Family Feud. Barbara Boswell

sunshine. She knew Garrett was ambling behind her and she paused to wait for him by a tall palm tree. She had to ask, she couldn’t put it off another minute. “What did my father say about me?” she demanded.

      “That you’ve just returned from a ten-year stay in California among other things.” Garrett faced her squarely.

      “And those other things are?”

      He shrugged. Though it might surprise those who had previously accused him of heartlessness and lack of tact, he wasn’t about to tell her that her own father considered her as feral as a jackal. “He mentioned that you’re different from your sister Lacey, or Lynnie, or something like that.”

      “Laney,” Shelby corrected. She was appalled that her father had been discussing her with this man. And if he’d been comparing her to Laney, she could well imagine which sister had fared the worst. “Her name is Maclane but she’s always been Laney.”

      “Shelby and Maclane. Sounds like a law firm.”

      “Garrett McGrath. Sounds like an aspiring country music singer.”

      “Merely an aspiring singer?” Garrett complained mildly. “How about a country-music legend instead?”

      Shelby shook her head. “An aspiring singer. One who never even gets to make a demo tape and ends up as a dishwasher at a Nashville diner.”

      “Ouch! Okay, then Shelby and Maclane are a pair of disreputable ambulance chasers rather than a staid, established firm.”

      Shelby scowled at him. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had.”

      “Really?” Garrett shrugged. “It’s fairly typical for me.”

      “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She glanced at him curiously. “Are you really the oldest of nine?”

      “Sure am. In descending order—Glenn, Gracie, Fiona, Eilish, Devon, Caitlin, Brendan and Aidan. Are there just you and your sister Laney?”

      “Just the two of us. She’s fourteen months younger than me,” Shelby said flatly.

      “And she loves cute little dogs. You, on the other hand, eat them for breakfast. Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

      Shelby groaned. “What else did my father tell you about me?”

      “It wasn’t so much what he said as the way he said it. I admit that I don’t know the man very well, but from what I’ve seen so far, Arthur Halford is a first-rate hotelier, but definitely loses in the father sweepstakes.”

      Shelby’s temper, too close to the surface around Garrett McGrath, flared once again. “I can’t believe you have the gall to criticize my father after he’s offered you the hospitality of Halford House and agreed to allow you a kind of on-the-job training in its operations.”

      “He’s something of a dud as a dad, but you defend him,” Garrett observed. “You’re a very loyal daughter. Is that why you came back from California, Shelby? For the opportunity to work side by side with your father and—”

      “Why do you ask?” she cut in sharply.

      “I’m curious as to why you decided to return to Port Key and Halford House after living so far away for ten years. Your father claimed he didn’t know the reason, either, that you suddenly announced you were on your way back here.”

      “My reasons for returning are personal and none of your business, Mr. McGrath,” Shelby said stiffly. She turned away from him, taking a path into the lush tropical gardens.

      “If you make it a mystery, you’ll only encourage me not to give up until I know everything,” warned Garrett, right at her heels. “There’s nothing I like better than a challenge.”

      “And all along I thought your favorite thing was slapping up dirt-cheap motels where they aren’t wanted.”

      “It’s not the dirt-cheap motels snobs like you object to, it’s the people who stay in them. You don’t want working-class people, the lower and middle classes, anywhere around you.” Garrett moved closer and caught her wrist, bringing her to an abrupt halt. His blue eyes were glittering. “We do get some upper middle-class folks who want a good bargain and don’t care about status, but status and flashing big bucks are all you spoiled little rich girls and your cohorts care about. That and the thrill of excluding everyone who doesn’t meet with your rigid class standards of approval.”

      “I’m not a snob!” Shelby protested. “And I’m certainly not spoiled. My parents paid for my education but they never showered me with presents or made me feel like I was better than anyone else.”

      On the contrary, she usually felt she wasn’t as good. She flinched at the painful insight and pushed it away to resume her defense. “I’m twenty-seven years old and I’ve had to work hard to achieve everything I’ve accomplished from...” Her voice trailed off. “I don’t have to defend myself to you.”

      “True,” agreed Garrett. “Although you seem to feel the need, don’t you?”

      He had a point and she could think of no suitable reply. After all, why should she care what Garrett McGrath thought of her? If he wanted to believe she was an elitist snob, it shouldn’t matter to her at all.

      His hand was still clamped around her wrist and Shelby jerked it free. She didn’t say another word as she led him through the gardens to the secluded grove where cottage 101 was artfully landscaped with an assortment of riotously colored flowers, bushes and shrubs. “Here’s the cottage, here’s your key.” She shoved it into his hand. “Goodbye, Mr. McGrath.”

      “Not goodbye,” he countered. “According to your dear old dad’s explicit orders, you’re supposed to be at my disposal until I meet him for lunch.”

      Shelby took a deep breath. “Mr. McGrath, you don’t like me any more than I like you. We’re incompatible, and you can’t possibly want to prolong the misery. Besides, you have phone calls to make. You said so in my father’s office.”

      “I lied,” Garrett said bluntly. “I was getting bored listening to your father sucking up to me. And call me Garrett, because I refuse to call you Miss Halford, even though Miss York read me the riot act on proper terms of address here at Halford House.”

      He inserted the key into the lock and pushed open the door. “And who says I don’t like you? I’m quite selective in choosing my enemies and I don’t know you well enough to consider you one.” He stepped inside the cottage. “Come on in,” he ordered, motioning her to follow him.

      Shelby stood in the doorway and watched him prowl around the room like a restless tiger moving in on new territory. The living room was spacious and luxurious, a sunny, airy room with white wicker furniture, the color scheme Halford green and complementing shades of yellow and peach.

      Garrett disappeared down a small hallway that Shelby knew led to the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. Another turn to the right led to the larger master bedroom suite. Her mouth felt oddly dry and she remained in the doorway, her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

      “Help yourself to something in the refrigerator, I’m sure it’s fully stocked,” Garrett called from the back of the cottage. “And close the door. You’re air-conditioning the state of Florida and wasting electricity.”

      Leave, Shelby advised herself. Turn around and march out right now. She almost did it. But instead she stepped inside, closing the door behind her. She really had no choice. Garrett McGrath was unpredictable; he might simply go about his business after she’d left or he might call her father and report her defection.

      And her father was a man capable of great wrath when things were not to his liking. Shelby was quite aware of that because much of what she did was not to his liking. But could pleasing Garrett McGrath possibly be to his liking? Shelby sat gingerly on the edge of the flowered chintz sofa and pondered that astonishing concept. Why was her father trying to ingratiate himself with Garrett