Page 35 of Clued in to Love
Marissa punched the top of her thigh to stop visions of his lips lingering on hers.
My God, what is wrong with you?
She clutched her pint glass and sat up straighter. “It must be the Deschutes. But what are we missing?”
William raised his head to peer out the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side of the bar. The Deschutes River ran below, edging past volcanic boulders left over from ancient eruptions. “Do we need to tour the brewery?”
“We’re at the brewery.” She stated the obvious.
“No.” He motioned to the windows. “See that building down by the river. That’s where the actual brewing is done.”
“Really?” Marissa had been to Deschutes Brewing dozens of times but had never paid attention to where the beer had come from. She just liked that it flowed easily from the taps to her lips. “Is it open to the public?”
“Sure. They do brewery tours and tastings.”
“What about kids?” Marissa asked. “Isn’t everything supposed to be family-friendly?”
“We should ask our waiter, but I think kids are welcome on the tours.” William impressed her when he got up and went to ask at the bar instead of waving over the server. He went out of his way to be kind and helpful to staff. His demeanor didn’t quite line up with her initial impression of him.
Marissa had a personal litmus test for how people treated waitstaff or anyone in the service industry. She had ended a date on the spot when he had held up his empty glass, waved it in the air, and hollered across the crowded restaurant for a refill.
Huge red flag.
Marissa shuddered at the memory. She watched William chatting easily with the bartender. He was a conundrum. He wore silly holiday sweaters for his students; he loved literature; he was funny, easy to talk to, and kind to everyone they had interacted with. But why would a member of the Graff family want to participate in a community scavenger hunt? He must have an ulterior motive. But what?
He returned to their table and offered his hand. “Success. Let’s go check out the brewery.”
“I need to pay for my drink.” Marissa used the excuse to ignore his extended hand and rifle through her purse for cash.
“Already taken care of.” He kept his hand stretched out, unwilling to move until she acquiesced.
Marissa took his hand, feeling an instant rush of adrenaline spike through her. She was slipping further into dangerous territory. William Graff had some kind of power over her ability to control her emotions. It was like he was a puppeteer maneuvering her strings. But she wasn’t going to let that happen. He might be handsome. He might be charming. But she needed to get to the bottom of his real story. She had to keep her head in the game because this was one game she intended to win.
TWENTY-ONE
DARBY
Darby couldn’t believe Samesh had sent her flowers. Her students had pestered her all day, giggling and trying to get her to tell them who had delivered the festive holiday bouquet. Samesh had followed up with a text asking to meet for dinner.
She had typed at least five responses, all kind but explaining she wasn’t ready to rekindle their friendship. Likely, not ever.
Each time she started to hit Send, she stopped herself. She couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was the loneliness of the season. Or perhaps the part of her that wanted answers as to why Samesh had left those many years ago was winning an internal battle she hadn’t entirely realized she was fighting.
Instead of politely turning Samesh down, she found herself replying,Sure, and asking where to meet him.
They landed on an Italian restaurant downtown. Samesh explained that he was busy dealing with logistics for Passport to the Holidays and wanted to meet later, around seven. That was fine with Darby. It gave her time to grade student essays and go home to change and regroup.
The house she and Jim had bought shortly after their wedding was easy to spot. It was a pale blue two-story bungalow with a wraparound front porch and a sweet frontyard with raised garden beds. Tonight, it was the only house in the neighborhood without decorations or holiday lights. The exterior had been Jim’s department. He would start mapping out his plans for their Christmas display in early November. Before they’d ordered a Thanksgiving turkey, he had lugged boxes of garlands, lights, and inflatables upstairs. The year before he died, he had splurged on a computerized sound system that synced their lights with music.
Darby chuckled at the memory of Jim eagerly pulling her outside to witness his handiwork. It had been like a scene fromChristmas Vacation. He had secured cheery red, white, and green lights to the eaves and strung them around each window.
“Watch this, Darby.” He had pressed a button on his phone that transformed their two-story bungalow into a light show that belonged on the streets of Disneyland.
Now the house looked dark, bare, and lonely. A few neighbors had offered to help her with the holiday lights, but she couldn’t stomach the thought without Jim.
She had managed to hang a wreath on the front door. Wreath sales were an annual fundraiser for the Key Club, and she couldn’t say no to that. However, since losing Jim, she hadn’t bothered with a tree or any other decorations. She had no interest in observing the season.
Lately, she’d been wondering if maybe it was time to sell the house. The walls held so many memories. Some days she found the constant reminders of Jim comforting—the photos of their backpacking trip on the Milford Sound in New Zealand, snowshoeing around Diamond Lake, summer hikes through the Sierras.
