Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Grace wondered if she was an idiot getting into the truck with the two unfamiliar men. One looked pissed beyond reason, like he would rather be doing anything else but driving her. And she kind of got that. It was Christmas night, and it had started to snow. He would probably rather be warm and snug in a cabin somewhere than grabbing her.
The second guy smiled at her slightly when she joined them at the truck, and motioned for her to get into the front seat. He took the back seat, settling her insulated casserole dish beside him. “Black sent us down to retrieve you while he gets cleaned up. We had an issue with the power plant tonight.”
“I hope it was nothing serious,” she said, climbing into the truck and snapping her seatbelt on.
The second man accelerated away from her shop and sped through the town. She opened her mouth to warn him that the Sheriff would be on his ass if he caught him, but she doubted anyone at the sheriff’s department was on duty. On call, maybe.
“I’m sorry you had to come down the mountain to get me,” she told the guy driving.
“Don’t make no matter to me,” he said, and she wondered where he was from. She thought perhaps South Africa, but she couldn’t be sure.
“I told Owen I could drive my SUV, but he didn’t want me driving tonight.”
The man glanced at her, then back at the road. “Better do what Owen says then,” he muttered, and there was a particular emphasis on his name.
“Don’t mind Cookie,” the man in the back said, voice low. “He just hates the snow and the cold. It wasn’t that big of a deal to come get you.”
“Well, I appreciate it. I’m Grace,” she said, waving a hand lightly.
“Cookie,” the man in the back said, tipping his head toward the driver. “And I’m Drew. Or you can call me Elvis like the rest of the guys.”
Grace barked out a laugh. “Those are two very different names. Which do you prefer? And why do they call you Elvis?”
Drew smiled slightly. “I tend to get distracted and wander sometimes. The guys report sightings of me, like Elvis.”
Grace chuckled. “Have you ever gotten lost?”
“Well, not really,” Drew said, but Cookie barked out a harsh sound.
“The fuck you haven’t,” he snapped. “A week ago, we found you shivering without a coat on the far side.”
Grace saw Drew wince. “I don’t do that very often anymore.”
She felt bad for the guy.
“I’ll call you Drew, if you don’t mind.”
Drew gave her a slight smile and a nod.
“And how did you get the sweet, lovely name of Cookie,” she asked the belligerent driver.
“My name is Drogo Cooke, and all you fucking Americans have to come up with some cutesy name for stuff that scares you.”
He tossed her a look that did actually make her shiver. If she met Cookie in a back alley, especially in Whisper Hollow where there was so little crime, she would definitely turn tail and run. Cookie seemed like he might like the chase, though. “Is that a South African accent I hear?”
“What do you know of South Africa, little girl?”
It had been a long time since anyone had spoken to her like that, and despite his scars, she didn’t think Cookie was much older than she was. “I did a job down there years ago. It’s a beautiful country.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time, just drove.
She glanced back at Drew. “So, tell me about the other guys I’ll meet up there. Any other nicknames with fun backstories?”
By the time they arrived at the Foxhole, Grace felt like she had an idea about a lot of the men up here. Drew had a way of summing them up and making them memorable.
The headlights of the truck swung around, spotlighting Owen standing in the drive, waiting for them. Her heart began to race. Talking to the men had distracted her for a few minutes, but now her nervousness came back full force. As soon as it stopped, he circled the truck and opened the door for her, holding a hand out for her to hold on to. She smiled up into his scowling face. “Hi.”
“Are you okay?”
The question took her back. “Yeah, I’m good. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He glanced across at Cookie, but the other man was already out of the truck and heading inside, stomping snow from his boots.
“He did pretty good,” Drew said, getting out beside them. “I’ll take your dish in.”
“Thanks, Drew,” she said, smiling at him.
Owen was watching her curiously, and she wondered if she wasn’t supposed to get along with the guys, or something. “Are you okay?” she asked, popping her brows.
Owen shook his head slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get you out of the weather.”
He held her hand as he led her toward the lodge, and she tried not to be disappointed that he hadn’t kissed her hello. Maybe that was too fast for what they were doing. That was weird, though, because he’d invited her up for Christmas dinner. And they’d had fun last night, she’d thought. Maybe he was just nervous about introducing her to his friends.
