Melissa Mcclone - The Man Behind the Pinstripes

Confusion filled his gaze. “My grandmother doesn’t lack anything.”

He sounded so certain, not the least bit defensive. A good sign, but still …

Becca shouldn’t have brought this up, but her affection for Gertie meant Becca couldn’t back down now. She wanted Caleb to stop blowing off his grandmother. “Gertie thought living here would make it easier for me to do my job without having to drive back and forth all the time. But I also think she wants me here because she’s lonely.”

“My grandmother lonely?”

The disbelief in his words irritated Becca. She’d realized this as soon as she got to know Gertie, yet her own grandson couldn’t see it. “Yes.”

“That’s impossible,” he said without hesitation. “Gertie Fairchild has more friends than anyone I know. She’s a social butterfly who turns down invitations—otherwise she’d never be home. She has the means to go out whenever she wants. She has an entire staff to take care of the house and the grounds. No way is she lonely.”

What Caleb said might have been true once, but no longer. “Gertie does have a staff, but we’re employees. She has lunch twice a week with friends. But she hasn’t attended any parties since I moved in. She prefers to spend time in her lab.”

“The lab is keeping her from her friends.”

“I believe your grandmother would rather spend time with her family, not friends.”

“You believe?” He grimaced. “My sister and I—”

“See her every Sunday for brunch at the club, I know. But since I arrived neither you nor your sister have stopped by. Not until you today.”

“As I said—”

“You’ve been busy,” Becca finished for him.

Caleb shot a sideways glance at the house. “All Grams has to do is call. I’ll do whatever she asks.”

“Gertie asked for your help with the dog care products.”

“That’s …”

“Different?”

A vein at his neck throbbed. “You’ve got a cush job living here at the estate. I’m sure my grandmother’s paying you a bundle to take care of a few dogs and prance them around the ring. What’s it to you anyway?”

He sounded defensive. She would, too. Realizing you’d screwed up was never easy. Boy, did she know that. “Gertie’s helped me a lot. I want her to be happy.”

“Trust me, she’s happy. But you have some nerve sponging off my grandmother, helping her with her wild dog-product scheme and then telling me how I should act with my family.”

Not defensive. Overconfident. Cocky. Clueless.

Caleb Fairchild was no different than the other people who saw her as dirt to be wiped off the bottom of their expensive designer shoes.

At least she’d tried. For Gertie’s sake.

Becca reached out her hand. “Give me your jacket.”

“You’re going to help me after trying to make me feel like a jerk?” he asked.

Mission accomplished. If he felt like a jerk he had only himself to blame. “I said I’d help. I only told you the truth.”

He didn’t look as if he believed her. They were even. She didn’t trust him.

“As you see it,” he said.

She met his gaze straight on. “I could say the same about your truth.”

They stood there locked in a stare down.

Stalemate.

“At least we know where we stand,” he said.

Becca wasn’t so certain, but she knew one thing. Being with Caleb was like riding a gravity-defying roller coaster. He left her feeling breathless, scared to death, and never wanting to get on again. She didn’t like it. Him.

She held up his jacket. “And just so you know, I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it for Gertie.”

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