Page 78 of The Love Scam
“Hi, Nonna Tarbell.” Rake, now wrapped like a burrito, crossed the room and pulled the nuclear option into a hug. “What took you so long?”
Thank goodness for the robe, because all the strength went out of Delaney’s arms. She’d have dropped a sheet. Or her pants. Rake, however, was in no danger of flashing either of them, more’s the pity. “No,” she said. “You couldn’t have.” The password was one thing, but this?
“Youdid,” Nonna Tarbell said, beaming. “So smart. Both of my boys. Thank heavens you took after your mother in that department. And—ahem.” She cast a pointed look toward their dishabille, and the rumpled bed. “No more hide-a-bed, hmm?”
“That’s none of your business,” she snapped.
“I can see why you’d think that,” the older woman said with an approving nod.
“She’s right, Nonna. It’s none of your business. Just like what we do with our dad’s money is none of your business, and the fact that we aren’t married is none of your business, and—”
“I may have overstepped,” she began, but Rake cut her off.
“I love you, but I could strangle you. You know Blake’s in a mess, too, right? Of course you do. You put him there.”
“It was only—”
“Only bullshit.” He just looked at her, the old woman with his eyes, the one who had hired Delaney to keep an eye on him, take care of him when he realized he was out of money, steer him toward charitable work, help him become a better man.
You picked the wrong bitch for that job,Delaney thought.
“You were always waiting for us to fail,” Rake said simply, and his grandmother went pale. Her eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall. “You keep waiting for our father to come out. But he’s dead, Nonna. We’re our own men, like it or not. We never even met him, and never will. You’re the one haunting us. Not him.”
“How’d you even guess?” Delaney asked. She felt sorry for the nuclear option, and decided to pull Rake’s focus back on her. The woman was a meddler, but she’d acted out of love and concern, which was more than Claire could say about her own motivation. “The password thing I get—he guessed my password!” she added, unable to keep the admiration out of her tone. “But out of all the people on the planet who could have hired me, how’d you guess it was your grandma?”
He went to the bedside table, picked up his phone, glanced at the time. Odd—were they going somewhere? Did he have an appointment? Then he said, “Can I get dressed? And howabout breakfast?” He shot a look at his grandmother that Delaney prayed would never be directed at her. “You’re buying.”
“Of course, darling. I’d like to hear those answers myself.”
Bemused—whatever Delaney had dreaded about the morning, she hadn’t expectedthis—Delaney went to find her clothes.
Forty-four
“First off, the friendly lady I met in Lake Como, and again in Venice, justhappenedto have a set of clothes in my size?”
They were seated at the hotel’s outdoor café, Rake with a Virgin Mary and Delaney with iced tea. Rake’s grandma had hot tea she fussed over (one and a half spoons of sugar, a splash of cream, just a splash, absolutely no lemon, and stir and stir and stir) but didn’t drink. If Delaney was right—and she’d been wrong about everything else this week—Rake’s grandma was embarrassed. Not about catching them postsex; she seemed positively thrilled about that. About the other. About setting spies on her grandson, then taking all his money.
Rake was shaking his head. “I assumed you’d hooked up with some stud in Italy. I was even a little jealous of your mystery guy.”
“I don’t do that,” Delaney said quietly, looking at her tea.
“No?” he teased.
“Well, okay, but believe it or not, I made an exception for you.You’rethe stud in Italy.”
“O, glorious words, music to my ears.” He turned back to his grandmother. “Then there was this.” He showed them his phone. “This isn’t a used one that happens to be in incredible shape from eBay. My grandma knew exactly what kind I had and sent you exactly the right replacement.”
“We didn’t have to go to FedEx, though,” Delaney said quickly. “I really didn’t think you should have to wait for it to get to the hotel.”
“Sweet,” the nuclear option commented. When Delaney leveled her a look, she didn’t drop her gaze. “No, really. That was sweet. I knew you were a nice girl under all that bravado.”
Delaney snorted.
“And I don’t think I ever told you my last name,” Rake continued. “Maybe when I was shit-faced in Como—sorry, Nonna—but I don’t think so. You knew it, though. And when I called myself a millionaire, you weren’t surprised. You didn’t even blink. You knew I wasn’t an ordinary tourist, when all you were supposed to know was that I was some random idiot who pitched his wallet and woke up stranded in Venice.” He took something out of his pocket and looked at it. She realized with a start that it was her business card. He’d kept it? And looked at it quite a lot, judging by how worn it was.
He showed the card to Mrs. Tarbell and turned back to Delaney. “I. C. Delaney. I See Delaney. Not just seeing people. Seeing what they’re up to, goodandbad. I must have seemed like everything you hate: a spoiled rich guy who never gave much thought to anyone who needed help.”
“No,” she choked out. “No.” Then, because it actually hurt to keep the truth from him, she elaborated. “At first. Yeah. But it didn’t last long. You couldn’t hide your essential wonderfulness.” She blinked. Man, falling in love shot her vocabulary to hell. And wasn’t it strange? Irony: She could finally tell him everything without breaking her word… and didn’t want to. Almost didn’t dare.
