Up To Me (Shore Secrets #1)

Chapter Twelve

Most of the time when Gray was on assignment, it was easy to find a place to work. He didn’t need much. A coffee shop with a decent French roast. More importantly, one a couple of blocks off the beaten path where there was no possibility of running into anyone he might be investigating. Most importantly, no chance that they might come up behind him and read his notes as he typed them into his tablet.

Seneca Lake, however, was different. Gray found it all but impossible to be alone, no matter how hard he tried. Or how often. For a lakeshore strung out along thirty-eight miles, it sure felt small. He’d started at the bottom of the lake, in the library. Whereupon the librarian piled him with brochures about local attractions and events, and tried to sit down and bend his ear about the winery her uncle ran. And, of course, worked in a plug for him to visit it. She couldn’t have been nicer, but he still fled after ten minutes.

The patio at a winery halfway up the lake didn’t work either. The busload of senior citizens should’ve provided a big enough distraction. But the winemaker had seen him with Ward, and offered a private tasting of his first whack at making vodka. Wanted Gray to report back that his product had a leg up on Lakeside Distillery’s product.

Seneca Lake definitely came in heads and tails above anywhere else he’d been in the category of warm and friendly. No matter where he stopped to try and get work done, people insisted on talking to him. Offered him food and drinks. Gray also waved off offers of a haircut, a racquetball game, and a horseback ride. Hell, at this point it felt like the whole town was trying to date him. Everyone except Ella.

So he’d taken refuge on the pier at the Manor. Hidden behind a clump of lake grass taller than Gray, he figured it was the safest place left to him. Even his own room was off limits. The maid, of course, knew and adored Ella. And, of course, had seen them together on more than one occasion and wanted to give her blessing. Because, as the maid so proudly informed him, she’d already given them the green light in the fucking journal.

The pier wasn’t so bad. The sun-baked boards beneath his legs were smooth with age. He’d been able to push up the sleeves on his black rugby shirt as the air warmed. Behind him, a white bush with white flowers perfumed the air with a scent almost identical to whatever Ella wore. And Gray didn’t think he’d lose his man card for admitting that the six baby ducklings paddling circles around their mom were the cutest thing he’d ever seen. At least, as long as he didn’t admit it to anyone else. Ever.

Squinting behind his aviator shades, Gray stared back down at the screen. The more time he spent investigating, the more convinced he became of two things. First, that taking over Mayhew Manor could be a really smart move for his company. And second, that the Manor could be a cash cow with just a little more focused management. It wouldn’t take as much as he’d feared for Ella to be in the position to fight a takeover as long as she sold out a few more nights and scraped up enough cash for the needed repairs.

The surrounding area was great, although the city planner had sure fucked over a good thing when he started fucking the treasurer instead of doing his job. The town needed a kick in the ass, publicity-wise, as much as the Manor did. Again, though, it wouldn’t take much. The sooner Dawn dropped her optimistic naiveté and fired the both of them, the sooner the town could regroup and move forward.

Which meant he’d hit an ethical logjam. He’d hoped to discover the Manor teetering on the brink of collapse. To find proof upon solid proof that liberating Ella from this giant white elephant full of debt and memories would be good for her. Instead, he had equally strong reasons to urge Ruffano & McIntosh to move forward…and to urge Ella to dig in her heels and not let them do it.

He was crazy about Ella. Didn’t have any future with her. If they tried to date once he left, his job would come out. It was already almost impossible to keep it from her. And Gray couldn’t see that she’d ever forgive him for spying on all of them, even if he recommended R&M stay away. So if they didn’t have a chance in hell of being together, why did he care so damn much?

Water splashed his shins. Gray looked out about ten feet to see Joel in a rowboat, slapping an oar back across the rippling water. “Shit, I didn’t even hear you coming.”

“Means I did it right. Silent and stealthy’s the smoothest way to row.” The oars clattered against the bottom of the boat. Gray pulled up his legs as Joel lashed a rope around one of the pier’s poles.

“Uh, what are you doing? There’s no ladder here.”

“Don’t need one.” As smoothly as if pulling himself out of a swimming pool instead of in a straight vertical lift up five feet, Joel hoisted himself in a glorified pull-up onto the pier.

“Shit. What did you say you used to do in the army?”

“I didn’t. If I told ya, I’d have to pound the hell out of you until you didn’t remember what I just told you.”

