Her Christmas Wish (The Cottages on Ocean Breeze #1)

Chapter Five

H e’d thought he was stripped bare.

Grayson buttoned a second button on his suit jacket as he bolstered himself to expose intimate details he’d given to no one. Something Sage Martin would figure out on her first time through his financials.

“My project for today is choosing a Realtor to sell my house.” He started in easy. Sitting back, one hand resting lightly on the chair, the other up under his chin, as though he had nothing more pressing on him than the pondering of a happy, contented man.

Something he’d been right up until the world he’d created—the life he’d left Sage to build—had imploded.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He’d left her to have a different life. Made it happen. Was thriving. And when it exploded around him, she was there to pick up the pieces?

He still hadn’t wrapped his mind around the fact that she was actually sitting there offering to help. Rather than slapping him with a stay-away order.

Gray felt like he was in some kind of twilight zone as he played along until he got his mind back into gear and seriously considered how he was going to handle the situation.

Sage’s open-mouthed stare wasn’t helping the effort any. “Did you say you were selling your house?”

He nodded. Didn’t see the need for any further embellishment on that one.

“But... I thought you were just staying with Scott because you needed a place to go where people weren’t always at your door and windows, leaving things on your car...trying to get an interview...or go viral on social media...”

“I am.”

“But...” Her frown, the small shake of her head, reminded him of the time he’d told her that he’d sold his favorite surfboard to buy her a pair of earrings. She’d loved the earrings. Hadn’t known. But had missed his surfboard. Asked him where it was.

“Things are things, Sage.” He repeated a rendition of what he’d told her then. “I crave nice ones. The best. But I don’t grow emotional attachments to individual items. I’ll find another house.”

He wanted to believe that. Would get there.

The house on the cliff above the ocean. For the first time in his life, he’d...grown attached. To an inanimate object.

Her face flattened. Disapprovingly? With a flashback to how she’d never understood his lack of attachment in the past?

He’d bet the Realtor’s fee that it wasn’t because she was remembering the earrings. He’d never seen them again after he’d told her where his surfboard went.

“I own the house free and clear. I’m out of money. I have to sell.”

The alarm on her face couldn’t be faked. And didn’t make him feel one whit better. “Out of money?” she asked, as though she couldn’t imagine the horror.

He could, of course. But the lack of funds wasn’t big on his scale of woes. Bills were pretty scarce now that he had nothing to pay for but utilities, phone, food and gas. Insurances were paid until the end of the year. Thankfully, he had no living beings dependent upon him.

He’d intended to let silence stretch as long as she needed, to give her time to assess, to reevaluate her desire to help him. But couldn’t sit there much longer, watching her watch him.

It was like being under a damned microscope. She didn’t know him at all anymore, of course, but how much of what she’d known still existed? Giving her information he wasn’t freely offering?

“You have no money at all?”

He shrugged.

“Your three-month cushion is gone?”

She remembered that? Something he’d mentioned maybe once? He didn’t even recall telling her about his habit of keeping liquid cash to pay three months’ worth of bills.

“No.” It was money that wasn’t there. Couldn’t be touched. A lesson repeated to him over and over from the grandmother who’d been cranky with pain, too old to be saddled with a healthy, active wannabe surfer boy, but who’d loved him wholeheartedly.

Thinking of the old woman who’d died the year before he met Sage seemed to put Gray on a clearer track. Reminded him who he was—not who they’d been...

When Sage shook her head, her hair fell around her shoulders. They seemed to sink beneath the weight. Weren’t as straight as they had been. Like his news had taken the air out of her wings.

“I’m guessing now that you know I’m broke, you aren’t as impressed by the good work I did all these years...” The words were beneath him. Unfair. Cruel.

She’d given him her whole heart when he’d been a pauper. Had never once even hinted at any kind of prenuptial agreement, even though she had a sizable trust from her mother.

But that deflated look...as though he’d disappointed her...got his dander up.

“That was unfair.” She held his gaze, mostly because he made himself withstand the punishment.

“I know. Truth of the matter is I’m not all that eager to tell you what you’re going to find when you go over the accounts.”

“There better not be anything illegal hidden there.” She sounded more like a parent warning a child than an attorney talking to a client.

“There isn’t.”

Sitting back, she took up her pen, poised over the legal pad that she’d angled, ready for writing, and settled more firmly on her lap.

Gray ran a hand over his face, sat back, dropped both hands on the chair arms again, really relaxed that time, as he gave up the fight.

