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I grinned back. “I was actually hoping I could be nosy and ask you something. I also kind of hope you can promise not to tell Greyson I was asking, because I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”
“He’s really determined to apologize to you, isn’t he? Is it because of what he said when you were bringing me cookies that day a few months back? He won’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Not exactly,” I said carefully. “I was just wondering if he still has his old job. Do you know?”
“He quit before he came back here. They tried to get him to work remote, but he just flat out quit. He said once he’s done ‘handling something important’, he wants to transition to helping me with the inn. He’s a good boy. I just wish my son would see that.” Mr. Ashford looked rueful, then chuckled. “But my son is a prick and a dumbass.”
“Greyson quit? Why?”
“He didn’t tell me why. You could ask him. He always seems to be around when you are.”
I grimaced. “Yeah, I just–well, thank you, Mr. Ashford. I need to get back to the kitchen.”
He tipped his chin down. “Alright, sweetheart. Keep up the good work.”
Before I could get back around the counter and into the kitchen, Greyson stepped in my way. He had a cookie in one hand and was wearing a smile. It was a disarming smile, but I just had to remember how pissed I was to put my defenses up against it.
“Digging for information, hm?” he asked.
“Everything isn’t about you, Greyson. I was just asking him if he’d heard from Sally. She was running late having my potatoes ready and said she’d call when I could send someone to get them.”
“Right,” Greyson said, clearly unconvinced. “Try it.”
I took the cookie and bit into it. It was light and crunchy on the outside with a gooey, soft interior. The peanut butter was balanced perfectly with the sweetness, and the almonds tasted like they’d been seasoned with something unusual but delicious.
I chewed for a long time, refusing to look up at him because I knew the truth would be in my eyes. It wasn’t just a good cookie. It was amazing. I couldn’t believe the man who nearly burned his kitchen down four months ago trying to cook breakfast had produced this, and with just a few days of practice.
I couldn’t help feeling a little flattered that he was trying so hard. Nobody had ever taught themself to do something like this for my sake before.
I finally looked up and crossed my arms. “Five minutes. But I never said I’d talk. I just–”
“That’s fine,” Greyson said. “When is a good time?”
“It’ll have to be late. I’m usually done closing up a little after eleven. So you can come here to the dining room after close. And you can have five minutes, not a second more.”
“Alright. It’s a date.”
“It’s not,” I said.
He smirked. “It was worth a try.”
I turned my back to him before he could see my mouth twitching as it tried to smile back. Damn you, Greyson. I didn’t want to stay mad forever, but I also didn’t believe there was anything he could say to make me forgive him or go back to how we were. I didn’t know what I wanted, so I guess all I could do was show up and let the man talk.
47
GREYSON
I fiddled with the tablecloth while I waited for Harper to finish up. Gabby came over to help her out some since the lobby was slow. Lin and Farrah both left around half past ten. I could hear Harper occasionally bang something around or run water in the kitchen, but I couldn’t see her. Gabby eventually wandered back toward the lobby to man the desk for any late-night check-ins or to be there if guests needed something.
Midnight came and went, and Harper still hadn’t come out.
My stomach was buzzing with nerves. It felt like everything rode on how this conversation went, and I wanted to get the damn thing over with. I’d been fighting to get her to talk to me for days, but now she’d actually agreed.
I may not have been certain of what I wanted last week, but the more I fought for her to hear me out, the more I realized what I actually wanted–what I needed. I could’ve practiced some kind of speech, but I wanted it to come from the heart. I had no idea what the hell I was going to say, but I was trusting that the right words would come when I needed them.
Eventually, I realized she might just hide in the kitchen until morning if I let her. I got up, bracing myself for the conversation we were about to have as I let myself into the kitchen. I found her leaning over the prep table. Her eyes were puffy, and her nose was a little red. She jerked up when she saw me, wiping at her face. “I can’t right now,” was all she said.