Seeing as how Gray had no intention of revealing his past or present job, it seemed more than fair to let it drop. That, and catching the deadly seriousness behind Joel’s words. “In that case, how about we forget I ever asked?”

“Sounds good.”

Joel looked at Gray with a quizzical frown, then hooked a thumb at the row of Adirondack chairs spread along the edge of the velvety green lawn. “You know, for the price you’re paying per night to stay in the Marshgrass Suite, we let you use the chairs. Any of ’em. On the whole property.”

“Very funny. But the chairs, sooner or later, attract other people. I needed a breather.”

A confused squint docked beneath the frown. “You’re on vacation. Aren’t these whole two weeks a breather?”

He’d known since the labeling day at the distillery that Joel didn’t believe a word of his cover story. And been grateful that Joel hadn’t pushed him on it. But apparently his curiosity was getting the best of him.

“They were till you started hassling me, Chef .” Gray said it in a sardonic tone that he hoped reminded the older man he was a guest, first and foremost and Joel was there, ultimately, to serve him. He fucking hated it. Hated himself for treating a guy who’d been nothing but friendly like hired help. Just another reminder that he hated this job a little more every day. And that he still hadn’t come up with a better option.

Joel ducked his head. “Fair point.”

Desperate to change the topic, Gray pointed at the faded blue hull of the boat. “Do you row over every day?”

“As often as the weather lets me. It’s just a mile to my dock.”

“Yeah. But then it’s a mile back in the dark, at the end of a long shift.”

“It gives me a breather.”

“Also a fair point.” Gray would’ve said more, but something hard and sharp ricocheted off his right leg. He looked down to watch a jagged rock plop into the water. And at the same time, noticed the thin line of blood welling along his calf. “What the hell?”

Joel whipped around and let out a sharp, piercing whistle that stopped a young boy in his tracks. “Did you throw that rock?”

Feet scuffing in the grass, the boy hunched his shoulders beneath a red windbreaker and edged closer. “I didn’t throw it at the man. Not on purpose.” He shook his head fast. And his wide brown eyes looked scared shitless. Gray thought that out of the two of them, despite the blood trickling down his leg, the kid probably felt worse right now. “I just wanted to make it skip.”

Gray got up, making sure to close the cover on his iPad. “You were trying to skip rocks with a jagged shard? The only thing less aerodynamic would be trying to skip that stump over there.”

“I don’t know how to do it. Just saw it in a movie once.” Coming closer still at a snail’s pace, the boy looked to be no more than maybe eight, his baseball cap barely level with Gray’s waist. “I’m bored. Chucking rocks at the lake is the most fun I’ve had all morning. Except for hitting you. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Where are your parents?”

“Dad’s golfing. Mommy’s at the spa. I’m s’posed to stay on the lawn here till she’s done. But there’s nothing to do.”

Matched set of ungrateful idiots for parents. Poor kid. Gray remembered all too well what it felt like, having nobody to play with. “Joel, how long till your shift starts?”

“I came in early to do some paperwork, but it can wait. I’ve got about two hours.”

Gray squatted. “I saw a soccer ball in the gym yesterday. And I think Miss Mayhew mentioned a badminton set. Why don’t I go scare those up, and we’ll hang with you until your mother comes back out?”

“Really?”

Yeah. Gray had clocked plenty of alone time over the last decade. He could always carve more out later. Right now, he sure as hell couldn’t let this little boy mope out here by himself.

“While Mr. Locke’s getting the equipment and slapping on a bandage, how about I teach you the right way to skip stones? You know, by hitting the water instead of people.”

A smile showed off a gap where his two front teeth used to be. “That’d be awesome. I’m Rory.”

“Hi, Rory. You can call me Chef.”

Gray whispered, “I’ll tell Ella to let his mom know.” In his regular voice, he said, “Back in a flash.” He covered the wide lawn at an easy jog, checking his watch at the same time. Just shy of two o’clock. Ella was probably tied up with a client. But Eugene would undoubtedly point him to the equipment. Once inside, Gray hooked right toward the front desk. To his surprise, Ella was there, looking amazing in a tight sweater the color of peach fuzz with matching jeans.

“I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to come to me with your comments, Joanna,” she said in a pleasant, professional tone. Despite the words and her calm voice, Gray could tell something was wrong. Maybe it was the rigid line of her shoulders. Or maybe it was that since he’d heard her voice thrum with sincerity, he now recognized when it was missing. “And I agree. Tradition is a wonderful thing.”

