by Erica Penrod
She peeked through the peephole but didn’t see anyone. She turned the deadbolt and opened the door as far as the chain would allow. “Is anyone there?” No one answered, but there was a cardboard box on the ground. “What in the world?”
Hilary undid the chain and opened the door far enough to grab the item before slamming it shut against the chill. Once inside, she locked up again. The square package wasn’t heavy but wasn’t too light either. She held the box up by her ear. There was nothing ticking, so hopefully there wasn’t a bomb about to go off. Seriously, she had to quit watching CSI.
Hurrying back to the stove, she set the package on the kitchen table, glancing over the label. It was addressed to Griff Bailey, 101 West, Mt. Bedford Road. Hilary blinked and rubbed her eyes. Maybe she was losing it. The stress of her dad’s health, the disappointment at being stuck in Hollyville, and her sister leaving must be making her insane. She took a deep breath and walked back to the stove, where the gnocchi was ready to be drained. If the box was there in the morning and it said Griff’s name, she’d deal with that before she started her shift at the hotel. But for now, she had mushrooms on the brain, which was more than enough for one night. There was no way she could think about Griff Bailey and the possibility of seeing him tomorrow, or about all the coincidences and the packages, not if she wanted to get any sleep tonight.
Chapter Six
Something disturbed Griff’s thoughts—or lack of thoughts—as he watched a mystery. A strange sound came from somewhere in the house, but Griff continued to stare at the screen.
Max barked. Griff’s head popped up, and he listened more closely. There it was again. What was that noise?
There was a knock on the door, hard to miss and as crisp as a new dollar bill. It was then that he realized the unfamiliar ring had been the doorbell. He got up so quickly, he sent his chair rolling away. Marching into the entryway, he determined to add neon lights to the No Soliciting sign.
Knock, knock, knock. Griff swung open the door. “I’m not interested—” He paused, and his heart sprinted in his chest at the sight of a pretty lady on his doorstep. Not just any lady, but the one woman in town who had turned his thoughts upside down and gotten through his crusty exterior the day before.
“Oh good, you are home.” Hilary brushed by him as she stepped into the house. “I hated to think I’d driven all the way up here for nothing.”
He wiped at his nose as her sweet and floral scent filled the air around him. Max wagged his tail and circled the intruder. So much for a guard dog. “What are you doing here?” Griff closed the door.
“This is for you.” Hilary handed him a box before she knelt and scratched Max between the ears. “You’re adorable.”
“What is it?” For one second, Griff wished he was the dog. He shook off the notion and read his name and address on the label. There was no return address.
“I don’t know.” Hilary looked up at him as she continued to pet Max. “It was delivered to my apartment by mistake.”
“I think it’s time I had a talk with the post office.”
Hilary stood up. “I don’t think it’s the post office. Someone left this on my doorstep at 11:00 last night. They don’t deliver mail at those hours.” She gazed around the room, up at the vaulted ceiling and his custom chandelier. “Your home is beautiful. You’d never know by the way everything outside is overgrown.” She gave him a slighted glance. “It’s like you’re trying to hide this place.”
“Maybe I am.” He wanted her to leave. His unsteady limbs and erratic pulse left him feeling weak and nervous. “Thanks for the package. You can go now.”
Griff was too late; Hilary had noticed the framed photographs on the wall. “What are all these houses?” Her fingers shook when she touched the edge of the frame, and her eyes narrowed as if she were in deep concentration.
“Nothing.” He cleared his throat. “They’re just houses I’ve designed.”
“You’re an architect?” Her voice echoed with surprise as she glanced back at him.
“Yes.” He adjusted the box in his hands. “Again, thank you for bringing the package.” He turned towards the door, but Hilary didn’t move. The woman couldn’t take a hint.
She leaned over to study one of the photographs. “Were you expecting a delivery?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Chill.” She brushed back the falling hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. “And who are these kids in front of this house?” She pointed to the most recent photograph on the wall.
“They’re the foster kids I built the house for.” He tucked the box beneath his arm and put a hand on the doorknob.
“Foster kids?”
Uhhhh … if Griff answered her question, would he get her out his house any faster? “Technically, they’re eighteen- to twenty-year-old kids who’ve outgrown the foster care system but aren’t able to be completely independent. Most kids can’t afford rent, a car, and school without a little help, so I build houses and give them a roof over their heads. It’s no big deal.” He looked down at the floor. “I guess you’ll be leaving now.”
Hilary stood tall and her eyes pooled with something Griff couldn’t name. A small notch appeared between her brows. “That’s pretty cool.” Her lips parted again as if she wanted to say more, but she smiled softly.
Griff turned the handle. “Okay, goodbye.”
“Wait.” Hilary crossed her arms. “Aren’t you going to open the package?”
“Are you always this intrusive?”
“I’m not intrusive; I’m curious. I’m wondering if what’s in your box has anything to do with the package I got.”
Griff released the knob. “Why would you think that?”
“Because I think the situation is more than coincidental.”
“I’m sure it has nothing to do with yours. Probably just something I ordered and forgot about. If I show you what’s inside, will you leave?” She was too much for him: her eyes, her scent, and her ability to shake the ground beneath his feet.
