by Cate Masters
Sheree gulped. “Mrs. Gibson’s having Thanksgiving dinner.” Not exactly earth-shattering.
His smile faded. “You’re joking.”
“No, she’s been renovating the inn.” Wasting tons of money on the old rundown place.
He stood straight. “Come now,” he hissed. “Is that the best you can come up with?”
What the hell did he want? Lies? “Yes.”
He clucked his tongue. “How unfortunate. For you.” He glared, his eyes flashing red.
Piss on those special effects, bud. He could save them for a newbie who cowered easily. “It’s not my fault she hasn’t done anything wrong. If you’d tell me what, specifically, you want to know, I could watch for it.” Hiding in the bushes grew old the first night she spied on Joss. It was damn cold outside.
Looming closer, his nostrils flared. “Everything. How much plainer can I state the objective?”
Two could play this game. She had her own agenda and nothing would stand between her and Eric. She mustered her bitchiness, never very far below the surface. “You’re not giving me anything either. Eric hardly pays attention to me. And I think he knows.”
Drawing back, the man’s eyes darted to her. “What do you mean, he knows?”
“Ever since Halloween, he looks at me funny.” Hopefully, Eric hadn’t spied her sneaking around the inn. If only he didn’t live across the damn street from her.
The man ran his gaze up and down her. “So?”
“You’re keeping too much from me.” Like Eric. “What the hell are those crazy lighted buggy things outside the inn? They kept dive-bombing me until I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
He waved her off. “Oh, the fae. They’re harmless, mostly.”
Freaking fairies? Well, why not, if she stood here chit-chatting with a demon. One who owed her big-time. Apparently he’d forgotten that little tidbit. “When are you going to make him fall in love with me?”
He huffed. “I never said such a thing.”
She fumed. No way would he back out on her. “Yes you did. In the car the night we met.”
In contrast to his casual tone, his eyes flashed. “I said you’d have him. I never promised he’d love you.”
Talk about a piercing gaze. His stare drilled into her brain. Her head swam. “I don’t understand.”
His deep voice echoed as if through a canyon. “Understand this. If you fail, you will suffer for eternity.” He sank into the wall and was gone.
What the… “Hello?” What kind of screwed-up mess had she tangled herself in this time? Not a mess. An objective. For once in her pitiful life, she had a goal to reach, and boy howdy, did she intend to win.
Then his words sunk in.
Eternity? Hey, screw that. And what good was having Eric if he didn’t love her? Strolling to the bedroom, she stopped short at seeing Eric reclining across her bed, the sheet covering half his bare rear. Smiling, he patted the space next to him.
Her heart flip-flopped.
Oh, yeah. Finally.
Ripping the band out of her hair, she shook it loose around her shoulders. “Here I come, baby, ready or not.” She squeaked the last word.
Like a video game gone bad, Eric pixilated into static.
“No.” She dove for the bed, landing on nothing but rumpled covers.
Rolling atop them, she groaned and clutched them to her chest. Where Eric should have been.
Okay. She wasn’t completely thick. This was a message. Having Eric, even if he didn’t love her, had its perks.
She could deal with it.
Chapter 5
The gold and silver painted pumpkins decorated the foyer hardwood floor, its soft sheen testament to the recent refinishing. The ceramic pheasant her grandmother had given her sat beside the vase of sunflowers on the table below the mirror. Edging the door frame, the garland of yellow and orange fabric leaves twined with white lights provided a welcoming entry for Thanksgiving guests.
After surveying the guest list, Joss walked to the dining room for a last-minute check of tables for correct silverware. As soon as they arrived, she’d light the candles and dim the lights. Everything appeared ready, so why did she have the nagging notion of something left undone?
Needing to busy herself, she went to the kitchen. “What can I do to help?”
“Not a thing. We have it covered.” Annie smiled at her cousin Tammy, hired for the day as a server.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous.” Her nerves tightened by the minute.
Having finished squirting decorative frosting on a cake, Annie stepped back to admire her work. “It will be great. See? People are arriving right now.”
