“All this way for a family meeting?” I’m shocked to hear this isn’t something that a phone call could have taken care of. Knowing how fancy and technologically advanced Graham most likely is, I’m surprised he didn’t just show up as a hologram. “Is everything okay with Holiday Pies?” Holiday Pies was once just a side business for the family. Margie Holiday, his grandmother who has since passed on, started with just a single oven and used to bake her famous apple and pumpkin pies to give to her neighbors. Word caught on about how good they were, and soon enough everyone in Gingerbread wanted to buy them. Her success grew so fast that the family opened a factory in Cater, and to this day they mass produce those yummy baked sensations and ship them to a bevy of local grocery stores. His family also owns and operates Holiday Orchards, where they grow fruit and produce. The Holidays are one of Gingerbread’s local success stories. They’ve been referred to as the little-family-that-could for years.
“I have no clue how the pies are doing.” He shakes his head, but those day-glow eyes remain pinned on mine. “Tanner doesn’t share much with me. Personally, I’m shocked he called a meeting. It’s just Mom, Dad, and me. Tanner is something else.” He grunts at the thought of his brother. It’s a well-known fact Tanner and Graham haven’t always gotten along. Graham was closer to Nick than he was his own brother. Tanner, much like his brother, used to be the town playboy, always a different girl next to him at the bar week after week. He’s about as interested in Cupid’s arrow as he is in his brother. “Anyway”—he scratches at the back of his neck, and his left eye shuts tight—“I need a rental that’s furnished. I can’t stay with my parents for a month and hang onto my sanity, and I’m pretty sure I’m not staying with Tanner.”
“How about Nick?” I volunteer my brother for the effort. “I’m sure he’ll let you crash on his couch until your private jet is ready to whisk you back to the Big Apple.” I couldn’t help but take a swipe at him. Although judging by that blooming grin, it was more of an ego stroke than anything else. And, believe you me, the last thing in the world I want to do is make Graham Holiday gloat over his wild success any more than I have to.
“Nick’s out. He’s got a bad habit of leaving his dirty socks wherever he pleases, and you know it.” He hooks his brow my way, and I can’t help but concede with a nod. He is so right about the dirty socks. “Besides, I like the idea of a little solitude. It’s a nice break from the big city.”
Solitude. I grunt at the thought of such a coveting thing. With both the bakery and my brain on overdrive, I could use a little solitude myself.
I rouse my mother’s computer to life and key in the password. “A month off looking for solitude?” I marvel as I peruse the available listings. “My, aren’t you a highfalutin fool.”
“Come on.” His lids lower as those dimples of his dig in, and my insides spike with heat. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to leave Gingerbread.”
“I’ll have you know, I did leave Gingerbread for two solid years. I went to Arizona, but you wouldn’t know that. I doubt you know anything about anyone other than yourself.”
“You’re right.”
I glance back over at him, and he’s sporting a goofy grin on his face, same one he used to get just before he pegged me with a zinger.
He leans forward. “Why don’t you show me around and tell me about everything I’ve missed out on? You’re still the town gossip, aren’t you?”
And there it is. I take a moment to glare at him. “I’m sad to say that Sabrina Jarrett has stolen the title of town gossip right from under me. But I am the town baker now, and I think that’s a far better fit for me.”
“Baker?”
“That’s right. Holly and I opened the Gingerbread Bakery and Café right down the street. We’re not raking in a six-figure income like yourself, but we’re settled, sort of, and we’re really happy about how things have turned out for us.”
“Seven.” He nods as if I should know what this means.
“Seven? Let me guess, that’s some cool phrase they say in New York that means something akin to awesome. I’ve always felt the wordawesomewas a little too West Coast myself.” I can’t help all the stupid things that are coming from my lips. Graham has always inspired me to spew forth the verbal diarrhea. Usually it’s in self-defense, but then, this is Graham. I’m sure things are moving in a defensive direction.
His brows knit together. “Seven figures—as in income. I wasn’t trying to pat my back. I was merely correcting you. And I’m happy about the bakery. It sounds like you finally found your calling.” He gets that look in his eyes again, and I can feel it coming. “What’s better than watching carbs and cash collide? I’ll stop by sometime and check it out. I’m always up for a good cookie. You said it was a little shop right down the street?”
My blood hits its boiling point. “I didn’t say it was little. It’s actually quitebig—spacious even. Although, I’m pretty sure it’s not nearly as big as that space lab you live in. Penthouse, is it?”
He tips his head back as if he were amused. “You seem to know a lot about me, Sprig.” Ugh. How I hate that nickname. And even more than that, I detest that he invoked it. I was sort of hoping there was an underlying truce as far as it was concerned. He leans in with that smug look on his face. “Are you keeping tabs?” His left eye comes just shy of winking, and a jolt of rage whips through me. “Let me guess, stalking social media is your favorite pastime.”
A breath hitches in my throat, and for a moment I contemplate whether I should throw the granite globe or the bottle of water my mother has sitting on her desk at him.
“I’m not a stalker. And, believe you me, you would be the last person I’d waste my time following. From what I hear, I could get an STD simply by looking you up. No way, no how.” I pull up the full report on furnished houses in Gingerbread and gasp.
“What is it?” He drums his fingers over the desk, and it sends my anger skyrocketing. “Let me guess, you’re going to need a vaccination. No need to cyberstalk me, sweetie, when I’m seated right in front of you.”
“Stop being so incredulous.” I try to refresh the listings, but the same stubborn house is the lone wolf to show up to this house-hunting party. “It looks as if there’s only one home available.”
“Is it furnished, and will they rent month to month?”
“Check and check.” And I couldn’t be more distraught.
“Well, let’s go check it out.” He bounces to his feet, and I gather my purse and head to the door. “Don’t you want to print it out or jot down the address?”
“No need. I happen to be intimately familiar with the area. I happened to sleep there often.” I shoot him a look that stops him in his tracks. “Do not go there.” Sometimes you need to put a proverbial muzzle on Graham before he unleashes on you. Although, admittedly, I just about walked into that one. “Let’s just say, if you decide to take the place, you’ll have the best neighbor.”
“Mayor Todd?” He comes in close and wraps an arm around my shoulder as if it belonged there.
“Nope.Me.” I flash a bitter smile as we walk out the door.
* * *
