Up To Me (Shore Secrets #1)

Chapter Three

Ella had given up on sleep about two hours ago. Since then, she’d also given up on reading, television, pacing the round confines of her tower room, and decided that men were far more trouble than they were worth. Somewhere inside her, a switch had flicked this afternoon. A switch that let hormones sizzle and needs fizz all through her system. Now she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t distract herself. Couldn’t do anything but think about Graydon Locke. The way his muscles rippled beneath all that tan skin.

Wine would help. Here in the Finger Lakes, it was widely believed that wine helped everything. Of course, she’d also thought that about reading, television and pacing. More to the point, then, was that wine couldn’t hurt. Ella hurried down the stairs, pausing a moment at the bottom to look through the peephole. Seeing the coast was clear, she pulled open the door.

A man’s body tumbled backwards onto her bare feet. One hand shot up into the air, clutching a wineglass. His other forearm thwacked loudly against the wooden step. Ella squealed, and instantly hated herself for it.

“God almighty, haven’t I gotten enough bruises tonight?”

Slumped with his head against her shins, Ella couldn’t see the man’s face. But she recognized the voice. Mostly because she’d been replaying it in her head all night. “Graydon?”

He twisted, let his head flop to the floor to look up at her. “Just Ella?”

Smart-ass. “That’s right.”

“This night’s taking a turn for the better. Usually my insomnia doesn’t come with a beautiful prize.”

Her heart, which had slowed its shocked overtime thumping, sped back up at his compliment. Since she hadn’t really been to sleep yet, her hair probably still looked decent, and she sported her new summer pj’s, pink-and-white-striped cotton pants with a matching tank. No makeup, but the muted backlight filtering down the stairs made that less of an issue. Ella sank to the step, hugging her knees.

“I’m not accustomed to entertaining uninvited visitors at two in the morning.”

“Well, I’m not accustomed to falling through walls.”

Oh. “The door to my room is hidden within the paneling. You’re not supposed to know it’s there.”

“Mission accomplished, trust me.” Gray rolled upright and propped himself against the side wall. “But if you’ve got a hidden door, shouldn’t you, oh, I don’t know, maybe knock to warn people you’re coming out?”

“I’ve got a little peephole. But I couldn’t see you. Were you sitting on the floor?” He nodded. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been using my door as a backrest.”

Gray held out his hand. “We’re both equally not to blame.”

“Deal.” They shook. And then he continued to hold her hand. Not that Ella minded. It was oddly intimate, huddled on the stairs, with a wall of darkness beyond the door. Here she’d been obsessing all night about seeing Gray again. Now they were touching, her hand enfolded in his, her toes brushing his warm thigh. For just a second, Ella wondered if she had managed to fall asleep. Had slipped into a lovely dream. Of course, a dream wouldn’t include the pain in her tailbone from sitting on the step.

He still said nothing. But now his thumb brushed slowly and rhythmically across the top of her hand. It sent tiny shivers, scurrying faster than nanites, through her bloodstream. Then she realized nanites were not a good conversation starter. Not unless he’d just watched the season seven DVD box set of Stargate SG-1 like she had.

“What are you doing up at this ridiculous hour?” she asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“Lots of reasons.” Gray pointed to the butterfly bandage at the end of his eyebrow. “Had kind of an exciting night. Got in a fight. This cut’s the only visible proof right now. I expect by morning I’ll have enough purple splotches on me to stand in as a Jackson Pollock painting.”

“A fight? An actual fight with hitting?” Interesting. Surprising. It took bad-boy sandpaper to his so-far-smooth image.

“Mostly. A little kicking and hairpulling, too. Bunch of pansies.” He took a swig of wine. “Ward’s term for them, not mine. Apparently he knows them well enough to judge.”

“Ward?” Too coincidental, in a town this small, not to be her friend. “Ward Cantrell?”

“The very same. Three guys tried to take him, over nothing. I stepped in to even the odds.”

Ella thought back to the three screens of basketball she’d seen as she passed by the pub earlier. It wasn’t a huge leap to assume that Chuck, Bruce and Mike had come to watch the action. Why Ward would’ve come, knowing they’d be there and certain to hassle him, she couldn’t say. Why Gray would willingly put himself in danger to help a stranger, she also couldn’t say. “Ward’s one of my best friends. Thanks for helping him out.”