Outside, three cars queued up beside one another. People exited and approached the inn. Joss untied her apron. “Show time.” Although excited by her expected guests, something else lingered in the air, hidden by their smiling faces and chatter as they approached the house. Larger and more powerful than their pleasantries, yet mingled with them. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, and her apprehension grew.
Distractedly, Joss asked, “You didn’t take any more reservations, did you?”
“No,” Annie said. “Why?”
“No reason.” Except she’d been so sure Eric would accept the invitation, despite his reluctance. No time to worry about it now.
The silver sedan pulling in caught her attention. “Aunt Lydia.”
Standing on tiptoe, Annie strained to see. “Oh, good. Will she be telling fortunes again?”
Tammy gasped in delight. “She’s a fortune teller?”
Joss shot her a sardonic glance. “Not today if I can help it.” Ignoring their disappointed whines, she hurried to the lobby to greet an entering couple, whom she didn’t recognize. Seeing their overnight bags, she checked them in.
Another couple arrived as she directed the first to their rooms. After taking their coats and hanging them on the coat rack, she ushered them to the front room. “Make yourself at home. Dinner will be ready soon.”
When she returned to the foyer, Lydia was stamping her heeled shoes on the carpet. “It’s so cold.” Turning back, her aunt held open the door for the person behind her. “Come sit by the fire.”
The powerful presence hit Joss before she spied her grandmother, who followed Lydia. Her mouth fell open in delight. “Gram.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, dear.” Her grandmother opened her arms.
Joss went to her embrace. “What a lovely surprise. I had no idea you were coming.”
The love in her grandmother’s voice warmed Joss as much as the hug. “The inn looks lovely.”
“Wait till you see the house next year after we paint the outside. And after the lavender’s planted.”
Gram’s eyes crinkled in a smile. “How lovely you’ll carry on the family traditions.”
Not the way her grandmother hoped. “Only your recipes.”
“I’m still pleased.” Gram squeezed her hand. “Your special visitors will be too.”
Her aunt primped in front of the mirror.
Joss moved behind Lydia. “Let’s not mention such things tonight, please. Or anything else out of the ordinary.”
Lydia pecked her cheek. “We wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” Halting outside the front room, her aunt gasped. “Oh, my. How gorgeous! The color’s extraordinary.”
Joss had to admit, it would complement the outside colors nicely. Linking her arm through Gram’s, she led her inside. “Come in and get warm.” After settling her on the loveseat nearest the fireplace, she excused herself when the door opened.
The sight of Eric in the foyer holding a potted flower stopped her.
A wan smile crossed his face. “Happy Thanksgiving.”
“Thank you. I didn’t realize you were coming.”
His nervousness plain, he peered into the dining room. “I neglected to make a dinner reservation. If you don’t have room—”
“We do.” A bi
t too forceful, she admonished herself.
“Great.” Stiffly, he held out the mums, decorated to look like a turkey. “These are for you.”
“How sweet. You didn’t need to.”
“I wanted to.”
She hadn’t intended to insult him. “They’re lovely.” Her fingers grazed his in accepting them. The small contact zapped his energy through her, sizzling along her nerve endings.
As if aware of it too, he tensed, and somehow loomed taller beside her. His presence seemed to fill the foyer. Her feet anchored in place, concentrating her focus on him. When his gaze dropped to her lips and he eased closer, her grasp on the flowers loosened.
The rattle of the door opening caused him to glance away to the couple entering with overnight bags.
To clear her head, Joss stepped toward them. “Welcome.”
She remembered to tell Eric, “Why don’t you hang up your coat and join the others?”
“Of course.” He stepped into the front room and halted. His fists clenched when Lydia looked up.
Her aunt brightened. “Doctor Hendricks. How wonderful. Come sit beside us. Tell us how you’ve been.”
He shot a tentative glance at Joss.
She cradled the flowers. “Go ahead. It’s safe. My aunt won’t be doing any readings tonight.”
He released a breath, seeming to steel himself before going in.
