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“The only person I know who’s single, our age, hangs out at Hank’s fairly often and has any reason to dislike me is...” She sobered instantly. “No... It couldn’t be.”
“Who?” he asked.
“I’m thinking... Averil Gerhart?”
“Talulah’s friend? Why would she hate you?”
“Because she hates Talulah, too. She’s been talking all kinds of crap about her, so much that I had to confront her when I overheard her in the grocery store a few weeks ago.”
Hendrix jerked his head toward her phone. “See if you’re right.”
If it’s Averil Gerhart, she can go to hell.
When Jordan didn’t write back, she looked up. “It’s Averil, all right.”
Ellen had just gotten out of the shower and pulled on her robe when a knock at the front door caused her to tense. That would be Talulah, she told herself, coming by to talk about the Audi she’d taken a picture of.
Although...it could also be Jordan and Averil, teaming up to confront her. He had to have come to town for a reason. And Ellen could only imagine how having Averil chirping in his ear would make him feel that much more justified in his hatred of her.
Jordan and what he might have planned had been all she could think about since she’d gotten home. She knew it was just a matter of time before she found out what he was up to. But in a perverse way, she was sort of grateful for the distraction. While she was worrying about Jordan—or Jordan and Averil, depending on how involved Averil decided to get—she couldn’t obsess over Hendrix and how effective he’d become at quashing any negative feelings she had toward him.
After quickly running her fingers through her damp hair to get it to lie right, she padded, barefoot, into the living room and peered tentatively through the peephole.
It wasn’t Jordan or Averil. But that didn’t mean she could relax. Hendrix was standing on her stoop, looking freshly showered, and he was holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.
What was he doing here? And why would he bringflowers?
Although she’d received an arrangement here and there on special occasions, she’d never had a man show up with a bouquet. It seemed sort of old-fashioned—and yet it was the flowers, much more than the wine, that struck her as special.
Hendrix knocked again. “Ellen? It’s me.”
Since she normally wasn’t the giddy type, feeling that excited over flowers made her strangely uncomfortable. She had to wipe the smile from her face before she cracked open the door and leaned into the opening. “Hey. What’s going on?”
His gaze moved down over her. “Oh, God. Not the robe again.”
“What?”she said, completely taken aback.
“Nothing. Never mind.” He lifted the wine and the flowers. “I come bearing gifts.”
“Because...”
“Because I thought you’d be more likely to let me in,” he said with a laugh.
She eyed the flowers again. They weren’t the more conventional roses or carnations. They were an assortment of Montana wildflowers—exactly the ones she would pick for herself. “But...why are you here?” she asked. Surely it wasn’t because he wanted to hang out with her...
“If Jordan’s going to do something while he’s here, it’ll probably be soon. I can’t imagine he’ll stick around indefinitely. So instead of waiting for you to invite me to dinner next week, I thought I’d spend the evening with you, make sure everything’s okay.”
“Jordan’s not your problem,” she pointed out. “You don’t have to protect me.”
His grin slanted to one side. “But since I’m already here, you might as well let me in.” He lifted the flowers again. “I feel sort of stupid holding these. I don’t think I’ve ever brought flowers to a woman before. But they reminded me so much of you I had to get them.”
They reminded him of her? Why? She wanted to ask but didn’t.
Opening the door wider, she took the bouquet and stepped back to make room for him to come inside. “They’re spectacular,” she admitted.
“You like them?”
“I do.”
