by Erica Penrod
“Didn’t you say you need to get to work?” He crossed his arms as he mentally argued with his desire to hold her. “You’d better get going.” Ahhh. Griff already felt better, getting back a little self-control.
Hilary looked at him. Sadness still rimmed her eyes, but a notch appeared between her brows as if she were confused. In an instant, the look was gone.
She stood up abruptly. “Yes, I need to go. Sorry to trouble you again.” Hilary walked away, and once again, Max followed after her. Griff called to the dog, but this time, Max glanced back at Griff and then continued to follow Hilary to the door.
Stupid dog. As Griff watched the door close behind her and heard Max whine, he began to wonder if Max wasn’t the smarter of the two of them.
* * *
Hilary ducked this time as she passed the branch and managed to get into her car without another injury. Something was wrong with that man. His mood swings were giving her whiplash, and now, with her head injury, he posed a health hazard. She adjusted the rearview mirror so she got a better view of her forehead. A red tint circled the cut, but the wound wasn’t too bad. Wow, Griff had done a good job, which annoyed her. She didn’t want to owe him anything.
Hilary reached for her phone and sent her mom a text telling her she was on her way but would be a few minutes late. She started the car and took one last look at the house barely visible beneath the foliage. “So long, Griff Bailey. I hope I never have the pleasure of seeing you again.” Hilary put the car in reverse and slowly backed out onto the road.
Something tickled her ear, and she couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard someone whisper, “Of course you’re going to see him again.” It was the same voice Hilary had heard when Griff walked into the lobby. And if the message wasn’t disturbing enough, little bubbles of excitement brewed in her belly.
Chapter Eight
“I’m fine, Mom.” Hilary put her purse in the drawer, wishing she could stuff her thoughts of Griff away just as easily. “It’s just a scratch.” Something was up with that man. Maybe a mental illness or something.
“It’s got a bruise.” Her mom leaned in to get a closer look. She grabbed Hilary’s chin. “Let me look in your eyes and make sure you don’t have a concussion.”
Hilary stared into her mom’s cornflower-blue eyes. That’s what her dad called them, and she always found it sweet that he’d stared into them lovingly all these years. Maryn had a striking resemblance to their mom, except for the eye color, with the same honey-blond hair (even though Mom’s was more gray than blond now), milky complexion, and stick-thin bone structure. Hilary was all Newton with brown eyes and chestnut hair, and while she loved the copper-colored skin tone passed down from her father, she wasn’t crazy about being first pick in a neighborhood football game on account of her frame.
“And you’re sure you don’t have a headache?” Her mom put her hands on her protruding hip bones. She looked thinner than she had a month ago, and worry tied up Hilary’s stomach.
“Mom, I’m fine. Now go in and check on Dad.” Hilary’s only hope of her mom sitting down for a few minutes was her dad. The three of them—Hilary, Maryn, and their dad—had concocted a scheme a few months ago when it had become apparent their mom was wearing out. Dad would tell her he was lonely and wanted her company. He’d insist she lie beside him, and they’d watch something on television. The plan had worked, but after looking at her mother’s slight appearance, she wondered if they might have to come up with something a little more drastic.
“All right, but if something changes, let me know.” She looked Hilary up and down, taking one last assessment. “I mean it, Hilary. I can’t be worrying about you now, along with your sister halfway around the world and your father’s health.” Deep lines creased the corners of her eyes.
“I know, Mom.” Hilary offered a placid smile. “I’m fine, but I will call you if I need to.”
Reassured, her mom exhaled. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”
Hilary sighed as she checked over the reservation list, which hadn’t changed much since most guests were here for the weekend with the reunion. Good. A dull headache announced its arrival minutes later, and staring at the computer screen wasn’t going to help. On top of all that, she had to find a way to forget about Griff. She’d occupy her time by tidying up the office space and reviewing her lines for the episode she planned to record tonight. The truffle dish turned out beautifully, and she was pleased with the results.
