Finding Ever After

by Pepper Basham

  The hum of a truck engine broke through her runaway thoughts. She sat upright, coffee sloshing out of the hole onto the lid of her thermos, and she didn’t even care as joy surged through her veins. A hunter green truck, parking two spots down.

  She opened her car door and stepped out at the same time Griff did. “Good morning!” The chirp of the tree-perched birds seemed to echo her sentiment, their exclamations a lot more joyful and less annoying than they’d been a few minutes prior.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Griff slung a black duffel bag over his shoulder and shoved his keys in his pocket. “My alarm didn’t go off. I was going to text you but then realized we’ve never exchanged numbers.”

  His alarm didn’t go off. Relief flooded her senses. Apparently, his internal alarm hadn’t gone off either, the one that should have warned him away from this entire wacky weekend.

  She casually slid her hands into her jacket pockets. “No problem.” See? She could be cool. He didn’t have to know she’d just been near tears, mentally consuming a pint of cookies-n-cream and planning her next Netflix sympathy binge. “I’ll make sure to get your number this weekend.”

  He met her gaze as he neared her SUV, an easy smile breaking up the thick stubble on his jaw and chin. He looked even better this early in the morning than he did coming into her store in the afternoon. “I trust you have these amazing apple tarts?”

  “Of course. A deal’s a deal.” She pointed to her car. “They’re nice and snug in the backseat.” Along with her confidence that she was making a smart decision in bringing Griff to the resort.

  He clicked the lock on his truck and the alarm beeped. “I don’t have to wait until I get there to try one, do I?”

  “That depends. Are you a flight risk?” She opened the hatchback and he tossed his duffel inside.

  He laughed as he settled into the front seat—but neither confirmed nor denied. She clicked her seatbelt and hit the lock button on the doors. Just in case.

  “I brought you coffee.” She pointed to the thermos in the second cupholder as she began to back out of the space.

  “Wow, you go all out for your prisoners.” He picked it up and took a careful sip as she turned left out of the parking lot. “Are you going to spill it on me again?”

  “Not as long as you stay put.” She adjusted her rearview mirror, trying to ignore the way her heart raced and her palms suddenly felt sweaty on the steering wheel. Griff smelled like the forest—evergreen and pine and something else incredibly masculine all rolled into one. Aftershave? Cologne? Or just his natural scent?

  Her book club boys definitely didn’t smell like that. She wrinkled her nose. And it was way too early in the morning to think about what scents they typically carried.

  “We have about a four-hour drive to the mountains, so just let me know if you need a—” She swallowed the words bathroom break before they could escape her lips. This was getting awkward fast. She hadn’t road-tripped with a guy, ever. Especially not one who didn’t particularly want to be there but was doing her a huge favor—a favor that still didn’t make much sense. “If you need to stop for anything.” She finished the sentence quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed her near blunder.

  “I’ll grab a tart and be set for a while.” Griff twisted to reach into the backseat, and his sudden proximity sent her heart in double-time.

  She held her breath to avoid over indulging in his forest scent, and let it out slowly as he settled back into the seat with a towel-wrapped mini tart in his lap. What was the matter with her? She’d never reacted this strongly to Griff before—or any guy, for that matter. She’d dated some over the last decade, but no one had ever drawn such a visceral reaction from her. Maybe that’s why she was still single.

  But if she was only reacting this way to Griff, then, well—she was likely to stay single. Griff didn’t exactly seem like the dating type. And he definitely didn’t seem like the “date the sans-cat-catlady-bookstore-owner” type.

  “So what’s the game plan?” Griff asked around a mouthful of tart. A few crumbs dropped onto the leg of his jeans and he carefully plucked them up. Then he froze. “Oh, man. Those guys weren’t kidding. These are amazing.”

  She fought to hide her pleased smile. “Thank you.” All of her book club buddies, Kyle and Lester, especially, had been encouraging her to sell them on the side. She didn’t really have time outside of managing the store, and besides—baking those was her way of giving.

