Still, when she hums again, I catch myself watching her instead of the ledger.Clara, what were you thinking?
Chapter Sixteen
Ruby
We’ve beenat it for hours. Invoices, spreadsheets, tax forms. I suggest a break.
“Not yet.”
Griffin’s at the desk, sleeves rolled up, tapping numbers into his laptop like he is defusing a bomb. It’s hard not to notice the bulging veins along his muscular forearms and I imagine him as the Hulk, ready to burst from his clothing. I shake my head clear and slide a mug toward him. “Peace offering.”
Earlier he brought me my favorite, a caramel latte and not just one muffin, but three. “I didn’t know what flavor you like,” he had said. Maybe there is hope.
He eyes the steaming cup suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Chamomile with honey. You look like your blood pressure needs lowering.”
That almost earns a smile. Almost.
We start walking through the orders for Valentine’s week and the upcoming wedding, and something softens.
By the time his mug is drained, he is leaning back in the chair, eyes on me instead of the laptop.
“So what makes this town so special that Clara would not live anywhere else?”
Definitely hope. “How about I show you?”
We makethe five-minute drive up to the little overlook with an expansive view. It’s my favorite place in all of Silver Pine. Main Street is below us, the town quiet at this hour, snow, like powdered sugar, on rooftops. The stream is a winding ribbon of ice, its surface cracked where the current still fights through.On the far slope, a handful of skiers make their final run, carving slow, lazy S shapes as the daylight thins around them.
“So what do you think?”
His breath fogs in the cold. “It’s peaceful. I can see why Clara loved it.” Then, “Tell me something about her.”
I’m never one to let an open-ended question dangle. “She made every bouquet personal. No two were alike.” I go on about my mentor and friend. For twenty minutes straight.
Griffin listens, really listens. His face turns wistful. “I wish I knew her like youdid.”
“See?” I say. “You are not only spreadsheets and scowls.”
He sighs. “Do not spread that rumor.”
We head back to the shop for another hour of work. By the time we lock up, Griffin glances at the Timberline Inn’s Valentine’s Cotillion flyer on the counter. “You going to that?” he asks.
I shrug. “Wild reindeer couldn’t keep me away.”
He just shakes his head, but I see it before it is gone. That sexy, careful smile that slips out when he forgets to guard it.
We turn off the last light. Snowflakes drift past the window. I should say good night. I should go home. Instead I stand there, watching him watch the snow.
This town is dangerous. One minute you are chatting at the overlook. The next, you’re catching feelings.
Chapter Seventeen
Griffin
“Checkmate.”
Nick is trying to hold back a victorious grin, but the tone is a giveaway. I’d have no issue with him gloating. He earned it. It’s not every day I’m beat in chess.
