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What in heaven’s name did he think he was doing?
Grady waltzed in, caught sight of her hovering near the end of the hallway and gave her the widest grin she’d ever seen. That should have been her first clue. “Hi, honey,” he drawled. “I’m home.”
“Wh-what?” He certainly didn’t appear to be a man with a broken heart.
“I said I’m home.” He raised his brows in question. “I rang the doorbell twice. Why didn’t you answer?”
“I was busy. And I didn’t know you were coming over.” She put her hands on her hips in an attempt to ignore the sinking sensation currently developing in the lower regions of her stomach. “And since when do you let yourself in? You don’t live here anymore, Grady.”
“Oh, but I do. I’m moving back in until we get this divorce stuff worked out. As of now.” His stride ate up the floor between them in mere seconds. Leaning in close, he tugged a strand of her hair. “Won’t it be fun being roomies again?”
“Wh-what?” she stuttered again. “You’re joking, right? You can’t do that!”
“Oh, I can. I checked it out with my attorney.” Now he chucked her chin, as if she were a child. “This is perfectly legit.”
“It’s Sunday.” She backed out of his reach and instructed herself to stay calm, to focus on the facts. “How did you hire an attorney on a Sunday?”
“She…I mean he’s a friend of Jace’s. Nice fellow and a really smart guy. He gave me some great advice.” Grady winked. “Advice I’ve decided to take.”
“He gave you crap advice if he told you that you can move back into a house you haven’t lived in for almost a full year!” No way was this happening. Uh-uh. Not if she had anything to say about it.
“But I can. Did you miss that, Olly? I own this house as much as you do, and we’re still legally married, we were never legally separated, and none of our property has been divided. So yes, I’m moving in until a judge tells me I have to move out.” Grady’s grin widened. She sort of wanted to slap him. Hard. “I have some stuff in the truck, but I’ll be bringing more over throughout the week.”
“No. I won’t allow this,” she said in a shaky whisper. He couldn’t live here with her. No, no, no. Talk about a compromising position. She barely had enough strength to deal with him when she had to, but his being here every single day? No. “Absolutely not.”
“Want to help bring a few things in?” he asked as if he hadn’t heard her.
“No, I do not! Don’t move a muscle, Grady. I’m calling Samantha. She’ll tell you that you can’t do this!” She didn’t give him time to answer, just raced to the kitchen to grab the phone. When Sam answered, Olivia breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Sam?”
“Hey. That was quick. What’s up?”
“Grady’s here. He says that some crackpot lawyer told him he can move back into the house.” The front door slammed shut. Olivia ran into the living room and peered through the drapes. “Sam! He’s bringing in his luggage. You have to tell him that he can’t do this.”
“Do the two of you still own the house together?” Samantha asked, her voice strangely calm.
“Yes, but—”
“Then he can. He’s your husband and the house is his property, too, sweetie. It seems as if he’s staking a claim.”
“So what am I supposed to do?”
“At the moment? Nothing. But once you hire an attorney, you can ask the court to force Grady to move out for the duration of the divorce proceedings,” Samantha mused. “He hasn’t lived there for a while, so that might help you. But the facts will come out. He took the apartment to give you space in the hopes that you two could eventually work on your marriage. It’s a possibility that a judge won’t view that as property abandonment. And trust me, you’re better off if you and Grady can decide who’s getting what. Don’t let a judge make those decisions if you can help it.”
Olivia ran to the hallway and pointed to the door when it opened again. “Don’t do this, Grady. Please.”
He grinned and deposited two large suitcases on the floor. “Any plans for dinner yet? I thought we could order a pizza,” he said, before heading back out to his pickup. Forget sort of. She wanted to see her hand mark in glaring red on his cheek.
“You’re not eating here!” Olivia hollered after him.
“Olivia? What’s going on?” Sam asked.
“He wants to order pizza. To eat. Here. After he unpacks, I’m assuming.” She kicked one of Grady’s suitcases. Hard. So hard she probably bruised her toe. “He can’t stay here.”
“He can, Olivia. You can stay with me until you can get a court date, but there’s always the possibility that a judge will order you to move out. Do you want to take that chance?”
“No, of course not. I’d rather work this out with Grady. And I’m not leaving.”
“Then you’re stuck with him living there for now.”
“Great. Just freaking great.” Olivia pushed the end button on the phone. When Grady returned with a third and fourth bag, she picked the first two up and dragged them outside.
“Thanks, babe. But that’s a little counterproductive. I’m trying to move in, not out,” Grady said. “Bring them back in, and I’ll get settled. Then we can order a couple of pizzas. Pepperoni and sausage sound good?”
“I say no. Do you hear me Grady Foster? I say no!”
He cocked his head to the side and appraised her as if she were the one who’d lost her mind. As if. “First the chicken marsala and now pepperoni and sausage pizza? You really have changed.”
“I’m not talking about the pizza. You. Can’t. Stay. Here.”
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’m okay with letting you live at the apartment while we deal with this divorce business.” Grady scratched his chin in thought. “A judge might see that as you not having any interest in the house, though. Is that the case, Olly? Are you giving me the house?”
Oh, God. Samantha had been right. Grady had turned into a freaking lunatic. “Of course I want the house,” Olivia said. “And I am not living in your apartment.”
Her soon-to-be ex-husband let out an exaggerated sigh. “Then I guess we’re right back where we started from. If you don’t want pepperoni and sausage, then what?”
“I want you to leave. Please, Grady. Go home.”
He gave her a look of false surprise. “You really don’t want me to stay here? I could come in handy…your sidewalks need shoveling, for one thing.”
“No, actually I do. Every time I tell you to leave, I’m being coy,” she snapped. “No, no, no and no I do not want you to stay here.”
He entered the kitchen and opened the fridge, grabbing a couple of beers before sitting down at the kitchen table. Jasper, who must have heard the commotion, came in to investigate. Seeing Grady, he leapt into his lap with a meow.
“Well, then let’s talk.” Grady scratched the area between the cat’s ears. Jasper purred like an engine going into overdrive and snuggled in. The traitor. “Maybe we can work something out.”
She narrowed her eyes. Her husband was absolutely up to something, but damned if she could figure out what. She hated—oh, how she hated—when he had the upper hand. She almost grabbed her keys and left him there alone, but what would that prove? Only that he’d driven her out of her house. With her cat in his lap, no less. Uh-uh.
Giving in, she took the seat across from him. “What do you want? Is it Jasper? Do you want my cat, Grady?”
“Hmm. I hadn’t thought about Jasper, but yeah, maybe I do.” He slid a beer over to her. “Have a drink. Let’s see what we can come up with that will be beneficial to both of us.”
She twisted the cap off the bottle but didn’t take a drink. “You obviously want something. Just tell me what it is.”
“I think the first question to answer is what you want. So, what do you want more than anything else right at this minute?”
Cody. Always Cody. Followed by Grady… Well, the normal Grady. Not this insane version of Grady. “You to get the hell out of this house. Now, preferably.”
“See? Now we’re getting somewhere. That’s a reasonable want, and certainly doable.” He swallowed a gulp of beer. “Now, we need to figure out something that will get me to leave. So, Olly. What are you willing to do to put me back in my apartment tonight?”
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