“Seems like a good guy. I don’t regret it. But I’ve got bruises on top of bruises, which makes it hard to sleep. Figured I’d take advantage of the open wine bottles I saw in the…” He circled his hand a few times, pointing out the door to the large room beyond, swathed in darkness.

“We call it the upstairs parlor.” A ridiculous name, seeing as how this wasn’t eighteenth-century London. Really, who used the word parlor anymore? Maybe she’d bring it up to Eugene tomorrow. Her hotel manager didn’t just welcome Ella’s input, he practically begged for it. Odd, since she had no official role in running the hotel. Still, Eugene insisted that since the hotel bore her name, Ella needed to stay involved. It kind of drove her nuts. But she loved him like a father and wanted to make him happy.

So she’d mention changing parlor to a word that didn’t remind people of the bad old days when indoor plumbing equaled chamber pots. The Manor might look like a castle on the outside, but inside it, guests expected modern luxuries. Free Wi-Fi and iPod docking stations in the clock radios, at the very least.

Gray took a long swig. Exhaled happily. “I call it genius. Free wine, day and night? Always out for the taking?”

“Mayhew Manor sells their own line of wine, so it’s good exposure. But the real reason for the wine buffet is that a good hotel always gives more than you expect.” Amazing how those tenets driven home by her parents popped out at the oddest times. Like now, sitting next to a gorgeous man who had already expressed annoyance at her encyclopedic delivery of facts this very afternoon.

Ella did not want to scare him away. She’d hesitated before, and missed her chance with Gray. It had been easy to shrug it off in the moment. Easy to tell Brooke as they closed up the spa together that it obviously wasn’t meant to be. That noticing and wanting a man, those were big enough steps for today. Deep down, though, Ella knew better. Graydon Locke had occupied her thoughts nonstop since walking out of the spa. She wanted to gaze her fill of those strong forearms dusted with dark hair. She wanted to feel again. And she wanted another chance with Gray.

It was a bad idea, of course. Unwise to get mixed up with a guest, period. One who’d check out before her next issue of Redbook arrived. About a mile past unwise. But it had been eighteen months of shattering grief, followed by another eighteen months of numbness. Ella deserved fifteen minutes of the spark in her eyes kindling a reciprocal ember in his.

“I definitely didn’t expect it. But I do appreciate it.” Gray took a swig. “Especially after my first fight in probably twenty years.”

“So…you’re celebrating?” she asked with a teasing grin.

“Hardly.” He tried to flex his raw knuckles. It drew a hiss of pain out of him before he’d barely begun. “This isn’t Manhattan. I can’t run out in the middle of the night and get a Percocet for my headache. I remembered the wine, and thought I’d try to self-medicate.” Gray lifted his glass to her. “Would you like a sip? This Malbec I’m drinking is more than decent.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to let him know that it, indeed, was far more than decent. Had, in fact, won medals in competitions from one side of the country to the other. But Ella bit back the fact parade, just reached for the glass, making sure to touch his strong, warm fingers in the process. “I’d love some.”

“Happy to share. Five minutes ago, I was sitting on the floor in the dark. Alone.” He gave a self-mocking laugh. “Thinking about how a thirty-one-year-old man should know better than to get in a fight. Or that maybe I should take up kickboxing.” A soft bump of his knee against hers. His leg stayed there, touching. Pressing. Searing through her thin, cotton pants. “Talking to you is better.”

His long, navy robe fell open. Ella wasn’t sure if she should look away. That lasted for about an eighth of a blink. Of course she wanted to look. Slowly, her gaze traveled up his long, tan legs covered in dark hair, up muscled thighs to…boxer briefs. Probably. Only the edge showed beneath the gap in the robe. Still, it was enough to get her thinking. Musing about everything she couldn’t see. Things she wanted to rub up against.

Instead, she blurted out, “You’re wearing a bathrobe.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Is there a dress code I don’t know about?” Gray smoothed the lapels. Too bad he wore a T-shirt beneath it. “A No Shirt, No Shoes, No Wine policy?”

Funny. Gray tugged smile after smile out of her with the same ease a magician pulled endless scarves from his sleeve. “Most people don’t take up the already limited space in a suitcase with a bathrobe. I’m trying to decide what it says about you.”

“Got any guesses?”