  Or, as of late, holding someone hostage.

  She flicked on her blinker and merged onto the highway, then realized she’d never answered his question. “What game plan?”

  “For the fake date.” He shifted slightly in the seat. “You know your family is going to ask questions—it’d be good if we were on the same page. Made our stories match about how we met and all that.”

  Maggie’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “Oh, right.” She hadn’t even thought of that. It almost made her curious why he had. Was he that experienced a liar?

  She cast a sidelong glance in his direction, at his short beard that looked like it’d been just a five o’clock shadow not long ago, at the way his navy long sleeve shirt pulled across his biceps. She really didn’t know him well at all—not beyond sharing the occasional cup of coffee at her store counter, and joking around while he worked on the latest repair or remodel he was sent to do—and here she was driving him across the state into the Smokies to meet her stepfamily. “I guess we could tell them the truth. That you work in the store sometimes and that’s how we met.”

  He nodded slowly, a handful of emotions flickering across his expression that she didn’t have time to decipher. She tried to keep her eyes on the road, but his face begged interpretation. Disappointment? Boredom?

  She darted her gaze back to his before clicking on her blinker. Insecurity knocked again, and she reminded herself he chose to come. Late, and at a bribe, but he still chose to come. “You can make something up if you’d rather.”

  “No, that works.” He rubbed his jaw, the short hairs bristling under his calloused fingers. “That’ll work great, actually.”

  “Less to remember, right?” She changed into the left lane to go around a slow-moving van.

  “That too.”

  Too? She frowned but he changed the subject before she could question him.

  “So how and when are we going to break up?” He adjusted his seatbelt, so he could angle toward her.

  “We’ll break up a few weeks after we get home. As far as they’re concerned, it just wasn’t working out. Trust me, they won’t push for details.”

  “Great.” Griff nodded. “And how long have we been dating?”

  She narrowed her eyes, thinking over the options. “Four months.”

  “Why four?”

  “Because if it was six, I would have told them about you already. And if it was less than four, it’s a little too soon for a meet-the-stepmom vacation.”

  “Ahh. You’re good at this.” He grinned.

  She winced. “I’m not sure if being told one is great at being sneaky is a good thing.”

  “Maybe not. But in this case, it is.” He tilted his head. “You’re not used to lying, are you?”

  “Never.” She shook her head. “It always causes more drama than it’s worth.”

  “Until now?”

  “Until now.” Hopefully, anyway. Time would tell. She switched back into the right lane and set her cruise control. “What about you?”

  He leaned his head back against the headrest, his ability to be comfortable and casual next to her making her want to believe things that weren’t true. “I don’t like to hurt people’s feelings, but I always err on the side of being honestly straightforward. Like when I told you I couldn’t come.”

  “And then when you told me you would?”

  “Exactly.” He shot her a grin and her stomach curtsied on automatic impulse.

  Well this was a fine kettle of fish.

  “Favorite food?�
�� Griff leaned his seat back an inch, stretching his long legs to get comfortable. They’d been on these winding mountain roads now plotting for hours—and he hadn’t remembered the last time he’d had this much fun. Several mile markers back, Maggie had pointed out the necessity of sharing some get-to-know-you questions so they wouldn’t get caught off guard by her family, and they’d already covered everything from music genres and favorite songs, to movies and sports.

  “That’s a tough one.” She flipped her visor to block the late morning sun coming over the mountains. “I’ll go with mac and cheese—and my apple tarts. They’re comforting.”

  “I don’t blame you. Those things are my favorite now too.” He’d already eaten two, and the only thing stopping him from taking a third was knowing he’d want one later that night. He had to ration. “Hey, didn’t you say there was some kind of cooking contest at this place?”

  She nodded. “The resort does a big community-wide bake-off, along with a winter parade and pageant. It’s tradition—and a great way to sample everything and gain a quick five pounds.”

  “Why don’t you enter your tarts?” She’d win for sure. His mouth watered just remembering his last bite.

