Carry on wayward son, p.1
Carry On Wayward Son, page 1
CARRY ON WAYWARD SON
UNDERGROUND GRANNY MATCHMAKERS BOOK TWO
TAMIE DEAREN
CARRY ON WAYWARD SON
A Sweet Romantic Comedy
Copyright © 2021 by Tamie Dearen
Baden House Books
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
INTRODUCTION
Falling in love is kind of like jumping out of an airplane... sometimes you need a little push!
That's where GeeBee and her Underground Granny Matchmakers come in. Who cares more about their grandchildren finding happily-ever-afters than their own grandmothers? Who better to help the process along?
Book 1: I Love Rock and Roll (Harmony and West)
Book 2: Carry on Wayward Son (April and Race)
Book 3: Jingle Bell Rock (Marki and Drake)
Underground Granny Matchmakers: Three Book Boxed Set
Read them all FREE with kindle unlimited.
Preorder Book 4, Cowboy Rides Away, now!
Rule #1 - If you offer to help a guy win back his old girlfriend, don’t fall in love with him!
April
GeeBee thinks she’s sneaky, but I’m on to her. When she sends me over to redesign Race’s condo, I know what she’s up to. GeeBee wants us to get married, just like my sister and his brother did.
But I’m not Race’s type. He’s a rockstar, and I couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket if you held a gun to my head!
The good news is that Race is on my side. I told him he’s not my type either. Together, we should be able to foil GeeBee’s plans to match us up.
Race
April is helping me win back the woman I lost. Only, I'm not so sure I want her back anymore.
And now GeeBee is finding new matches for April. First, my old high school nemesis. And then my roommate.
Doesn't she realize those guys aren't good enough for April?
It’ll take an act of desperation to get April’s attention.
But I know her weaknesses: flowers, chocolate and (most important of all) throw pillows!
I just hope it’s not too late...
1
APRIL
I stared at the massive wooden door, sucking air deep into my lungs hoping to calm my nerves. On the other side of that door waited Race Madden. The Race Madden. Famous rockstar and heartthrob. The man whose decision could determine my future.
A “yes” from his lips would be the opportunity of a lifetime. But I needed him to let me redesign his condo, and also to let Inside Stars Magazine cover the transformation. That kind of publicity would launch my career into the stratosphere.
Ordinarily, I was confident. But this situation was sticky for a number of reasons; the biggest being his grandmother GeeBee. I didn’t trust her. Though she’d sworn—with an innocent expression—she wasn’t attempting to make a match between Race and me. In fact, I didn’t quite trust either of our sly grannies, since they’d worked together under the radar to get Race’s brother and my sister together.
My nerves weren’t getting any calmer as I stood in the hallway fretting, so I rang the doorbell before I lost my courage. I smoothed a hand over my hair to ensure my unruly tresses were still tucked into the tight, schoolmarm bun.
My hairstyle was part of the plan. I’d come prepared to set Race’s mind at ease. For this purpose, I’d purchased a prim brown skirt and blazer, with a modest white blouse. I’d abandoned my customary contacts for glasses. I’d even substituted a plain brown leather briefcase for my usual cheery blue one.
My only concession to makeup had been a dab to cover up an annoying blemish that had popped up on my forehead. I hadn’t been surprised to discover it when I’d climbed out of bed that morning. One ugly red spot always arrived when I had an important occasion. I could count on it—bam! Every single time. Who needs text reminders when you have event-zits?
Appearing conservative and professional had been my Gramma’s idea, and I thought it was a great one. Looking as I did, Race couldn’t possibly think I was interested in anything beyond the most platonic, business relationship.
And I’m not. Really. I mean it!
Sure, Race Madden was hot enough to boil water. Yes, his eyes were endless pools of dark chocolate any girl would happily drown in. And his muscles in all those magazine images? Those were real, not photoshopped—I could totally see them rippling under his shirt when he was dancing at our siblings’ wedding. Okay, okay… I admit I’ve had a tiny little crush on him ever since he first came on the music scene.
But the fact that looking at him made my mouth water didn’t mean he was my type. I wasn’t into rockstars. Unlike Harmony, the oldest of my three sisters, I hated spotlights and couldn’t sing in tune if you held a gun to my head.
I needed a nice quiet guy who watched documentaries about the ocean and liked discussing books. Pretty much the opposite of Race Madden. And with all my quirks, if I ever found the perfect guy, he’d probably go running for the hills, anyway. That’s why I’d committed to remaining single. I was way too independent and ambitious to ever get married.
Wondering if the doorbell wasn’t working, I pressed the button again, then glanced behind me at the mirrored hallway wall.
Why are my thighs showing?
The back of my skirt was hiked up! No wonder people had been gaping at me in the lobby. What’s the matter with human beings? Couldn’t one of them (at least one of the women) have discreetly whispered in my ear that the back of my skirt was so high you could almost see my underwear? Not that I would ever say such a thing to a stranger. Maybe they were all introverts like me.