“Hello, Hilary.” A deep voice drew her from her thoughts.
“Hello, Sam.” Oh, great.
“What happened to you?” Lines pleated his brow, and to his credit, Sam appeared genuinely concerned.
“Ran into a tree branch.” She rubbed her forehead lightly, avoiding the cut.
“Ouch.” He leaned against the front desk. “I’m sorry to hear that. But you’re okay?”
“Yes, I’ll be fine, thank you.”
“I’m on my way to lunch, but I’m glad I caught you.” He smiled, revealing commercial-white teeth. She didn’t want him to ask her to the reunion again, because she wasn’t in the mood to come up with an excuse. Hilary didn’t know how polite she could be, not with the pounding in her head getting louder and louder. “I watched your show last night.”
Wait, what? Her voice caught in her throat. “You did?”
“Yes, and I think you’re talented. You’ve got a way of drawing people in. Your appreciation for different traditions is contagious.”
Her face heated, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you.”
“But what’s most impressive is, in the few episodes I watched, you never left your apartment.”
She almost drowned in embarrassment. “Originally, the plan was to travel, but—”
“Could you imagine what would happen if you actually attended the events you talk about?”
Hilary wanted to crawl under the desk. How could she host a channel about holidays around the world and never leave her hometown? She didn’t understand why anyone watched her show, but every month the numbers grew, so she kept going, praying one day she would get to see the world. “Sam, I’m not going to the reunion with you.” She’d find another way to make her dream happen.
He chuckled and raised his hands in surrender. “I know. And while I’d love nothing more than for you to be my date, I’m not stupid. I don’t let my personal feelings get in the way of business.”
Excitement shoved her headache aside as hope floated inside her. “Really?”
Sam grinned. “Yes. I think you’ve got something special, and with my money, you’ll be able to travel right away.”
“That would be amazing—” She paused as reality grounded her. Her family needed her. There was no way she could leave her parents now. “But I’m afraid right now is not possible.”
“Why not?”
Hilary swallowed the lump in her throat and bit her lip. Her dad was a private person, especially when it came to the guests. His illness was very real, but he didn’t want people to think the hotel was trying to con anyone out of money. She hoped she’d made the right decision. “My dad is sick, and my mom spends most of her time taking care of him. My sister’s gone, and we’ve only got one other employee for the front desk.”
“Hire some more people.”
“We can’t afford to.” She didn’t like to talk about her family’s financial situation, but after Sam’s offer, she felt she owed him some sort of explanation. “The medical bills have been a strain.”
He nodded, and she tried to read his expression. She didn’t want pity. “If you’ll give me a chance to run some numbers, I think I could make this happen for you. If this channel does what I’m thinking it will, you’ll be able to help out your parents and hire a new staff.”
She wanted to believe him, so much her heart ached with longing. “I don’t know how it would be possible.” Hilary couldn’t leave her dad, not when his future was uncertain.
“Just don’t de
cide anything yet.” He stepped back and put his hands in his jacket pockets. “I’m leaving tomorrow, but I’ll be back next week to spend Thanksgiving with my parents. Let’s get together next weekend and discuss what I discover.”
Hilary had resigned herself to the fact, once Maryn gotten the call about Ghana and she’d given her sister a chunk of her savings to get set up, it would be years before she’d leave Hollyville. Now, Sam was here, handing out hope like it was nothing but pocket change. “I guess it won’t hurt to see what you come up with.”
“Good. I’ll have my team get to work.” He winked at Hilary. “This will be fun.”
“What will be fun?” Suzie sauntered into the lobby, wearing skinny jeans and red high heels. She walked over and linked her arm through Sam’s. “Hey there, good-looking.”
Hilary blinked as her headache resurfaced.
“Hilary and I are talking business.” Sam grinned at Suzie.