  She kept her eyes on the road. “I don’t usually have time.”

  “Too busy snowmobiling?” He could just see her on one of those things, dark hair flying. It’d be interesting to see if Maggie, the bookworm, had a little bit of a daredevil side.

  “Something like that.” She flashed him a quick grin, though it seemed distracted. “Regardless, my apple tarts weren’t your favorite food until this trip, so what was it before then?”

  “Well, to be fair, I’m also a fan of pizza—plain cheese.”

  “What?” Her lips parted in exaggerated shock. “No four-meat, manly-man toppings?”

  “Shocking, I know.”

  “I like pizza. Pepperoni and pineapple.”

  “That’s weird.”

  She cut her eyes over at him like he’d hoped she would. “You’re the one who just picked every minuscule crumb of tart off your lap. That’s weird.”

  “Hey, as your prisoner, I’m trying to be respectful of your property.”

  “Then your warden thanks you.”

  Griff hid a smile. They’d never had this kind of banter in the store, but then again, the book club guys were usually lurking, and Maggie seemed a lot more relaxed right now than she did at work. She’d even tilted her head back and guffawed a little while ago over a debate between who sang More Than A Feeling.

  For the record, he’d been right.

  The ribbon of road before them twisted sharply to the left, then to the right, as the tree-dotted, navy mountains peaked on each side. “Favorite color?” Griff asked.

  “Blue.” He said it at the same time she did, and her eyes darted over to him once more in surprise.

  “You wear it a lot.” He shrugged, wondering if that had been the wrong thing to admit he’d noticed. Then again, they were about to have to pretend to be in a serious relationship in front of her family, so a little bit of a natural connection would probably help the hoax.

  “We’re almost there.” She nodded at the city sign they were passing on the right. “The turn-off to the resort is in one mile.”

  This was really happening. Hesitation pitched in Maggie’s voice—similar to the doubt he had tripping up his own gut. It was one thing to laugh and plan a ruse on a road trip. It was another thing entirely to actually live it out in front of family—and ex-girlfriends.

  He’d almost brought that detail up to Maggie a dozen times on the drive, but something always stopped him. It was the wrong time, and he didn’t want to risk losing the easy camaraderie they’d had. Besides, would it really matter? He’d agreed to come, and his commitment to helping Maggie out hadn’t changed. If he was able to get a small slice of satisfaction in showing Harper that he wasn’t the deadbeat she’d assumed he’d become, then why not? Maggie would probably support that.

  Then why couldn’t he force the words out of his lips?

  He just needed to see Harper. Get it over with, be cool, show her that her rejection of him and his worth hadn’t done anything but inspire him all these years later, and then he could move forward, victorious. He’d ride snowmobiles and drink an insane amount of cocoa, polish off those apple tarts, and be back to business in Charlotte, growing his company and further proving that he had nothing to prove. To Harper, or his dad, or anyone.

  Maggie drove onto a side road, one that wound through snow-dusted trees. The road soon gave way to the parking lot of a giant, wood cabin style resort. The entire third story was nothing but glass windows and airy balconies. Pine boughs draped across each wooden railing. Smoke billowed from one of several chimneys in the pitched roof. Behind the main cabin, several smaller cabins dotted the tree-lined countryside, each appearing to have their own driveway.

  She hadn’t been kidding about the views. “Do we need to check in?” He pointed to the main cabin as she drove past it.

  “No, that’s the lodge. We’ll all be in WinterCrisp Cottage—it’s just down the way.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel and a muscle jumped in her clenched jaw.

  Fun-loving, music-debating, joke-sharing Maggie was quickly vanishing. Too bad. This dynamic between her and her family must be more intense than she’d let on.

  And with someone like Harper Weir as a sister, he didn’t blame her.

