Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel

by Tracy March

  “Dean Dooley.” She gestured toward Bryce. “This is Bryce Bennett.”

  Bryce extended his hand and Dean studied him closely as he shook it.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” Bryce said.

  Dean nodded.

  Holly placed her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean’s been my grandpa’s best friend ever since they were kids. Dean and Fred—they’re the original odd couple, but you rarely see them apart. He’s like my second grandpa.” Lindsey had always said he reminded her of the Cowardly Lion from The Wizard of Oz.

  “That’s cool.” Bryce smiled, seeming genuinely happy to meet someone close to her family. “It’s rare to find lifelong friends like that.”

  “It is.” Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You’re the young man who’s buying the lodge,” he said pointedly.

  Holly tensed at his tone, one she’d rarely heard in his voice.

  Bryce blinked a couple of times. “Yes, sir.”

  “Heck of a project you’re taking on.” Dean tugged at the hem of his untucked shirt, pulled it down over his belly, and shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “Any idea what you’re getting into?”

  Holly blanched. “He’s got some exciting plans to make the lodge much different than it used to be,” she said, hoping to save Bryce from answering. “I’ll be representing him at closing.”

  “So your grandpa said.” Dean shook his head ruefully. “Been on his mind twenty-four/seven ever since Carden brought that manure over and finally got you to admit which property Mr. Bennett is buying.”

  Bryce caught her gaze and lowered his eyebrows.

  Holly’s pulse pounded. She had never known Dean to be anything but cordial to newcomers. His reaction to Bryce was totally out of character, as were his sharp admonitions toward her.

  “I wasn’t hiding it.” She struggled to keep her tone even. “I just thought there might be a better way to tell him…A better time.”

  Dean leveled his gaze on her. “The only better time I can think of is never. It’s bad enough that miserable place is coming back to haunt us all, but even worse that you’d be so closely involved in making it happen. Imagine what your poor grandma would think.”

  Holly stood there silently, heat rising in her face. She had imagined what her grandma would think. The idea that the lodge was reemerging would kill her grandma if she weren’t already dead—but only if a man like Adam Evanston was buying it.

  Bryce was no Adam Evanston.

  Holly believed that Bryce sincerely wanted to turn the place around, and make the lodge a source of pride in Thistle Bend. By representing him, she’d be doing something to help everyone heal—including her grandpa and herself. Surely her grandma would support her decision. Holly was certain Grandpa would see things the same way, once she had a chance to talk with him about it now that she’d sorted through her emotions herself. But there was no way she was going to address any of it with Dean, in front of Bryce and all the diners in Pie in the Sky.

  Dean put his arm around her. “I hate to be harsh, sweetie, you know it’s not like me. But the return of this lodge business has really thrown your grandpa for a loop.”

  Holly swallowed hard as guilt gripped her and held her tightly in its grasp. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt her grandpa. She should’ve talked things through with him as soon as Carden left the farm after the subject of the lodge came up. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said, although she’d guessed how her grandpa felt by the way he had reacted after hearing that her client was buying the lodge. “I’m going to the farm tomorrow to help him plant another section of the garden. Hopefully I can ease his mind then.”

  Dean brought his arm back to his side and shook his head. “They should’ve razed that place when they had the chance. It would’ve settled things for good.”

  Bryce sat there, spine straight, the look in his eyes changing from moment to moment.

  Shock.

  Dismay.

  Anger.

  At least that’s what Holly read in them. She sat and slid to her spot in the middle of the booth, hoping Dean would take the hint and leave. She didn’t dare nudge Bryce’s ankle.

  Dean reached into his pocket, pulled out a stack of cash clasped in a shiny silver money clip, and tugged a crisp fifty from the middle. “Sorry I ruined your dinner by sayin’ my piece.” He put the fifty on the table and pushed it toward Holly. “The least I can do is pay for it.”