Hilary smiled at both pretty people, but she’d prefer to admire them from afar, like lions on a safari. She had to admit Suzie had impressed her. The woman worked fast. She’d set her eyes on Sam, and less than twenty-four hours later, here she was, holding on to him like he was her toy to steal. Hilary might’ve had sympathy for Sam, but by the way he looked at Suzie like she was a piece of dessert, she assumed they were evenly matched.
“Are you ready to go?” Suzie tugged on him. “We don’t want to be late for our reservation.”
“All right.” Sam turned back to Hilary. “I’ll look forward to next weekend, although I’m sure I’ll see you again before then.”
“Thank you, Sam.” Hilary focused on his handsome features and not the green lasers darting from Suzie’s eyes.
“You’re welcome.” Sam led Suzie out the door as Hilary rubbed her temples. A thousand thoughts whirled through her mind at once, and she tried to force them into a corner, but her effort was futile. Discouraged for a moment, she looked for the silver lining. Once she found it, she grinned; she hadn’t thought about Griff at all in the last fifteen minutes.
Chapter Nine
The day before Thanksgiving, Griff decided he’d either officially lost his mind, or he was being haunted by a ghost. Ever since he’d opened the package and found the ingredients for the pie with Lucinda’s handwritten recipe, he heard her voice in his head. This wouldn’t have been a bad thing, because he missed her terribly, but she continued to offer unwanted advice.
He’d stuffed the ingredients in the pantry with no intent to use them. He wasn’t in the holiday mood after the way things had ended with Hilary, not that he ever was in a holiday mood.
“Well, whose fault is that?” Lucinda’s voice echoed in his mind. Griff considered himself something of a recluse since he spent most of his time alone and talked to a dog, but hearing the dead was a whole other level of crazy.
“It’s fine. It’s over with. I don’t have to see Hilary again.” Griff opened the fridge and grabbed the lunch meat. No matter what he told Lucinda the ghost, Hilary was stuck in his head. Unfortunately, he’d finished the commercial building plans he’d been working on, leaving him with too much free time.
“Now you can bake the pie.”
Uhhhh. “I’m not baking the pie today. Maybe tomorrow.” Griff scowled as he grabbed the mayo and mustard. He looked at Max. “Lucinda the ghost is just as bossy as she was in person.”
Max cocked his head, then went back to his bone.
“I heard that.”
“You were supposed to.” Griff bumped the door closed with his hip.
“You’ll need to get the pie done today so you can take it to Hilary’s Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. You can’t show up empty-handed.”
Griff set the fixings on the counter. “I’m not going.” Why was he arguing? He would just ignore her. Lucinda couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to—at least he didn’t think so.
“Yes, you are.”
He got the bread from the pantry and took a knife from the drawer.
“Griff, you’re going.” Her voice got louder.
He smiled as he continued to make his sandwich. He was winning.
Lucinda must have heard that thought, because she broke into the most annoying song he’d ever heard. But don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, I just don’t think he’d understand … To be fair to Billy Ray Cyrus, originally the song wasn’t too bad, but Lucinda’s rendition was another version altogether. She was a woman of many talents, but her singing had the dogs howling across town. As if on cue, Max began to wail. And if you tell my heart, my achy breaky heart, he might blow up and kill this man …
More like Griff’s head might explode. “All right, you win.” He blew the air from his lungs and the noise faded. “I’ll take Hilary the pie.”
“And stay for dinner.”
“No.”
“You can tell the world, you never was my girl, you can burn—”
“All right, I’ll stay. Just please stop singing.” Griff pinched the bridge of his nose. Instantly, his head cleared, and his body felt lighter. He sighed and smiled to himself, relishing the sensation, until his heart shifted gears and took off. The absence of Lucinda singing brought on the euphoria, right? No way was the feeling invoked by the thought of seeing Hilary again.
