14. Gianna
Henry leavesearly in the morning like he said he would, but not before kissing me goodbye. Even half asleep, I’m keenly aware of how familiar and intimate the move is.
I sleep for a few more hours, then roll out of bed and take a moment to stretch out my sore muscles. There’s an ache between my legs that’s more pleasure than pain. When I finally make it to the bathroom to shower, I catch my reflection in the mirror.
My cheeks are starting to hurt. I don’t think I’ve stopped smiling since I ran into Henry yesterday. I swear I smiled in my sleep.
Going about my usual routine, I shower, get dressed, and dry my hair straight. I scarf down a random granola bar that was living at the bottom of my carry-on, so I won’t get hangry during this meeting. I check the time on my phone to make sure I have some time to put on a little bit of makeup before Cam and I need to head out, then return to the bathroom to swipe on some mauve lipstick and a little mascara. I’m capping the lipstick when I hear two hard knocks at my door. I toss it on the counter and rush over to let Cam in.
“Hey, just gotta grab my shoes and I’ll be good to go.” I let him in, noting his dark gray suit. It looks like Henry wasn’t the only one who spent part of last night ironing.
“Will you be wearing those death traps again?”
He leans against the door, looking broody and tired.
Snagging the heels in question, I slip them on and turn with flourish. “But of course. Business professional is my middle name.”
“Speaking of professional, have you had coffee yet today?” he asks casually enough, but the way he’s narrowing his eyes has me thinking this isn’t about coffee.
“I haven’t. I thought I padded our time enough to maybe grab some from that coffee shop.”
He nods his head and hums thoughtfully. “I took a walk to grab some early this morning. Couldn’t sleep. Thought I saw someone leave your room.”
He says it so casually that it takes a moment for his comment to sink in. When it registers, my eyes widen.
I mean, it doesn’t really matter. What I do in my personal time isn’t any of his business.
Cam and I are close enough, friendly enough, that this conversation shouldn’t be awkward. Except it’s Cam, and he makes everything awkward. He thinks we shouldn’t know that much about each other since we work together. We’re colleagues,not friends. He was two beers deep during a dinner when he accidentally divulged that his parents were divorced. He wasn’t thrilled that particular piece of information slipped out of him.
Which…fair. I believe in boundaries too, but I also think that the nature of what we do and the way we work kind of implies that we’ll be closer than the average coworkers. That and he’ll do stuff like this occasionally, try to connect or talk about something non work related. I’m convinced he secretly does want to be friends, but some weird personal rule has him acting like he doesn’t.
“Weird.” I decide that ignoring it is probably the best course of action here. I don’t actually believe he wants to know anything. More than likely, he’s just messing with me. We tend to do that with each other occasionally.
We engage in an uncomfortable staring contest across the room for a long moment. He looks away first.
“We should probably head out. I don’t think there’s time for coffee.” He glances at his watch and turns to open the door.
I swallow a groan, wishing I had planned a little better. It’s not even early in the day. I should have gone out to grab a real lunch too. I throw on my jacket and grab my bag with my laptop. I check my phone again and see that we’ll barely have enough time to get to our destination with Cam’s preferred ten-minute buffer. I silently resent Cam for not picking me up a Danish or something, but I’m sure when he said he was up early, he meant before dawn.
The drive is quiet. A light dusting of white snow clings to the trees lining the road that winds up to The Wright Lodge.
It is a stunning property, and I can’t wait to see the rest. I know there are small cottages that can be rented out, and I also know that the family home is tucked back onto the property somewhere. Not that it’s likely I’ll be seeing it.
The lodge itself is a large white farmhouse with a quintessential wraparound porch. A large red barn that I’ve been told holds one of their reception areas is set back behind the house. It looks slightly desolate, but that might just be because it’s so quiet on the property.
“Probably not a good thing that there are no cars.” I vocalize my thoughts, knowing Cam’s likely thinking the same.
“Not good at all. But that’s why we’re here.” He throws his car into park and moves to exit, but before he can wrench his door open, I place a hand on his arm.
“Hey, we always bring things back. Don’t sound so stressed.” I offer him the same platitudes I usually do, and he just pins me with a glare.
“Gia, respectfully, no matter how many times you tell me not to, I’ll always stress. It’s who I am.” He tries to sound gruff, but I can hear the humor layered in his words.