  Bryce glanced at the money and then at Holly, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

  “We can’t let you do that.” She slid the bill to the edge of the table. “I know you’re just looking out for Grandpa. It shouldn’t cost you to take up for your friend.”

  Dean left the fifty on the table, and said to Bryce, “I wish you good luck, young man. And I wish you weren’t buying that lodge.” He nodded at Holly. “You take care.” He stepped away from the table and out of her sight.

  Bryce stared at Dean’s back as he walked away, then he leveled his gaze on Holly.

  “Sorry about that,” she said quietly.

  Bryce tapped his index finger on the tabletop, the crease between his eyebrows deepening. “I can get another lawyer to do the closing. But there seems to be way more to this situation than that.”

  Holly focused on her pizza, which appeared to have gotten cold. Normally she’d be bummed, but the confrontation with Dean had stolen her appetite.

  “There is,” she said. “Way more.”

  He reached over and grasped her hand, surprising her since her family’s friend had been so rude, and Holly was clearly withholding things from him. “Want to tell me about it?”

  She needed to tell him at some point, or delay until he found out from someone else. By that time, he might’ve lost faith in Holly’s willingness to disclose things to him. If they were going to develop a relationship, that wasn’t a healthy way to start.

  He should hear my stories from me.

  Regardless, Holly shook her head. “Not here. Not now.” She imagined how frustrating it had to be for him not to know the basis of Dean’s concerns—and her own. “Like I said to Dean about my grandpa, there’ll be a better way to tell you. A better time.”

  He roughly swiped his napkin across his mouth, his expression tight. “I can see why this might not be an ideal setting. Clearly the story makes you emotional. But I’ve let you in on everything I’m doing with the lodge. Full access. Full disclosure. I need to understand where you’re coming from, even if it’s a really bad place.”

  Her conscience nagged at her. What he was asking for was only fair. If she didn’t want to tell him her family’s story, she should’ve never accepted him as a client, much less gone with him to the lodge—twice.

  And kissed him and promised him more.

  Bryce was going ahead with his plans for the lodge regardless, and there were plenty other women who’d be interested in him. There were also other real estate lawyers he could employ. Either she walked away now, or opened up, hoping she could resolve the situation with her grandpa.

  She slid her half-eaten slice of pizza back onto the pan. “Let’s wrap this up to go and get out of here.”

  They left Pie in the Sky under the watchful gaze of many diners. Usually Holly would stop, greet people, and chat, but her mood was too somber for that. She kept her gaze focused forward, her thoughts in turmoil over what to do about Bryce…about her grandpa. This wasn’t how she’d imagined their not-yet-official date turning out—not by a long shot. It seemed like hours since she and Bryce had been playfully flirting across the booth from each other, the subject matter no heavier than pineapple versus pepperoni.

  They got into the Jeep and Bryce drove Holly to her house, even though she could’ve easily walked the few blocks from the restaurant. It would’ve been way too awkward for her to tell him she’d rather walk, that time alone in the fresh air and twilight might help her get her mind straight.

  Bryce parked the Jeep on the street in fro
nt of Holly’s place, a two-story Victorian farmhouse painted taupe with bright white trim and brown accents. There was even fish-scale siding beneath the main gable in front.

  Home sweet home…

  “I grew up in this house,” she said wistfully. “Turned cartwheels on the lawn, planted a little wildflower garden out back.”

  Bryce turned off the engine but didn’t make a move to get out.

  “When my parents moved to Florida a couple of years ago, I moved back in. They said as long as I’d let them stay when they visited, I could treat it as my own.”

  My parents…

  Holly struggled not to wince. She needed to call them, to explain what was going on. No doubt her dad would figure out something was up with her grandpa soon enough. But would her parents react as Dean had? Holly hated to even think about it.

  “That’s a sweet deal.” Bryce lazily placed his hand on her thigh, its warmth seeping through the denim of her jeans. “I like the big front porch. Especially the swing.”

