Susan Mallery - Falling for Gracie

He’d hated that more than anything. And his uncle, who could have fixed it all, had simply turned his back on his only sister. The old bastard had even let her die.

Riley wouldn’t forget that-not ever.

He parked the car and turned off the engine. After slipping into his jacket, he walked up to the closest house and knocked on the front door. A woman in her early forties answered.

“Good afternoon,” he said cheerfully. “My name is Riley Whitefield and I’m running for mayor.”

The woman glared at him. “I guess you are. I recognize your picture. If you’re here about the election, you can forget it. I would have voted for you before. I don’t like that weasel Yardley, but compared to you, he’s a saint.”

“Excuse me?” Riley had no idea how he could have offended someone he’d never met. “What changed your mind?”

“Gracie Landon. I don’t actually know her, but I’ve heard all the stories. She was crazy about you. Loved you with her whole heart and you never appreciated it. You still don’t.”

No. This was not happening.

“I can assure you Gracie and I never…” Never what? Slept together? “She’s not pregnant and if she were, I would marry her right away.”

“Oh, sure. That’s romantic. You’ll take her on if your careless behavior screws up her life. Wow. Talk about noble.” She shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you? Gracie is a legend. She loved with a fearlessness we all admire. But you never understood what a gift she offered. You only saw her as a pain in the ass. Well, you’re wrong. Her love is a precious gift and if you’re too stupid to see that, you’re too stupid to be mayor.”

“HOW DID IT GO?” Zeke asked later that evening when they met at Riley’s house to finalize their campaign plans.

“Interesting.”

Riley was already on his second Scotch. He figured he might as well go for a third later. The situation would be a hell of a lot easier to deal with drunk. Not that three drinks would even get him close, but it was a start.

“Define interesting,” Zeke said. “Interesting good?”

Riley closed his eyes as he relived the afternoon he’d spent going door-to-door in Los Lobos.

“I visited about thirty houses where someone was home. I’d say about eight-five percent of them basically told me they wouldn’t vote for me until hell froze over.”

Zeke swore. “It’s the Gracie thing, isn’t it?”

Riley nodded. Who knew that something from his past would jump up and bite him so firmly in the ass? “It was those damn newspaper articles,” he said grimly. “People who had never heard of Gracie or me feel as if they lived a part of our lives with us. They feel involved. Right now they’re taking her side and assuming I’m the bastard in all this.”

To think he’d come so far only to lose it over something like this.

“You must want to kill her, huh?” Zeke said.

“Not really.”

Riley knew it was probably the logical reaction, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame Gracie. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Oh, sure, he was past angry. It was ninety-seven million dollars and more importantly, a chance to screw his uncle. But the disaster wasn’t Gracie’s fault.

Which brought him to an interesting question. Why wasn’t he blaming her? If she hadn’t come back to Los Lobos, none of this would have happened.

And that was the kicker, he thought as he stared at the bookshelf across from his chair and finished his drink. He didn’t want to take back what had happened. Not the part that included her.

“So what are they saying?” Zeke asked. “That you should treat her better?”

“That I should marry her.”

“So why don’t you?”

Riley turned to his office manager and glared. “Marry her?”

“For the election. Listen, it’s not a crazy idea. You could work something out with her. A temporary marriage to win the election. You wouldn’t even have to marry her. You could just get engaged. Gracie’s a sweetie. She’ll say yes.”

She probably would, he thought. Knowing Gracie. She would feel horrible about what had happened and do everything in her power to make it right.

“No.”

Zeke stared at him. “What? No? Just like that? You’re not even going to ask her?”

“No.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect solution. What’s the problem?”

Interesting question, and one Riley couldn’t answer. He would have married Gracie if she’d been pregnant, but he wouldn’t do it this way. Not even a fake engagement. Besides, with his luck, an engagement wouldn’t be enough. He’d have to go through with it.

“I won’t screw with her life like that,” Riley said. “Leave it alone. We’ll come up with another solution.”

“I don’t have another solution.”

“Then you’re going to have to find one. That’s why I pay you the big bucks.”

Zeke looked cornered. “Riley, the election is in less than a week. I can’t fix this in a week without using Gracie. You have to know that.”