Laughing, I shake my head, and we both get out of the car. Walking up the steps of the lodge again, I sincerely hope that yesterday was a fluke, and this project doesn’t start on the wrong foot. Without missing a beat, Cam walks right in, and I follow after him.
This time, Gina greets us with a bright smile. She’s got on a different apron today: this one is covered in bunnies wearing sunhats. It makes me wonder how long it’ll be before spring breaks through the mountains up here.
“Hey there. You guys settle in okay yesterday? Where did you grab dinner? I’m sure wherever you ate, it was great. I’m so sorry again about yesterday.” Gina bombards us with a flurry of questions before she’s even stepped out from behind the desk.
Her bright smile is still clouded by just a little bit of what I can only assume is anxiety.
Seeing it makes me want to give her a big hug and tell her that we’re not leaving Ever Lake until we sort things out for them and their business.
I don’t know if it’s the strong mom energy or because I’m a helper by nature, but something about this project feels different, and I’m desperate to make things work for Gina and her husband.
“We’re all set in our rooms at the bed and breakfast. And dinner last night was just fine. We’re ready to get cracking if you are.” Cam strides right over and sticks his hand out for a handshake. Gina laughs, eyes crinkling, and pulls him in for the hug that I was just thinking about.
“You can shake my husband”s hand, but I’m a hugger.” Pulling away, she gives him a very stern, motherly look before coming my way. “It’s great to see you again, Gianna.”
“You too. I’m happy you called Cam.” I lean into her hug and breathe in the subtle scent of flour and cinnamon that clings to her. “And don’t worry about yesterday”s mix up. It happens.”
“We thought long and hard about whether calling you in was the right move. This is our Hail Mary. Hopefully, it works out.”
“We’re going to do everything we can to bring your business back to its prime, Gina.” Cam makes a promise without really promising her anything.
Despite our track record, he never makes any hard and fast claims of success. He’s never told me in so many words, but I have a feeling that something went sideways with a client before I started working with him and he’s not willing to risk over-promising and failing.
But since we teamed up, we’ve had a one hundred percent success rate. Truth be told, that”s completely due to Cam”s dedication. He makes sure we stick around and attempt any possible avenue to get where we need to be.
And we do.
“All right, come on back. Marc’s waiting for us in the small dining room.”
We follow behind her, and I worry about who’s going to cover the check-in desk before I remember that quiet means no people. She must not be worried about anyone trying to check in while we’re meeting, so I don’t say anything.
All I can see as we walk into the small dining room is the pile of baked goods right at the center of the table. My stomach practically screams at me to grab one, but I silently remind it that we had a granola bar. I can survive a meeting without a snack. Maybe I’ll grab something on our way out.
Marc Wright, Gina’s husband, sits at the head of the table eating something that looks suspiciously like a chocolate croissant.
He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with fair skin and light brown hair that’s starting to fade to gray at the temples. His bright green eyes always seem to be smiling, even when his lips are turned down into a small frown.
After we reintroduce ourselves, we all take seats, and I pull my laptop out of my leather satchel bag. I let Cam take point in the conversation, knowing that I’ll get pulled in when necessary. Even so, I tune in so I can take notes.
I try not to focus too much on my computer while I let my fingers fly over the keys, but at some point, I kind of zone out. My brain still processes what it needs to, so I continue nodding along and taking my notes.
My ears perk up when Gina brings up her kids. I knew that this business was family run, but when we were here the last time, we didn’t meet any of their adult children who help out.
“So I know we spoke about the first few weeks being us really figuring out what the plan is and how much needs to be changed.” Marc nods his head as he speaks, almost as if he’s reassuring himself that we’re not going to be coming in and changing things right away.
“That’s right. And we only do what you’re on board with. I like to build trust between us, make sure that everyone feels that this is more of a short-term partnership than anything else. We’re not coming in to take over,” Cam explains easily. “There’s no set timeline, of course. We’ll be here with you until you say otherwise. But yes.”
“We haven’t exactly told the kids all of what’s going on,” Gina admits, shooting a furtive look to her husband, who frowns.
I stay quiet and watch as Cam processes this new information. He hums in acknowledgment and leans forward to rest his arms on the table. “What does that mean?”