  Holly almost smiled. That swing was a fixture in so many of her memories. “I’ve got a pretty awesome view of Paintbrush Peak from there.”

  It’s perfect for watching sunsets.

  But the afternoon had remained overcast since the storm, and the evening was much the same. Tonight would not be the night she invited him to watch the sunset with her…or the night she invited him in.

  She placed her hand on top of his. “At the restaurant, I said there was a better way for me to tell you about my family’s experience with the lodge.”

  “Yep,” he said.

  “I need you to go back to your place tonight and read the articles circled in those newspapers we found in the suite. They’ll explain a lot, and give you some context. That way I can keep it simple when we talk about my family’s story.” She shrugged. “And maybe I won’t get so emotional.”

  He nodded and squeezed her thigh. “It’s okay if you do.”

  She gave him a rueful smile and nodded, suddenly exhausted from all that had happened since she’d met Bryce.

  “I’ll walk you to the door.” He slid his hand from her thigh and unbuckled his seatbelt.

  Holly’s heart pitched. Her emotions were so raw that his simple, chivalrous offer had her eyes welling. Bryce had sat like a gentleman through Dean’s reproach. Without pushing, he’d agreed to her request to read the newspaper stories, and now he was walking around to her side of the Jeep to politely let her out and walk her to the door. By every indication, he was too good to be true. She’d be a fool not to take a chance on him—and she’d better get herself straight before he withdrew the offer.

  Bryce opened Holly’s door and she stepped out. They headed up the sidewalk in silence, his hand placed lightly at the small of her back. As they climbed the stairs, their boots scraped on the firm brick. She had a fleeting thought about the stairs leading to the side entrance of the lodge—the rotten planks, the splintery breaks.

  Definitely should’ve used brick.

  A cool evening breeze had the porch swing swaying ever so slightly, and Holly wished they could just relax there together and not talk. But there was too much between them that needed to be said.

  They reached the door and she faced Bryce, certain that her weariness showed in her eyes. He gently lifted off her cap, hung it on the front door latch, and smoothed the loose strands of her hair away from her forehead, similar to what he’d done on the balcony at the lodge. Gathering her in his arms, he pressed her head against his taut chest and rocked her—more soothing than any porch swing, any day. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer, calmed by his strong arms and steady presence.

  “Let me know when you’re ready.” The rumble of his voice resonated in his chest and vibrated lightly against her ear. He kissed the top of her head and rested his cheek there.

  How long had she yearned for a man with Bryce’s instincts and patience? He seemed to know exactly what she needed tonight. She imagined the thrill of having a relationship with a man like him, how fulfilling it could be on every level.

  I have to take this chance.

  But she also had to work things thorough with her grandpa and her parents.

  Holly raised her head, bringing her face-to-face with Bryce. She reached up and turned his cap around backward, getting its bill out of her way, and making him look much younger. Skimming her fingers along his neck and tangling them in his hair, she cupped her hand at his nape and drew his head down. She pressed her forehead against his for a moment, a warm eddy of desire swirling beneath the calm.

  “I will,” she whispered as she pressed her palm against his pec and clutched a handful of flannel in her fist. She tipped her head and met his lips with hers, swept away by the sweet sensation.

  Slow.

  Tender.

  The urgency of passion reserved for another time.

  Bryce’s tongue sought hers, the slow strokes lulling her senses, drawing her in, deepening her emotional need. He pulled her tightly to him, her curves pressed against lean muscle, her thoughts focused on nothing but him.

  Holly lost herself in the hazy pleasure of the moment, wishing she knew how to make it last.

  Chapter 12

  Eager to understand what he was missing, Bryce returned to his rental cabin just outside of town, grabbed a cold beer, and got to work. After getting everything organized, he settled in the center of the brushed-leather couch, took a sip of his beer, and set it on the end table next to the picture of his father and the woman from the suite. Their smiles seemed to dare him to solve their mystery, taunting him every time he looked at it. But that kept him motivated toward his goal of getting past this unexpected detour and moving forward.