“We honor our past by recreating it.”

That came out weird. Like the tall twig of a woman in lime green bike shorts planned to throw on her great-great-grandaddy’s Union blues and wield a musket for a couple of hours down in Gettysburg.

“I’m all about honoring the past. But I made this decision in order to preserve my future.”

“I call it selfish. Ignoring it is a slap in the face to all who came before us.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Joanna. I hope you’ll still find it in your heart to attend, though.”

“Of course I will,” she snapped. “Not showing up would be cutting off my nose to spite my face. I just had to tell you first what a horrible mistake you’re making.” With a nod, she jammed her helmet on her head and strode off, her bike cleats making a hollow clank against the lobby’s mosaic floor of grapevines at their peak.

The moment she cleared the doors, Ella collapsed in on herself a little. She dropped into the wing chair with a huge sigh.

“Who’s the snippy bitch?” Gray asked.

A stack of pink message slips circa the turn of the millennium flew up in the air as Ella twisted around. “Gray, hi. I didn’t see you.”

“Because you were busy juggling ten tons of attitude.” He squatted to gather her messages.

“Oh, you heard my conversation with Joanna?”

“I wouldn’t call it a conversation. The Duke of Wellington had a conversation before he kicked Napoleon’s ass all over Waterloo. This woman was out to draw serious blood from you. What’s her problem?”

She took the pink slips from him, then shook them. “The same as all the rest of these people. I’ve got seven angry phone calls to return. That is, after I deal with the parade of angry men and women who’ve tromped through my lobby for the past four hours.”

Shit. Gray had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what had them fired up. He also knew he was to blame. “Is this about the big party?”

“You get a gold star. After we worked on the wording over breakfast to change the save-the-date, I sent it out before my first appointment.” She dropped her hands to the armrests and tipped her head back. “I then had to ask Brooke to fill in and finish a facial, because there were three people insisting on speaking to me immediately. Gray, I never walk out on a client. Not ever. Not until today, anyway. I feel horrible.”

Part of Gray wanted to drop to his knees and stroke her hair until her smile returned. Instead, he went right into crisis mode. Focused on what he could fix. The best way to move forward with the least damage. “Did you comp her?”

She looked at him blankly, as if he’d asked if the lake was still big and blue. “Of course.”

“Then stop with the guilt trip. She still got the full service, and the bonus of a freebie. Your client’s more than satisfied. Let’s tackle the real problem.”

Ella wrinkled her nose. “You mean how pancake-flat Joanna’s ass looks in those bike shorts?”

Atta girl. The snarky humor indicated she wouldn’t let these people walk all over her. That she was ready to fight. “That is a vision I’d like to bleach from my brain. Wanna explain exactly what her objection is to moving the party by a week?”

“Joanna’s the self-appointed historian of all things Seneca Lake. She’s got a shed in her back yard full of notes and photos and clippings. Excel spreadsheets about events in town as detailed in the journal and cross-referenced by who made the entries.”

“Really? She’s lumping confessional entries in the damn journal in the same category as genuine, fact-checked newspaper clippings? Have I mentioned how nutty your whole town is to put so much weight on a glorified diary?”

She tapped her chin, as if giving the question weighty consideration. “Almost as often as I think about how sexy your smile is.”

“So, a lot then?”

“Oh, yeah.” Then Ella laid a smile on him. One that could melt the polar ice caps in under thirty minutes. One that promised things for the next time they were alone, in a dark room. Or heck, even a well-lit room. “I shouldn’t make fun of her. Chronicling what happens at Seneca Lake is her passion. Unfortunately, I’ve just thumbed my nose at her precious traditions by moving the party.”

“But it’s your party. Your family’s tradition, Mayhew Manor’s—not hers.”

“I’m beginning to realize that not everyone thinks of it that way. When something’s been around long enough, people see it as an expectation, rather than a privilege. According to,” she riffled through her papers, “Ernie Jones, Cathy Franklin and Rebecca Stalking-Horse, they’ve looked forward to this for a whole year. On top of looking forward to it every year for their entire lives. Memorial Day won’t be the same without it.”

“That’s a lot of pressure for a couple of hours of nonstop burgers and brats.” Gray set his tablet on the marble mantel and propped his elbows on it.

