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Authors: Ginny Baird

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BOOK: The Borrowed Boyfriend
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“I was asking about your friends?” he said, fixing his gaze back on the road. Night had fallen and the highway ahead revealed patterns cast by brilliant headlights traveling the other way. Grady squinted against the glare and added, “I’d like to know something about them before we get there. I mean, six new people will be something to adjust to. Especially since they’ll all think I’ve been hearing about them since…”

“January,” Allison filled in. She took a swig from her water bottle, appearing to collect herself. “You and I met in January. That’s what we decided.”

That was a good call too. If anything appeared awkward about his and Allison’s relationship, or if they made any minor missteps in regards to their interactions as a couple, the others would simply believe it was because he and Allison hadn’t been dating that long.
 

Allison took another drink and set the bottle back in the cup holder. “What do you want to know?” she asked, still in a trancelike state. Grady peered her way to spy her staring between the swishing wiper blades.
 

“Well,” he began tentatively, “you could tell me their names. That might be a start?”

Allison folded her face in her hands and wailed, “This is nuts! What are we doing?” Uh-oh, oh no. Next she was crying. Make that
sobbing,
shoulders hunched forward as she wept. “None of them will ever believe this! I’m such a sorry mess!”

He attempted to comfort her while dividing his attention between Allison and the road. “No, you’re not,” he said gently. “You’re just stressed.”

She wheeled on him, mascara streaming down her cheeks. Grady couldn’t help but think she looked like a frazzled raccoon. A cute one, but still... He’d never say that in a million years. “Why wouldn’t I be stressed?”

“You’re right, you should be. Absolutely.”

“It’s a very stressful situation!”

“I can see that.”

“Year after year!”

Grady reached into a box on the console and handed her a tissue. “Allison, listen to me. This year doesn’t have to be that way. We’ve worked things out. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Okay?”
She loudly blew her nose and it honked. “How can things be
okay
?
My whole life is a disaster!”

“No… It’s just taken a turn you didn’t expect.”

“A turn? You call this
a turn
? I’m lying to everyone, Grady! Even myself!”

“Yourself?” Wait. What? This comment threw him. “I don’t see how—”

“By telling myself this is a one-off! That I’m not a total loser!”

“Allison…” he said steadily. “I think you’d better calm down.”

“They weren’t my condoms, I swear!” She broke down sobbing again. “I can’t even get that lucky!”

A horn blared and Grady looked around for the source apprehensively. A car had cut in front of him, nearly clipping his bumper and almost rear-ending the vehicle it slipped behind. They were going to stop for coffee. He wasn’t even going to ask. Executive call.

“We need to get off the road,” he told her. “Take a breather.”

“I don’t want to take a breather!” she yelped like an indignant child.

“Yeah, well, I do,” he said. “And I’m the one driving.”
Thank goodness,
Grady thought to himself.

Allison wiped her cheeks again, blinking in astonishment at the huge dark smudges soiling the tissue. They’d been sitting in the parking lot of a doughnut shop for at least ten minutes while she recovered from her meltdown. She didn’t dare look at Grady. He had to think she was a raving lunatic.
Great, now I have a number eleven: fall apart like a crazy person in the car.
Allison didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at this point. Everything was too surreal.
 

The defroster was running and so was the heat. Allison saw from the thermometer on the dashboard that the temperature had dipped down quite a bit. She stared through the rain-speckled windshield at the shop’s glowing neon lights, thinking that Grady had been right to get them off the road. Her outburst had put them both in danger. “I’m sorry, Grady,” she said softly. “My behavior was inexcusable. I apologize.”

Grady exhaled beside her. “It’s okay, really. Trust me, I have my moments too.”

She turned to him in the shadows. “I’ll bet not like that one.”

There was agreement in his eyes. “Probably not.” He studied her a long while in silence, then finally said, “Why don’t you let me get you some coffee?” He paused, then added kindly, “I know how you like it.”

Her lips trembled into a smile. “Coffee sounds great.” She dabbed her nose with a new tissue and sniffed. “Maybe I’ll go and clean up while you order.”

“Can I get you something to eat? Something for your blood sugar?”

“Blood sugar?”

“My Grandma O’Brien swears low blood sugar is the cause of all ills.”

“Does she now?” Allison asked, heartened. “Even meltdowns in the car?”

“How long has it been since lunch?”

Allison checked her watch against the car clock. “About four hours.”

“There you go! It was a natural dip.”

“Felt kind of supernatural to me.”

“You mean, like an out-of-body experience?”

“I was certainly experiencing some kind of mental disconnect.”

Grady laughed warmly. “I know just the thing to fix that right up.”

A short while later, they were settled back in the car, with Allison actually feeling human again. She’d brushed her hair and washed her face, and had applied fresh makeup.
 

Grady handed her a cup of coffee with a smile. “Feeling better?”

She smiled gratefully in return. “Much.”

“Good,” he said, opening the bag in his hands and handing her a chocolate-topped doughnut. “Have one for the road.”

Allison giggled and took a bite, eagerly digging into the yummy confection with its delicious custard-filled center. “Boston cream!” she exclaimed with happy surprise. “How did you—?” She stopped herself suddenly, her cheeks warming. “You pay attention.”

Grady grinned broadly. “Yeah, I do.”

Allison set her doughnut on a napkin on her knee. “You’re not the only one.”

Grady watched in amazement as she pulled a small bag from her purse. She handed it to him, extremely pleased with herself. By the time she’d exited the restroom, Grady had already purchased their coffees and returned to the car. That had left the coast clear for her to pick up a little surprise. While the shop sold mostly doughnuts, it had a small bakery section in the back offering other sweets. She handed him the paper sack and he peered down inside.

