by Skye Jordan
“I don’t like how your brothers act. I don’t know your brothers as people, so I couldn’t tell you whether I like them or not. And it’s great because I have no doubt you’ll be a positive influence for him. Have fun.”
He frowned, a little unsure what to do without conflict to deal with. “What are you doing?”
“Well,” she said, sounding far too chipper for a woman who’d been up all night, worked all day and been dealt two ginormous orgasms a couple of hours ago. “I finished making notes on the instructions I want to record over the video, and I just started putting supplies together for the festival. My back room looks like Parties Unlimited USA.”
He smiled. “I’ll help when I get there.”
“I’ve got it. You don’t get to see your family much and you don’t have much time left in town. Enjoy yourself.” A familiar bell rang in the background. “I’ve got to run to the front. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. Bye.”
“Bye.”
Grant stopped at a red light behind his brother’s Mercedes SUV and frowned at his phone where it rested on his thigh. “Have fun?”
Where was the self-invitation to join them? The pissy attitude over him going out without her? The pouting?
“Enjoy myself?”
The light turned green and he continued toward town. Halfway there, he caught himself trying to twist her words into something negative. And laughed at himself, relieved he was making it up. “God, I’m an idiot.”
But that relief didn’t last long, because then he was thinking about her “You don’t have much time left in town”.
He really didn’t. The team was off for the holidays now, but they’d head back to practice in less than a week. Then they’d head into a grueling schedule of games, practices and special events, packed into nearly every day straight through the middle of June.
And Grant would be with them.
He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait to be with his guys. Back on a schedule. Battling for every play on the ice.
But it also meant he had to leave Faith. His first thought was to ask her if she’d continue seeing him, but Grant didn’t have to look at a schedule to know there would only be one short break over the next six months when he’d be able to fly here and see her. Nor did he have to fathom a guess of how often she’d be free to come see him. Not with a struggling store, limited funds and that damn iron pride of hers. He had no doubt they’d end up in a fight if he even brought up the subject of paying for her travel. Beyond that, she hadn’t shown any serious interest in hockey. She listened to him talk about his career and his buddies, but when he started talking strategy, her eyes glazed over.
Not that it mattered... Did it?
“Why in the hell am I even thinking these things?” he asked the empty car.
After a moment, his mind answered: Because he knew that by June, when he could come spend the summer with her, she’d be gone. If not physically gone because she’d sold the store, she’d be taken by some young stud who knew a good thing when he saw it.
Grant’s chest tightened uncomfortably, and his mood plummeted. The discomfort only added to his stress. He shouldn’t be this affected by a woman he’d known for a week and a half. That was ludicrous.
He pulled into a spot in front of Faith’s store, while his brother pulled in a block away at the bar. Grant cut the engine and the lights and stared inside at the light glowing in the back. He wanted to bail on Patrick and go help Faith. He wanted to be with Faith.
He hadn’t realized how long he’d been sitting there until Patrick strolled up to his door.
“Dude.” His voice sounded muffled through the glass. “Are you drunk already? The bar is over there. This is—“ A look came over Patrick’s face. He darted a glance at the hardware store, then looked back at Grant. “Ooooh, wait.” He pointed to the store. “Is this the Faith you’re crushing on?”
“Shut up.” Grant climbed from the car, increasingly annoyed. “Just tell the whole town.”
Patrick chuckled and turned in a slow circle. “Bro, look around you.”
True, there wasn’t a damn sole on the frozen street. And, yes, that just irritated Grant more.
“Huh,” Patrick said, an amused look of confusion crossing his face. “I didn’t see that one coming.”
Grant wondered what Patrick saw that he didn’t. “Why not?”
He shrugged. “You’ve always gone for the hoity-toity type.”
“How do you know who I date?”
Now Patrick lifted his brows. “Hel-lo. Have you not heard of this new fangled thing called the Internet? Have you also not noticed that you are one of the top fifty best-paid NHL players in the nation? I keep telling everyone I’m not as dumb as I look. Nobody listens. Anyway, I’m sure you’re already aware of this, but you may want to know for future reference that every time you date someone, the press wants to sneak into your bedroom and take pictures. So, yeah, I know you go for the high-maintenance chicks. Faith’s real pretty. She’s just kinda...I don’t know, simple, in comparison. But then we are in Holly, North Carolina, not Washington, D.C. What’s a guy gonna do?”
While Grant was surprised and, yeah, even pleased, that his brother had developed enough interest in Grant’s career to actually look him up, there was also enough truth to Patrick’s statement to turn Grant downright surly. But he couldn’t blame anyone for that except himself.
Still, he shoved Patrick’s shoulder in the direction of the bar. “Do you want me to buy you a tonic and lime or not.”
“Ho, look at you, big spender. But I actually prefer root beer now-a-days. Think you could manage a root beer?”
Grant laughed.
“And maybe some pretzels?” Patrick asked.
“Okay, now you’re pushing it.”
Patrick thought that was hilarious and laughed his way toward Yuletide Spirits.
