She shook her head. “I can’t.”
He didn’t seem to believe her, as he simply raised his eyebrows, and gathered her into his arms. “And why is that?”
“Because you never said you loved me. I can’t marry a man who doesn’t love me.”
He smiled and stroked her hair back from her face. “My dear, sweet, Clare, I love you more than my heart can hold. I love you more than all the stars in the sky, and I love you for the beauty of your soul, the lightness of your spirit, and for the way my entire being comes alive when you focus those beautiful blue eyes on me and tell me that you love me.”
And then he kissed her, the most beautiful, most magical, the most wonderful kiss that had ever been, and she knew that the young girl who had given up magical fantasies at age eighteen, had finally had her dreams come true.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will marry you.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Norm’s hat was exactly where it belonged.
Griffin grinned as he caught sight of one of the town’s old timers setting a cold bottle of Birch’s Best on Norm’s stool beside his old, worn hat. In the month since Norm’s passing, there had been a cold beer on that stool every minute of the day that Wright’s was open.
As it should be.
Griffin shut the door to the storage room with his foot and walked into the main section of the store, holding the box he’d gone in there to retrieve.
Sam White, one of Norm’s buddies, slammed his hand down on Griffin’s shoulder. “Griff! Didya hear the news?”
Griffin grinned. “I sure did. Three baby loons from the pair by your place. It’s been, what, eighteen years, since a nesting pair on this lake has had three chicks?”
“Nineteen years, Griff! Nineteen! It’s a sign that new life is coming to the region, I’m telling you. You gotta come see them. It’s a damned record.” Sam leaned forward, his Pirates baseball cap askew on his head. “All the local artists are hanging out in my woods painting them. You should see this old gal.” He waggled his bushy eyebrows, giving Griffin a lecherous look. “She may be close to seventy, but she’s got a spring in her step enough to make an old man sit up and take notice.” He raised his brows, vulnerability flashing in his weathered face. “You think I oughta go for it?”
Griffin grinned. “How many times has she come by to paint?”
“Been there every day for a week. She’s done at least ten paintings so far.”
Griffin raised his brows. “Sam. How many paintings of the same damn birds does she have to do before you figure it out?”
The older man’s eyes widened, and then he got a big shit-eating grin on his wrinkled face. “You think?”
“I do.” Griffin jerked his head toward the deli. “Ophelia!”
His deli manager waved a spatula at him, a hot pink scarf from Astrid tied in her hair. It was a new look for her, but Astrid had insisted that Ophelia could pull it off, and she’d been right. It seemed to give Ophelia even more attitude than she used to have, and he was damned glad to see the exuberance shining in her eyes. The woman’s inner strength was awe-inspiring, and the whole town had rallied around her. The gal hadn’t spent an evening alone in her apartment in the last month, and she was getting a killer reputation around the bridge table. “Your omelet’s coming, Griffin, and you’re getting ham this time. You’re too damn skinny!”
Griffin didn’t bother to argue. It was an argument he knew he’d never win. “Sam needs to go woo a girl. Can you put together a picnic basket for him?”
Ophelia whistled loudly. “That old coot is too ornery to fit a woman in his life, but if it gets him out of our hair, then it’s worth a try.” She gestured at him. “Get over here, Sam, and tell me about her so I can set you up right.”
Sam slugged Griffin on the shoulder, straightened the collar of his tee shirt, and then hauled ass across the crowded store toward the deli.
Griffin grinned, then headed back toward the register. He set the carton on the counter in front of Heather Burns, the woman he’d gotten formula for that night a month ago when Norm had died. “Joey is in size three diapers now, right?”
Heather smiled at him, her face so much less stressed than it had been that night. “I was just going to ask you to order size threes!”
Griffin winked as he rang up her order. “Harry told me that the size twos were getting tight, so I figured you’d need them soon. It was easy to toss them into my order last week.”
“You’re the best.” She blew him a kiss as she hurried out of the store, her arms full.