Maybe it was time to open a bottle of wine. First, she greeted the newcomers. After setting the flowers on the reservation desk, she engaged in small talk with a couple registering for a room, nerves rattling from her encounter with Eric. Would he have kissed her if the visitors hadn’t arrived when they did?
At the foot of the stairs, she directed the people to the second floor. Instinctively, she turned to the front room and immediately met Eric’s gaze. Electricity shocked her, concentrating in her lower belly. Hoping it would subside, she hurried to the kitchen.
The vibration remained steady. “I think I’ll open the wine now. Lydia’s latched onto Doctor Hendricks already.” Joss rummaged in the drawer for the bottle opener.
“Doc Hendricks is here?” Tammy strained to look past her.
“Yes. He brought flowers,” she blurted, then regretted it. Unsure why she mentioned it, Joss’s cheeks burned.
Annie’s brows flew upward. In a knowing tone, she said, “Oh,” and exchanged a sly glance with Tammy.
She should never have said a thing. “It’s a formal gesture from a guest to a host.”
All innocence, Tammy said, “Sure.” She busied herself arranging stuffed mushroom caps on a platter.
Despite the buzz still singing along her veins, Joss kept her voice airy. “They’re cute. Mums shaped like a turkey.”
Too enthusiastically, Annie nodded. “I’ve seen those. They are cute.”
At her placating tone, Joss worked the corkscrew faster. The blessed pop of the cork’s release was a wonderful sound. She poured a glass of Riesling and gulped.
At Annie’s quizzical glance, she swirled the last in her glass. “Had to test it. It’s a new brand. Very good.” She downed the last of it. The tingle working through her subsided, and her muscles relaxed.
Grabbing napkins, Tammy shouldered the tray. “I’ll take these out front.”
Annie opened the oven door. “Twenty minutes, tops, before dinner.”
“Perfect. Hopefully everyone will be here by then.” If only Kyle had the courtesy to arrive early. Joss suspected he’d make a late entrance and an early departure. At least her family would spend the holiday together.
* * * *
The crackling fire and mellow wine eased Eric’s tension. Another last-minute decision, coming here. Because of an emergency call, he’d missed the flight to Denver. Profuse apologies to his sister failed to ease her concern about him spending Thanksgiving alone, eating a microwaved turkey dinner.
“I won’t be. There’s a new inn down the street. I’ll eat there with neighbors.” That placated her, and the idea gained appeal. Why not? He’d hate to miss an old-fashioned turkey dinner. A legendary one. He had almost smiled.
By the time he’d parked outside the inn, his grin had disappeared along with his confidence, and he’d wondered why the hell he’d come. The urge to flee had momentarily overtaken him. He’d slipped the keys back into the ignition. An image in his head had stopped him. Sheree, opening her apartment door, pulling him inside.
Another vehicle parked beside him. He forced himself out of the truck and followed the couple inside.
Luckily, Charlie Fulton’s arrival shifted everyone’s focus to him. He described at length the renovation process, praising Joss and Annie for their hard work. “Especially Mrs. Gibson. She’s a dynamo, always on the move. You know?”
Eric knew too well. Anytime he was near her, his head spun. She was always in motion, always changing things. A whirlwind of energy.
When Joss announced dinner, Eric followed everyone into the dining room. He evaded Lydia and sat near Charlie. Joss, Annie, and Tammy rotated from dining room to kitchen, kitchen to dining room, carrying trays of food.
The buffet style reminded Eric of home, jostling for first place with his sister. It lent a casual atmosphere to the evening. The food itself was another matter. A turkey at his parents’ home seemed bland as flour paste in comparison. Whatever herbs mingled with ingredients in each dish tantalized his taste buds, and his senses. His awareness of the room around him heightened. He was especially sensitive to Joss’s presence. Throughout dinner, he glanced frequently at her whenever she entered the room. Stupidly, he’d imagined her sitting beside him during the meal. She didn’t sit anywhere, unless she’d eaten in the kitchen.