Her face appeared in his mind, and he hoped she was okay after her run-in with the branch. He should’ve made sure, but he hadn’t. He’d forced himself to stay away and tried to forget her. In the long run, loneliness was less painful than loving and losing. Griff couldn’t be around Hilary and not feel things. He hated being vulnerable above all else, and he was at her mercy. There was no way he could go to her Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow; a full stomach wouldn’t be the only thing he would suffer from. He just couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it.
“But don’t tell my heart, my achy breaky heart—"
“All right, all right. I’m going.” Griff shook his head. It sounded like Lucinda would get her way after all.
* * *
Thanksgiving was Hilary’s favorite holiday and she didn’t think that would change, no matter how many other celebrations and traditions she discovered for her channel. No one could deny this Thanksgiving would be a challenge for the Newton Family. Maryn was gone and Dad wasn’t having one of his best days, but Hilary planned to make the most of it. Her mom needed her to.
“The turkey is almost ready.” Her mom closed the oven door. Heat radiated throughout the kitchen, while cinnamon spice and the aroma of homemade rolls drifted in the air.
Hilary finished setting the plates on the table when the front desk bell rang. With the holiday, they left a note on the front desk with a bell and kept the door to the apartment cracked. Typically, the hotel was slow until the evening hours.
“I’ll get it.” Her mom wiped her hands on her apron and walked out the door.
“Were there any reservations?” her dad asked from his recliner. A football game played on the television.
“No. I double-checked this morning. Must be someone looking for a room.”
Dad nodded and went back to his game. Hilary placed the crystal goblets above the plates and began to fold the cloth napkins.
“Hilary.”
Hilary glanced up to see her mom in the doorway. “Yeah?”
“There’s a young man here who said you invited him to Thanksgiving.” Her mom smiled, but questions blazed in her eyes.
“What?” Hilary didn’t know what her mom was talking about until her mom walked in and Griff, holding a pie, followed her. Griff. Her heart plummeted to her belly. “Hey.” Hilary dropped the napkins and walked over to Griff. “I thought you didn’t do Thanksgiving.” She gave him a slighted glance and tucked her shaking hands in her pockets. What she didn’t add was since you practically kicked me out of your house.
He offered her the pie. “I thought I’d bring you this as a peace offering.”
She thought she saw a hint of a smile, but he didn’t reveal anything. Something smelled de
licious, and Hilary wasn’t sure whether the scent making her mouth water was coming from the pie or Griff’s cologne. His hair, still damp, was combed back, exposing every detail of his face. His strong nose and rigid jawline were softened by his brown eyes. His skin was clean shaven, and the cool weather tinted his cheeks with a bit of color.
“Thank you.” She took the pie and her fingers grazed his. Her breath hitched at his touch. Her mom cleared her throat. “Oh, sorry. Mom, Dad, this is Griff Bailey.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” Griff smiled softly at her mom and then walked over and extended his hand to her dad in his recliner. As they shook hands, moisture pooled in Hilary’s eyes. She didn’t know why the simple gesture moved her so much. Maybe she was touched because she knew how difficult being ill was for her father. He’d always been the man of the house, taking care of everything, and now he had to depend on others. The respect Griff showed her dad hit her directly in the heart.
“Griff was the kid who pulled me from the ice.” Hilary swallowed back her emotions.
“That was you?” Her dad looked up at Griff. The smile on his face told Hilary that Griff had made a good impression. How long Griff’s pleasant disposition would last, she didn’t know. Given his history, her parents would probably change their minds about him by the time they served his pie.
“Yes, it was a long time ago.” Griff looked down at the ground as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“We never did get a chance to thank you.” Her mother rushed to Griff’s side and touched his arm. “I can’t bear to think about what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”
Griff’s gaze lingered on her mom’s hand. “Um, it wasn’t a big deal. I just happened to be at the right place at the right time.”
“You were her guardian angel.”
Hilary hid her amusement. By the look on Griff’s face, if her mom didn’t let go of his arm soon, he’d be out the door in less than ten seconds.