Grant followed, grinning reluctantly. His brother had come back from the brink of disaster and not just survived, but thrived. It seemed like he might have even become fun again.
“And, for the record,” Patrick said as they came up to the bar’s front door, “I’m all for you looking at changing the type of women you see.” He paused at the steps and turned to Grant. “My girlfriend and I have been together six months. She’s nothing like the women I usually drifted toward, but she’s at least half the reason I was successful at rehab, about twenty percent of the reason I’m still sober and accounts for ninety-five percent of my happiness. She’s the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to me.”
Grant grinned. “Hey, man. That’s great.”
Patrick nodded and continued up the stairs to the doors. “Faith’s always been a real nice girl. Even when I wasn’t so nice to her, she believed I could be and do better. She’s worth taking a long, hard look at, bro.”
His brother pushed into the bar, but Grant stood there a moment, absorbing the wisdom his little brother had just bestowed upon him. Grant already knew Faith was beautiful—inside and out. But his brother’s experience of internal transformation with the love of the right woman, spoke to something Grant had been trying to pin down for the last couple of days.
When Grant got a minute to himself, he was going to have to start thinking about his own life and how he might manage to pull his head out of his ass.
Nine
Faith piled one more extension cord on the mountain of supplies needed for the ice-sculpting competition and checked that box off her list. “Done.”
She leaned against the wall, hung her head, and closed her eyes. God, she was so tired. And not just no-sleep tired, but her-body-hurt-in-a-million-new-ways tired. Ways that made her smile, despite the discomfort.
The thought of Grant hanging with his brother warmed her heart, and she couldn’t wait to hear about their talk after years of estrangement. She didn’t like Patrick as a drunk or a womanizer or a compulsive liar-borderline-narcissist. But she’d heard he’d been sober for a while, and hoped his
time with Grant gave them both a little healing from the wounds their family carried.
At the same time it made her sad. She missed her dad. Last night, falling asleep in Grant’s arms, was the first night she hadn’t cried herself to sleep in longer than she could remember. Faith knew it wouldn’t be the end to the loneliness or the tears, but she was deeply grateful for the reprieve and the glimmer of hope he’d given her.
And, yeah, she realized there would be another gaping hole in her life when he went back to DC after Christmas. But she’d deal with it when it happened. She certainly wasn’t going to rush it one second faster than she had to. Faith was going to enjoy that boy right down to the wire, and when it was time to let him go, she’d let him go. And she’d be happy for him, because he’d be going back where he belonged, with people who loved and respected him. Who understood and supported him.
She couldn’t want more than that.
Except...
Her mind whirled with possibilities that were really just pure fantasy. Faith laughed at herself and shook the impossible from her mind so she didn’t get unnecessarily hurt when this little fling ended.
She rubbed at tired eyes and refocused on the list. The door to her store chimed, and faith pulled her phone from her back pocket to check the time. But even before she could begin to wonder who would stop in at this late hour, the light clip-clip-clip of high heels sounded in the store.
Dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and told her dad, “Leaving me to deal with her was cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Faith?” Natalie called. “Where are you?”
“Back here.” She set the list aside and straightened the supplies headed to the festival tomorrow.
Natalie came around the corner, and her pretty blue eyes immediately skated over the mound of supplies. “Oh, is that all for our artists?”
Faith smiled. The Art League liked to think everyone involved with their organization was an “artist,” but Faith knew for a fact there were a lot of rednecks who brought their chainsaws and twelve packs out to this event in the hopes of winning a prize or two.
“It is.”
“And you’re on schedule for set-up tomorrow?”
“I am.”
“You do know of the large number of last-minute registrants?”
“I do. It’s fantastic.”
“Isn’t it?” Natalie exhaled and gave Faith that plastic smile. “It’s the biggest turnout for the contest in the history of the festival. Grant’s really pulling in money for the community. I just want to make sure—“
“Grant?” Faith’s gut tingled, but not in a good way.
“Yes, Grant. I know you’ve been...spending time with him. I was coming home from my sister’s bridal shower late last night. And I mean late—we Duboix girls really know how to party—and I noticed his car here.”
Discomfort pierced Faith’s gut, an automatic reaction. Her father had only been gone six months. She didn’t want to appear to be gleefully making use of his absence by sleeping with random men. It might be irrational, but she knew how people talked, and he’d given so much to this town. They both had. She didn’t want his memory tarnished in any way.
So, even though her relationship with Grant was none of Natalie’s business, she said, “I had an emergency water leak in the basement. Grant was nice enough to help me fix my pipes.”
Natalie laughed, a low, edgy laugh. “I’m sure he did. Grant’s fixed the pipes of half the women on Manhattan’s list of most eligible bachelorettes. But just so we’re clear, he’s with me for the festival. We’re MCing ice-carving together, we’re judging together, we’re going to the awards banquet together. We’ve also got plans to spend the evening together afterward.”