Charlie dominated the conversation, so there was little pressure to contribute much unless asked. Eric wondered whether Charlie’s interest extended beyond the inn. The handyman perked up whenever Joss came by, and went out of his way to speak to her. She graciously stopped at their table, her easy laughter a reminder to Eric of the many hours she’d spent with Charlie. Her glance strayed to Eric many times, each time riveting him further. A curiosity lingered in her gaze. An invitation so compelling, when she stopped to ask if he wanted coffee, he rose from the table.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked.
“No,” he blurted. He couldn’t leave. Embarrassed at his inexplicable reaction, he covered by asking where the rest room was. The warmth—and relief—in her face told him he hadn’t imagined it. Something was happening between them. He had no idea what, yet it overwhelmed him. He found himself in the downstairs bathroom with no recollection of having walked there.
Splashing cold water on his face, he told his mirror image, “Get a grip.”
A long-forgotten urge twisted through him, making his hands fumble the towel onto the rack. You’re getting carried away. Yet he couldn’t deny, something about her beckoned to him on the deepest level, and he didn’t want to stop. He returned to his seat and stared at the apple cranberry cake on the plate. Unadorned of whipped cream, it needed no embellishment. It smelled delicious.
Mr. Appleton inquired about his practice, and, as Eric suspected, wanted free advice on his cat’s condition.
“I couldn’t be sure without taking a look. If you’d like, bring him by tomorrow.” He had nowhere else to be. The thought of spending the day alone used to appeal to him. No harried travel. No inquisitive relatives. Suddenly, his immediate future seemed bleak and pathetic. Nothing like when he visited the inn, always too short a stay.
As he spooned the last of the cake into his mouth, he met the scintillating gaze of the aunt, a knowing smile curling her lips. Surely as she’d emptied a bucket of cold water atop his head, a blast of cool passed over him. The woman gave him the heebie-jeebies. He hoped she’d left her damn tarot cards at home. He flashed a polite smile.
When Charlie announced his interest in going to the front room, Eric quickly said, “Good idea.”
Lydia and the grandmother followed like wraiths, inspecting him with weighty stares.
Most of the others left soon after finishing their desserts. The few overnight guests retired to their rooms, leaving Eric with the aunt, the grandmother, and Charlie.
Lydia stood at the front window. “I don’t believe it. Snow.”
“Snow?” Charlie lumbered to his feet. “The forecasters didn’t call for any.”
“Whether they called for it or not, it’s here. Quite a bit too.”
Strange. The forecast predicted clear skies, yet a layer of white already covered the ground. An odd shiver of awareness passed over Eric when Joss emerged from the kitchen and a smug glance passed between the grandmother and aunt.
Gram sipped her tea like the queen regent. “You did a wonderful job with the renovations. As large as it is, this room has a cozy, inviting atmosphere.”
Leaning against the back of her grandmother’s chair, Joss smiled. “All it needs is a brass cricket for the hearth.”
“A brass cricket?” Eric asked.
Lydia batted her lashes. “For luck, of course.”
Slapping his hands against his knees, Charlie pushed to a stand. “I better be going. I’ll be back soon enough tomorrow. Still have some rooms to paint upstairs.”
A hint of encouragement edged Lydia’s voice when she said, “Good night.” She turned to the older woman. “Shall we get settled in our rooms?”
Gram sighed. “Yes, even a few hours of travel tire me out.”
Annie burst from the kitchen. “Honey, I’m sorry. I have to take Tammy home. She’s sick to her stomach.”
Joss hurried to Annie’s side. “Go, don’t worry about a thing. I’ll finish up.”
Annie hesitated. “If this snow keeps up, I may not be able to come back.”
She gestured her away. “Don’t even try. I can handle it. Go, before the roads get worse.”
Her friend scrambled back to the kitchen. The others scattered in every direction, upstairs and into the kitchen and outside, leaving Eric the sole remaining person. Besides Joss.
For a moment, they stood there uncertainly, the air between them crackling with tension. At a door slamming upstairs, she broke away her gaze. “Excuse me. I have to…” Jerking a thumb backward, she frowned and then hurried to the kitchen.
