Time to dial up the perky. “Look, I swear the money is mine. I just . . . I wanted a change of scenery so I took all my money out of the bank and decided to do a little traveling, have a little adventure for myself.”
Wait. Shoot. That was probably a foolish thing to admit. If he had a mind to, he could make her and her money disappear, and no one in her family would ever know what had become of her. Damn it. There sure was a steep learning curve to being on the lam. For instance, is that even what they called it anymore? On the lam? Well, whatever it was called, she wasn’t proving to be very good at it.
Grant picked up the apple and shined it on his shirt, right over that muscular torso. “You’re looking for adventure? In Bell Harbor? In the middle of winter?” He sounded doubtful, and with good reason.
Delaney tossed her ponytail in what she hoped was a convincingly carefree manner. “I heard you have good skiing here. But listen, if you can get my rent money back from your mother, I will gladly go elsewhere.”
That wasn’t entirely true. She’d go elsewhere all right, but she wouldn’t be glad about it. None of the other places she’d looked at had been remotely acceptable, and with her luck, if she went back to the hotel, she’d get snowed in and end up like Jack Nicholson in The Shining. Leaving town wasn’t much of an option right now either. There was sixteen feet of snow in every direction, and she was driving a frickin’ Volkswagen Beetle. She’d nearly ended up in the ditch on the way home from the grocery store.
Grant continued to stare, until the pressure nearly broke her. Maybe she should offer up the famous Masterson smile. It had worked in convincing his mother, but something told Delaney that Grant Connelly was a little sharper in the intellect department than Donna was. So she waited, silent, while his body seemed to fill the space in front of her. The scent of one of her mother’s trademark soaps emanated from his skin. Ginger peachy. Most certainly not his usual fragrance, and the idea of him using her bath bar made those knees of hers wobble again. Not the time to be weak limbed. She crossed her arms and tried to look determined. Certain. Not guilty. The money was hers, after all. That was the only thing that really mattered here. He didn’t need to know all the details about why she’d left Beverly Hills.
His sigh, when it came, was full of resignation. “You swear to me you’re not some runaway Girl Scout who took all the cookie money?”
She held up three fingers in what she hoped was the Girl Scout salute. “I swear.”
This chick was no Girl Scout, and anybody on the move with that much cash had to have a story, but he was just too damn tired to care. He hadn’t even meant to find that bag. He’d gone into the first bedroom and opened the closet just to throw in his own stuff, and there it was, a backpack, unzipped and gaping wide with banded stacks of money inside. If she was a thief, she wasn’t very good at hiding it.
He scrubbed a hand across his whiskered jaw and resigned himself to wondering. Whatever her situation was, it wasn’t his problem. Tomorrow he’d go see his mother and the rest of his family. He’d get the girl’s deposit back and send her on her way. He turned back to the kitchen counter. “Fine. Whatever. Where’s the bread?”
“That’s it?” Her voice squeaked in surprise, and then she hiccupped.
“That’s it for now. I told you, all I want is food and sleep. I’ll get your deposit back for you tomorrow and you can find another place, because you can’t stay here.”
“Deposit and six months’ rent,” she said.
“What?”
“I gave your mother a security deposit and six months’ rent, so she’ll have to give it all back. In cash.”
A dull thudding began inside his skull, like the pounding of a Kayumanggi drum. Historically, things involving his mother did not go smoothly, and this had catastrophe written all over it. He turned back around, hoping maybe the girl would be gone. That maybe he was asleep and he’d dreamt up this whole thing. But no. There she was, all innocent looking, which meant she was anything but. “Please tell me you didn’t pay my mother in cash.”
She frowned, delicate as an angry kitten. This chick was too cute for his own good, but at the moment, his mother’s gambling habit was the primary issue. Donna liked the slots, but they didn’t like her. If she had fifty bucks in her pocket, the only safe bet was that she’d lost it, and six months’ rent was a lot of scratch to donate to the Four Eagles Casino.
“Yes, I paid her in cash.”
“How much did you give her?”
“Six thousand dollars.”
He smacked his palm against his forehead. “When did you pay her?”