  Numerous newspapers were spread on his lap and by his sides. He’d arranged dozens more in chronological order on the split-log coffee table in front of him. The papers were brittle, yellow, and thin—nothing like the story he hoped to glean from them.

  Bryce had resisted the temptation to first check out the calendars he’d swiped from the suite today, in favor of doing as Holly had asked. He had all night. If he could stay awake long enough, he’d get to the calendars next. Just like Holly had claimed about her story, the notations on the calendars were likely to make more sense if he had the context of the lodge’s history firmly in mind.

  He already knew the gist of what had happened during the “lodge” years, but the detailed saga appeared to be even more compelling—as if someone should write a book or make a movie about it. But it had been real-life for Holly, her family, and the people of Thistle Bend.

  Despite the significance of the story—especially to Bryce’s future—his thoughts kept drifting back to Holly and their kiss on her front porch. Cradling her in his arms in the Jeep during the storm had lit up his whole body, but tonight’s kiss had tugged at his heart. He squinted at the newspaper in his lap, type blurring as he tried to remember if he’d ever gotten that feeling when he had kissed Whitney.

  Never.

  And that was hard to admit to himself. He’d been prepared and eager to ask her to come live with him in Costa Rica. He’d thought he was in love. But he and Whitney had rarely had issues during the weeks they’d spent together, just a vacation lifestyle and decent sex.

  Maybe this experience with Holly was meant to show him what he’d been missing with Whitney. He already had more warmth in his heart for Holly than he’d ever had for her. Even so, they had a long way to go if they were going to make it anywhere, and lots of obstacles to overcome.

  Bryce sucked in a deep breath and blew it out with a hiss. Resting his head on the back of the couch, he stared at the tongue-in-grove ceiling, wishing things in his life would come together as seamlessly. There were so many pieces to fit into place, and he wasn’t even sure they were from the same puzzle.

  His association with the lodge was his greatest challenge—with Holly and everyone else. Dean Dooley had made it clear what reactions Bryce could expect from some of the townspeople,
once it was widely known that he was buying the lodge. Would he be able to go anywhere in public without people approaching him, eager to say their piece? Bryce hadn’t heard that expression in years, and he wished he hadn’t heard it from Dean today.

  “They should’ve razed that place when they had the chance. That would’ve settled things for good.”

  Oddly, Bryce couldn’t disagree. But if they had torn down the lodge, he never would’ve come to Thistle Bend. Never met Holly. And never had the chance to prove that he was not his father’s son.

  Pushing thoughts of Dean’s remarks aside, Bryce forced himself to focus on the newspapers. The room grew chilly as he read. After an hour, he stood and stretched. He headed to the fridge to get another beer, then lit the logs in the stone fireplace. The energetic fire warmed the room quickly. As it burned down to embers, he read every circled article in the newspapers, beginning with Evanston to Present Lodge Proposal to Town Council, and ending with FORECLOSED—The Saga of the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge Ends, one of several articles accompanied by pictures of his father. The sad tale took Bryce deep into the night and threatened to keep him awake for the rest of it.

  He’d had no clue that debate over the lodge had been so heated, that people suspected his father of bribing town council members to get their votes of approval, or that Holly’s grandfather had been president of Thistle Bend Bank, the lodge’s financier. The poor guy had been tasked with breaking a stalemate between the board of directors, and he’d ultimately made the final decision to approve the loan. Article after article cited Fred Birdsong’s decision, seemingly blaming him for bringing the scourge of the lodge to bear upon Thistle Bend.

  Bryce couldn’t imagine the kind of stress Fred Birdsong’s quandary had caused him and his family, or how it had affected them. Holly had been a high school girl, looking ahead to college, and suddenly her grandfather’s decision had become the talk of the town. She had to have been relieved to get away from it all, especially after bad things began to happen with the lodge—and continued to be blamed on her grandfather.