Page 37 of A Spell for Midwinter's Heart
“The mountain?” asked Rowan.
“Sure. He stewards nearly a thousand acres of old timber. Turns down offers on it all the time—big offers.”
Rowan chewed on that for a moment. It challenged the image she’d had of Dennis McCreery.
“Do you want Mom to sell, Dad?”
Joe eased against the handrail of the deck. “ ‘Want,’ no. But…I’m realistic about the fact she might need to. There’s a big meeting December thirty-first. To hear their pitch.”
“I have a feeling it might be more than the festival they’re after,” she murmured, relaying what they’d been doing at the Magick Cabinet that day.
Joe inhaled sharply, but nodded. “Unfortunately, that makes sense. Only so much they can do with that one piece of property.”
She balled her fist in frustration. “There has to be a way to stop it.”
“Oh?” asked her father, voice amused. “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” said Rowan, shaking her head. “But…I’ve got an idea of where to start figuring it out.”
It had been easy enough to locate Gavin. Elk Ridge had only a few restaurants posh enough to host a business dinner, and she’d spotted him at Il Pomodoro, an upscale Italian restaurant that mostly served tourists.
Expecting him to be at one of the barn-house-style tables with the full Goshen Group contingent, she audibly gasped on spotting him at a table for two. Hayleigh sparkled opposite in a vibrant gold cocktail dress she had most certainly not been wearing earlier in the day.
They make sense. More sense than…
A high peal of familiar laughter split the night.
The pair emerged, moving with the ease that followed a dinner full of wine and rich food. Hayleigh’s dress was short, exposing shapely legs above excessively furry boots.
“Walk me back to the inn?” asked Hayleigh.
“Of course,” Gavin replied in his characteristic neutral tone.
Hayleigh slipped her arm through his as they strolled down the sidewalk, and it was like someone reached inside Rowan’s chest and wrapped a hand around her heart. She followed at a careful distance, swearing softly to herself. It would be harder to contrive a reason to run into Gavin near the Crescent Inn. She’d expected them to part ways at this point—hopedthey would.
What was she going to do if their night didn’t end when they reached the inn doors? If he instead followed Hayleigh in and didn’t leave for hours, possibly not until the next morning?
She stopped herself there, refusing to give the thought quarter.
They finally arrived at the Crescent Inn and Spa, the wooden mountain lodge owned and operated by the Hak family.
Zaide and Rowan had spent many long hours playing in empty rooms, stealing complimentary mints, and sneaking into the spa’s hot pools. Mountain peaks framed the lodge from behind, and garlands wound around the raw wooden beams of the porch, woven with twinkling lights and crowned with heavy gold ribbons.
Gavin and Hayleigh lingered on the sidewalk in front of the inn, driving Rowan to hide behind a line of tall hedges. With every moment that passed, the pressure in her chest intensified.
“Just say good night,” she muttered. “Come on.”
A cracking sound from the forest caught her attention. She scanned the darkened tree line for the cause but found nothing. Probably a branch breaking off under the weight of the snow. When she turned back, what she saw took her breath away.
The couple stood, lip to lip, Hayleigh’s arms thrown around Gavin’s neck like she had no intention of ever letting go. His hands rose slowly to meet her sides.
A choked sound escaped from Rowan’s lips, and at the same moment, all the fresh snow released from the roof of the inn’s front porch, sliding in a sheet that toppled straight down onto Gavin and Hayleigh. They looked up just in time to see it coming, and Hayleigh shrieked as it struck, leaving them both in a fine white coating.
Rowan gasped for breath and whirled away. Hand over mouth, she retreated from the scene, trying not to draw any attention while getting away as fast as possible. She ran for home, hoping to outpace oncoming grief, but she didn’t make it, and her hot tears left a trail of pinpricks in the snow.
16
Many hours later, Rowan remained awake, tangled in her bedspread, eyes aching and nose stuffed. For all her brain tried to mount a logical defense, nothing could slow her tears. Though she’d been reluctant to face it, she’d truly started to believe there might be something growing between them. Her body had certainly made its stance known, even if her mind might have tried to deny it.