“Did anyone tell you you’re kind of rude?” She kept her feet planted. “I just want to see if there’s any connection, and then I’ll leave you alone.” Her lashes fluttered. “I promise.”
“Fine.” He huffed and walked into the kitchen, his heart pumping like he’d climbed the mountain. He put the box on the counter and reached for a utility knife in the drawer. “I don’t know why you’re so worried about this.”
“I’m not worried.” She helped herself to the barstool. “I’m curious.”
Geez, go ahead and make yourself right at home. Griff had to get rid of her before he had a heart attack. Hilary was bad for his health, as he’d decided long ago most people were. A quick swish with the knife and the seal was broken. Griff lifted the flaps and pushed back the tissue. “See? I told you it was nothing.” He looked inside, and the color drained from his face and his eyes widened. “Why would someone send this to me?”
Chapter Seven
Hilary sighed with disappointment. She’d talked herself into a full investigation on her way up the hill, and when she saw all the photographs of the houses on Griff’s wall, she couldn’t help but think about the charms she’d received, an ice skate and a house, and how there must be some sort of a connection. But she was wrong. The contents of Griff’s package had nothing to do with the charms.
“It’s the ingredients for a pumpkin pie.” She got off the stool.
Griff pulled a recipe card from the box. Hilary glanced up and watched his eyes soften and fill with moisture. He quickly dabbed his eyes and cleared his throat. “I don’t understand.”
“What is it?” She stepped closer as she fisted her hands, fighting back the temptation to reach out to him. The rough exterior had been replaced with vulnerability, and her every instinct shouted for her to comfort him. “Griff?”
“This recipe card is handwritten by Lucinda.” His voice hitched.
“Who�
�s Lucinda?” Hilary wasn’t usually so assertive when it came to other people’s affairs, but ever since Griff showed up at the hotel, nothing was normal.
“She was my foster mom.”
“You were in foster care?” That explained all the houses on the wall.
“Yes.” Griff traced the writing on the card. “Lucinda was the only person who ever treated me like I was her own.”
“So, she sent you the package?” There wasn’t much mystery there.
“No.” Griff looked at her. “She passed away five years ago.”
“Maybe another family member?” Hilary held his gaze. Tiny flecks of green were scattered amongst the brown hue in his eyes, something she hadn’t noticed before.
“No, there was just me and Lucinda after Carl died. They never had children of their own.”
“I’m sure there’s got to be some explanation.”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“But why pumpkin pie?”
“It was my favorite, and every year, Lucinda and I would make a few for Thanksgiving. We’d take some to her neighbors and keep a couple for ourselves.” The cadence of his voice was warm and inviting like the memory he shared. “I haven’t made one since she died.”
“Well, now you can.” Hilary smiled, but Griff seemed to be lost somewhere in the past.
He exhaled. “I don’t do Thanksgiving.”
“Everyone does Thanksgiving.” She saw a sadness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before he’d opened the box, and she remembered the boy who’d saved her life. She owed him. “Why don’t you join my parents and me this year?” Hilary, have you lost your mind? “My sister’s gone, and there’s an empty place. My dad’s always been fascinated with architecture, especially old historical buildings. I’m sure you’d have a lot to talk about.” Shut up, shut up, shut up. Okay, she’d gone way too far, or she’d been body-snatched by an alien. Just because she felt sorry for him didn’t mean she had to invite his not-so-nice self to Thanksgiving dinner.
“Thank you for the offer, but no.” Griff put the card on the counter. “Max and I will be just fine.”
She’d done the polite thing and asked, and he’d declined. Oh well. “Okay, then.” She turned to leave, but she looked back over her shoulder. “But if you change your mind, dinner will be at one o’clock at the hotel in my parents’ apartment.” Hilary clamped her mouth shut. She hustled to the door, and Max followed her.
“Max, come back here,” Griff called. The dog whined, spun around, and trotted back to the kitchen.
Hilary had to hurry. Her shift was in less than an hour, and now she had to find the Men in Black or an X-Files employee to rid her of this foreign being in her body. There couldn’t be any other explanation for her behavior, and she wasn’t about to admit that part of her wanted to see Griff again. Yeah, no, the alien idea sounded more reasonable, more realistic, than Hilary Newton having the hots for Griff the Grump Bailey. Distracted by her thoughts, she missed the low-hanging branch until it was too late.
* * *
Caring about what Hilary thought about him was one reason Griff shouldn’t ever see her again. As a child, he’d learned to depend on himself and no one else until Lucinda and Carl came into his life. They filled the void left by the absence of his parents, who’d died in a car accident when he was four. Griff had lived in five foster homes by fifteen, and then he met the Rhodes. They’d given him plenty of love to last a lifetime, and losing them nearly tore his heart in two. That was enough heartache for him, and before long, he reverted to his old habits like a pair of worn shoes. If anyone got too close, he took off as fast as he could.
“Max, from now on, we won’t be answering the door.” Griff exhaled as he looked at the can of pumpkin. “Deliveries can be left on the porch.” He wondered what to do with the box of ingredients and remembered Lucinda with flour on her apron and her arthritic hands rolling out the crust.