Owen stopped abruptly and faced her, his eyes scanning her expression. Then, before she could question him, he swooped in and took her mouth in a soul-ripping, panty-dropping kiss. Grace sighed and leaned into him, her gloved hands cupping his neck. She wanted to strip her gloves off to feel his skin. The man made her shiver.
All too soon, he was pulling away. There was a light in his eyes, though, that told her he didn’t want to. “I’m going to apologize now,” he said, his voice low.
“What for?”
“For whatever the guys are going to do tonight. Or say. Just know, I’m sorry, and if anything strange happens, I’ll talk to you about it later.”
Okay, that wasn’t foreboding or anything.
Grace looked around curiously as they walked into what was obviously a huge mudroom. There were walls of coats and outer gear, as well as a cleanup wall with a huge kitchen sink and cupboards. She thought there might have even been a bathroom behind one door. There was also a double set of stacked washers and dryers. Boots lined the floor in all sizes, and she wondered how they kept track of them. Oh, wait, each guy had a section, it looked like.
“You can take your coat off there, and I guessed at your size.”
Owen handed her a brand new pair of fleece-lined slipper shoes.
“Oh, thank you!”
He crossed to a section and toed off his boots, slipping on a much bigger, well-worn pair of slippers.
“This is like going to a Japanese home,” she said, smiling.
Owen’s mouth kicked up on one side. “Well, we don’t have cleaners, per se. We’re all responsible for our own mess, and we decided a long time ago that it was better to take our boots off out here than try to clean the whole Den.”
“I get that. As soon as I walk in the door, I kick off my shoes.”
Grace hung her coat on a free wooden peg, but kept her sweater on. She wasn’t sure what exactly to wear tonight, so she’d gone kind of casual. Jeans and boots, and a nice, festive red shirt that sparkled, with her favorite black sweater.
Angela met her at the doorway into the lodge, baby Fallon on her hip. As soon as Fallon saw her, she reached for Grace. Grace quickly took the baby, laughing. The little girl was grinning, and she was so stinking cute. “What are you doing, little miss?”
Fallon patted her on the cheeks and wiggled, obviously wanting her to move. Grace laughed and moved into the lodge, looking around curiously.
The inside was much as you’d expect a huge log lodge to be, but it was very much lived in. Through the mudroom door was a massive living room with a huge central river rock fireplace. The fire was blazing and radiating heat. Grace had a feeling she could walk inside that fireplace, it was so big. Giant couches and chairs lined the room, and there was a pool table at the far end, near towering windows. There was also a long bar with a professional-looking coffee maker on one end, and what looked like every kind of liquor available. Giant rugs lined the hardwood floors, and there was a towering, live evergreen in the far corner decorated for Christmas. The base was stuck in a five-gallon bucket, presumably full of water to keep the tree from drying out. And some of the decorations looked to be handmade. It was strangely, masculine-ly beautiful. There were stacks of oddly wrapped presents under the tree.
“We can show you around later. Grunt sent us out to retrieve you,” Angela said, her eyes widening theatrically.
“Grunt is our chef,” Owen told her. “He likes punctuality.”
He held his free hand out to the side, directing her. Grace walked down a hallway and into a massive dining room. It reminded her of beer halls in Germany, with two long plank tables and matching benches filled with men of all shapes and sizes. There was a drone of conversation that faded to silence as they walked in. All eyes turned to her, and she forced a grin. “Hello, gentlemen. Sorry we’re late.”
She followed Owen as he led her toward the left-hand table. There was a baby chair at one end for Fallon, and Aiden sat on the bench beside it. He stood and took Fallon from her, settling her into the high chair. The baby fussed a little, but seemed okay when Owen motioned for Grace to take the opposite bench from Aiden and Angela, then he settled beside her.
Angela was sitting next to a pretty, dark-haired woman with laughing eyes. She held her hand out to Grace. “I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Jordyn. I’m married to this big lug, Drake Fontana.”
She bumped her shoulder into a handsome blond sitting next to her.