“I didn’t think big enough,” he told her. Appreciated the way she focused, listening, and yet, when he paused after the dramatic opening statement, waited for him to collect his thoughts and go on.

“When I incorporated GB Animal Clinics—I opened a series of bank accounts.”

Her nod didn’t seem so much encouraging as it was an acceptance of the practice.

“One of the accounts, and only one, was in my name only. I’m the only signer on it. The firm’s lawyer and, later, an accountant, had access to all the others. And as we grew, each clinic had its own spending account with the senior veterinarian a signer on that account.”

So far, so good. She’d jotted a couple of things. Was still seemingly focused and on the job. But then, he hadn’t gotten to the foolish part yet.

Rather, he had, but he hadn’t yet exposed his very large, very immature, mistake.

“I opened the account when I hired the accountant who oversaw all of GB Animal Clinics’ payroll, among other things. I have always been on salary, just like everyone else, with any proceeds being fed back into the business. As we became more successful, and at the advice of said accountant, I eventually set up a bonus plan for all clinic employees, on a tiered percentage rate. I was top tier, by five percent. The other senior veterinarians were five percent ahead of the veterinarians that worked for them and so forth down the line.”

He was stalling. If she’d figured that out, she had the grace not to say so.

“My bonus, which grew into a substantial amount, was also deposited directly into the account with only my name on it.”

Her pen held in midair, Sage said, “You’re about to tell me that you didn’t invest the money or put it in some kind of money market account. You just left it there.”

She always had been sharp. “Yes.” He said it straight-out. And then, not looking away, added, “Most of it. I invested a small amount. A sum I felt safe losing. It’s what I’ve been living off for the past five months.”

Sage didn’t grimace or shake her head. She didn’t send him a pitying glance. Instead, she wrote something and then said, “I need all the account information. My first challenge is going to be to get that one account unfrozen. It’s legally your money. We can prove it’s your money. We just need to get the judge to listen to reason...”

Gray stared at her. Just stared. She made it sound so easy. So doable.

“You’re a corporate attorney, just like the two men I’ve had on my team for years. You have to represent the corporation, not me. That’s why I’m selling my house. So that I can hire the best team I can find to represent me, personally.”

She nodded. “I know the way the law works, Gray,” she said, a slight smile on her lips. And in her voice, too.

Gaining her an extremely inappropriate nudge of appreciation from beneath his jacket. Which was where it stayed. And would stay. Completely undetected.

“I can sign on as your personal lawyer, representing you as you separate from the business you started. And our firm has experts we work with who can handle anything I’m not able to do. Either because it’s not my field of expertise, or I end up with some kind of conflict. And I can help you establish a new corporation, to get you working as soon as humanly possible, so that we mitigate client loss.”

He got that she wanted to help. And that she’d always lived with the stars shining over her. But... “Have you been listening? There’s no money to start a business yet...” He’d already be working if there was any way he could be doing anything other than the volunteering he was doing at a couple of shelters in the city.

Until the case was settled, no other clinic would want his bad publicity. Nor would he ask them to take it on.

“One of our partners’ area of expertise is start-up funding,” she told him, making another note. Alight, suddenly, as though she’d had a fire smoldering that had just shot into life.

Reminding Gray of something he’d forgotten over the years.

That fire... He’d once been the match that lit up her glow.

And there he was, lighting it up again.

In an entirely different way, of course. Professional not personal.

But still...

For that second, it was nice.

Filled with adrenaline and determination, with purpose, Sage asked Gray—as soon as he’d turned over access to his accounts—to give her a couple of hours. Telling him that she’d get back with him after she’d had a chance to look things over.

He agreed to keep his phone handy.

He hadn’t agreed to accept her help.

She purposely hadn’t asked, figuring him for more of a no than a yes at that point.

Because he didn’t realize that help really was possible. Or didn’t think people would help him unless he had money. The man had always been infuriatingly self-sufficient.

You could tell a whole lot by a man’s financials. When Gray was in town, he ordered lunch from a place by the first of the GB Animal Clinics, six and sometimes seven days a week. He ate out at least four of those nights—usually upscale places with well-known chefs.

He had regular bar tabs, once or twice a week, but not high enough to indicate more than a few drinks. And not always at the same places. On the contrary, they were all over San Diego and her northern suburbs, including Rockcliff.

Did he still prefer beer? Scott had always been a beer drinker. Their father had preferred scotch. Only the best, perfectly aged. And Sage...sometimes in the evenings, after Leigh was in bed, she’d pour herself half a shot of the expensive whiskey. Not on the rocks like her father had taken it. She put ice in the glass, and a whole lot of water, too. And sipped slowly. Appreciating every swallow like she used to savor Gray’s touch...