  Griff bent to peer out the window as the cabin rose before them. The word cottage had apparently been used loosely when naming the joint, because this two-story monstrosity was like nothing he’d ever seen. Cabin style like the main lodge, except this house boasted elaborate gingerbread style trim. Tall, black iron lanterns stood sentry on each side of a long, paved walkway that ended on a wrap-around porch. Garland decorated with berries and pinecones draped the ornate railings, while a white swing swung gently in the breeze. The snow had been shoveled, providing a clear path on the walk, and the small sloping piles glistened like crystal in the noon sun.

  He let out a slow whistle as he appreciated the craftsmanship of the cabin. He’d probably never get projects like this in Charlotte, no matter how big his business grew. “Wow.”

  “I told you it’d be nice.” Maggie flashed him a quick smile, but her wide-eyed expression betrayed its sincerity.

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “You okay?”

  “Of course.” Her gaze darted to the porch, and her fake smile tightened into a grimace.

  He followed her stare. A petite blonde in a purple sweater and tight jeans stood on the porch. She wore frothy white gloves and a matching knit hat, one that would look silly on most girls but just made her look like a model for a travel magazine. She bounced lightly on the toes of her fuzzy white boots and waved.

  Harper.

  His stomach clenched into a knot, the same knot it’d formed the day Harper laughed when he’d hinted at their future relationship status. The same knot that had pulled tight when she looked at him with pity in her eyes and assured him they had no future. The same knot he’d untangled at least a dozen times over the years every time he remembered her rejection.

  Looked like today would make thirteen.

  3

  “Margaret! You’re here.”

  Her stepsister trotted daintily down the porch steps toward them, blonde hair bouncing on her shoulders, as Maggie forced herself to exit her SUV. She shut her door with a solid click and gritted her teeth at the intentional—it had to be intentional by now—use of her full name.

  “Yep. We made it.” She half expected Griff to tease her at the surprise name reveal, but his expression had gone stoic as he stood motionless next to the passenger side of the car. That was something. Most men turned into a babbling goon in front of her beautiful stepsister. Hope—just the tiniest seed of hope—began to bud. Maybe Griff was different. Maybe he could be the one exception to the Men-Love-Harper-Weir worldwide rule.

  Maybe he would actually keep viewing Ma
ggie as her own individual person, rather than seeing the distorted, less-than reflection of her stepsister like everyone else.

  Maggie shoved her dark hair out of her eyes. Who was she kidding? That was a long shot. The seed of hope burrowed back into the ground where it belonged. Despite the gorgeous scenery all around them, she half wished she could get back in the car and go home. Back to the safety and security of her bookstore and her book club buddies and her private corner of the world where she wasn’t compared.

  Harper gave her a hug, much to Maggie’s surprise, and it actually felt warm and genuine—much to her bigger surprise. “And who is this?” She turned her brilliant white smile on Griff, who appeared unmoved as he held out his hand to shake hers.

  For a moment, a rush of relief filled Maggie that she wasn’t actually bringing a guy home for real—how would she ever keep his attention standing next to Harper? It was like setting a gourmet slice of caramel chocolate cheesecake and an apple next to each other on a platter and asking which one they’d rather take a bite of.

  Griff shook her stepsister’s hand but didn’t offer his name. Weird. He wasn’t the most talkative man she knew, but he didn’t seem shy or the type to lose his manners, either. He was always opening doors for her, and her female customers. He’d even tipped his ball cap at an elderly woman last week who’d passed him coming into the store.

  Maggie cleared her throat. “Harper, this is Griff.” Silent Griff, apparently.

  Harper dipped a little in her boots, like a mini curtesy. On anyone else, the move would have looked ridiculous. On her, it was adorable. “Glad you could make it. I’d say I’d heard a lot about you, but unfortunately, I haven’t.” She twisted her lips toward Maggie with a pointed glance.

  Griff’s jaw tightened, rippling under his short beard. “No worries.”

  Okay, now he almost looked…offended. Maggie squinted at both of them. She opened her mouth to inquire, but the front door opened again and her stepmother appeared in the wooden frame, effectively silencing her surroundings.