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“I may have told her about the bet. I also implied the only reason I approached her was to win it.”
“Fuuuck,” Zack said, leaning back and wincing as he dragged the word out. “So you’re saying you sabotaged it on purpose, right? Because even you wouldn’t be bone-headed enough to think that would go over well.”
I planted my palms on the hood of my car and leaned forward, hanging my head. “The kids said Katie and Matt are thinking about moving here. Did you know that?”
“No shit?” Zack asked. “That’s great, isn’t it? You could stay here and help longer with the inn.”
“I have a job back home.”
“Fuck jobs,” Zack said. “Jobs aren’t what life is about, man. Life is about passion. So your passion is fixing up hotels or whatever? Find another outlet for your passion, but don’t let a ‘job’ chain you down.”
I clenched my teeth. “Some of us have responsibilities. We can’t just chase our passions around with no regard for the consequences.”
“Don’t give me that shit. You’re clinging to your job like some kind of fucking night light, bro. So you actually felt something for this girl, didn’t you? And what, did that scare you? So you’re going to run away back to your cozy little job in D.C.?”
My jaw ticked. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know my brother. Look, man. I’m busting your balls, but it’s because I care about you. You’ve been punishing yourself ever since your marriage ended. I’ve watched it over and over. Any time some chance at happiness outside your kids comes along you smash it to pieces. Look at me and tell me I’m wrong. If you can do that, I’ll drop it.”
I met his eyes. “You’re wrong.”
“And you’re full of shit. So was I, because I’m not dropping it.”
Despite my anger, I grinned a little. “She’s too young for me. She’s got her whole life ahead of her, and she doesn’t need to be tied to some old fucker with baggage. She deserves better.”
“You know you’re not the one who gets to decide what she deserves, right? She deserves to choose who she wants to spend her time with, and she chose you.”
I scratched at my neck, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. “I need to get back inside. I’ve got more to do before we open tomorrow.”
“Like apologizing to that adorable chef of yours?”
I paused with my hand on the door to the inn. “No,” I said. “I made my choice. And even if I changed my mind, it’s too late. She hates me now.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
“I’ll talk to you later,” I said, closing the door behind me.
37
HARPER
I wiped my forehead with a towel and slumped against the counter. Somehow, I’d survived grand opening night, and nobody had sent their food back. Nobody had come to shout and complain that I was the worst chef they’d ever seen.
Better still, Greyson had been so swamped with people checking in that I’d barely seen him all night. He was behind the counter, helping carry bags upstairs, and chatting with clients.
The unnaturally quiet inn was suddenly blossoming with life. I felt a little of my exhaustion fade as I looked out over the kitchen where I could see the yellow string lights dangling over the dining room and bits of the plants. It was a perfect atmosphere, and it felt a little like home. As soon as the ogre in the corner went back to his cave in a month, it would really be perfect.
I repeated that to myself a few times, hoping it would ring true eventually. Instead, it felt hollow.
The truth was I still had to manufacture some of my hatred for Greyson. There was a current of memories running just beneath the anger I constantly stoked. I had one memory to visit when I wanted to remind myself to be angry. I just had to remember him admitting he only talked to me because of some juvenile bet with his brother. But the current of good memories was stronger, and I found them threatening to break through the anger more every day. I also felt the dangerous temptation to question if he meant everything he said.
Greyson came up to the counter and stood there for a few moments, looking uncharacteristically awkward. He drummed his fingers on the counter. “Do you need any help cleaning up?”
I gestured to the nearly spotless kitchen. I’d learned to clean as I went, and it had only taken ten or fifteen minutes to get the place cleaned up when the last dish was served. “What does it look like?”
Greyson slid his hand forward and I saw he was about to say something. His jaw flexed several times and then he abruptly turned and walked away.
What the hell was that?
I was tempted to call after him and ask, but I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction. The only way I could stay strong in this was if I didn’t even give him an inch. I wasn’t going to make the mistake of giving even a piece of my heart to a man like him again.
