Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
CATE
The plans are made and in motion. Everything is in order. Hope will water my plants and do a general, off-hours check inside the building twice a week. Bookkeeping and payroll I can continue to do from the road because Grüsh said there’ll be plenty of opportunity for me to have internet connection.
I’ve promoted Jane to assistant manager and she’s ready to take on the weekly inventorying and ordering duties for the bar.
She’ll also handle last-minute scheduling changes in real time, though I’ve talked with all the staff about vacations and other requested days off, and there’s a preliminary schedule in place for the next two months.
But things happen unexpectedly and sometimes quickly. I’m living proof of that.
A few weeks ago, I was firmly ensconced in my routine, control-freak life as a bar owner and operator in Harmony Glen. Haunted and bitter about the past. Single with no intention of giving anyone access to my heart again.
Now I’ve handed off care of my business to an employee and handed my heart back to Grüsh. Two suitcases stand beside me on the sidewalk, and when the car service gets here, I’ll be on my way to spend the summer traveling the country with the only person I’ve ever wanted to go through life with.
I’ll miss Hope and the baby. But Grüsh promised we’d make time to be here with our family, this summer and beyond. Even without his reassuring words, I know everything will be okay. As it’s meant to be, finally.
Even though I’m getting better at “being soft,” I insisted on being alone when the car picks me up. No crying in front of anyone until they’re happy tears because we’re all together again.
A sleek black Mercedes sedan with heavily tinted windows pulls into the service laneway at the rear of the bar. No logos anywhere. No taxi sign on the roof. Definitely not an Uber.
When Grüsh said “car service,” he meant limousine.
Which shouldn’t surprise me, given his level of success and fame.
And wealth, though I never look at him and think about any of that.
I just see the handsome troll I’ve always known and loved.
The man I’ve wanted to spend my life with since we met on a rock in the hills outside of town.
If that meant living modestly in a secluded cave together, I’d be just as happy as integrating with Grüsh’s life of luxury.
A well-groomed human man in a nicely tailored suit exits the driver’s door and comes around the front of the car. “Ms. Beaufort, I’m Tomas, and I’ll be driving you today,” he says, handing me a business card. His full name and employee number are printed on the front in glossy, embossed ink.
A handwritten note covers the back.
See you soon. Then forever.
Grüsh’s distinctive handwriting brings a smile to my lips. The blue ink is definitely from a pen, not a printer. He must’ve sent the card by courier.
“Just the two suitcases, Ms. Beaufort, or are there more inside?”
“Just these.” I tuck the card into my pocket as the driver opens the rear door for me. “Thank you.”
Reclining against the plush leather, I watch the goings-on of Lakeview Avenue through the window as we drive south. People going in and out of City Hall, others enjoying a summer morning in the picturesque town square with its charming center fountain.
We should continue on Lakeview Avenue all the way around the bottom of the lake, then follow it northbound out of town, but at Verdant Street, we make a right turn. When the driver doesn’t turn left at the next corner to course correct, I lean forward, my hand on the backrest of the front seat.
“You’ll need to turn left at Harmony Road,” I say. “From there, I can direct you back to Lakeview Ave North.”
“Those aren’t my route directions, Ms. Beaufort.”
A knot forms in my stomach as we pass the Harmony Road cross street, then sail past Ogram’s farm and Harmony Market a few minutes later.
“Ithaca is east of Harmony Glen, and we’re going west.”
“We’re not going to Ithaca,” the driver says, smiling at me in the rearview mirror.
I pull out my phone and go to the electronic ticket.
Departing from Rochester. In all my hustle and bustle to get things for the bar organized, I didn’t even look at the details on the itinerary, just the times.
Rochester is twice the distance. It’d make sense if the flight was a nonstop, but it’s not.
There’s a layover, just like there would’ve been if I’d flown out of Ithaca.
Asking Grüsh about it now is pointless. I’m on my way, and that’s all that matters. But the oddness of it won’t stop niggling at me. And when the driver turns onto a side road, that niggling becomes an alarm bell.
I think the limo driver is kidnapping me.
