How the Playboy Got Serious
Автор
Shirley Jump
Прочтений
15,4K
Глав
11
Harlequin🌸 Clean & Wholesome
HarlequinChapter One
LIFE as Riley McKenna knew it was about to change. And change in a big way. He sensed the change coming, like the shift in the wind when summer yielded to fall.
“I love you, Riley, but I have to say this.” Mary McKenna looked her grandson straight in the eye, with the steady light blue gaze that told him she was about to say something he didn’t want to hear. “It’s high time you grew up.”
Gray-haired, elegant and poised, Mary sat in one of two rose-patterned Windsor chairs in what was called the morning room but that Riley and his brothers had long ago dubbed the “serious room,” because that was where their grandmother held all her serious talks. When they were young, they knew getting called into the morning room meant a long and stern lecture. Even at twenty-six, Riley was occasionally summoned to this space—and that was exactly what Mary did—summoned—and given the familiar sermon about responsibility and maturity.
Mary had a presence about her, built over years of helming first the family, then the family business. Truth be told, she intimidated most people and even sometimes Riley, because she made no bones about her feelings—ever. So when Mary wanted to have a serious talk, Riley knew enough to listen. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to escape the lecture about to come.
“Gran, it’s my birthday.” He shot her the grin that usually sweet-talked his grandmother into leniency. “That means I’m more grown up today than yesterday.”
More or less.
He’d spent the night before his birthday in a bar, and had plans to hit a whole list of them tonight with his friends. He knew he should be looking forward to the night out, but for some reason, the thought of trading the same conversations with the same people over the same beverages sounded…
Boring.
He was just hungover. Or something. He’d be fine once he had a nice dark ale in his hands.
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.” Gran sipped a cup of tea while the sun streamed in from the picture window behind her and kissed everything in the stately Victorian style room with gold. The house was over a hundred years old, a towering three-level clothed in dark paneling and the occasional modern touch. Mary could have afforded ten times the house but she had chosen to stay in the place where she had raised her children and loved her husband. To Riley, the house had a certain amount of dependability and comfort, which was half the reason he had yet to move out of the guest house that sat just down the driveway from the main house. He liked being here, liked being surrounded by his DNA’s history. And he liked to keep an eye on his grandmother. She had a tendency to do too much, and to rarely listen to anyone who told her otherwise. The McKenna stubborn streak was alive and well in Mary McKenna.
Mary smoothed out a wrinkle that had dared to crimp her plaid skirt. “Your birthday is an occasion to rethink your priorities and focus on more mature pursuits.”
More mature pursuits. Which to his grandmother, Riley knew meant getting married. Settling down. Something he avoided at all costs. He glanced out the window and saw a golden fur ball wandering the grounds. His oldest brother’s adopted shelter dog, one of the nicest pets Riley had ever met. No wonder Finn spoiled her with treats and toys. “Finn drop his dog off here?”
“I’m watching Heidi for a few days while they take a trip together. She’s a wonderful dog.” Then Gran leaned forward. “I won’t let you change the subject, Riley. This is serious business.” She held up a newspaper. “Have you read this morning’s Herald?”
Uh-oh. “Uh, no.”
She laid it down again. “When you do, you will see that you have a starring role in the media. Once again.” She sighed. “Really, do we need the world to know every single time you are caught in a compromising position?”
Oh. That. The woman he’d been with that night at the gala had been a little too eager, and he’d been a little too willing. He’d forgotten there’d be reporters skulking about. Before he could say stop, his date had her dress hiked up and her body pressed against his. There’d been a sound behind them, and the entire awkward moment was caught on film. Riley cringed. He hated seeing that look of disappointment on his grandmother’s face. He’d let her down. Again. “It was a mistake. I had a little too much to drink—”
“No excuse. You are far past the age where you can act like a fool and get away with it. Your brother has just shipped off to Afghanistan, volunteering, I might add, to help the wounded. And instead of focusing on Brody’s charity, the reporter has chosen to make the entire story about you and your…indiscretions.” His grandmother leaned closer. “You do realize that you did this at a fundraiser for wounded veterans? The last thing the McKenna Foundation needs is publicity like this. From a family member, no less.”
