Page 26 of Falling for the Grumpy Stranger

“It’s all right. None of my business.” Ella lifted the cup to her mouth. She took my hesitation as not wanting to tell her the story, but I was just reshuffling it so it made more sense.

Without thinking, I reached over and took hold of her hand. Just for a second. But it was long enough to send a series of sparks up my arm. Ella blushed and I released her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said quickly.

“I want you to know,” I said, “you’re the first person I’ve felt—I don’t even know how to describe it.” Here I went again with the disjointed thoughts.Hell, Rhett, has it been so long since you cared about someone?And that’s when it hit me. Yes, it had been that long, only that wasn’t the significant part. I cared about Ella. I didn’t want her to walk out the door and never return. And that was all I needed to pull my thoughts together. “I came here to Whisper Cove to leave behind the life I was living, the people who surrounded me. I had everything a person could want, but I wasn’t happy. I was betrayed by my best friend slash business partner and my wife.” I let that statement hang in the air while she untangled it.

Her eyes rounded. “Your best friend and your wife?” She understood. “I’m sorry. That really is world class betrayal.”

“Felt like it at the time, until I realized how much happier I was with both of them out of my life. Only …” I sat back. “Mike, my best friend and partner”—I pushed some of my sleeve back to show more scar. This time it was done consciously, so it didn’t feel nearly as bad. “Mike and I grew up together. We were rarely apart. Even went to UCLA at the same time. Then we started a business, a software company that grew into a huge success. I was more hurt by his betrayal than my wife’s. Christine and I moved from dating to engaged and married in a short time, but Mike and I had been through a lot together.” I put my hand onthe cup but didn’t lift it to my mouth. “Mike died in the accident. I burned my arm trying to free him from the wreckage.”

“But you weren’t in the car,” Ella said.

“I was driving the same road, right behind them.”

“Them?” she asked.

“Christine was in the car with Mike. I got her out safely, then went back but the car was crushed on the driver’s side. I couldn’t get him out.”

This time it was Ella who reached for my hand. It was so small and soft as it covered mine. She’d sensed my distress telling the story. “I get the picture now, Rhett. I don’t need to hear more unless you want to tell it. If it helps, I mean.”

I took a deep breath. “I think that’s enough therapy for one day.”

She smiled. “I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

“You’re that and more, Ella. Your sisters, your friends, they’re really lucky to have you in their lives.”

Ella looked shyly down at her cup again. “Not sure if that’s true.” She lifted her brown gaze. “But if you need an ear in the future—” She pointed to her ear. “It sounds like you went through some hard times, but as you know—as we all know, because it’s what keeps us putting one foot in front of the other after we’ve had a rough time—things always get better. I think this house is your new life, and I think if there really is a curse, then you’ve just broken it by moving in and letting the house know that you’re not worried about a stupid ole curse and that you know this house is a masterpiece that just needs a little clean up and paint.”

I laughed. “And a few other things, too, but I think you’re right. This house deserves it. Sometimes as I’m walking down the hallways or entering a new room that I haven’t really been in before, I see the details, the craftsmanship, something that is lacking in new houses. Then I think I was really lucky to findthis place. And now, speaking of this house and your article—” I paused for dramatic effect, and she reacted adorably with brown eyes rounding expectantly and a small “O” forming on her lush, pink lips. “I think there may be something to that curse rumor. I found something. Interested in seeing it?”

She nearly launched from her seat. “What do you think?”

Chapter Twenty

ELLA

“This is not what I expected,” I said on a stunned breath as I stared down at the crumpled stack of papers on the desk in front of me. “Not at all.”

I’d walked in the misty cold straight to Grimstone with the sole purpose of retrieving my forgotten scarf. I’d also planned to thank Rhett for allowing me into his home and bid him a cold farewell. I was sure I’d be able to find more about the owners of the house and their respective misfortunes on the internet or in the library. Those owners came along later, and from what I’d seen in a quick title search on the county website, they’d been mostly men. But the second Rhett opened the door, my resolve to leave with a sharp goodbye disappeared, and all I could think was that I wanted to get to know the man better. I liked being with Rhett, even with that darn cloud of mystery always hanging over him. In fact, maybe that was why I liked being with him. I’d always liked the mysterious, hard-to-read hero in Nonna’s stories.

I picked up the papers, of various sizes and in different states of wrinkle. Each one had a short note and were all written by the same hand. The style seemed fast and angry but efficient, and each one started with the words “I hereby offer.” And all weresigned with the same fast, angry and efficient signature. Because of the propensity for ink from a well to smear and the obvious haste with which each signature was written, it was hard to read the name, but Rhett had found an account ledger tucked in the library shelf that belonged to Magnum Grimstone, Margaret’s cousin and the heir to her fortune, including the house. He’d signed the bottom of each ledger page, and the signatures matched the IOUs sitting on the desk. The more I looked at the hastily scrawled signatures, the more I could make out the individual letters, particularly the capital M and G.

“I’m not very well versed in the world of gambling,” I started.

“They’re gambling debts. I’m sure of it, and from the size of the stack, I’d say Magnum had a gambling problem. Those fell out of one book, aGentleman’s Equestrian Guide. That stack might only be the tip of the iceberg.”

I picked up the top paper. “He hardly needed the equestrian guide because according to this, he bet away his finest gelding who was of impeccable breeding stock. His words, not mine because I wouldn’t know impeccable breeding stock if it came up and bopped me on the nose.”

I picked up the next piece of paper. It was dated March 14, 1907. We’d confirmed that Magnum took possession of Grimstone Manor in January of 1901. Margaret died at the end of 1899, and her fortune was in probate for several years before all of it was handed over to Magnum. “Here he’s betting away a forty-three-piece silver serving set that he valued at a hundred seventy dollars.” I picked up the next paper. “Six months later he bet away the farm … literally. Apparently, it was a five-acre parcel inland used for raising cattle and pigs.” I glanced up and noticed that Rhett had an anxious expression on his face, like a kid waiting for a cookie. “There’s something very significant in this pile, isn’t there?” I asked.

Rhett smiled slyly. He was wearing a black sweater that looked nothing short of dashing on him, especially with his golden, tanned complexion. “The last one. I thought I’d let you thumb through the others first. It’s really something. Magnum had to be one of the unluckiest men to sit at a poker table.”

I gasped. “Or was he just unlucky after he became owner of Grimstone Manor?”

“Good question.”

I pulled out the last IOU and read it. “’I hereby offer the deed to Grimstone Manor.’ It’s dated November 9, 1911.”

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