“Aaahhhhhhh!” Griff heard a cry followed by a loud clang.
Max barked and took off towards the front door. Griff’s heart seized as he realized it had to be Hilary. Was she hurt? He ran, jerked the front door open, and leapt off the porch. A few yards down, Hilary was sitting on the ground with her hand pressed to her head.
“What happened?” He jogged over and ducked the low limb. “Are you okay?” His stomach was tied in knots, while his chest heaved up and down; he certainly wasn’t alright. Max whined and circled once around her.
“Yeah, I think so.” Hilary lifted her hand, revealing a cut.
“Apply pressure; you’re bleeding.”
She glanced at the crimson liquid on her fingers and quickly put her hand back. “That branch attacked me, and then I fell into whatever that thing is.” Hilary pointed to his yard ornament he’d created years ago in school. The metal-and-wood design was unique but probably didn’t make for a soft landing.
He leaned down and helped her up. “This is exactly why I prefer to be left alone.” She swayed in his arms, and he steadied her. “Less hassle.” The memory of the hotel, when she’d slipped on the water and he’d felt the magnetic pull between them, blurred his vision.
Hilary stepped back, and the absence of her ached in his bones. “You could cut back some of these branches. They’re dangerous.” Her hand was still pressed to the wound.
“Come back in, and let’s get your cut cleaned up.” Griff came closer and put his hand on the small of her back. “How hard did you hit your head? Are you nauseous?” Touching her again sent a longing rippling through his body, but he was worried she might fall.
“No, my head hurts a little, but I think it’s mostly from the cut.”
“We’ll go in and take a look.” They climbed the steps and passed through the open door. He guided her into the kitchen, where he helped her to a chair at the table. “Let me grab my first aid kit.”
“Seems a little odd. I haven’t seen you since we were kids, and now you’ve rescued me twice in two days,” Hilary called to him as he walked into the half bathroom next to the kitchen. “And why haven’t I seen you around until now?”
Griff came back and set the white first aid box on the counter. He lifted the lid. “Because I only lived here about three years at the time. The foster family I was staying with upgraded from a moody teenager to a four-year-old.”
“Why do you say upgraded?” Hilary reached down and stroked the top of Max’s head, who hadn’t left her side.
“If you were a foster family—” He took out the antiseptic wipe and the antibiotic cream. “—who would you want to take care of: a cute little kid or an acne-faced adolescent?”
She wrinkled her brow. “Ouch.” She rubbed just below the cut. “That sounds harsh.”
“It’s fine, because I met Carl and Lucinda after I left Hollyville.” He walked over to the table. “Let me look.” Griff brushed the hair back from her face, then tilted her chin back for a better view of the wound but avoided her eyes. The cut was deep enough for a stitch, but fortunately it wasn’t long, and a bandage would do the trick. He wished he could say the same thing about his heart. The woman dug a little deeper in every time he saw her. “I’ll just clean the area and close the cut with a butterfly bandage. You should be fine.”
“Thank you.” Her lips parted in a soft smile.
The genuine gesture caught him off guard, and he slipped up, allowing himself to gaze into her eyes. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry that happened to you.” His apology came out in almost a whisper. Griff swallowed and forced himself to look away. “I watched an episode of your show last night.” Dang it, he muttered under his breath. His face heated, knowing he’d disclosed something he never meant for her to know.
“You did?”
Her eyes lit up, and he wished he hadn’t noticed, because everything inside him warmed and he liked the feeling. What was wrong with him?
“Which episode?” She sat up taller, and he backed up.
“The one about Halloween.” He put the cream back in the
first aid kit.
“Oh.” She nodded, and her smile widened. “The episode was fun. I liked researching that one.”
“Do you ever travel for your research?” Griff closed the lid and wished he could shut down their conversation without sounding like a jerk. Normally, he wouldn’t have cared, but since his tree limb tried to take her head off, being decent was the least he could do. Besides, he needed to check her for a concussion, and since he had no idea when her birthday was or her high school locker combo, judging her ability to hold a rational conversation was the best he could do.
Her shoulders slumped and the grin faded. “No, and that was the whole reason I started the channel.” She bit her lip. “I’ve always wanted to see the world and I had the idea for the channel, but my dad got sick and I had to step in and help out. My sister talked me into starting the MyHeartChannel up anyway, which I did, thinking no one would ever watch a show on holidays around the world with a host who never leaves her apartment.”
Griff wanted to take her in his arms. “But people did.” Duh? Anyone with eyes in their head would tune in even if it was just to watch her wash dishes.
Hilary nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, if that’s what you can do without ever leaving your apartment, I can’t imagine what your channel will be like when you do get to travel.”
“I’m not sure it’s ever going to happen.” The sadness in her voice hovered over them like a dark cloud.
Griff stared at her, ready to stop the conversation. She was obviously functioning mentally, and he wasn’t good at this personal stuff. The last thing he wanted was for her to start crying about her life. His skin itched at the thought. It was time to get this girl out of here before he really did something stupid and offered her a shoulder. He wasn’t himself around her, and he’d already gone miles out of his comfort zone as it was.
