Page 18 of Guarded by My Gargoyle

“Just curious.” Aidan’s grin widened. “There was the newsletter. Then Eric said Flora sent her to see you. Then Robin mentioned her. Purely in passing.”

“Nothing’s ever in passing with you.”

“Robin says she’s pretty,” Aidan went on comfortably. “Robin says she has a kid. Robin says you walked her all the way back to her office to sign a contract.”

“It was on the way.”

Aidan stared at him. “On the way to where, Garrick? It’s your own house.”

He didn’t have a response.

“Anyway.” Aidan pushed off the sill. “That’s not actually why I came up.”

“I assumed it wasn’t.”

“Palisade filed on the ridge above Miller’s Creek. Sixty luxury units, a fancy lodge, and a new road up the north face. They’re calling it Hollow Ridge.” He wasn’t smiling any more. “Your name’s on the bid list.”

“Stonehaven’s on every bid list in four states.”

The bell rang. It was an old bronze pull by the front door, original to the house, and he’d spent a foolish amount of one afternoon getting the mechanism to ring true again. Now it gave a single deep note that carried the length of the hall.

He was on his feet before the note had finished, and he caught Eric watching him.

“Estimate,” he said, as though that explained the speed. “She said today.”

Aidan’s eyebrows went up, but Garrick ignored him and opened the door.

Maris stood on the top step with a cardboard folder held against her chest and dirt under her nails, her blonde hair coming loose from where she’d shoved it back that morning. Toby stood beside her, small and neat and serious, one hand fisted in the hem of her jacket. The other held a folded paper airplane he’d clearly been told he could bring but not fly.

Everything in Garrick’s chest settled, the way it had settled every time she came near him since the morning she first knocked, like a wall finding its footing. He had no idea what to do about it.

“Estimate,” Maris said, holding up the folder. “As promised. I warn you, the drainage line is grim.”

“Come in.”

She came in, and Toby followed her, his gaze already examining the walls, the ceiling, the great curved staircase. He took all of it in with the silent thoroughness Garrick recognized, because he did the same to buildings.

And then Aidan joined them.

“Hi there. I’m Aidan. I’ve heard about what you’ve done with the old Dolan place. Nice to see someone using native plants.” He extended his hand, grinning at her with his usual carefree smile. “Of course, there is such a thing as going too native. Garrick’s grounds have looked like a jungle for years, so honestly, whatever you’re charging, it’s not enough.”

“I’m Maris.” She shook his hand, laughing a little, clearly caught off guard by the flow of words. “It’s mostly just cutting things back far enough to see what’s underneath.”

Aidan was still holding her hand and smiling, and Garrick found he didn’t like that one little bit. His jaw tightened and his wings drew up high and close against his back. His whole body had gone rigid and territorial over a perfectly ordinary handshake he had no right whatsoever to object to.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“She found a rare fern,” he said, his voice flat.

Aidan finally let go of Maris’s hand, slowly, then looked over at him and raised an eyebrow as his grin widened.

“A rare fern? Isn’t that interesting?”

“This is a very big house,” Toby said, oblivious to the tension.

Garrick looked down. The boy had drifted a few steps out onto the marble and was staring straight up at the coffered ceiling, the paper airplane forgotten at his side. His head was tipped so far back that his soft blonde hair fell away from his forehead.

“It is.” Garrick crouched down until his eyes were almost level with Toby’s, although he was still bigger crouched than most males were standing. “It was built in eighteen fifty-seven. That ceiling is oak. Every one of those squares was carved by hand.”