“You’re right. It shouldn’t have happened.” He let out a long breath. “Sometimes I just don’t think.”
“This isn’t the first time, Riley. I love you, but I can’t have you smearing the family name.” She shook her head. “You get swayed by a pretty smile and a nice pair of legs and forget that you’re supposed to be a responsible adult.”
Responsible adult. Those were two words no one had ever used to describe Riley. Finn and Brody, yes, but not Riley. Finn, the married CEO, and Brody, a general practice physician now volunteering his skills half a world away. For the hundredth time, Riley felt like he could never measure up to their examples. He excelled in one area—not being excellent.
For a long time that hadn’t bothered him at all. He’d always been too busy seeking the next party, the next pretty face, as his grandmother said, to worry what anyone thought of him. But lately…
Well, lately he’d been thinking far too much.
Gran sighed. “I’m getting old—”
“You’re decades away from old.”
“—and I’m tired of waiting for great grandchildren.”
“Finn just gave you one. And they have another on the way already.” His oldest brother Finn had taken to marriage like a bear to salmon fishing. Married, one adopted child, and a baby due in a little over seven months. Riley had to admit that sometimes, when he saw how happy Finn and Ellie were, he felt a little…jealous. But only because Finn was so damned happy, it seemed like he’d caught a smiling disease.
“And now it’s your turn,” Mary said.
“Whoa, whoa. What about Brody? He’s next in line for the yoke.”
His grandmother pursed her lips at that. “Marriage is not chaining oxen together. Your grandfather and I—”
“Were the exception to the rule. Nobody stays married like that anymore.” Even though his grandfather had died a little over three years ago, Mary still carried a torch for the man she had loved for more than five decades. They had been a loving, kind couple, the type that held hands when they rode in the car or walked the neighborhood. When Riley had been young, it had been nice to see, something that made him wonder if he’d ever have a relationship like that. Then he’d grown up, started dating, and realized his grandparents’ lifelong love affair was about as common as unicorns in the zoo.
His grandmother took another sip of tea, then laid the china cup into the saucer. “You’re just jaded. If you would settle down you might find love is a lot better than you think.”
“I’m happy the way I am.”
“Perhaps.” She toyed with the teaspoon on the tray beside her, then lifted her gaze to her grandson’s. Even at seventy-eight, Mary’s mind was sharp and agile. She still ran McKenna Media, the advertising company started by her husband. She’d been grumbling about stepping down for years, but had yet to take even a day off. Riley suspected Mary kept working both to stay close to the husband she missed and to keep her days full. “You haven’t really done anything with your life yet, Riley.”
“I work, Gran.”
She scoffed. “You show up at the office, goof off and collect a paycheck.”
“Hey, we all have to be good at something. That’s my area of expertise.”
His grandmother didn’t laugh at the joke, or even so much as crack a smile. The mood in the serious room tensed. “I have indulged you far too much because you are the youngest. I always treated you differently, because—” she sighed, and her pale blue eyes softened “—I felt bad for you. Losing your parents at such a young age, then being uprooted from the only home you ever knew to live with your grandfather and I—”
Riley waved that off. “I was fine.”
Mary’s gaze locked on his. “Were you?”
He looked away, studying the gilt-framed landscape hanging on the far wall. Painted sunlight dappled oil-created trees and brush-formed flowers, and caressed the roofline of a cottage nestled in a fictional forest. A perfect little world, captured in Technicolor paint. “I was fine,” Riley repeated.
“I think if you tell yourself that often enough, you’ll eventually believe it,” Mary said softly.
Riley let out a long breath. He wasn’t much for serious talks, or serious conversational topics, or, come to mention it, the serious room. Altogether far too stuffy and formal. And well, hell, serious. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone for lunch, Gran.” He rose halfway out of the chair. “I really need to get going.”
“Cancel your plans.”
He cocked a brow. “Oh, now I get it. Are you planning a birthday party for me, Gran? You know you’ve never been able to surprise me.”
“No party this year, Riley. In fact, I think it’s high time your party days were behind you.” She steepled her fingers and brought them to her lips. “Sit back down please.”
Uh-oh. Riley recognized that stance. It meant Gran had an idea—one he knew he wasn’t going to like. He lowered his lanky frame back into the uncomfortable Windsor chair.