“While we figure things out with you, before we ultimately implement anything, we’d like to keep your presence and the reason for it from them, if possible.” Gina looks right into Cam’s eyes as she speaks.
“Would you like to draw up an NDA?” Cam steeples his hands together in front of him, glancing first at Gina, then Marc.
The question seems to shock them, and they both shake their heads emphatically.
“Not necessary,” Marc says.
“I trust you two with our business, so I can trust you with this,” Gina confirms.
“All right. We won’t speak about our work here. Not that it’s any of my business at all what you tell your family, but I do think it’s important to state that the sooner you all get on the same page, the better. What are their names, just so we know? Small towns are small, after all. If we’re living here, we may run into them.”
I’m all about our clients” privacy, always. We never talk about what we’re doing unless the people we’re working for want to be open and up front with their community.
Especially in small towns like Ever Lake.
It’s just a little odd that they’re keeping this from their kids. Even taking into account that they’ve discussed possibly selling and the likelihood of losing the business altogether, I would think they’d want their family informed.
After the first few weeks, it’s inevitable that people will find out, regardless. But if they want to keep things quiet until then, that’s their prerogative.
“Ian will be at school unless he makes an impromptu visit.” Marc folds his hands together as he eyes the mountain of pastries no one else has touched yet.
I’ve had my eye on a berry popover that looks to die for, but I’m forcing myself to hold out until the end of the meeting. It wouldn’t be professional to conduct business with jam on my face. I wonder if it’s homemade.
“Grant is…” Gina starts but doesn’t finish, almost like she doesn’t know what to say there. A touch of sadness gleams in her eyes, and when I shift my eyes to Marc, there’s a mirror image of it in his.
“He’s in New York. He won’t be in town.” Marc finished his wife’s sentence for her.
“Then there’s just Mack and Hammer.” Gina smiles, her mood shifting. “Mackenzie works the front desk, and she’s heavily involved with the wedding planning side of things, but since things are a little quieter right now, we shouldn’t have an issue.”
“Okay, no problem at all. And if you’re flexible, we can always meet at the bed and breakfast. I have a nice seating area in my room.” Cam offers the alternative but refrains from offering up my room.
He knows better than anyone that I can’t keep my room clean enough for those kinds of meetings. And his is always pristine.
Wait a second…
“We will make it work,” Marc agrees.
Gina plucks one of the muffins off of the plate in the middle of the table, breaks off a piece, and pops it into her mouth. I consider just giving in and grabbing my popover, but my brain is still locked onto the fact that Gina just said something about Hammer being her son.
Hammer, as in what Henry was called when we were out to dinner. What are the chances that there”s another Hammer in this town?
Probably slim to none. Still, I have to ask.
“Hammer’s an interesting name. What does he do?” I figure this might be an easy way to confirm the sinking suspicion I”m having. If he”s a lawyer, I can calm down.
“It’s a nickname.” Marc confirms my suspicions.
Tendrils of nerves spread through my limbs at the confirmation, and I do end up reaching out and snag that popover. Taking a small bite, I force myself not to moan out loud, which is a lot harder than you would think when the perfectly flaky pastry melts on your tongue. I almost ask who baked these, but Marc decides to give us some more information about their son before I get the chance.
“He does handy work around town. He goes by Hammer, but the name we gave him is Henry,” Marc adds.
My heart stutters in my chest. I blink over and over again as my brain seemingly short circuits. A piece of the popover gets lodged in my throat.
Choking, I cover my mouth and bend over at the waist. Tears burn my eyes, and I vaguely feel Cam smacking me on the back. After what feels like forever, I can finally breathe again. I drop the rest of the suddenly unappetizing popover on the table, and Gina comes around with a glass of water.
“Okay, hun?” Gina places a hand on my shoulder and looks at me with concern. “Was it dry? I didn’t love the way the popovers came out this morning.”
“No, no.” I swipe a hand under my eyes, trying to dry my face, and take a gulp of the water. “It was really tasty, I promise.”
“Are you okay?” Cam asks me, his tone concerned but stern.
“Fine, I’m fine. I’m sorry.” I give them all a weak smile and try to work out what I just found out.
And what it means.
Hammer is Henry. Henry is Hammer.
And that means…I had sex with our clients’ son.
Twice.