“Find another way.”

“But…” Zeke closed his mouth and nodded. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

IT HAD BEEN forty-eight hours and Gracie still had trouble grasping the truth of the situation.

She loved Riley. Loved him. Crazy or not, he made her heart beat faster, her body tingle and when they kissed, she saw sparks. Even better, he was a great guy. She could imagine being with him always, growing old with him, having kids with him. The only thing she couldn’t picture was how she was going to tell him the truth.

“After the election,” she reminded herself as she stretched the rolled fondant onto the last of the cakes. “He’ll be able to deal with me then.”

Until that time, she would simply bask in her newfound feelings and work on the cake for the historical society.

Her plans, and her good pans, were still at Pam’s, but Gracie remembered the basic design. She’d planned on a square three-layer cake in the center with smaller layer cakes spread out around. Almost like houses in a town. She’d gone with a white fondant and a basket weave pattern on the sides. Simple flowers would decorate the top.

She’d made a duplicate sketch from memory and consulted it now as she began decorating the cakes. Her head felt a little fuzzy, as if she hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Which was partially true, but not enough to make her feel so weird.

Maybe it was Riley withdrawal, she thought with a smile. They’d been talking several times a day on the phone, but he’d been so caught up in election stuff that he hadn’t been able to stop by. Too bad-she was going to need another fix soon.

The strips of basket weaving went on easily. Gracie had created cakes like this dozens of times before. The roses were all prepared. When she finished the basket weave, she would anchor them in place.

Over the next few hours, the cake came together, even as her body seemed to be falling apart. Her head ached, her body felt heavy. Putting on the final roses seemed to take every bit of her concentration.

Finally she had the separate cakes in pink boxes and ready for delivery. She carefully put the boxes in the refrigerator so that she could take them over in the morning. She closed the door and felt the room tilt. Not a good sign.

Gracie checked to make sure the oven was off, then made her way to the bedroom where she collapsed onto the bed. A voice in her head said she should at least kick off her shoes or get under the covers, but then she got very, very sleepy and very, very weak and the whole world just faded away.

GRACIE WASN’T SURE what time it was when she woke up. The room wouldn’t stop spinning and she couldn’t believe that she was both burning up and shivering. Her mouth was dry, her body ached and she really wanted someone to shoot her and put her out of her misery.

Instead she did her best to stare at the clock and try to figure out if it was the next day or not. There was sunshine. Had it been sunny when she’d taken a header on the bed?

When the swirling numbers refused to focus, she forced herself to her feet where she staggered through the house until she found her cell phone and called a number she’d only recently put in her directory.

“Hello?”

“Riley?” It hurt to talk. Her throat felt as if she’d been snacking on fire.

“Gracie? Is that you? What’s wrong?”

“I just…” She shuffled to a chair and sank onto the seat. “I don’t feel very good. I have a bug, or something. I can’t…” Rational thought faded. What was her point? Oh, yeah. “The cake. Is it Saturday?”

“Most of the day.”

“Okay. Good. I haven’t missed it.”

I haven’t missed it. Why did that line sound familiar? It was from a movie, she thought hazily. Yeah. A movie she liked. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

“A Christmas Carol,” she said triumphantly. “I haven’t missed it. The spirits have done it all in one night.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone.

“How sick are you?” Riley asked.

“Not a clue. But the cake has to go to the historical society. I can’t take it. Can you take it? Can you take it and set it up? Can you take it and set it up and make sure it’s okay?”

“Yes. Stop trying to talk. Do you have any food? Are you eating?”

“My tuna salad, but I had a bunch yesterday and I don’t want any more.”

“Are you drinking?”

“Not sure liquor’s the answer.”

“Obviously not. I’ll stop and bring by supplies. Give me an hour.”

“I’ll just be here.” She closed her eyes. “Maybe I’ll go back to bed.” She touched her hot face. “I don’t think I look very good. I might have to throw up.”

“I can handle it. Just try to rest.”

“Sure. No problem.”

The phone slipped from her fingers. Gracie thought about trying to pick it up but the ground was so far away. When had it gotten so far away?