Page 23 of Bound to the Griffin
I had only just unlocked the front door and stepped inside when, with impeccable timing, Ted showed up on my stoop to get to work. I could only assume that he was waiting by his shopwindow to see me arrive before heading over. When he’d first shown up, I thought he’d be around a day or so and then give up on the heater or present me with a massive bill. He’d been at my house every day, though, and I was pretty sure his presence was the reason Drew wasn’t guarding my door any longer.
Doing as Jackson had suggested, I brought a basket with stacks of money down to the basement, where Ted was already getting back to work not much later. It felt odd to pile it on the floor there and ask him to hide it, but he shrugged, not in the least perturbed. In fact, he came with me to haul the rest downstairs and flicked on an extra lamp so I could see how he freed a hatch by the back wall. It was only then that I realized he was replacing all the pipes with brand-new ones. Beautiful copper pipes that would last forever. No wonder he was down here so long. I gaped, staring at the retrofitted boiler and the neat lines of pipes running up into my kitchen.
He shuffled his feet, rubbed the back of his neck, and just told me the house needed it, she deserved it. That was odd and kind of sweet, and I was still debating what to say when the pretty, jingling doorbell I’d installed yesterday rang. An expensive, vintage one that I’d splurged on online. Ted and I shared a look, and when I headed up the stairs, Iknewhe’d follow me up.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and huffed, “It’s just Luther.” Then he turned and headed back down to resume work. Just Luther? Wasn’t that the guy from the General Store? I eyed the supplies on the kitchen table as I passed them, which had all come from there, and trailed my hand over the waxed banister as I passed it—also courtesy of a pint of wax he’d added to my pile of things that first day, despite his clear distaste for having to do so. I knew things were different now that Jackson had toldme the town’s secret, but I still felt apprehensive as I opened the door.
For a second, I almost didn’t recognize him without the tasteful ambient lighting of his General Store behind him. His black hair gleamed like ink against the snowy rooftops, his skin a deep honey tan even in the heart of winter. He had that lean, elegant sort of build that made me think of expensive cologne ads; suave, untouchable, and absolutely out of place in Hillcrest Hollow. He was dressed too well for the weather, for the town, for… everything, really. The last time we’d met, he’d made me feel like a fool with his sharp tongue and short supply of patience.
Now he smiled, a smooth curve of lips that didn’t quite reach his icy blue eyes. “Miss Avery,” he said, his voice warm and urbane, with a hint of a European accent, German, maybe. “I owe you an apology. I was… brusque the other day, which was uncalled for. Consider your current tab forgiven. A clean slate, yes? My way of welcoming you to our little corner of the world.”
I blinked, stunned, not certain if I’d heard him right. Forgive my tab? That mile-high bill for the massive crate and basket full of supplies Jackson had compiled that day? I hadn’t seen the number, but I was pretty sure it would be, at the very least, several hundred dollars. Some of those RVS boxes of screws did not come cheap, and it had included several high-grade tools I’d been extremely happy to use as well.
Before I could answer, he slid a folded piece of heavy paper into my hands. “I also heard you’ve come into some fresh venison. A recipe, if you’d like. One worth the effort.” His fingers were cold against my skin, the touch quick and impersonal. I fumbled tokeep hold of the paper, nearly dropping it when a gust of cold wind whipped past my latest guest.
The paper was thick, creamy, and smelled faintly of something old, like a library book that had been sitting closed for a hundred years. The cursive scrawled across it was elaborate, looping, almost too ornate to read. It looked like the sort of thing you’d find in your grandmother’s ancient handwritten bundle of family recipes, not something handed over in a snow-dusted doorway. Though, to be honest, if that was his handwriting, it wasn’t entirely a surprise, it suited him. “Uh, thank you,” I managed.