The line of customers taken care of for the moment, Griffin did what had become such habit over the last month and checked out the table in the corner. The familiar sight filled him with such a sense of rightness.
Clare and Astrid were huddled up with her computer, working on her website. Sitting at the same table were Brooke and Katie, and he could see their colored drawings of new ideas for cupcakes.
As he watched them, Clare looked up. The moment her eyes met his, the chaos and bustle of the room melted away, until it was just them, just her, a connection that would hold him forever. She smiled at him, and lightly laid her hand over her heart. Griffin’s throat tightened, and he gave her a single nod, just for her, for no one else. Tonight was date night at the Finch Grill, and he couldn’t wait to lose himself in her without the chaos of the town around them.
Brooke looked at Clare, then turned around to see what she was looking at. When she saw Griffin watching them, her face brightened and she waved at him. “Come see, Dad! You should see our displays! They look awesome.”
Griffin grinned. “Yeah, sure.” He started to head over there, and then the front door flew open and Jackson strode in, wearing his customary jeans and boots.
He waved a cardboard tube at Griffin. “Here are the latest plans for the addition you want me to build onto Wright’s. We need to move the cupcake display more to the left to make room for the tables, and I adjusted the ceiling height to allow more space for Emma’s paintings and the ceiling fans.”
Anticipation coiled through Griffin. He took the plans out of the tube and spread them over the counter. He nodded with satisfaction as he saw what Jackson had done. The amount of knowledge Jackson had acquired during his years of construction was impressive, and his talent with designs was even better than Griffin had suspected after his first visit to Jackson’s house. The nursery Jackson had designed and built had been incredible, and Griffin had known immediately that it was Jackson who needed to design Clare’s store. “Damn, you’re good man.”
Jackson grinned. “I know. How about that, huh?”
Griffin studied the drawings. “When we finish with the cupcake shop, I want you to design and build an addition to the farmhouse next. We need a master suite, and Brooke needs her own room, even though she and Katie are enjoying their sleepovers when Brooke stays over.”
Jackson nodded. “I’ll check with my boss and see when we can fit it in.”
Griffin shook his head. “No. You need to build it. Your vision is what I want, not his.”
Interest flashed in Jackson’s eyes. “I thought having me build the addition to Wright’s myself was a one-time-thing.”
Griffin shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to push the soon-to-be-dad too far. Not yet. But he knew Jackson’s talents wouldn’t remain a secret once people saw what he was doing with the store’s addition. “One more project. That’s all. You game?”
Jackson shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I can fit it in. Got a few more months before the baby arrives and I could use the extra cash” He thudded his hand on Griffin’s shoulder. “Thanks for the extra work. I appreciate it.”
“It’s not charity. You’re the best, and I want the best.” Griffin rolled up the plans to take them to Clare. “Do you have time to go over these now?”
“Nope.” Jackson winked. “Trish is waiting in the truck for me. We’re going shopping for paint colors for the nursery. I want blue, she wants green.” His grin widened. “I
t’s gonna be a battle. Wish me luck.”
Griffin smiled. “It’s just paint, Jackson. Let her win.”
Jackson inclined his head as he strode toward the door. “I always let her win, my friend. Seeing her smile is all I need.” Then he saluted Griffin and jogged out the door.
“My boy, we’ve got a problem.” A gnarled hand closed down on Griffin’s arm as Eppie moved in front of him to block his path. She was wearing a hat decorated with fresh sunflowers that were far too big for the white brim, taking up the entire damn hat so it looked like she had the whole garden stuck on her head.
Griffin straightened the hat that had begun to slide off-center. “What’s up, Eppie?”
Eppie shook her head, her mouth pursed in dismay. “It’s Astrid.”
Griffin glanced over at the table again. Astrid was in deep conversation with Clare, wearing a pair of earrings that dangled almost down to her shoulders. A polka-dotted scarf barely taming her curls, and her turquoise tank top was bright and audacious, just as he would expect of her. “What’s wrong with Astrid?”
