2. Two
Two
Henry
W hat the fuck just happened?
After Juliet stormed out of my office, I stared blankly at the computer screen for a good half hour. My grandfather would have my head if she went running to inform him how I treated her. And I wouldn’t blame her one bit if she told him about that little shitshow.
I didn’t even want to think about what Mrs. Gregson would do if she found out.
The housekeeper might be softer at heart than Nan ever was, but given her excitement about Juliet’s arrival, I was sure an insult to the heiress would earn me a stern lecture, at the very least.
At worst? It’d be like a tidal wave of Disappointed in You lectures from every grandparent figure in my life.
“You’re an idiot,” I whispered to myself.
With a sigh, I sat back in the chair and rubbed my hands over my face. Not only was I not sure how to fix the situation, I wasn’t even sure I could. Juliet didn’t seem like the forgiving type with that short fuse, and setting a match to the embers had been altogether too thrilling to keep me from doing it again.
When she was standing there in front of me, I’d watched her bristle under my intentionally cold perusal—and I’d been perversely pleased by it. The woman was indeed a dead ringer for a much younger Nan Montgomery, though Nan had been so slender as to almost seem fragile for as long as I could remember.
Juliet was nothing of the sort. Fragile wouldn’t make it into a list of the top hundred adjectives I’d use to describe her.
I doubted she was any taller than Nan, whose presence always seemed far bigger than her few inches over five feet, but Juliet was all soft curves and rounded limbs. At first, she’d seemed almost timid, at least before the flames started leaping off her.
The kind of flames that indicated something I didn’t want to notice about this woman. Not yet, not ever.
Passion.
It shouldn’t have annoyed me, the echo of Nan so clear in her riot of blazing curls and those fierce blue eyes behind a sprinkling of freckles, but it did. It drummed up more emotion than I’d had in my system in a long time—emotion, and something more.
The flare of attraction that sparked through my body irritated me even further. Instead of warning me away, the fury radiating from her had only made me wonder what it’d be like to kiss her.
I got the impression it wouldn’t be as soft and sweet as she looked. Underneath, this woman had a backbone of steel.
Another thing she and Nan had in common.
Regardless, that lapse in concentration had nearly knocked the wind from my sails, so I’d plopped my ass back down in the chair and smirked at her to cover my momentary flash of curiosity. The smirk had only pissed her off further, stoking those flames of aggravation higher.
For me? The attraction hadn’t faded, nor had the curiosity. I still wanted to know, but there would be no kissing.
She might be beautiful, but I sincerely doubted she’d be sticking around.
Even if she wasn’t Nan’s granddaughter, my own stupidity had effectively obliterated any chance I might have had to win her over. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d marched straight out of here to demand they hire a new manager immediately. I’d be lucky to still have a job once word got around about how I’d spoken to her. Even if none of the old guard came right out and said it, the guilt-tripping alone might weigh on my soul heavily enough to send me packing.
Why couldn’t I have just kept my mouth shut?
Juliet Morrison had spirit, that was for damn sure, and once I was ready to be honest with myself, I would have to admit that the quick comebacks and those blazing blue eyes had been a refreshing reminder of Nan.
Sally popped her head through the doorway, her eyebrows drawn down in a glare. “I just saw our new employer storm out of here like she was ready to punch someone, Henry. What did you do?”
“Do? Why does her bad mood mean I did something?”
“Because everyone else here is happy to welcome Nan’s flesh and blood back into the fold. Whatever your issue is with Juliet, you better sort it out fast.”
“Why?” I demanded, recognizing full well that I sounded like a petulant brat.
“Because Nan wanted this for her, Henry. You know she did.”
I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “I know. Would you believe me if I said I didn’t mean to rile her up like that?”
“Probably not,” Sally replied.
“It’s true. She’s got Nan’s temper.”
“And you’re just sweet as pie, huh?”
“Usually,” I muttered.
It was half true—I was normally pretty even-keeled, but Juliet Morrison ignited something that had lain dormant inside me for a long time.
Interest.
“Usually doesn’t matter when you’re picking fights with the boss, Henry. What did you say to her?”
Regret thrummed through me. I couldn’t tell Sally the things I’d said to Juliet—the chef already thought I was the asshole here, and I didn’t disagree. I stared back at her, wishing I could rewind the day and start again.
“You should be happy she’s here,” Sally said, still glaring. “This place could use some young blood, especially while you’re trying to bring us into the new millennium.”
“Yeah, as long as she doesn’t run it all into the ground.”
She gave me an exasperated look. “Give her a chance, Henry. She’s family. You need to fix this before anyone else finds out you picked a fight. If she decides to hightail it back to Minnesota, we could all be out of a job. She’s coming back for breakfast tomorrow. That’s your chance to make a better impression for a change.”
“When have I ever not made a good impression?” I replied, lifting a brow.
“Every time you’ve ever opened your mouth?”
I rolled my eyes but kept my mouth shut, because she might have been right. Today had definitely not been a good impression, not when I couldn’t contain myself in front of our new boss.
Sally studied me for a minute, then shook her head. “Get yourself under control, Walker. She’s here to stay and you’re going to make things difficult for everyone if you can’t accept that. You’re lucky I’m the only one who saw her storm out of here.”
“I know,” I repeated. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll apologize, smooth things over.”
“You better.” With that dire parting shot, she left me alone in the silent office.
Sally was right.
I should apologize. Juliet hadn’t even been in Spruce Hill for a full day, and I’d acted like a spoiled child. None of this was her fault, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to deal with her arrival, with the constant reminder of Nan’s death. Even my own grandmother’s passing hadn’t hit me so hard, but I was only in elementary school at the time.
Though I knew Juliet was somewhere around thirty based on all the gossip in town regarding her mother’s abrupt departure, she looked like a college kid. Fresh-faced and pretty, but sharp.
Damn, was she sharp.
Nan’s temper had been legendary, but she’d rarely let it fly in front of the inn’s staff. I couldn’t remember ever bearing witness to it, but now that I'd met the granddaughter, I could certainly picture it.
Juliet.
I forced myself to think of her by name, though I wasn’t entirely sure it suited her. It sounded too dainty, too delicate for someone whose deep blue eyes could spit fire the way hers had, but at the same time, it evoked a certain essence of drama that suited her quite well.
Maybe it was a better fit than I'd first imagined.
Even as I resigned myself to having to apologize to her, I decided I would wait for the right opportunity rather than seeking her out. If she wasn’t willing to fight for her rightful place at the inn, then she damn well didn’t deserve it.
Nanette Montgomery had been as close to me as my own grandparents, and her legacy deserved someone who wasn’t scared off by a single encounter.
I was a patient man. I could wait.
When the time was right, I would apologize for being an asshole.
Hopefully, by then the woman— Juliet, I reminded myself firmly—would have decided exactly what she was looking for in Spruce Hill so that I didn’t have to waste my energy on someone who didn’t give a shit.