the award for the best decorations. The competition would be judged by Mayor Osten. At the end of the night, the winners were announced and there was a grand fireworks display.

“I’m not sure I’ll be around for the holidays, but I’m happy to brainstorm with you.”

“Where are you thinking about going?”

“I don’t know yet.” Grant didn’t have any specific plans, but if the last few months were any indication of where his head would be by Christmas, it wasn’t looking good. Jules’s voice whispered through his mind. Halloween is Bellamy’s favorite holiday. Mine, too. Well, next to Christmas, of course. He needed to stop thinking about her. She was a long-walks-on-the-beach, Sunday-morning snuggles, and wear-her-heart-on-her-sleeve island girl, and he was a battlefield-conquering, up-at-dawn, hold-it-all-in, mission-driven guy who had no frigging idea what his future held. Neither Jules nor his family needed him hanging around to ruin another holiday.

Wells walked in flashing a cocky grin and hiked a thumb over his shoulder. “I saw a sign out front that said the Bee Gees were in town.”

Here we go. When they were growing up, the guys had called Brant and Grant the Bee Gees.

“How about a serenade for the delivery boy?” Wells held up a bag from his restaurant.

Grant snagged the bag from his hand. “Don’t you have delivery staff to do this?”

“And miss seeing your joyous smile?” Wells patted Grant’s cheek.

Grant swatted his hand away, muttering, “Asshole,” and all three of them chuckled.

He and Wells might give each other a hard time, but Grant was as proud of Wells as he was of all of his siblings. They’d all been born with silver spoons in their mouths, and they could have ridden that old-money train to cushy lives. But every one of them had worked their asses off to follow their passions.

Grant reached into the lunch bag and tossed a burger to Brant. He pulled out his sandwich and held it up. “Want half of this, bro?”

Wells waved him off.

Roddy walked through the open bay doors a few minutes later. His thick gray-brown hair brushed the collar of his long-sleeved Hawaiian-print shirt, open three buttons deep, as always, giving everyone a view of his graying chest hair. He reminded Grant of a younger Jeff Bridges.

“Hey, Pop,” Brant said.

Wells threw his hands up. “Now it’s a party. If I’d known you were around, I’d have brought you lunch, too.”

“I ate with my beautiful wife, but thank you. It’s good to see three of my boys under one roof.” Roddy draped one arm around Grant, the other around Wells. “What kind of trouble are you stirring up today?”

“I just came by to remind Shaggy that our father’s birthday lunch is on Sunday at our mom’s house so he could put it on his busy schedule.” Wells smirked.

Grant shook his head and bit into his sandwich. His mother had already called to remind him. He didn’t feel like celebrating a damn thing, but he’d go, even if he wasn’t looking forward to it. The pressure to be who he used to be was immense, and his family walking on eggshells around the subject of his leg wasn’t going to be fun for any of them.

“Grant is a busy man, Wells. He’s got a life to figure out, and that’s no easy task when you think you’re heading in one direction and the wind takes you for a ride.” Roddy headed over to a workbench and fished around in a drawer.

“More like a fucking typhoon,” Grant said under his breath.

“I hear you, buddy.” Roddy gave him the paternal nod he’d been giving him all his life. He looked out the front of the boathouse as Archer passed by and hollered, “Hey, Archer!”

Archer stopped, his serious eyes moving curiously over them. He was the gruffest of the Steele siblings, and he sported a military look, with short dark hair, trim scruff, a barrel chest, and biceps that rivaled Grant’s, and like Fitz, Archer had never wanted to work anywhere other than in his family’s business.

“What’s up?” Archer asked distractedly, stealing a glance in the direction of his boat, where he lived.

Roddy sauntered over and said, “If you’re heading home for some afternoon delight, I saw a pretty little blonde leave your boat right after you left for work this morning. She caught the early ferry back to the mainland.”

“Damn it,” Archer gritted out, and they all laughed.

“What pretty little blonde would that be?” Brant asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” Archer walked into the boathouse, eyes locked on Grant. “Hey, Silver, what was up with you and Jules last night? Leni said she saw you two arguing in the parking lot.”

Fuck. “You know how Jules is. She was getting in my face with her happy shit, and I wasn’t in the mood.”

“I know she can be a bit much, but she means well,” Archer said sharply. “The next time you want to pop someone’s bubble, make it mine. Got it?”

Grant scoffed. As if popping her happy bubble was even on his radar. Archer would go apeshit if he knew about the filthy fantasies Grant had entertained about Jules last night. “Get over yourself, Archer. Your sister could kick my ass farther than you could any day.”

The other guys laughed.

Archer cocked a grin. “You’re probably right, but I don’t like to see her upset, so next time you feel the need to go a few rounds, come find me. You know my old man’s garage is always open.” Mr. Steele had taught his sons, Jock, Archer, and Levi, and all their buddies to box when they were younger, and he still had the boxing ring in the garage.

Roddy put a hand on Grant’s shoulder. “You boys remind me of me and Grant’s old man when we were younger. Gotta love island life, where everyone knows your name and your dirty little secrets.” He stepped closer to Archer and said, “Next time try offering to buy her breakfast instead of taking off at the crack of dawn.”

Roddy walked out snickering.

Archer scowled. “I ought to drag your old man into the ring,” he said to Brant. “You three dipshits want to come have a beer on my boat after work?”

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