He inclined his head, the picture of courtly grace. “Enjoy.” Then he turned and stepped down off the stoop. I blinked, glancing at the recipe in my hand, and when I looked up again, he wasn’t in the street. He wasn’t walking away, he wasn’t anywhere. The road stretched empty and silent, and the General Store was dark and quiet. How had he moved that fast? Where had he gone? At this point, I was ready to accept that as one of the town’s mysteries they wanted to protect and call it a day, but my curiosity had been sparked. I needed to ask Jackson to tell me more about my neighbors.
I shut the door quickly and leaned against it for a moment, heart thudding, then carried the recipe into the kitchen. I didn’t ask how he’d known about the deer, obviously, he’d been able to see it lying on my stoop before Jackson and I got there. The strange paper made a crisp sound as I set it on the counter, the swirling letters almost moving if I stared too long. That was just my tired brain, I reckoned, not magic, but it didn’t help. Today was not going to be quiet, like the others had been, while we waited for the burglar to make their next move.
The doorbell chimed again. I sighed, staring at the kettle on the stove and wondering if I should even try to get started with the wallpaper upstairs. The day had been full of surprises and interruptions so far. I wanted Jackson to come back; I wanted the burglar to be gone for good, not under watch. It was beginning to feel too much like I was playing bait, though I was pretty sure that Jackson would oppose that description.
“Back already?” I muttered as I abandoned the kettle and the strange recipe, heading down the hallway, half-expecting Luther with another flourish or apology. This town was weird, the people were strange, but I had to admit I would have loved that if I didn’t feel so unsafe inside my own house. That was the dreams more than anything, I could feel them pulling at me, even when awake. I hadn’t told Jackson that, certain he’d want me to stop coming here. I wasn’t sure if I’d oppose that decision if it came down to it, but I didn’t like sitting around, waiting. It seemed like Jackson believed that unpleasant Warlock might know something and would come to us if he was sure.
I needed to polish the doorknob and repaint the door, I noted as I opened the heavy panel. At least it was thick hardwood, still good despite the peeling paint. The cold wind blew in first, accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes. The weather was getting worse. Jackson had said this morning that a storm might be coming. From the sight of the darkening clouds overhead, he might be right. I was instantly worrying about the roof. How much progress had Jackson made? Would it hold through a storm?
The door nearly slipped from my fingers in the wind, and I wrestled to keep hold. Then I froze, still clutching the panel with both hands and staring at the man on my stoop. It wasn’t Lutherat all—it was Evan. My ex, standing on my doorstep like he’d just stepped out of a memory I wasn’t ready to relive.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded. Rude, but I was beyond caring when it came to that bastard. Not only had he cheated on me with my best friend, but he’d also had the audacity to blame his infidelity—and my response to it—on me. He wantedmeto apologize for making a scene before getting back together, like that was still on the table.
Like the owner of the General Store who’d visited me a moment ago, Evan was slick and looked out of place on the frozen main street of Hillcrest Hollow, or simply the Hollow, as many locals seemed to call it.
He stood there on my stoop like he owned it, like he owned me. His suit was city-perfect—charcoal wool, sharp lines, not a wrinkle in sight—and his shoes gleamed despite the snow. His hair, expensively cut, hadn’t so much as frizzed in the damp cold. He looked every bit the silver-spoon Chicago defense lawyer he’d always been, and the way his lips curled at my greeting said it all: distaste.
“Really, Gwen,” he drawled, his voice dripping with that cultivated arrogance. “Is that how civilized people greet one another? Especially when I’ve come all this way?” He spread his arms in a do-you-see-this kind of gesture, inviting me to look at him. At his slick looks, his gym-perfect body, all the charm he’d once thrown my way. Just enough of it genuine that I’d been hooked at first, blinded by the dazzle until I could see the tarnish behind the shine.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I snapped, my stomach sinking. My mother had put him up to this, there was no doubt about it. She was the one with something to gain if this marriage went through, but it never would, and I’d been telling her that for days. I’d even told her I’d met someone new, that I had a boyfriend and wasn’t ever coming back. Not thatboyfriendfelt like the right word to call Jackson. It was much too mundane and didn’t cover the intense things I felt when I was with him.