I dropped my briefcase on the floor and frantically tugged at the skirt, feeling it pop out of my underwear elastic. At least I’d discovered it before I mooned my only client.
The door flung open and Race stood in the opening, wide-eyed. His hair seemed tussled, his breathing labored. If it hadn’t been for the lipstick on his cheek, I’d have thought he’d been working out.
“April?” He blinked and stared. “Is that you?”
I snapped to attention, contorting to smooth the back of my skirt. “Of course, it’s me. We have an appointment, but I can come back later if you’re busy.”
“No, no! Come in!” His arm shot out, his hand grasping my elbow. I barely managed to retrieve my briefcase as he dragged me through the door. “I’m glad you came early.”
“Only by five minutes.”
“I wish you’d come even earlier,” he murmured into my ear. “Do me a favor. Please go along with—”
“Raa-aace!” a plaintive female voice called out.
“Who’s that?” I asked, my feet cementing themselves to his white tiled floor.
“A woman who won’t take no for an answer,” he whispered. “Please, April. Whatever I say, just roll with it. I’ll make it up to—”
“Raa-aace! Aren’t you taking me to dinner?”
The woman who rounded the corner could have stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine, so flawless were her facial features. I was proud for only being slightly jealous of her perfect nose, comforting myself with the idea that it might have been surgically altered. Likewise, her cleavage was way too perky to be real, judging from the vast amount revealed by the deep V of her top.
I could hear my Gramma’s voice in my head telling me I shouldn’t be “catty,” and immediately felt guilty. In a desperate attempt to make up for it, I called out, “I like your fingernails.” I couldn’t see much except that they were long and painted, so I thought it was a safe bet for a compliment.
Her eyes flitted toward me, performing a quick top to bottom evaluation, lingering where Race’s hand still grasped my elbow, then rolled, obviously dismissing me as a waste of time. “Race, I’m hungry.”
“Daphne…” Impatience edged Race’s tone. “For the last hour, I’ve been telling you we’re not going out again.”
“You can’t mean that.” Daphne pushed out a pouty lower lip and fluttered long dark lashes that made me painfully aware of my makeup-less state. Without mascara, my reddish blonde eyelashes practically disappeared.
“It’s time for you to go, Daphne. As you can see, I have another guest.”
“Don’t tell me this is your new girlfriend.” Her lip curled as she coughed out a fake laugh.
I would’ve been insulted by her comment if I hadn’t found the idea just as ridiculous. “We’re not—”
“We’re not official, yet.” Race’s hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me to his side. “But yes, April is my girlfriend.”
My face burned and I kept my gaze on the floor. Then my traitorous body began to tremble, probably from pure embarrassment. Or maybe because it liked the way his muscular arm pressed me against him. Whatever the reason, my shaking muscles and I were going to have a long talk later.
Race must’ve noticed because his hand moved up and down my arm in a way he probably meant to be soothing, but only made me more aware of him. This was what happened when you had a five-year moratorium on dating. I hadn’t been depriving myself. I’d simply been too busy with my career to waste time on messy relationships.
I wasn’t too concerned about my attraction to Race. It had absolutely nothing to do with emotions; it was purely physical. I’ve always been very pragmatic about these things.
It finally occurred to me the only way to get this woman to leave was to convince her Race and I were dating. My briefcase slipped from my fingers and clunked to the floor, and I wrapped both arms around his waist.
“Race…” I nuzzled against him, my cheek rubbing his shirt. He seemed even taller than I remembered. And I definitely didn’t remember him smelling this good… like fresh air with a little spice. “Can’t we get your doorman to throw her out?”
He stiffened at first. Then he must’ve caught on, because his hands moved to caress my back in such a convincing manner that my heart thudded against my ribs. If he felt it beating against him, I could only hope he’d assume I was nervous, rather than responding to his touch.
“That’s a good idea, April.” He shifted, maneuvering his cell phone from his pocket.
“That won’t be necessary.” Daphne tossed her shiny hair over her shoulder with a huff as she marched to the door. She turned back and shot me a disdainful glare. “Let me know when you get tired of this jailbait and want a real woman.”
That’s what I got for not wearing makeup. These stupid freckles made me look younger than my twenty-nine years.
As the door slammed, Race jumped about a mile away from me, his expression like he’d stepped on a rattlesnake.
“Don’t worry.” I bent to pick up my briefcase. “I’m over the age of eighteen.”
“I know that.” He strode to the door and turned the deadbolt. Facing me, his brows drew down. “But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what happened a few seconds ago.”
“The wrong idea?” Did he think I would judge him? I could clearly see Daphne was the obsessive type, so I understood why he’d been so desperate to get rid of her.
“You know that was all an act, right? It would never work between us. I don’t want you to think I actually want to date you.”
He might as well have slapped me in the face. I didn’t want to date him, either, but I would never have told him so in such a condescending tone.
“That’s not what I thought.” Anger churned in my head.
