to adjust and still hadn’t managed it. If Mal wanted to think she was fooling him, he’d let her. Maybe she’d eventually fool herself and get back to the Mal he knew. “So, how exactly did you and Mom come to the conclusion that I needed to organize the engagement party? Isn’t that something the parents of the groom should do? Or the sister?”
“No.” And some of the tension slid from Mal’s face at the change of subject. At least, the lines around her mouth didn’t look so prominent. “Plus, Mom already tried to pawn it off on me, which is how your name came up.”
“You threw me under the bus.”
“That’s such a cliché. I prefer to think of it as giving you a gift.”
Owen shook his head. “A gift? Please, more like an obligation.” One he didn’t know how to get out of. If Mal and his mother had already joined forces? Game, set and match.
“Oh, I don’t know. Julia mentioned how interested you seemed in the wedding planner.” Mal shot him a smirk.
Owen picked up the water bottle he was drinking from and rolled it back and forth between his palms. He wasn’t embarrassed to have been caught out. He hadn’t exactly been subtle about his appreciation for the cool Grace Monroe. But she’d been pretty clear that even if she found him appealing, nothing would come of it. “I’m not sure what that has to do with anything, but for the record, she wasn’t interested.”
“You didn’t think you’d have to plan the party on your own, did you?” Mal rolled her eyes. “You’d be working with her. Just think—the two of you could join forces. Maybe spend some late nights during the planning stages.”
Owen wasn’t fooled. “Don’t try to distract me. I won’t forget that you used me as a shield.” But he certainly wouldn’t mind the excuse to see Grace—ahem, Ms. Monroe—again. “You don’t care about my dating life. You just don’t want to have to plan it yourself.”
“I see no reason that I can’t care about both things.” And for a moment, with her little smirk and sassy tone, Owen saw the sister he knew. Then it was gone, replaced with something quiet and a little sad. “I know it’s a lot to ask, Owen. But I don’t think I can do it.”
He looked into her eyes to see if she was trying to trick him. Mal would be fully capable of letting a fib trip right off her tongue with no body language to indicate anything but the deepest sincerity, but her eyes always gave her away. A combination of fear, shame and a deep pain stared back at him. Owen felt it in his own stomach.
“It’s just...too close.”
Too close because up until earlier this year, Mal had been the engaged Ford sibling, the one who’d be wedding-planning and holding the ceremony on a beach in Aruba in the near future. But when their father had had his heart attack, everything had changed.
It had changed for all of them. Donovan took over running the company, while Owen began to pay more attention to work instead of treating it like a fun place to hang out in the evening for a few hours and collect a paycheck. But Mal had uprooted her life in Aruba and moved back to Vancouver. Sold her stake in the beach restaurant to Travis and come back to work for the family business.
“Fine. I’ll do it.” Owen huffed out a breath, putting on a show of being put out because he thought Mal needed it. Needed to feel as though things were normal, that her older brother still found her an annoying pest and loved her anyway. They’d all been careful with Mal over the past few months. Doing their best not to upset her, tiptoeing around the question of what had happened between her and Travis because even when it came up indirectly, she got visibly upset. But that clearly wasn’t working and Owen wasn’t about to dump Travis as a friend without cause. “But this means you owe me.”
“I got you alone time with the wedding planner. Consider yourself paid in full.”
“Not enough.” He crossed his arms over his chest and put on his I’m-older-and-know-better-than-you look. “Tell me what’s going on with Travis.”
Mal’s lips pursed and her glare could have melted plastic. Good thing Owen was immune to it, seeing as she’d been using it on him since they were kids. “Nothing is going on.”
Semantics. Owen recognized her answer for the dodge it was, but he wasn’t about to let her use a loophole to get out of this. “Maybe nothing’s going on now, but something happened earlier. Tell me.”
“No.”
“Mal.”
“Drop it, Owen.” And there was sorrow as well as anger in her gaze. “I’m not discussing it.”
Owen drummed his fingers on his water bottle and then shrugged. “Fine. But if you won’t tell me, then I can’t console you with free alcohol and ice cream.”
Mal’s look was withering. “You think I can’t comp myself?”
Owen shrugged again. “I’m the manager here. They do what I say.”
“And you’d tell them not to serve me?” When he nodded, his sister’s eyes narrowed. Owen was glad to see it. At least she wasn’t going to curl up in a ball or slink away the way she would have done a couple of months earlier. Progress. “You’d starve your only sister?”
“I’d do whatever I had to if I thought it would help.”
Her face softened and she reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “I appreciate it, Owen. But I’m okay.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her, but he nodded agreeably. He preferred compromise to conflict. “All right, then. Tell me what I need to know about this party. I’m sure you have some ideas.”
This time, Mal’s smile reached her eyes. “I’m so glad you asked.”
* * *
OWEN CALLED GRACE Sunday morning. A woman like her would spend her Monday morning returning phone calls in order and he hoped to be one of the first. Perhaps he could convince her to go out with him yet. A business meeting. Over lunch. Totally aboveboard.
He was surprised when she answered.
“Grace Monroe.”
But he recovered quickly. “Grace. It’s Owen Ford.”
“Mr. Ford.” He was pretty sure he heard a sigh in her voice, but it was immediately replaced with cool professionalism. “What can I help you with?”
“A party. I need to plan one.”
There was a brief pause. “You’re aware that I specialize in weddings? But I’m happy to send you the names of some other planners in the city who can help. What kind of budget do you have?”
“It’s not for me. An engagement party for Donovan and Julia.” Owen had attended his fair share of parties over the years. More than his fair share and even hosted some. But a couple of blowouts when he’d been in high school, a kegger in his parents’ backyard before he’d told them that he’d officially dropped out of university and a housewarming when he’d bought his apartment that had turned into forty-eight hours of drinks and debauchery weren’t exactly going to cut it. “I’d like to hire you to help.”
Grace