He brushed past me as though my doorway were his, shoulder grazing mine. “Let’s at least talk inside like adults, shall we?” This was exactly what I expected him to do, and still, I wasn’t ready to block the move. The door slipping from my fingers and stinging the pads as he shoved it open. He moved as if he were welcome—easily, gracefully—but he and I both knew he’d yanked the door from my fingers with sheer force.
Before I could shove him back out, which I was ready to do bodily if it came down to it, a deep voice cut in behind me. “Do you need help, Miss Avery?” I startled, because I hadn’t heard a thing. Ted was suddenly at my back, a heavy wrench still in one hand, eyes sharp and gold-tinted in the pale light. He wasn’t the only one who’d showed up, either—across the street, Luther stood in front of his store like a shadow, watching. The plumbing shop’s door banged open, and Kai came striding out, cowboy hat clutched in his fist, a woman at his side who planted herself like a shield next to him.
It hit me all at once: this town was watching. Protecting. My throat tightened, because they were showing up in force to protectme. I was part of their town now. If I had any doubts remaining about their reversal in how they treated me, their willingness to make me part of their world, they were gone now.Yes, this! This kind of community, this sense of being part of a family, this was what I’d been searching for. It was exactly what I needed after escaping Chicago, my mother, Evan, and the cold betrayal of my supposed friend.
I offered Ted a smile, feeling much steadier than I had expected to be. I suppose that’s what knowing you had support did to you, and it gave me the strength to see this through. Unlike my mother, Evan was as much a businessman as he was a manipulator. When he discovered he had no leverage, no deal to make, he’d back off. My voice was warm and my smile genuine when I nodded at Ted. “No, thank you. Everything’s fine.”
Evan raised one perfect brow at the display, clearly unimpressed, but at least he had the sense not to sneer out loud. I stepped back and decided—against my better judgment—that it might be smarter to let him in, hear him out, and get rid of him cleanly.
Inside the warm, fire-heated living room, I didn’t offer him tea, I didn’t offer him a damn thing. Ted hovered by the doorway anyway, pretending to fuss with his toolbox. I shot him a reassuring look. “It’s fine, really. Just… an old acquaintance.” He studied me for a long moment, then gave a curt nod and retreated down the hallway to the kitchen. We could even hear the soft scuff of his boots as he went down the basement stairs.
Evan waited until the basement door shut before smirking. “Colorful lot you’ve fallen in with. Rough around the edges, but I suppose that’s your style.” His gaze swept the living room as if it offended him. “At least they fix your pipes when they’re not staring at you like you’re their meal ticket.” The loud, metallic bang from below made him jump. I bit back a smile,amused, because Ted had been the quietest of workers so far. He had definitely heard Evan, and he was warning him to tread carefully.
I folded my arms, bracing myself for a fight, and propped my hip against the lazy chair by the fire. It was the only proper seat in the room, considering the other furniture had been disposed of after the burglar had done a number on them.
My unwelcome guest stood in the middle of the large, but currently fairly empty, room as if he weren’t quite sure what to do when he couldn’t dominate the most important seat in the room. Then his eyes flicked to the sideboard, where I’d placed a tray with some glasses and a carafe of water. He quirked a brow at me, and I knew what he wanted, but I didn’t rise to the taunt. It wasn’t that he wanted water; he definitely wanted me to play the polite, demure little hostess. Screw that, I wasn’t going to be polite to him about anything. “Say what you came to say, Evan.”
He adjusted his cuffs, perfectly calm, as if we were in a boardroom and not in my half-renovated B&B. “Simple. You’re coming back to Chicago with me. I’ll cover your debt on this place, smooth over whatever mess you’ve made of your life, and reinstate things as they should be—but on my terms.”