“No offense. You’re just not my type, you know?”
He sagged against the door and shoved a hand through his hair, giving it the carelessly messy, rockstar look that I’d always found incredibly attractive until that moment.
“Simply out of curiosity…” My jaw was clenched so tightly I could hardly speak. “What makes me not your type? The fact that I possess a brain? Or the fact that I’m not fifty percent silicone?”
2
RACE
“Whoa!” I stuck my palms out like I could ward off her anger. Her incredible turquoise eyes turned icy and her face flushed. Unfortunately, a little added color only made her more gorgeous than before. This was no time to lose my head. Best to keep her off balance so there was no danger any weird feelings would develop between us. “I’ve always heard red-heads had hot tempers, but I’ve never seen it before. I have to say, it’s quite impressive.”
A sound resembling a growl came from her throat. “I’ll have you know you’re not my type either.”
The flush on her face spread down to her neck. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. When I first opened the door and found her standing there with her hair pinned up, my mouth had watered like a starving dog staring at a steak.
Her neck was gorgeous. Something about the delicate lines of a woman’s neck had always made me weak in the knees. And April’s neck had to be the most alluring I’d ever seen, even more so with the pink glow on her soft skin.
At least I imagined it would be soft if my fingers ever got the chance to test it. Or even better, I could check its silkiness with my lips, savoring its velvety feel.
What am I saying? Guilt smacked me between the eyes. I couldn’t let myself look at another woman like that. I had to stay loyal to Everly… especially now.
After more than three and a half years of alternating between efforts to drive her out of my mind and begging her to give me another chance, she’d finally responded to one of my letters. It had arrived in today’s mail. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to give me hope. And enough to make me determined to do everything possible to win her back.
I gave my head a shake to clear it. Even though April was innocent in the whole affair, my best bet was to antagonize her. I gave her a convincing scowl. “If I’m not your type, what is?”
“I’ll tell you what my type is.” Her chin jutted forward. But the cute dimple in it completely foiled any chance of appearing stern. “It’s a guy who isn’t so stuck on himself that he thinks every woman in the world has the hots for him. And it sure isn’t a guy who uses me to get rid of another woman and then accuses me of coming on to him.”
She was so adorable, standing there huffing like she’d been royally offended, I had a hard time keeping a smile off my face. But it was important that she not like me. It would add another layer of protection between us. I forced the corners of my mouth down.
“Look, I appreciate that you helped me get rid of Daphne. I only went out with her one time, but she found my address on an envelope in my car.”
“You don’t have to explain your dating life to me.” April held up her hand, grimacing. “I’ve heard more than I ever wanted from my sister.”
Her sister, Harmony, had been in a fake relationship with me in an attempt to clean up my reputation. But after she and my brother got together, I fell back into my old habits—moving from one relationship to the next, simply to deaden myself from the guilt of my screw-up with Everly.
“I’m only trying to be upfront with you.” I pointed back and forth between us. “This relationship is strictly business. I’m paying you to do a job. If I accept your proposal.”
My grandmother, GeeBee, was behind this whole setup with April. She’d nagged me until I’d finally agreed to let April refurbish my condo. But I knew all too well what GeeBee was up to—subtlety wasn’t her strong point. She was the self-proclaimed leader of an online group of meddlesome matchmaking grandmothers. My brother and April’s sister had been her first successful match. Now she was pushing me to hire April. Was I supposed to think that was a coincidence?
“And if I accept you as a client!”
The woman had spunk. I couldn’t deny it. If it weren’t for my past, there was a chance I would’ve been genuinely interested in April. But I had ruined one woman’s life. I wasn’t going to do that to another one. Besides, I hadn’t given up on Everly.
Time to get the truth out on the table. “GeeBee told me I was your only client. She said you needed this job to jumpstart your design business. She also told me she’d be very disappointed in me if I didn’t hire you and give you carte blanche to do whatever you wanted to do with this place. The way I see it, neither of us have much choice here.”
“The way I see it, if you’re happy with this stark, sterile apartment, you don’t need me. It’s not like I’m going to hold it against you if we see each other at a family gathering. So thank you for your time. I’ll be going now.” She took a step toward me and halted, regarding me with narrowed eyes. “If you’ll stop blocking the door.”
I tried to move, but my feet refused to budge. Wasn’t this what I wanted? To avoid the relationship GeeBee was attempting to force on me? Why was I so reluctant to let her leave?
In a crazy delayed reaction, her harsh evaluation of my condominium hit my consciousness like a ton of bricks. “You think my condo is sterile?”
Her face tilted upward. Either she was inspecting my ceiling or praying for patience. Maybe both.
“Not sterile as in germ free. But if the rest of it is anything like what I’ve seen so far, it’s relatively lifeless.” She set her briefcase down and moved from the entry to view the living room, her hands waving like an orchestra director. “White walls. White floors. Black furniture. There’s no color. I’d swear we were in a black and white movie if it weren’t for that red lipstick on your cheek.”