“Mmm-hmm. Apparently I’m responsible for maintaining people’s happiness on an annual basis by making sure this party happens on the same day every year.”

“Don’t tell me you believe that?” Over the past few days, Gray had come to have a grudging respect for this community. The way they pulled together, cared so much about everyone. But whatever respect he’d built up would disappear in a flash if they pulled together against Ella. He wouldn’t stand for it.

Ella toyed with the ends of her scarf, which started at pale yellow then shaded all the way up to deep orange. “I believe they look forward to it. There’s such a wonderful sense of coming together. Almost like a reunion. In fact, lots of extended families who’ve moved away do come back for it.”

“But, Ella, take a second here to dial into reality.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not finished. I’m quite aware all those people can change their plans and come a week later.” She beckoned him closer. Gray sat in the matching wing chair and leaned over the end table until she could whisper in his ear. “I’ve even thought about canceling the party entirely.”

That took him by surprise. Gray jerked backwards to see her eyes. To gauge just how serious she was. And she appeared quite solemn, with a hard set to her jaw. “I thought it was important to you.”

“I thought so, too.” Ella fisted her hands in her lap. Mindful of the couples chatting at the door to the wine shop across the lobby, she kept her voice low. “But then Sarah and Levi Bachmann barreled into my treatment room in the middle of a deep tissue massage. How dare they! I don’t think they’d greet me with open arms if I waltzed into their bathroom during shower time tomorrow morning. Raquel, my poor client, was stark naked under just a thin sheet.”

Gray bit back a grin at the thought of Ella carving out a little surprise retribution. Maybe going with the classic cold water over the shower curtain prank. “Did they get an eyeful?”

“No, thank goodness. And Raquel was quite understanding when I rescheduled for tomorrow, a ninety minute instead of the sixty-minute treatment she originally booked.” But her hands remained in those tight, white-knuckled fists.

“So, another full comp?” he guessed. It was what he’d do to keep the clients happy. For all her denial and dislike, Ella had hoteliering in her blood. When the chips were down, she knew customer service inside and out.

After all, it was how she’d charmed him into that chair massage five minutes after he walked in the door. Okay, maybe Ella’s smile had something to do with it. And—to be honest—her breasts. God, what red-blooded man wouldn’t hope that they’d brush against him as she rubbed?

Ella nodded. “Of course I comped her. And she’s getting a bottle of wine on the house at dinner tonight.”

“Which means that in addition to however much burgers and beer for the entire town at this party costs,” he shot up an index finger for emphasis, “ with your budget already scraping the bottom of the barrel, now your beloved fellow townspeople are taking a chunk out of your bottom line?”

Another sharp dip of her head. “Yes.”

Gray breathed deeply. This close to the fireplace, the air still held a faint, smoky whiff of apple wood. Last night they’d sat right here in front of the fire trying to stump each other on music trivia. Until he couldn’t stand watching her pink, glossy lips move any more, dragged her onto his lap and kissed her until the fire died out. The laughing, the teasing, the touching had been just about perfect. That’s what Ella should remember when she sat in this chair. He’d be damned if he let a few self-centered, clueless, mouth-running douchebags spoil it.

Covering her hands with his own, Gray said, “You know this has to stop.”

“Yes.” She shook her head, sending the end of her scarf flying into the air like helicopter blades. “Yes, damn it. Of course I know that. We live in an internet society. One bad review is all it takes to scare people away from Mayhew Manor. Or ruin the reputation of luxurious excellence I’ve worked so hard to build in this area for the spa.”

She’d summed the problem up perfectly. “Go on.”

“That’s why you found me at the front desk. I came out here to give orders to Eugene, the desk clerks, and all the bellmen not to let anyone into the spa without an appointment. And not to transfer calls either, unless it was to make an appointment. Enough is enough.”

“Good for you.” He gave her hands a quick, double-squeeze.

“But then I picked up all these messages, and Joanna accosted me.” Her shoulders sagged. “How can I expect my staff to follow rules I don’t follow through on? I should’ve sent Joanna packing without trying to placate her.”

“Don’t go overboard. You handled her perfectly. You heard her side, and then firmly stated your final decision. Better than ignoring her completely. Keep the message and delivery consistent, and I’m sure word will spread quickly that you’re not messing around.”