Anger flared, pushing a flash of heat through Faith’s chest, neck and face. She bypassed the whole Grant issue for the moment and went straight for the knife in her heart. “Hold on. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m judging.”
“It’s all over the fliers we sent out. They’re posted in your windows, Faith. The reason we have so many entrants is because Grant is judging this year.”
Embarrassment washed in and joined her anger. How could she have missed something so important? “I don’t have time to read every line of the marketing campaigns others hang in my window. And the fact that you didn’t come to me directly, but waited until the posters were printed, and told me at the last minute is pure cowardice.”
“Think what you like, Faith, but the fact is that things change. I’m really sorry about your daddy. But his vision for this festival has always been about turning the pockets of the people around here inside out and getting those coins flowing into the streets of Holly. Grant is a golden ticket to that end, and creating a unified front between the biggest guest sponsor and the charity’s CEO is key to securing large donations from the deepest pockets. Corporate pockets.”
Faith instantly connected the dots of this twisted manipulation right back to Grant’s mother—Hazel.
“Now, I don’t expect you to understand that with your one year of college and all,” Natalie said, “but corporations look for certain marketing elements when they’re considering large donations. Strong, cohesive marketing strategies in a business—or charity in this case—run by savvy executives. I’m sure you can see how showing those potential donors the dovetailed presentation of charity, sponsor, and celebrity will be the key to security big money for Holly.”
Natalie slapped on that dry, condescending smile. “And isn’t that what this festival is all about? Isn’t that what your daddy would have wanted?”
Livid. Faith was livid. In some distant part of her mind, she recognized that her anger was out of proportion to the situation. But in the scope of her life’s downward spiral, her emotions were far, far stronger than her rationale.
She took one giant, menacing step toward Natalie, and reaped far too much satisfaction from the way the other woman’s bright blue eyes widened.
“What you and Grant do is up to you,” she told Natalie, “but my dad started this damn festival, and it’s still running and bringing money into this community because my dad kept it going every fucking year. A decade before you even existed. So don’t you dare act like you know more about the business of fundraising, because he raised money for this town to pay for your education,” Faith stabbed Natalie’s chest with one rigid finger. “And your summer camps”—stab—“and your after school care”—stab—“because your parents”—stab—“were too fucking busy to raise a decent human being, and my father still cared.”
When Faith stopped to draw a breath, she realized she’d pushed Natalie several feet across the sales floor toward the exit. And the other woman was looking at Faith like she’d gone insane.
She may have snapped a nerve, but she wasn’t insane. She was tired of pretending everything was okay. She was tired of giving, giving, giving and not getting anything back. She was tired of not standing up for herself, for ignoring her own needs, and putting others first.
Grant had taught her that. Grant had taught her a lot of things.
“You’re clearly not thinking straight,” Natalie said, turning toward the door. “We’ll talk about this—“
Faith grabbed Natalie’s arm. She collected herself and kept her voice low and level, but made sure her steel tone was crystal clear. “We’ll finish this right now. You’re not taking this away from me, because I’m not letting go. So if you want light, power, water, tables and chairs at that festival, Natalie, you’ll step out of the judging lineup.”
When the woman’s mouth thinned into a stubborn line, Faith added, “If you want a fight, you’ll get one. And I promise you won’t only lose, but you will never live it down.”
Natalie jerked from Faith’s grasp with a disgusted huff and stalked to the door, flinging it open. Her dramatic exit was foiled when the anti-slam hinges Faith had installed kept the door from hitting the wall. Little did Faith realize she was
n’t installing them as much for the children of Holly, as she was for the adults who acted worse than children.
But long after Natalie disappeared into the night, Faith was left with her words eating away at her. She turned to get back to work so she could forget that she had no say in what Grant did or who he did it with. To ignore the hurt of knowing she was no more special to him than any other woman. And to work off the anger of getting extra mad at herself for placing her self worth on a man’s view of her.
Only she realized, depending on Natalie’s decision, she might not be delivering all these supplies to the festival. Which meant she’d just placed the success of the festival and the influx of money for Holly and all the good people here on the shoulders of an immature, self-centered, spoiled little bitch.
And that’s when the repercussions of her anger registered. And her shame sank in.
Her father would be so disappointed in her.
Faith’s heart dropped clear to her feet. She leaned back against the sales counter, covered her face with both hands, and started balling.
Ten
Grant virtually bounced up the steps to the hardware store after his time with Patrick. His brother had developed into a remarkable businessman, and once he’d gotten Faith’s story out of Grant, they’d talked in depth about the possibilities for her future. And he couldn’t wait to share them with her.
But when he reached the top step, he realized the store was dark and the closed sign was up on the door. Disappointment snuck in, but when he tried the door, it opened. He stepped in and listened, but heard silence. “Faith?”
No answer. Grant looked at the door leading to her apartment, but didn’t start that direction. She’d probably crashed early. And after what he’d put her through last night he really should let her get some rest.
When he turned toward the front of the store again, his gaze passed over the sales center, where a piece of paper taped to a register caught his eye.