The man smiled at her and tipped his head.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” Grace said, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Jordyn rolled her eyes. “I’m sure. Angela likes to talk.”
“Oh, please,” Angela said, laughing. “You kept me up past midnight when we first got here, catching up on gossip.”
Jordyn shrugged lightly, grinning, and took a drink of water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A looming presence caught Grace’s attention. She looked up at a grizzled, but not very old face. He had messy dark curls and dark eyes, a wild beard, and a gentle smile. An aluminum cane hung from one hand. “Welcome to the Foxhole, Grace. I’m Grunt. Thank you for bringing the bread pudding. You didn’t have to do that.”
Grace grinned. “I had to bring something! I hear good things about your food, Grunt, so I’m excited to be here.”
He tipped his head to the table and disappeared through a doorway. Within just a few seconds, several men started carrying platters of food out and setting it on long tables set against the wall. Grace couldn’t believe the amount of food coming out. Grunt carried out a huge roaster pan and started slicing pieces of prime rib at a corner table. Someone turned on a radio to festive holiday music. A brown dog, some kind of pit mix, wandered in, looking for treats on the floor and wagging her butt as she wandered from person to person.
“Oh, my gosh,” Grace said, laughing. “It seems like I’ve been eating all day, but the smell of this food is making me hungry.”
“You won’t want to leave,” Jordyn warned her.
Owen leaned into her a little. “What would you like to drink?”
“Anything,” she said, looking around. There was a water pitcher in the center of the table. “I’m fine with water.”
He nodded and motioned for her to stand. There were a few guys moving toward the food already, and she moved behind them, waiting her turn. Owen tried to guide her to the front, muttering ‘you’re the guest’, but she shook her head and stayed where she was.
The guy in front of her glanced back, and it took everything in her not to react to the deep scars on his face. He also seemed to be moving with a limp, and she wondered what the hell had happened to him. They were all former military, she knew that, so she could only imagine.
“I can’t even remember the last time I had prime rib,” she said, low-voiced to the man.
He seemed surprised that she’d spoken to him. He shot her another quick glance, but didn’t turn his face to her again. “Grunt does it up right. Be sure to get a little of the horseradish sauce. He makes it himself.”
“Noted,” she said. “I’m Grace.”
She didn’t hold out her hand because she didn’t think he’d take it.
“I’m Crash,” the guy said, somewhat reluctantly.
Owen was talking to the guy behind him about water pressure, so she turned back forward. They moved through the line, and she was surrounded by light-hearted ribbing and play. Typical boys waiting for food. She was surprised to find actual glass dishes at the beginning of the food line, and real silverware. “My gosh, I can’t imagine all the dishes at the end of the night. I hope he has help.”
Crash nodded. “We all have a rotating list of chores, both inside and outside, just like a regular job. Tonight is not my night though,” he flashed her a grin.
“You lucked out,” she said, grinning back. At least he wasn’t trying to hide his face from her anymore.
Crash spooned food from giant pans onto his plate, and suggested things for her to try. There was no way she had room for everything, though.
“You can come back through as many times as you want. They told us that when we first got here, that we’d never be without food again, and they’ve stuck by that. I’ve gained twenty pounds up on this mountain,” he snorted, his face twisting into what she realized was a smile.
Grace blinked. Had he actually said they’d been without food? “What branch were you in?”
He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. “Uh, Marines.”
“And they didn’t feed you?”
He blinked at her, and she noticed that even though his face was harsh, he had the prettiest blue eyes with long, dark lashes.
“Um… yeah,” he said, voice kind of clipped. He turned abruptly, almost tipping his plate in the process. “I need to get… something.”
And he limped away from her.
Grace frowned, wondering what on earth had just happened. She’d just asked about the Marines. In her experience, Marines loved bragging about their service and the dangerous missions they had or hadn’t done. Old Chester down at the lumberyard wouldn’t shut up about his service and the bullet he took through his leg years ago. They’d all heard the story several times. Maybe Crash didn’t want to talk about his service because that was where he’d been injured and scarred.
“You okay?”
