Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“No, Griffin.”
His eyes held mine for a moment. “Don’t make me come behind that desk.”
The flirty threat, delivered with a straight face and gruff tone of voice, ignited something inside me. “You’re a tough boss, you know that?” But I picked up the twenty and tucked it into my purse.
He leaned a little closer over the counter. “And don’t you forget it.”
Five
Griffin
Blair had been gone about twenty minutes when my cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hello, dear.”
I grimaced. “Hi, Mom. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, fine. Just got back from physical therapy. The therapist says my hips will feel good as new soon.”
“That’s good.”
“But listen, dear. I didn’t call to talk about me.”
“No?” I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly what she was calling about.
“Who is she?” she asked, confirming my suspicion.
Leaning back against a workbench, I decided to play dumb. “Who is who?”
“Don’t play games with me, Griffin Dempsey. I ran into Yvonne Davies at the physical therapist’s office. Her daughter Natasha works at the Bulldog Pub, and she told Yvonne there was some sort of accident last night involving a mysterious woman in a wedding gown. And then late last night—after midnight, in fact—Natasha was driving home from her shift and saw you and the mysterious bride going into your apartment. Then this morning, Louise from the diner told Fern Walton—she’s the nurse at my physical therapist’s office—that the mysterious woman had supper alone there last night but that she was back again this morning ordering coffee for two and a dozen donuts to take back to the garage. And she specifically mentioned you by name!”
I exhaled, pinching the bridge of my nose. Fucking small towns. “Are you done?”
“No, because I just got a call from Neona Pappas, who said she was at the Main Street Deli just now and she saw a mysterious dark-haired woman ordering sandwiches for two, and one of them was roast beef with spicy mustard, which I happen to know is your favorite.”
“Jesus, Mom. She’s not even back from the deli yet.”
“So, who is she?”
“She’s a—”
“Why haven’t I met her?”
“Because I—”
“Griffin Dempsey, if you got married without telling me, I will march over to that garage and blister your hide!”
“For Christ’s sake, Mom, I didn’t get married!”
“Are you sure? Because Natasha saw you—”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I held the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a second in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind?”
“Well, it’s not like you ever tell me anything. For all I knew, you’ve had a secret fiancée all this time.”
“No secret fiancée, no sudden wife. She’s just . . .” I tried to think of what to call her. “A friend.”
“Oh.” Her tone went sulky. “Well, I won’t say I’m not a little bit disappointed.”
“Mom, you just said you were going to blister my hide if I got married without telling you.”
“Well, I’m not getting any younger, you know. I’d like one of my kids to give me some grandchildren before I go.”
“I thought you felt fine.”
“I do. But life is short, Griffin. You can’t keep letting it pass you by.”
“I’m not. I’m perfectly happy with my life just the way it is.”
A dramatic, heavy sigh, which would be followed—as always—with her addressing my late father. “Where did we go wrong, Hank? Why don’t our kids want to have families? What happened to our dream of growing old with a dozen little Dempseys running around?”
“A dozen, Ma? Really?”
“We liked to aim high.”
“So talk to Cheyenne. I’m pretty sure she’s good for at least two or three.”
My mother clucked her tongue. “That girl is hopeless. She’s way too picky.”
“It’s good to be picky. There’s a lot of jerks out there.”
“You know why? Because the good guys like you have decided you’re not interested in family values. You’re just interested in—in—”
“In what, Ma?” I couldn’t help smiling.
“In shacking up!”
I burst out laughing as Blair poked her head into the garage and held up a brown paper bag from the deli. Nodding, I held up one finger. She smiled and disappeared into the lobby. “I’m not shacking up with anyone, I promise.”
“Well, what about the mystery bride? The friend? Is she new in town?”
“She’s just passing through.”
“So I won’t even get to meet her?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh.” Another sigh. “That’s too bad. Guess I got my hopes up for nothing. Again.”
My left eyelid twitched. “I have to go, Mom. I’m supposed to be fixing her car so she can get back on the road.”
“What’s the rush?” she asked. “Why can’t she stay awhile longer?”
“Because she doesn’t belong here.”
“Are you sure? Because I think she might.”
“Goodbye, Mom.” I ended the call and shoved my phone into my back pocket as I headed for the lobby.
Blair Peacock Beaufort did not belong in Bellamy Creek—that much I knew for sure.
But when I opened the door and saw her sitting at the desk, charming a new customer with her welcoming smile and polite laughter, my stomach muscles balled up.