Page 33 of Spring Showers

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

Something about the way he took charge didn’t intimidate her. His was a genuine offer and suggested in no way that he thought her incapable of doing her job. He really just wanted to help, and maybe it was time she let him.

CHAPTER16

Had Grant heard Thandie correctly? There had to be a million people named Davis in the world. But no matter the improbability thatherDavis andhisboss were one and the same, he had to admit the possibility was there. While he had helped her put away the mats and the food, he wanted to ask her. He had steered the conversation toward work, toward her past, even asking if she was single, but hadn’t been brave enough to ask the question that he wanted answered most. What had Davis, whoever he was, done to her?

He doubted she would ever tell him, now that she had let go of the hurt that she had been carrying with a spectacular kick that sent her cairn flying into the grass. Her whole dramatic display only proved to him that he knew nothing about women in general, but he had an overwhelming sense that he was supposed to know this one.

Everything his soul was telling him to do flew in the face of what he knew he should be doing. He was to get in, do the assessment, and get out. No one should know who he is, and he should not remember any of the people he conversed with. Small talk was the game, and he was failing on an epic scale.

The more he got to know Margret, Anne, and the other guests, the more connected he felt to everything around him. The Foundry wasn’t just a collection of cabins beside an empty lake with seemingly random activities and an activities director that was either genius or totally making up things as she went along. It was showing itself as a place of hope and renewal.

One thing he was certain about was that if this place could make even Grant Goldie come out of his broken shell, it was something special, to be sure.

Grant checked his outfit in the oval bathroom mirror hanging above the sink. His gray-and-blue flannel shirt was perfect for the bonfire. He would be warm enough, but not too hot. He buttoned the shirt all the way up, stopping at the top button and deciding to leave it open for a more casual look. He tucked in the hem and re-zipped his fly.

“Nope,” he said to himself, and untucked the shirt from his pants. No matter how many times he tried, he just didn’t like the way he looked stiff and unnatural when his shirt was tucked in.Plus, he reminded himself,it’s only a bonfire. It would be dark and cool.

He sprayed cologne on his chest and shook his shirt to disperse the scent. Pleased with his appearance, he reset his toiletries on the little cabinet shelf and folded his towel in perfect thirds before hanging it on the bar beside the shower.

His stomach growled, having skipped dinner. He had taken a nap instead of attending the meal. A snooze was always a good idea, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually taken one. His alarm went off an hour before the bonfire and he killed time with showering, cleaning up his stubble, and second-guessing his shirt choice.

What he was really second-guessing was whether he was being a fool about Thandie. She was beyond kind, not only to him, but to all the guests. She was patient and thoughtful. The way she invited everyone to participate in the events, without ever appearing pushy or intimidating, spoke to the sort of woman she was inside or outside of work.

Right now, she was at work, likely setting up for the bonfire and making sure everything was taken care of for the guests. Though he shouldn’t feel bad, as he was a guest at the retreat, he wondered if he should have helped her with the bonfire. Relaxing wasn’t something he did well, and as far as anyone else was concerned, he was a man needing wellness at a quiet upstate retreat.

That part was half true. The nap had been much needed, and he was glad that he had taken a few hours for himself. The moments to do so were few and far between with his job. He was always on the way to some new place at some ungodly hour and typically felt pride in his go-go-go attitude toward life. This particular assignment was affording him an opportunity to rest while still doing his work. He could lean into it, or he could over-work himself into a heartless report for Mr. Mothan and miss out on really experiencing the rest of the week.

It wasn’t easy to miss that Thandie was working harder than anyone else he knew, and he wondered when or if she got time to rest. He was glad that he had not taken no for an answer, and lightened her load, even for a little while, and that made him feel warm inside. He hadn’t helped her because he wanted something in return, and he hadn’t helped her so that he could hear some inside scoop about the inner workings of The Foundry and add to his report. He hadn’t lent a hand to win her over.

He had simply listened to his heart and helped someone who would never have asked.

As a schoolboy grin pulled at his cheeks, he poured himself a small glass of cold water. Downing it in one gulp, he wiped the drops from the corner of his mouth and placed the glass in the sink. With one last check in the mirror, he opened the cabin’s door and nearly stumbled over a tray sitting at the threshold. A note on top read, “Thought you might be hungry. Enjoy,” and he knew it was from Thandie.

The tray held a white dinner plate covered in aluminum foil, and a single little bottle of red wine. He took the tray, looked down the path in hopes of glimpsing her, and brought it inside to the kitchen counter. He could smell the earthy scent of a buttery filet mignon and roasted potatoes before he even peeked under the hood. He placed the plate in the fridge with every intention of digging in following the bonfire.

Which he was now late getting to.

Grant left his cabin and followed the gravel path toward the old dock. Like a beacon, the fire illuminated the space with an orange glow and silhouetted some of the guests as they moved around the flames.

He spotted Thandie long before he reached her. She was radiant. Her skin glowed like a sunset, and her jeans and white t-shirt were the most attractive things he’d seen her wear. She knew how to pull off the wholesome, all-American, drop-dead-gorgeous-without-even-trying thing so well. He swallowed hard, realizing that she was way out of his league.

Margret came up behind him and linked her arm through his. His hand reached across and naturally fell to the older woman’s. “What’s a good-looking guy like you doing here all alone? I don’t want to hear any tale about you needing to find yourself.”

“I told you?—”

“The truth?” she pressed.

Grant leaned in and whispered, “I’m a spy. But you can’t tell anyone.”

Margret released her hold on his arm. “And why would you tell me something like that? I don’t believe it for a moment,” Margret said. “Anne, Anne. He said he’s a spy.” She laughed as she walked toward her friend.

Technically he hadn’t fibbed. He was spying on the establishment in order to ascertain its profit potential. But Margret didn’t need to know that. Nor Anne, or anyone else, especially Leo or Thandie. He laughed at having exposed his true reason for being there and for the delightful fact that no one would believe it.

“What’s so funny?” Thandie said.

When had she noticed him standing there? Thandie jumped in front of him with a wide smile and bright eyes gracing her face. “Hi,” he said.

---