“What are they?” he asked, obviously pleased.

“Irish soda bread cookies. I didn’t know if you liked them, but after you mentioned your grandmother…”

“Thank you, Allison.” Grady’s Adam’s apple rose and fell. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

“It can’t have been the
nicest,
” she teased.

“All right,” he conceded. “Close second.”

Allison grinned from ear to ear. “It was the least I could do after all you’ve done…
are doing
…for me. It was so sweet of you to agree to come along for this week, especially with you not wanting anything in return.”

Grady suddenly choked on his cookie.

“Are you okay?” Allison asked with alarm.

Grady pounded his chest a few times, then took a sip of coffee. “Fine. Really great. Just went down the wrong pipe.”
 

She studied him worriedly, then noted that her water bottle had been drained. “Maybe I should go get you some water? It will just take a minute.”

She gripped the door handle, but Grady stopped her. “No, seriously! I’m great.” He polished off his cookie, making appreciative sounds. “Mmm, really terrific. What a treat.”

“My…pleasure,” she said cautiously, concerned that he still looked a little peaked. Allison hoped he wasn’t secretly allergic to soda bread or something like that and wasn’t merely trying to be polite.

Grady checked the GPS. “Looks like we’ve got just a little over an hour left.” They buckled in and he cranked the engine. “Maybe you’d better tell me about those friends soon.”

Allison felt better about this trip than she had since they’d started. Maybe her blood sugar had been low after all. “Right!” she said sunnily, finishing up the last bit of her doughnut.

Chapter Eight

“I’m not sure where to start,” Allison said as they pulled onto the highway.

“How about with Carla?” Grady asked. “She’s the one who was texting you last Saturday, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah, and the last one to join our group.”

“What do you mean?”

“Carla and I met in Italy, but I already knew the other two. Deb and Queenie were my roommates in a triple room freshman year.”

A grin tugged at the corners of Grady’s mouth. “Queenie?”

“Long story.” Allison sighed happily at the recollection. “I’ll explain it when we get to her.”

“All right.”

Thankfully the rain had stopped, but it had left the air hazy, with big puffs of steam rising off the asphalt. “So, Carla Sanchez—Carla Allen, now, since she married Bruce…” Allison said, “is half Cuban, but she barely speaks a word of Spanish. Only enough to trip her up with her Italian when she was in Cortona.”

Grady laughed at this. “I can see how that might have been confusing.”

“Some people have a gift with languages.” Allison shrugged. “Carla’s not one of them. But I shouldn’t really talk…”

“Your Italian’s no good?” Grady asked with surprise.

“It’s about like my French,” she admitted with a blush. “Passable. Just not the world’s best. Some kids in the program picked it right up and were speaking like natives in no time.”

“And you?”

“The dried fruit man at the market used to tease me about my poor command of it all the time. But it was lighthearted teasing.”

“Maybe he was flirting with you.”

“He had to be in his sixties!”

“Even so. I’ve heard about those Italians…”

Allison shook her head and laughed. “Anyway! Carla and I met there; we were roommates during the program and got along famously from the start. She thought she wanted to be an oil painter at the time, but later changed her mind and majored in kinesiology.”

“That’s a pretty big leap.”

“Not really. Carla was always into athletes. So, training to be a physical therapist fit right in with her interests. She married a baseball player.”

“Really?” Grady asked with interest. “The majors or minor league?”

“Neither. Bruce played ball in college. Now he’s doing his residency in sports medicine in Philadelphia.”

“Sounds like an ideal match,” Grady commented.

“Yeah, they’re a pair! They’ve been together five years and married four.”

“No kids?”

“They’re waiting until Bruce is completely finished.”

“Gotcha.”

“One important thing about Carla,” Allison said suddenly. “It’s best not to mention her hair unless she does first.”

“What’s wrong with her hair?” Grady asked, taken aback.

“She tries a different color every year. This year she went for blonde, but according to Queenie it came out sort of neon orange.”

“Yikes. What color is it naturally?”

“We’ve all lost track.”

“And in college?”

“She even colored it then. When I met her in Italy it was a dramatic pitch black with purple highlights. In any case, she’s expressive!”

“Carla sounds terrific,” Grady answered. “Now tell me about Queenie.”

Allison rolled her eyes and grinned. “Queenie is larger than life. When she walks into a room, everyone notices. She’s a fashion buyer for an upscale women’s clothier in SoHo and always dresses to the nines. She used to swap out men as breezily as she traded outfits. Then she met Brevard Little. They’ve been together nearly a year and he’s supposedly been writing a book all that time.”

“Supposedly?”

“You never know for sure about things like that, do you? He could just be saying it, but I hope not. Brevard has a PhD in English and is apparently very good at getting fellowships. He’s on his third one to date.”

“Wow.”
 

“Queenie keeps saying that her mother wishes Brevard would get a real job. But that could just be what Queenie is secretly thinking.”

“You said you’d tell me about the name?”

“Oh, that!” Allison laughed at the memory. “Queenie’s real name is Laticia Morris, but in college nobody could get her first name straight. She’s an imposing-looking woman—five foot ten with a broad smile and gorgeous caramel-colored skin. Whenever she introduced herself as Laticia, the inevitable reply was, ‘Oh, like Queen Latifah…?’ After a while, Deb and I started razzing her by calling her ‘Queenie.’ She got a kick out of the nickname and began introducing herself that way. Of course, that was a long time ago.”
 

Grady bellowed a laugh.
 

BOOK: The Borrowed Boyfriend
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