“Germaphobe?”

“Nope.”

She took a long drink. Savored the smooth tang of the tannins, while equally savoring the sight of his utter masculinity sprawled across her stairs. “Door-to-door bathrobe salesman?”

That surprised a short bark of laughter out of him. “Interesting guess.” He let his fingers trail slowly down the back of her hand, lingering before taking back the glass. “Got anything else?”

Why not go for broke. Throwing caution—and possibly her pride—to the wind, Ella looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “Underwear model?”

A dark eyebrow shot skyward. “You’re flirting outrageously with me, Ella.”

Quite true. Gray had apparently popped the tiny cork in the dam holding back three years of pent-up, ignored lust. The release threatened to overwhelm her. She held her breath. “Do you mind?”

“Not one bit,” he said in a slow, husky drawl. “More that I’m thinking I need to step up my half of the conversation.”

“In what way?”

“Well, I’ve been very remiss in not mentioning how cute you look with your hair all tousled.” He leaned forward, spearing his fingers through the long strands hanging behind her back. Along the way, he grazed her neck with his thumb. Goose bumps formed a path of stepping stones that, if Gray followed them, would lead straight to the very most erogenous of her zones. “Seeing it like this just makes a man want to play with it. Comb through its softness. Imagine it trailing across my chest—and what we could do to mess it up more.”

Her heart skipped a beat. Then hammered into double time to make up for it. “You catch up quick. I bet you used to rock the heck out of make-up tests in school.”

“I prefer to do things right from the start.” Gray kept one hand lazily brushing through her hair. With the other, he passed her the wine glass again. The hypnotic rhythm of his hand in her hair made her want to arch into his touch, to flutter her eyes shut and revel in the feel of it. But that would be an over-the-top reaction to such a simple touch. It might be a dead giveaway of her depressingly long streak of celibacy. So Ella resisted. “And I should’ve started by telling you how glad I am to have landed in front of you twice today.”

“Smooth talker.” While she drank, Gray tilted his head to study her. Handing the glass back, she asked, “Why the long look?”

“It occurs to me how odd it is to be talking to you in the middle of the night, just steps from my hotel room. What are you doing here, Ella?”

Rats. No point in attempting to hold on to her secrecy now. Not while dressed in pj’s. Even if it did end up killing the mood with the finesse of a battle-axe through an earthworm. “I live here.” She jerked her thumb toward the top of the stairs. “The usually hidden staircase leads up to my room.”

“Nice digs. They come with the gig?”

“Sort of. Not with the job of being a masseuse, though. The job of owning this hotel.”

His hand slipped from her hair, falling limp at his side. The almost-empty glass slipped from his fingers, would’ve spilled to the floor if she hadn’t caught it. “What?” he asked in an incredulous tone.

“My full name is Ella Mayhew.”

He stared at her with a peculiar intensity, almost as though on top of being a surprise, her owning the hotel meant something to him. Which was just silly. Gray’s continued silence struck her as odd, but it didn’t have to be any more nefarious than that. Of course he was weirded out. Normal people didn’t own castles. Heck, castles weren’t normal, not here in America. But Ella couldn’t continue to listen to the abnormally loud quiet, so she plowed ahead.

“I inherited the hotel from my parents when they died three years ago.” Progress. She’d made it through the entire sentence without a single hitch, without a lump of unshed tears clogging her throat. There was a time, not so very long ago, when that wasn’t possible. As a reward—or to wash down the bitterness that still coated her mouth when she spoke of her parents’ death—she gulped the last of the wine. “Or, as my shrink suggested I call it, Disaster Day.” Dr. Takeuchi thought the short name would make it easier for her to deal with talking about it. As opposed to saying every time the day that ripped her heart out, killed her parents and ruined her life.

“God, Ella, I’m so sorry.” Gray scooted closer on the step, his legs caging her in, to loosely drape his arms around his shoulders. Then he touched his forehead to hers. “You’re far too young to have to deal with all that.”

“ They were far too young,” she corrected him. And felt her shoulders release their tension, for once, to dip infinitesimally lower beneath his warm weight. “Don’t feel pity for me. I’m still alive. Grieving, but alive.”

Gray lifted his head. “You live here, by yourself?”