“I didn’t cancel the party. I moved it by six damn days. In the grand scheme of life, how does that matter? They can’t just come in here and tell me what to do. Tell me that my parents would be disappointed in me. Tell me that I must not be fully recovered to make such a harebrained decision. You know what I want to tell them?”

Aware that guests were still milling through the lobby, Gray tempered his response. “To do something anatomically impossible to themselves?”

“Repeatedly.”

He waited for a beat. Put on his most serious face. “Maybe you could go write that suggestion in the journal.”

Ella giggled. Then quickly progressed to a full-blown belly laugh that doubled her over. Until soon she was gasping for air, hands pressed to her ribs.

“You okay?”

“I am now. Thanks to you.”

“Glad I could help.” And he really was. Kind of a new feeling. Sure, Gray helped old ladies carry their groceries to the car. Braked to let a kid retrieve his football in the street instead of running over it. But this feeling of being in a partnership was definitely different.

“I’ve whined enough. There’s some good news and some interesting news I want to share with you.”

Gray looked up at the carved grape clusters on the ceiling molding, pretending to think, one hand stroking his chin. Then he snapped his fingers and grinned at her. “You canceled your appointments for the rest of the week and booked us tickets to Jamaica.”

“Gee, you know, that was my original plan,” she said, without missing a beat. “Before you came up with the idea to move this party. Now I’m stuck here dealing with the blowback. All your fault. All this,” Ella shimmied in her seat a little, “covered in coconut oil, could’ve been yours for the taking.”

He squeezed his eyes shut against the magnificence of her breasts jiggling in the neckline of her sweater. The fireplace behind them could’ve been roaring again, and all Gray would’ve felt was the heat she fired up between his heart and his dick. And he was well on the way to worrying that one time with Ella would in no way dowse that heat. That they could spend three days straight in bed and it wouldn’t begin to sate his burning hunger for her. Then where would he be when it came time to leave?

“If you want, we could continue this private celebration up in my suite.” He leaned closer, shifted one leg against the chair. Winced as it scraped against his still seeping cut. And remembered why he’d come inside in the first place. “Damn it, no.” Regret speared through him. “I’m on a mission of mercy. Joel and I are babysitting a kid.”

“You really are a take-charge guest, aren’t you? We need more like you. It’d cut down significantly on our staffing costs,” she said, tongue in cheek. “One of the bellboys called in sick. Feel free to help out during check-in around four o’clock.”

“I’m afraid I only take on one staff job per day. Before I start expecting to be comped, that is. What would it be worth to you if you got to sit here and watch me pop my biceps, carting in luggage?”

Her eyes widened, then darkened. Smoldered with the heat of white-hot briquettes. “That’s a tempting offer. But I wouldn’t want the female guests distracted by your display of manliness.”

“Thoughtful as always.” Gray stood. “The kid’s dad is golfing. Mom’s at your spa. Doesn’t seem like they gave a second thought to what he’d do while they were off having fun. We’re gonna play some badminton with him until she’s done. Will you have Brooke send his mom out to the lawn when she’s done?”

“Absolutely.” She popped up to tug on his sleeve. “But I need two more minutes to share my good news.”

“Sorry—you sidetracked me with your talk of oiling up.” And that was an image he would not be able to shake even if he poured a pitcher of crushed ice down his pants. “Hit me with the goodness.”

“Interesting news first. Kevin, the grandson of the bank manager who discovered some company’s been sniffing around the Manor’s financials? I think he’s got a future in cyber security.”

A cold wash of dread slicked through him. “Why?”

“He back-traced,” her nose crinkled adorably, “or something close to that in computer-ese—don’t ask how, because I sure don’t understand it—Kevin found out the name of the company gunning for us. Ruffano & McIntosh Holdings, LLC.”

“The kid’s a whiz,” said Gray, with honest appreciation. But God, what if he kept going? R&M didn’t have a list of staff on the website for obvious security reasons. Hard to be undercover with your name splashed under the company logo. But if this computer prodigy kept hacking, he might unearth Gray. Then what? Should he assume the worst? Check out right now without waiting for his cover to be blown?

He probably should. Probably would, if this was any other assignment. But Gray didn’t want to give up a second of the scant time he had left with Ella. Their big date was tonight. He couldn’t disappear. But how could he justify the risk of staying?