“I think you need a real wake-up call, Riley. Consequently—” Gran paused and her pale eyes nailed him like a bug on a board “—I’m cutting you off.”
The words hung in the air for a long time before Riley processed them. “You’re…what?”
“Effective immediately, you are fired from McKenna Media, not that you had a real job there as it was. And you will also be expected to pay a reasonable rent on the guest house. Every month, on the first. Which happens to be two weeks away.”
Gran meant business. No mistaking that.
Riley opened his mouth to argue. To joke. To cajole. To employ any of a dozen techniques he’d used before to talk his stern grandmother out of punishments and edicts.
He didn’t. Instead he considered her words and realized she had a point.
Gran had never approved of the way he lived his life. But what his grandmother didn’t understand was that Riley didn’t spend his days without any sense of commitment because he wanted to shirk responsibilities. It was because he had yet to find a direction that interested him.
He’d tried nearly every job at McKenna Media, and within a few days, been bored to death. He’d dated dozens of beautiful women, but not found a single one who dared his heart to take a risk.
Gran probably wanted Riley to go out and find yet another job in a field he could hardly stand, then settle down with one of her friends’ single, available granddaughters. But what Riley really wanted was…
A challenge. Something that made him rush to get out of bed in the morning. Maybe he needed something—God help him—with substance.
Riley had always known this day would come, and for some reason, instead of being panicked by it, he felt…energized. For the first time in a long time.
Had his partying ways finally grown tiresome? No, he told himself. It was a minor bump, a moment of ennui, nothing more. He’d spend a few days doing things his grandmother’s way, prove to her that he wasn’t nearly as irresponsible as he looked, and then be back to his old life in no time.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll do it.”
She blinked her surprise. “Well, good.” She reached into her pocket and handed him a slip of paper. “Your final paycheck. I’m kicking you out, and cutting you off, but I don’t want you to starve the first day.”
Riley gave his grandmother a soft smile, then leaned down and brushed a kiss across her wrinkled cheek. “I’ll be fine, Gran.” He pressed the check back into her hand, then said goodbye and headed out the door, and into a world he had never truly experienced.
He thought it would be easy, like everything else in his life had been.
He was wrong.
* * *
Stace Kettering had had enough. “I quit, Frank.” She tossed her apron on the counter in emphasis, and slapped her order pad down beside it. The last of the breakfast crowd had left a few minutes earlier, giving Stace her first break since five in the morning. She grabbed a glazed donut out from under the glass dome on the counter and took a bite. “I’m serious. I quit.”
Frank let out a laugh. His barrel belly shook with the sound, and his wide smile broke into an even wider grin. Frank Simpson had been the head chef and part owner of Morning Glory Diner for thirty years—almost as long as anyone could remember the burger that had made Frank’s famous. Stace had worked there nearly all her life—almost as long as anyone could remember a Kettering offspring at the counter at Frank’s.
“I’ve heard that before,” Frank said, emerging from the kitchen to plant his beefy palms on the counter. He gave Stace a wink. “A hundred times. No, maybe two hundred.” He picked up her apron and held it out to her.
“I’m serious this time. I’m done.” She ignored the apron and took another bite of donut. The sweet glaze melted like heaven on her tongue.
“Is Walter giving you a hard time again? You know he means well.”
“He is the grumpiest man in the city of Boston. No, the state of Massachusetts.”
Frank chuckled. “I think the entire You-nited States.”
That got a laugh out of Stace. “I think you’re right.” She plopped onto one of the counter stools and let out a sigh. “Why does he always pick my table?”
“He likes you.”
Walter was a daily customer at Morning Glory Diner, though Lord only knew why he kept returning when all he did was find fault with everything from the forks to the fries. And every single time, he made sure he was seated in Stace’s section, as if he was on a one-man mission to ruin her day. “He told me I was the slowest waitress in the entire solar system, complained that his water was flat—”
“Flat water?” Frank arched a brow. “Did he expect it to be round?”
