"We have something in common?" he asked, glancing at Rory's shuttered expression.
"Irish, son." Grandpop's smile had Noah pausing. The old bastard knew, and Noah knew it. "We're both Irish."
He couldn't deny it. He was fully prepared to lie to the old man. Knew he'd eventually meet up with him. But now that the moment had arrived, he couldn't do it.
"A bit," Noah answered carefully.
Grandpop had sat back down and now he shifted in his chair. His long body was weaker than last time Noah had seen him, checked on him. His hair was completely gray now, there was barely a hint of the black it had once been.
"Rory, I'll be heading out for a while," Noah tried.
"Running away?" Grandpop lost his smile. "Irishmen don't run away."
Noah's brow lifted. "Should I be running away?"
Grandpop stared back at him. That knowing, certain look as Noah looked at Rory once again. He'd kill the little shit if he'd spilled his guts.
Rory gave his head a subtle shake, but he grimaced. As he'd been warning Noah, hiding things from Grandpop wasn't easy.
"I wanted to meet you." Grandpop rose to his feet and Rory followed him. "Wanted to see this new man that had my little girl in there so upset. No one's upset my girl since her husband left."
"I hear he died," Noah pointed out.
Grandpop nodded slowly. "Yeah, that's what they tell us," he said. "I argued that death with my son. He was a SEAL, you know. For a lot of years." Grandpop shook his head. "I didn't believe him." He stared back at Noah now. "I eventually changed my mind though."
Noah, Nathan. Husband. Grandson. Brother. He felt all those parts of himself reaching out to the old man that knew the truth without being told. He'd disappointed the old man.
"My grandson was a hero, you know that?" Grandpop stated as he headed to the door.
"That's what Rory tells me," he finally said quietly.
His grandpop, treasured, revered, stopped again and stared back at him for long, tense moments.
"The boy always did what he had to do. What was right. What was responsible." He blinked back tears and Noah felt grief swamp him. "He died," Grandpop said. "Before I could tell him I understood why he let go."
He stepped from the office then. Noah heard the message, the careful phrasing, the message behind the words as Rory rushed to the door and followed behind the old man.
Fuck! He didn't need this.
"Grandpop left? What did you do to him?" Sabella rushed in behind him, threw him a glare then followed Rory and Grandpop to the parking lot.
Hell, he didn't need this.
"Grandpop," Sabella called out as the old man pulled himself behind the wheel of his pickup truck and watched as she approached. "Is everything okay?"
He bestowed one of his smiles on her. Fondness. Affection. She could feel it wrapping around her as she moved behind the door and gave him a quick hug. "You didn't wait to say hi to me."
Grandpop always said hello to her before he left.
"Just stopping by to meet your new man." Grandpop smiled back at her. "Us Irish have to stick together, you know."
"He's not my new man," she muttered. "He's Rory's." She glared at her brother-in-law, because Rory refused to fire him.
Three days she had fought him. Argued with him. and now he was talking about hiring another mechanic. Some big blond biker that she knew had to be associated with the arrogant bastard trying to take over her garage.
And he was standing firm, refusing to back down. Of course, in the last three days there had been more business, but only, she suspected, because everyone was curious about the new mechanic.
Grandpop just smiled back at her in that patient, wise way of his then patted her shoulder with his gnarled hand. "Irish boys will keep your blood hot at night," he told her with a rascally wink.
"I've had my wild Irish boy," she told him softly. "No other can replace him, Grandpop."
Nathan had been her soul, and in too many ways, he was still so much a part of her heart that she compared every other man against him. Unfortunately, there were times she forgot to do that when Noah was around.
"Follow your heart. Not your head, child," Grandpop told her gently. He'd always told her that. "And come see me soon. I miss you."
She moved back as he closed the door and seconds later watched as he drove away.
"Rory, what are you up to?" She turned to her brother-in-law as Grandpop pulled into traffic.
Rory's expression was too innocent, and reminded her too much of when Nathan had hidden things from her. Same expression, the same set of his broad body.
"You're too suspicious, Belle," he sighed.
"You're not hiring that Viking," she told him.
Rory's jaw clenched and his blue eyes fired. "Should I leave, Belle?" he asked.
That hint of anger in his voice had her eyes narrowing.
"No, you shouldn't leave." She frowned back. "You should discuss Wrings with me."
"Like you've discussed with me?" He rolled his eyes. "Three years, Belle. You walked in and took over three years after Nathan died, and I let you, because I didn't know what the hell I was doing. But I know more now. It's time I pulled my weight. And the mechanics we have now aren't efficient."
She couldn't argue that, but she hated him pointing it out.
"I don't like Noah Blake. Fire him and hire the Viking. Then we'll discuss the others."
"Come on, Belle." Frustration filled his voice now. "You don't like him because he knows what he's doing and because he doesn't mind telling you that. No one's done that since Nathan and you can't handle it," he accused her.
Sabella flinched. She could feel the ache she kept hidden, buried beneath the reality of Nathan's death, snap hot and sharp inside her chest.
"Nathan didn't arbitrarily argue with me," she bit out.
"No he didn't," he said roughly. "Because you never let him know who you were or how much that damned garage meant to you. Well, someone knows now. Give him hell instead of me."
With that, he stomped off, his hands buried in the pockets of his work pants, as Noah stepped outside the garage bay doors.