Ella tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I told him to stop there. I don’t want to raise any red flags to let them know that we know about them. They look like a huge, money-grubbing corporation. I’m hoping that we’re too small to be worth their effort.”

“Here’s hoping.” Okay. That bought him some time. He could see this thing through without worrying about being revealed. Desperate for a new subject, Gray rubbed the back of his neck. “Interesting news as advertised, but I’m ready to hear the good news.”

“Well, with the party moved, the Manor’s already gotten four new bookings for the long weekend. All suites, all three days.” Ella jumped up and down twice. Clapped her hands together with a dazzling smile of glee. “Your plan worked. We only opened the availability on those dates last night. Eugene thinks we’re on our way to being sold out.”

Gray folded her into a tight embrace. “That’s great.” And it was. He was thrilled for her. Genuinely happy. In this moment, he wouldn’t let his heart battle with his brain. Wouldn’t even acknowledge how this could end up making things trickier for his company. How the bank wouldn’t be as willing to let Ruffano & McIntosh call the note on a more solvent Mayhew Manor. With a new manager coming on board and the uptick in sold rooms, Ella could rightfully argue that they were on the road to turning things around financially. If nothing else, it’d buy her some breathing room with the bank. Maybe even help her get a new loan. R&M never wanted a fight on their hands. They specialized in quick-and-dirty takeovers.

No, he’d concentrate on Ella’s personal victory. The way she’d done what she believed to be right, even though it meant standing up to the town. He was so damn proud of her.

Shit. Gray wasn’t just proud. Or thrilled. The realization washed over him with the refreshing softness of an ocean breeze. And the strength of a tsunami. He’d fallen for her. His head right over her peach polka-dotted, sneakered heels. Sure, there was a healthy dose of lust at his core, ready to erupt at any second. But more than that was his appreciation of Ella’s strength, her passion for the things she cared about. Her sweetness. The way her tenderness touched him in places he’d forgotten or ignored for years. What the hell was he supposed to do about this? Gray closed his eyes and pressed his cheek a little tighter to the soft sweep of her hair.

But she pulled out of the hug. Framed his face with her hands, stood on tiptoe and gave him a slow kiss on the forehead. “Thank you. Not just for the idea, but for forcing me to work through it, weigh the pros and cons. It was a smart move. It was the right move for the Manor.”

Right. The Manor. Gray slammed the door on his pain-in-the-ass feelings. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I’ve got some news of my own to share.”

“Okay.”

He hoped this went over well. That Ella didn’t call him an interfering jackass and storm off. Especially now that she’d tapped into her feisty side today. “I booked you a wedding.”

“Why Mr. Locke, this is all so sudden.” She held out her left hand, waggled her fourth finger. “I’ll need to see the ring before I decide, of course. I prefer pear-shaped, set in platinum, and at least a full carat.”

“Very funny. I booked a wedding to take place in the ballroom.”

Her arm dropped to her side as though she were a marionette with severed strings. Then she took a step backward and pretty much fell into the chair. Gripping its arms, Ella said, “Are you serious?”

It was definitely a big reaction. Gray just couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “Don’t worry. I didn’t roll out a contract or anything. But I did talk to Marsha.”

“Marsha…our events manager? When did you even meet her?”

Going with the truth—that he’d deliberately waited for her to get off shift, then struck up a conversation with her in the parking lot to ask about the events department—would just lead to more questions Gray didn’t want to answer. Didn’t even want Ella to know that he’d asked. So he plastered on a wide-eyed grin and said, “I’m a friendly guy. Anyway, you know that historic schoolhouse out on Route One?”

“I know the one that used to be there before it burned down last week.”

“Exactly. Marian Derulo and Darrell Fridley were supposed to get married there on Memorial Day. I ran into them in the flower shop, when they were trying to come up with an alternative. I mentioned that the Manor was free, and they flipped out. Literally. Marian flipped her chair over backwards and hugged me.”

“I know the feeling.” Ella jumped up and threw her arms around Gray. “I can’t believe you hooked them up with us. That’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

Whew. Good. Cause he’d offered up the Manor hoping it’d wring a positive reaction from her. Gray just hadn’t counted on one this enthusiastic. Not that he was complaining. It helped him ignore the stern voice in his head that warned him about staying objective. About not picking sides. About being a company man who put work first and foremost. The voice that said he’d just drawn a line in the sand—and then stepped way the hell over it. Straight into a pit of emotional quicksand.