“Never by myself.” Thank goodness. It was why she’d left her parents’ house on the edge of the estate to move into the tower room. The house she’d grown up in was filled with the too-silent ghosts of happy memories, so Ella sought retreat at the Manor, where she’d never, ever have to be alone. “As you pointed out, your room is just down the hall. There are eighteen others in the castle proper. Another thirty in the Lakeview Lodge addition. And I’ve probably just maxed you out on hotel statistics for the night, haven’t I?”

He stared yet again, without blinking. Not that she minded. The longer Gray looked straight at her, the longer Ella could unabashedly stare right back, at the dark stubble that framed his lips, the way his eyebrows tilted up at the outside edge, like he was always on the verge of asking a question. His heavy-lidded bedroom eyes pulled her in. Literally. Ella caught herself leaning closer, wondering what might happen if she just let gravity take over.

“No.” To her great disappointment, Gray leaned back against the wall, breaking their embrace. “Uh, now that I know you own the place, it makes sense. Spout as many facts and figures as you want. You’ve every right to be proud. Mayhew Manor’s pretty spectacular.”

“Thanks. I can’t take the credit, though.”

“Don’t be modest.”

“Don’t worry,” she sassed back. “But I don’t run the place. I never wanted to do that. In fact, I do my darnedest not to have any say in managing the Manor whatsoever. Once a quarter, the lawyers sit me down, force me to sign reams of paperwork in the name of the Mayhew Family Trust. The rest of the time, I only work in the spa. Which I love.”

Another long, measuring glance. Instead of feeling sexy, it kind of got on her nerves. Was there leftover mascara smeared beneath her eyes? A dribble of toothpaste on her top? What was with the wordless scrutiny?

Finally, something flickered in his eyes. Almost like a reset. Gray took a deep breath. “Let’s start again. Why are you up now?”

They weren’t flirting again yet, but they were off the topic of the hotel and her dead parents, so things were looking up. “The same reason as you.”

“Really? There was a girl fight in the pub and I missed it? Cause I’m gonna need to see the film at eleven on that.”

The weirdness of the past few minutes was gone. Funny, charming Gray was back. Much easier for her to handle. “Not the fight part. I couldn’t sleep. So I figured I’d nab a glass of wine.”

“You don’t have my headache or bruises. What kept you up? Stress? Bad dreams?”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” The instant the words flew out of her mouth, Ella regretted it. Their flirting had been a fun way to pass the pre-dawn hours. It didn’t mean anything. Light and playful, it didn’t have to go anywhere.

But this admission laid her feelings out in front of him. Naked. Honest. Open. An obvious precursor to…what? A real date? Ella didn’t want to ask him out. Well, she wanted to, but she couldn’t, which was something she should’ve remembered long before the point where his naked legs bracketed hers. They couldn’t get involved, because Gray was a guest. Longstanding rule number seven of hotel ownership. And yet, her feelings had been smothered for so long, deep enough she’d worried they’d disappeared for good. How could she not honestly acknowledge them?

“I think wine is the wrong way to go.” Deliberately, he set the glass three steps above.

“Gray, this is the heart of New York wine country. Up here, wine is never the wrong way to go.” She thought about mentioning she owned the Mayhew Vineyard, too. Then decided that castle ownership, combined with the revelation that she’d been mooning over him all evening, were probably all the confessions he could handle in one night.

“There’s a much better way to get you ready for bed.” Gray captured her chin in his fingers. He angled her head to the side a bit.

A breath away from him kissing her, Ella shied back. And banged into the stairway wall.

“Ow. Geez, that hurts.”

“Sorry.” The color drained out of his face. Gray held up his hands as if the police were about to book him for making unauthorized moves. “You shouldn’t have to throw yourself into a wall to get away from me. Guess I read you wrong. I’ll leave you alone.”

“No.” Her hand flew from the back of her head to encircle his wrist before he even cleared the step. Gray froze, crouched halfway over. It looked uncomfortable, so she released him. “Don’t go.”

“Ella, I won’t force myself on you.” He spread his hands wide, palms up. “I just wish you’d come out and told me you weren’t interested. Banging your head was overkill.”

“But I am interested. Not that it matters.” Geez, could she make a bigger mess of this? It seemed important to tell him, though. To, in a small way, share her gratitude that he’d awakened all sorts of long-dormant things in her. “I—I just thought you should know.”