She glanced back at Owen. He was watching her carefully. “Yes, but I think I scared Crash.”
He lifted a dark brow. “How did you scare Crash?”
“He said something about never being without food again, so I asked him what branch he was in and why they hadn’t fed him.”
Owen’s eyes darkened, and he tucked his lips. “Get your food and I’ll talk to you at the table.”
Grace frowned, not liking feeling like she was being reprimanded. It wasn’t worth fighting over, though. She was a guest in their house tonight, and she needed to abide by their rules. Turning, she realized it was her turn at Grunt’s carving station. “This all looks mouthwatering, Grunt,” she said, genuinely excited to take a chunk of the meat. “And Crash said to get a bit of your horseradish sauce.”
Grinning, he spooned a little sauce to the side of her meat. “I think you’ll love it.”
“And my plate is officially full,” she laughed, and stepped away from the line.
It was as good as she’d been told. Better even. The meat melted in her mouth, and the sides were unique and flavorful, not the typical holiday faire. Some of the foods seemed like they were from other countries. After a minute, Owen slid in beside her and started eating as well. Once they’d taken the edge off, he leaned into her space a little.
“I told you that the men had been prisoners of war. I wasn’t exaggerating. Many of them didn’t get food regularly, and they were malnourished to the point of starvation. We keep food available to them at all times.”
The delicious food turned to sawdust in her mouth, and she felt tears sting her eyes as she stared at him incredulously. She glanced around the boisterous room, and couldn’t imagine any of these laughing men in that position. Then she looked more closely at Owen. “And were you one of those men?”
He blinked, and stared at her for a long moment, before eventually turning to look at his plate. His non-answer was answer enough. He’d been starved as well.
Grace felt sick. What the hell had these guys been through?
She felt grimy fingers touch her hand, and she looked at Fallon. The little girl gave her a toothy smile, and something inside her clicked. Angela was feeding Fallon something bright orange from a plate, and she had it all over her face. This was exactly the distraction she needed.
“Are you getting any of it in her mouth?” Grace asked, laughing. She would think about what he said later.
Angela grinned. “Hey, it’s hitting a moving target, I’ll have you know. She loves the guys, and she swings around to watch them or say hi to them all.”
Even as they watched, she reached her little hands out to a lean, spare man in black fatigues with a sidearm on. He had cold eyes and such a remote expression, it was chilling to see. For a minute, Grace didn’t think the man would respond, then the slightest of smiles tipped the corners of his mouth and he took her baby hands in his. Despite the mess, he gave her a kiss on her head, and he managed to avoid the orange.
“Grace, this is Shade,” Owen told her, nodding to the man. “He’s the Head of Security. If you can’t reach me, Shade will do in a pinch.”
“Noted,” she said, nodding to the man. She didn’t really want to offer her hand like Fallon had. She didn’t think she would get the same response.
As men passed by the table to get in line, Owen introduced her to them. She doubted she would remember a quarter of their names, but she would try. Her heart ached as she met more damaged, scarred men, some as bad or worse than Crash. Several had mobility issues. Grace knew she would remember some of them because of the way they looked, and that shamed her. She forced a friendly smile for every one of them and did her best to look beyond the exterior.
She gave up on eating, which was fine because she was so full. It seemed like their table was the one to be at, and the men lingered as they finished and went up for seconds, or even thirds. She noticed that so many of them stopped to interact with Fallon, though. The baby would talk gibberish to them, and she always reached out to touch them. Every single one. It was kind of a curious reaction for a baby, Grace thought, because she had no stranger fear. Aiden’s family had only been here this week, right?
“Does she go to everyone?”
The three of them, Aiden, Angela and Owen, shared a look. “Oh, she lets us know if she doesn’t like someone,” Angela said with a snort. But she stopped there, and Grace wondered if there wasn’t more to be said. That seemed like the lead-in to a story, but Angela reached abruptly for her glass to take a drink.
There was some kind of subtext going on that she didn’t understand, and it was getting a little irritating. Some of the men had said a few things that were curious, but Owen had changed the subject rather quickly. She felt like she was deliberately being kept in the dark. She understood privacy and all that, but this seemed different.