His grocery bills were high—which didn’t make a lot of sense with all the eating out. Obviously, his expensive tastes carried to the kitchen as well. But could hardly be a cause for concern. The man wasn’t even an inch overweight.

Then there was his travel. The guy had been everywhere. Or close to it. Beaches she’d never heard of, mountainous hikes, deep-sea dives. Almost always with luxury hotel bills and what appeared to be first-class flights attached. From the accounts she had in front of her, she couldn’t tell if he’d traveled alone. His paying for a companion could account for the high airline fees.

When she found herself looking at food expenses during the times he was gone, to try to determine if he’d paid for more than one meal, she stopped herself.

Ashamed. Disappointed.

And glad for the warning, too. She could do so much but couldn’t push it. Like someone who’d once been an over-shopper having to limit exposure to stores.

What she’d been looking for, and had been able to determine, was that not one dime of money from that sole account under the business name, the one with only Gray’s signature allowed, had been spent on business.

They had a good argument for getting that one account released to him.

After another hour of research, she had enough evidence in front of her to present Gray with a solid case as to why he should accept her help, on behalf of her firm.

Didn’t mean he’d accept.

Gray had had a real thing about anything he considered to be charity flowing in his direction.

To the point of never letting others do a favor for him.

Not that she owed him a favor. On the contrary, she had every justification for shunning the guy.

And it wasn’t going to happen. No point in kidding herself about that one.

So she’d come up with a plan. A way to interact with her brother’s temporary guest and keep herself safe from his bizarre ability to rile her up.

Never before, or since, had she met anyone who seemed attached to her inner emotions as Gray had been.

Except for Leigh.

Her four-year-old daughter owned her now.

And that changed everything.

Including Sage’s ability to keep any wayward yearnings for Gray at bay. He didn’t hold first place in her heart anymore.

Her plan to see him only professionally was merely an insurance policy.

A peace-of-mind gift to herself, to help her sleep easily at night.

With Grayson Bartholomew in bed just four doors down from her.

She’d be fine, either way.

She had Leigh.

But helping Gray have the means to get out of their midst as quickly as possible still seemed like the prudent, right thing to do.

The second time Gray saw the elevator door open on Sage’s floor, he was better prepared. Refueled with his sense of self-power. Felt like he was taking back control of his life.

Starting with lunch. Sage had given no prior warning when she’d asked him to appear at her office, and only a vague indicator of a couple of hours before she’d called him back.

He’d spent those ensuing two hours hiring a Realtor, signing all necessary forms, and had been told a For Sale sign would be hung outside his place yet that afternoon. Her call had come just as he’d been about to get himself something to eat.

Figuring she’d been working the entire time, too, he’d brought enough for two.

She could partake, or not. He’d take whatever she didn’t want to the dog shelter. There was a group of homeless people who generally hung out there, waiting for him and the bag of nonperishable groceries he always brought for them. A few of the fancy tacos Sage loved to go along with the bag might be a treat.

If they didn’t want them, he could feed them to the dogs.

Her door was open when he reached it. He saw her, with that wavy blond hair framing her, sitting behind her large mahogany desk as she typed on a keyboard, her focus clearly on the screen in front of her.

And was hit with an urge to swipe his arm across the desk, clearing off everything in his way, grabbing her up, laying her down on top of it...

“Gray? You don’t have to wait out in the hall.” She’d stood, was walking toward him. “Come on in.”

He’d left his suit coat in the car. His dress pants were loose, but...she was looking at the large brown sealed bag he was carrying.

“You went to El Serrano’s?”

Silently thanking the bag for holding all her attention, he held it in front of him as he took a seat back where she’d earlier directed him. And ignored his body—and hers—allowing calm to shrink him back to general appropriateness, as he pulled out the insulated, disposable containers.

“Calle Pollo, chicken marinated and grilled with onions and peppers, street corn salsa, cotija cheese, crema and a side of lettuce,” he said as he laid out big, soft paper napkins and thick plastic cutlery beside the container on the couch side of the table.

He looked at the container he was opening for himself as he finished his response to her rhetorical question with, “Two years of hearing you order them, eating what you couldn’t finish...”

And had to stop, realizing, as she’d joined him, that he’d just exposed his own lunch to her gaze. Identical to hers. “They’re good,” he defended himself. And dug in.

He was hungry and did not allow food to go to waste. Ever.