“Of course it matters.” Gray dropped to one knee in front of her and rested his arm on his thigh. “It confuses me worse than statistics class. But I’m glad to know. Want to explain why you’re blowing hot and cold simultaneously?”

It would sound stupid if she said it out loud. Because the more Ella thought about it, the more she realized she cared a lot less for the rules than she cared about kissing Gray. “The thing is, I’m not supposed to get involved with hotel guests.”

“Says who?”

Ella looked down at his feet. Nice feet. The kind of feet you’d find in a photo of two people walking on the beach. Masculine. She desperately wanted to put her pale feet with their fuchsia-painted toenails on top of his, see how they looked together. “Originally, my parents,” she mumbled.

A rumble of laughter from deep in his chest. “What were you, all of thirteen when they interdicted that rule?”

“More or less.”

Gray lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “Honey, they didn’t want you getting involved with any adults. This place was crawling with drunk-ass people who spent their whole day visiting wineries. Of course they scared you off of the guests.”

Oh. Gray’s logic held the ring of truth. “Still, it seems unwise. Un-businesslike.”

“What business? You said that you don’t run the hotel.”

And for that, Ella thanked her lucky stars every day. Despite her parents’ fervent hopes and dreams, she’d never wanted to run Mayhew Manor. “Nope. I’ve got a wonderful manager, Eugene, who does it. He’s worked here for as long as I can remember.”

“In that case, I’d say the whole no-guests thing doesn’t apply to me.” He tapped the end of her nose. “It’s a non-issue.”

It still felt a little reckless. Ella offered up one final, halfhearted protest, just so she’d be able to live with herself come morning. “You’re a client of the spa.”

“Not yet. I haven’t booked an appointment.” He dropped down to sit on his heels. “Don’t get me wrong. Whatever you did to my neck this afternoon was sheer magic. I’m hooked. But I’m also hooked on you.”

“Oh.” Ella wished this was a DVR’d moment, so she could press Pause, run upstairs, do a happy dance and wiggle her butt, then come back down and resume their discussion.

“If I don’t sign up for a massage, there’s no conflict of interest, real or otherwise. And I’m gonna go out on a limb here.” He feathered his thumb along her bottom lip. “I think a kiss from you would be worth giving up a massage. Hell, I bet it’d be worth giving up a solid week of them. Or at least, it’d better be.” Gray smiled a challenge at her. “Want to find out?”

His logic was sound. Probably. Sound enough for two-thirty in the morning, anyway. Sound enough to lock her unsettled conscience in a cage and toss a cover over it for the rest of the night. That trick had always quieted the chirps of her grandmother’s pet finches.

“I do. I really do.” They say you only live once. Except Ella hadn’t really, truly lived at all since Disaster Day. She had a lot of catching up to do. Graydon Locke appeared to be one heck of a starting point.

He surged up to his knees again. This time he planted his hands on the wall above her head. With her back already against the wall, Ella was acutely conscious of the solid wall of muscle pressed against her front. She took a deep breath, just to feel her breasts rise, compress upon his pecs, then closed her eyes at the sheer joy of it.

Gray kissed her. It started with finesse, a light touch like a butterfly wing across both lips, just enough to tingle her head to toe, to make Ella want so much more. Again, still gentle, still teasing. Warm and firm and wonderful. She lifted her hands to pull him closer, and realized how foolish she’d be not to tour his body on the way. About as stupid as having a three-scoop hot fudge sundae in front of her and not taking a bite. So Ella skimmed her palms up his sides, yanked open the lapels of the bathrobe, found the edge of his T-shirt, and went up under it. She touched warm, wonderful skin stretched taut over muscles so defined, her mouth went dry. Other places went suddenly wet.

“Eager, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

If only he knew. She could gobble him up in big, juicy bites. “You have no idea.”

“Thank God. It’s damn hard to hold back.”

Hold back? No. Ella wasn’t fragile. Well, not anymore. And she was beyond tired of people still treating her that way. “I think we’d both be happier if you didn’t bother.”

Without a word, Gray sat down on the opposite side of the step, grabbed her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly until she straddled his lap. The sheer muscle power required thrilled her. Oh, this was a man with a capital M. And then she didn’t have time to think, because he was kissing her again.