“I think he ran out of things to complain about.” Stace let out another laugh. She put down the donut, then reached for the apron and snatched it back, tugging it over her head before fastening the strings in the back. “Okay, so I won’t quit today. But if you don’t hire someone else soon, I will quit. On principle.” It had been two weeks since Irene had gone on maternity leave, which had left Stace to single-handedly carry the weight of the diners at Frank’s until she returned. The tips were great and much needed, but at the end of day, Stace was so tired she needed to be rolled to her little house eight subway stops away. And given the way things had been going at home lately, Stace needed to be alert. There wasn’t just her to worry about anymore.
Frank gave her a smile. “You’re exhausted, honey.”
“I’m okay. Walter just stressed me out, that’s all.” She eyed the older man. “I’m more worried about how you are. I know business has been down for a while and I hate to see you working so hard.”
He wagged a finger at her. “Nope, not falling for that. You know me, if I wasn’t fine, I’d be complaining.”
She laughed. “Frank, you never complain.” Then her gaze softened and her hand covered his. “You keep talking about retiring, but never do. You deserve some time off, Frank.”
He waved that off. “If I retire, who’s going to make the famous Morning Glory burger?”
“Me.”
Frank laughed. “No offense, Stace, but you can’t even make grilled cheese. Your dad, God rest his soul, was the same way. Good at the books, good in the front of the house, but a nightmare on the grill.” Frank’s big brown eyes softened. “I know one thing, though. He’d be awful proud of you.”
She glanced around the diner, at the building that her father had built. The morning glory border he had painted himself, the chairs and tables he’d picked out. Every wall in this place still seemed to beat with her father’s heart. She missed him, but at least here, she could be close to him, and his memory. For a second, her father’s presence filled her heart, surrounded her like a hug. “Thank you, Frank.”
He shrugged, then fiddled with a spoon on the counter. “How’s things with Jeremy?”
“We’re getting there. He’s a handful.” Handful didn’t even begin to describe her nephew, who was angry at his mother, angry at the world…just plain angry. He needed an outlet, something to help him work through the shock of his mother’s abandonment, but Stace had yet to find anything the boy would stick with. She bit back a sigh. Later, she’d worry about that. For now, she’d focus on making enough money to handle the additional cost of an extra mouth to feed. While at the same time trying to find a way to increase business at the diner.
“Poor kid’s been through a lot,” Frank said. “You need anything, you come ask me. I’ll be there for you.”
Stace’s hand covered Frank’s beefy palm. The older man had already been a great presence in Jeremy’s life, serving as a surrogate grandfather just as he’d served as Stace’s surrogate father. Frank had given her a raise she hadn’t asked for, quietly dropped off a new TV at her house when hers broke, and taken Jeremy school shopping when he’d refused to go with Stace. Even as she insisted she could handle it herself, Frank stepped in anyway. “I know you will.”
Frank’s eyes misted, but he let out a cough to cover for the momentary emotion. Frank was a man who loved well and hard, but rarely let that emotion show. Stace had only seen him cry once, and the sight of it had broken her heart because she knew the pain in Frank’s heart lanced deep.
Frank cleared his throat. “Anyway, I promise, I’ll hire the next person who walks in that door.” He pointed toward the diner’s glass entrance.
“Right.” She laughed. “You’ve been promising to hire another server for two weeks now, and no one has even gotten past the application stage.” Stace pointed at the Help Wanted sign propped in the window. “That thing is doing nothing but gathering dust.”
He shrugged. “I’m picky. I can’t find enough Stace clones.”
“Now you’re just buttering me up.”
Frank grinned. “Did it work?”
“Yes. But just for today.” She swiped the order pad off the counter, and tucked the pen into her pocket. Every time she reached the quitting point, Frank found a way to convince her to stay. Heck, he was right. She’d have stayed with or without the jokes and compliments. Her loyalty to Frank Simpson ran bone-deep, and always would.
“Good.” He thumbed the straps of his apron and let out a long breath. “Back to the fryer for me. Those bloomin’ onions don’t bloom on their own, you know.” Just as Frank turned back to the kitchen, the door of the diner opened, causing the overhead bell to let out a soft jangle. The two of them pivoted toward the sound.
Riley McKenna.