Eppie sighed. “She hasn’t created a new design in almost three months, Griffin. That woman is a veritable font of creativity, and the well has dried up.”
Griffin frowned. “How do you know?”
Eppie rolled her eyes. “I keep track of these things, young man. Someone has to.” She hooked her arm through his elbow, declaring him her escort. “Now, let’s go over there and find out what’s wrong with her.”
“I’m sure she’s fine.”
Eppie looked at him, and in those old eyes, he saw genuine concern. “No, she’s not.”
Griffin’s amusement faded, and he realized the old lady had sensed something he hadn’t noticed. Over the last month, he’d come to really appreciate Astrid’s spunk and her loyal friendship to Clare. She might come across as flamboyant and artsy, but her heart was full of warmth and love, making it clear why she and Clare were best friends. But he was well aware that Astrid never spoke of her past, and he’d sensed a layer of pain beneath her cheerful exterior. If Eppie said they needed to worry about Astrid, then he would believe her. “Okay, then, let’s do it.”
She beamed at him and patted his arm. “It’s great to have a man around again, Griffin. Welcome to Birch Crossing. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Griffin grinned at her as he picked up Jackson’s plans to bring them to Clare. “Thanks.” Then they headed toward the table and the three most important women in his life.
As he approached, Clare lifted her head to watch him, a slow smile growing on her face as he neared. Intense satisfaction pulsed though him, and he smiled back, unable to take his gaze off the face of the woman who had brought him to life, the woman he loved to the very depths of her soul.
Eppie released him to grab a chair and park herself next to Astrid to start the interrogation, and Griffin walked over to Clare, needing to connect with her before he could do anything else.
Clare’s smile widened, her eyes dancing with anticipation as he grabbed the back of her chair and leaned over her. “Hi, Griffin,” she said cheerfully.
“Hello, my love.” He bent his head and kissed her lightly, and a sense of absolute rightness settled over him when she leaned into him and kissed him back.
Right there.
In the middle of the store.
In front of everyone.
Claiming him every bit as much as he was claiming her.
A moment that would never, ever lose its beauty, no matter how many times it happened.
“I love you, Clare,” he whispered against her lips. “Always and forever.”
She smiled, her eyes full of such love. “Always and forever,” she whispered back. “I love you, too.”
He grinned at her, the moment sheer perfection. “Clare—”
“Dad!” He felt a tug at his shirt.
Laughter danced in Clare’s eyes, and they shared an amused smile before he turned toward his daughter. “What’s up, Brookie?”
“Look at our cupcake designs.” She held up a sketch of a cupcake with a theatre mask on it. “It’s for the Shakespeare festival. What do you think?”
Griffin pulled up a chair and sat down between Clare and Brooke as he handed the plans to Clare. He rested his arm over the back of her seat, brushing his fingers over her neck as he leaned toward his daughter. “I like it. How’d you come up with the idea for the design?”
“It was Katie’s idea, actually. See, it started like this—” Brooke took out a black and white sketch, and then she and Katie began explaining what they’d done.
As the two teens tried to talk over each other, he glanced over at Astrid and Eppie. Eppie had her hand on Astrid’s arm and she was talking urgently in a low voice. Astrid looked up at Clare, and Griffin was shocked by the raw pain in her eyes. It wasn’t simply despair at being tormented by Eppie. It was something deeper, a pain and loneliness so stark it would strip her bare and destroy her.
He recognized it, because he’d been there. He’d lived with it for so long, until Clare had saved him. How could Astrid have been able to hide such pain so well? And how much deeper did it go?
“I have to go work,” Astrid said cheerfully as she stood up. “Lots of big orders to fill by tonight.” She leaned forward to hug Clare, and he saw her hold on a little tighter than usual, as if she was using Clare for strength before she waved good-bye to the rest of them and sauntered off with a swagger he no longer believed.
Shit. Eppie was right. Astrid was in trouble. He looked over at Clare and raised his brows. “She’s not okay, is she?”