This time, he wasn’t gentle. Gray took her mouth. He made it his own. Tasted it, shaped it, claimed every inch of it. Ella just melted. His heat was everywhere. On her arms, where they were still tunneled beneath his robe, clutching around his ribs. On her thighs, pressed tight atop his. And in between the two, thin layers of cotton where Ella rubbed against an erection that was already hard and hot.

She moaned, opening her mouth. Gray let out a soft, primal growl in response and dove in, exploring every inch. Lick for lick, her tongue met his in a sensual duel where there were no losers. Ella had wanted to feel again. Now she was feeling so much it was as though her skin couldn’t contain the sensations. Their passion fed off each other. Gray tightened his grip at her waist, tunneled his other hand through her hair to angle her head better. His hips rose, and instinctively she ground against him.

Ella couldn’t say how long it lasted. The deep silence of the night wrapped around them, cocooning them in intimacy. In a bubble where there were only pants and moans, need and want being fed and yet not slaked. But finally, Gray broke away, burying his face in her neck. “You’re amazing, Ella.”

Wow. Wowzers. Ohmigod. Thank goodness he’d spoken first, or she might’ve blurted out something lame, like how much he’d just rocked her world. Instead, she could play it cool, as if she wasn’t using every inch of willpower to resist dragging him straight up the stairs and into her bed. “The feeling is mutual.”

Cupping her shoulders, he tilted her back to look at her. “This was much better medicine than wine or aspirin.”

Whoops. She’d completely forgotten about his aches and pains. What if she’d accidentally poked someplace painful and made it worse? To make up for it, she took his hand, pressed a soft kiss to the reddened knuckles. “I’m happy to make a house call whenever you need it.”

“You fascinate me, Ella.” He traced a finger along her cheek. “Right now, the only thing I can think about is burying myself inside you. Which is why I should go before I do something stupid.”

Of course he was right. Her brain knew that. But Ella’s brain had handed over the reins to her libido from the moment she’d first seen Gray. Compelled to belabor the point due to the thrumming ache between her legs, she said, “Sex isn’t stupid.”

Another one of those weird pauses, when it seemed as though he was having a conversation in his head before answering. “Rushing into it would be.”

Damn it. Why did he have to be so right? “Really? Don’t they revoke your guy card for saying things like that?”

Gray laughed. “I’m willing to take that risk. I meant what I said this afternoon. I want to learn about you.”

Good to know that her attraction wasn’t one-sided. And he did have a point. Some getting-to-know-you conversation was definitely in order before any more melting make-out rounds. Ella stood.

“How about we have breakfast together tomorrow? Or, well, today, I guess,” she stammered. “Once the sun comes up.”

A long arm reached out to pick up his glass, then Gray rose. “Sounds great. I don’t want to wait long to see you again.”

Wow. The man said all the right things every single time. What were the odds? Should she be suspicious? Nobody could be that perfect, right? She’d have to put it to the group. Better yet, write her question in the lakeshore journal. Let the whole town weigh in, like usual. Which immediately decided where they’d go for breakfast.

“I’ll take you to my favorite place. Want to meet in the lobby at nine?”

He flashed a grin, gave her hand a quick squeeze. “If you’re there, I’ll be there. Well, as long as coffee’s there, too.”

Slick. Verging on too slick. Or was it just middle-of-the-night madness? Perhaps paranoid caution kicking in? Guess she’d find out tomorrow when they met again in the reasoned light of day. For now, she’d take their encounter at face value.

“Think you can sleep now, Ella?”

Hardly. Not after the way he’d revved her up. But she’d have a much better time lying awake, replaying everything that had just occurred. “We’ll see. I agree that kissing you is better medicine than wine, at any rate.”

“Good.” Gray backed out of her doorway. “Sweet dreams. No, wait, I take it back. Dream of me—and I hope it’s anything but sweet.” A wicked wiggle of his eyebrows and he was gone, padding soundlessly down the hallway’s thick Oriental rugs.

Ella shut the door, then braced her palms on it, resting her forehead. This had been one wild night. Especially for a girl with semi-bedhead and no lipstick. Gray turned her head in the very best of ways. All the more reason not to trust her judgment, though. It was definitely past time to get feedback from everyone else, the same way she’d handled every major decision for the past three years. Except, for once, she was tempted to keep all this wonderfulness to herself.