If there was a customer Stace dreaded almost as much as Walter, it was Riley. He was a handsome man—if one was the kind of woman who found blue eyes and dark hair appealing. And a charming man—if one liked a man with a ready smile and quick wit. But he was also a playboy, and if there was one thing Stace had no tolerance for, it was playboys.
Even if he took her breath away when he smiled. Damn, he was a good-looking man. Too bad he was all wrong for her.
She’d seen his picture in the papers with the girlfriend of the minute, heard other women talk about him with an actual swoon in their voice. As far as she could tell, the youngest McKenna hadn’t followed in the family traditions of meaningful work or charitable organizations. Unless attending every party in the greater Boston area was considered giving back to society.
Stacey avoided men like Riley McKenna like the plague. She’d learned a long time ago that a nice smile and charming words were merely a cover for deeper flaws. Thank God she’d woken up before she married such a man. She’d known Jim for years, and fallen for his charismatic ways over and over again. He’d proposed on a Sunday and left town on a Tuesday—
With a girl he’d met the night before. She’d been fooled for so long, blind to his lies, because she’d wanted to believe in that smile. It had taken her a year to get over the betrayal, and from here on out, Stace would avoid men like that, thank you very much. And that meant avoiding Riley McKenna. And his smile.
Riley nearly always sat in her section and ordered an omelet. Not one of the dozen combinations on the menu, but always something of his own creation, which drove Stace crazy but didn’t seem to bother Frank. She knew, from the lackadaisical way he ate his breakfast and the dozens of phone calls she’d overheard where Riley discussed the latest hot party or vacuous date, that his life was about as serious as confetti.
And on top of that, he seemed to think flirting was on the menu. He teased her, smiled at her, and had asked for her number once. Typical. Thinking every woman was just going to fall at his feet.
To her, perpetual flirt Riley McKenna was just another entitled bachelor in a city teeming with them. A man whom she suspected hadn’t seen a hard day of work in his life, and never appreciated the hard work of others.
“How are you, Frank?” Riley shot them both a grin, then slid onto one of the counter stools.
“Good, good,” Frank said. “And you?”
Riley’s smile faltered. “I’ve had better days.”
“Well, if it’ll make you feel any better, I’ve got apple pie on the menu today,” Frank said.
“Not today, thanks. Unless you’re giving out free samples. I’m, ah, currently between funds right now.”
“You?” Frank asked. “What, did you spend too much on a date last night?”
“Something like that.” Riley gave Frank the cocky grin he gave everyone. The grin that said he’d probably spent his night bedding yet another in a long string of blondes. Stace kept on working. And ignoring him.
Stace soaked a cloth in disinfectant cleaner then started wiping down the pale yellow laminate counter. There wasn’t much time before the lunch crowd began to filter in, and lots to do.
“I’ve been out looking for a job,” Riley said.
“I take it the job search hasn’t gone too well?”
Riley’s grin raised a little on one side. “I’m not qualified to do much.”
Frank laughed. Stace restrained herself from issuing a hearty agreement. “I’m sure you’ll find something that works for you,” Frank said.
“Actually…” Riley began.
Something white caught Stace’s eye and she raised her gaze to see what it was. She froze.
“I thought I’d apply here,” Riley said. He lifted the Help Wanted sign in his hands, the same one that had been in the window just moments before, and gave Frank a smile. “I figure I eat here enough, I might as well earn my keep.”
Frank arched a brow. “You want to be a waiter? Here?”
“Yup. Consider this my official application.” Riley slid the sign across the counter.
Frank sent Stace a glance. She mouthed “no,” and waved her hands. Frank wouldn’t dare. He’d said he’d hire someone, but surely he wanted someone with experience, someone who would be a help, not a hindrance. Someone who had a good work ethic. “Frank…”
Frank grinned at her word of caution, then turned back to Riley. “I told Miss Stace here that I’d hire the next person who walked through that door—”
He wouldn’t.
“And since I’m a man of my word—”
He couldn’t.
“You’re hired, Riley McKenna.” Frank reached over and clapped Riley on the shoulder. “Welcome to Morning Glory Diner. Stace here will be glad to show you the ropes.”
He did.
Stace plastered a smile she didn’t feel on her face, and faced her worst nightmare. An irresponsible womanizer who was going to make her life a living hell.