Clare looked at him with troubled eyes. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “She’s so private.”
Son of a bitch. Protectiveness surged through him as he watched Astrid leave, a need to help her, to make it right for her, to—
Clare set her hand on his arm. “Griffin?”
He turned his gaze toward her, his heart softening when he saw the love in her expression. “What is it?”
She squeezed his arm softly. “Thank you.”
He raised his brows. “For what?”
“For caring about the people who matter to me. For caring about this town.” She smiled at him, that special smile of love that still made his chest tighten.
“Of course I care.” He looked at the two teen girls at his table, at Eppie critiquing their designs, at Ophelia on her way over with his omelet, and at the woman he loved.
Yeah, he was home.
**Look for Astrid’s story coming in Fall 2012**
Sneak Peek: FAIRYTALE NOT REQUIRED
(Ever After Series, Book Two)
(Contemporary Small-Town Romance, Available December 2012)
A car door slammed, and Jason tensed. Shit. He wasn't in the mood to be sociable right now. If the little old lady from his fantasies had finally shown up with a plate of cookies, she was too damn late. She was just going to have to leave them on the porch.
Jason sheathed the blade of the utility knife back into the casing, waiting for that inevitable ring of the doorbell. How many times had he answered his door to find another note of condolence or another casserole after Lucas's death, and then Kate's? Well-meaning acquaintances who thought that a smile and a slab of meatloaf would ease the gaping void in his soul. He'd stopped answering the door, because there was no way to pretend to be appreciative when all the darkness was consuming him.
And now, after fighting like hell to get past that, after scraping his way back into a place from which he could function, all those emotions had returned, brought on by the overwhelming silence of his house. That same silence that had flooded him when he'd come back home after watching his son die at the hospital and felt the gaping absence of Lucas.
Silence fucking sucked, but a doorbell was no better.
But the doorbell didn't ring, and the car didn't drive away.
Scowling, Jason walked across the landing to peer out the back window at the driveway.
Astrid Munroe's
rusted junker was in his driveway. Astrid. He'd forgotten she was coming.
Adrenaline rushed through him, breaking him free from the tentacles of the past. His heart suddenly began to beat again, thudding back to life with a jolting ache. He tossed the knife aside, spun away from the window and vaulted down the stairs, taking them three at a time, almost desperate for the air he knew Astrid would feed back into his lungs.
He jerked the back door open and stepped out onto the front porch, unable to keep the hum of anticipation from vibrating through him. "Astrid?"
Her car was empty, and she was nowhere in sight.
Trepidation rippled through him. Another woman dead? He immediately shook his head, shutting out the fear that had cropped up out of habit. Instead, he quickly scanned his property, knowing she had to be there somewhere.
But there was no Astrid. Frowning, Jason jogged down the pathway that led around the house toward the lake front, urgency coursing through him to find the one woman who had brought that brief respite into his life, that flash of sunshine, that gaping moment of relief from all that he carried. Where was she? He had to find her. Now.
Jason was almost sprinting by the time he rounded the rear corner of his house and saw her. The moment he saw her, he stopped dead, utterly awed by the sight before him.
"Son of a bitch," he whispered under his breath as he stared at the woman who'd rocked his world only a few hours before.
Astrid was standing on one of the rocks on the edge of the lake, silhouetted by an unbelievable sunset. The sky was vibrating with reds, oranges and a vibrant violet, casting the passionate array of colors across the lake's surface. Astrid's hands were on her hips, her face tilted up toward the sky, as if she were drinking the beauty of the sunset right through her skin. Her auburn hair was framed in vibrant orange and violet, a wild array of passion that seemed to mesh with the wild woods around her.
Her sandals were on the ground beside the rock, her bare toes gripping the boulder. She was wearing the same jeans and tank top as she had earlier, despite the slight evening coolness cropping up in the air. It was as if she hadn't bothered to notice, as if she couldn't deign herself to succumb to something so mundane as a cool breeze.
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