I fire off the text to Grüsh, immediately following it up with another one.
I’m not joking. He left the main road for no reason. We’re on a side road out past Ogram’s farm. This isn’t the way to the airport.
It’s three hours earlier on the west coast. Grüsh might not be awake yet. He might not get these texts until it’s too late.
The car is slowing down and pulling into what looks like a barely tamped-down path in the tall grass.
He parked but the engine is still running and he’s not getting out of the front seat.
Oh my god, he just put up the divider thingy.
He’s probably getting the chloroform ready.
Sending you a pin of my location so you know where to send the search party.
This is the worst ending to a second-chance love story ever.
I’m mid- I love you text when the rear door begins to open. I shriek as sunlight bends around my assailant’s silhouette, then launch my phone at him as I scramble toward the other door.
“Fuck,” accompanies a husky grunt, followed by, “Cate,” just as my fingers curl around the opposite door handle. “It’s me.”
All the air goes out of me when I look over my shoulder and see Grüsh leaning into the backseat. I lunge for him, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face against him as he guides me out of the car.
The door closes behind me, the sound of tires crunching against rough ground lasting only a few seconds. Then all vehicle noise is gone.
“What the hell is happening?” I say, looking up at Grüsh’s face.
His smiling face. “Hopefully the best ending ever to a second-chance love story.”
I gasp, my bottom lip dropping so far, I could probably give a snake’s unfused jaw a run for the money. “You were reading my frantic texts and didn’t reply?”
“In my defense, you sent them pretty rapid-fire. And you know I’m a slow texter because my fingers are a lot bigger and I struggle with the tiny alphabet on a phone.”
“You could’ve called!” I press my palms against his massive chest and push, but he doesn’t release me.
“No buttons required. ‘Hey Siri, call Cate.’ But no. Instead, I was left thinking I’d end up on the front page of the Harmony Glen Gazette.
‘Local bar owner murdered on the way to finally, finally, begin a life with her true mate. Grieving rock star pens memorial ballad that goes multi-Platinum. Panty sales spike nationwide as fans stockpile in preparation for his upcoming tour.’”
His deep laughter rings out in the peaceful air. “That’s what was going through your head?”
“No,” I say, scowling up at him. “I was thinking how much I love you, how much I’ve always loved you, and wishing I’d told you more, wishing I’d said I love you every single time I had the chance, and that I’d never get to tell you again.”
All traces of amusement leave his expression.
He cradles my head in one of his big palms and guides my cheek to his chest. “I’m sorry.
I booked your flight out of Rochester so that your route took you in the direction I needed you to come.
I thought you’d have settled in for the drive to the airport, reading that new book that arrived before I left, and you wouldn’t notice Tomas’s detour off the main road.
I wanted to surprise you, but I should’ve called after your second text. ”
“You know I don’t like surprises.” A half hiccup, half sob rocks my chest. “The surprises in my life haven’t been good.”
“One of them was.” His fingers slide beneath my chin and he gently tips my face up. “The surprise of meeting a troll on a hill outside of town.”
“That was the best surprise,” I say, letting myself sink into him.
“I hope this will be the second best, even though it didn’t begin well.
” He dips down, sealing his lips to mine in a soul-deep kiss that absolves him of any lingering testiness my self-protection instinct was clinging to.
When it ends, he takes a half step back and looks down at our feet.
His are bare, same as the day we met, on a hill not far from here.
“Are your shoes comfortable for walking?”
“Comfortable enough to wear all day and run to catch a flight if I had to, which we’ll both have to do if the surprise is you flying to Los Angeles with me. The clock’s ticking on this detour.”
“We’re not going to LA.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s not our life. It’s not my life, either. Just a place I slept, ate, and worked, pouring myself into music that made me successful while always feeling like a half-written song that I couldn’t complete.”
“You know I felt the same way, though I described it less eloquently.”
“Your words were perfect,” he says, taking my hand and interlacing our fingers.
“So, if we’re not going to LA, what are we doing—aside from standing at the base of hill several miles outside of Harmony Glen? Is that why you asked if my shoes are comfortable? Because we’re walking back to town?”
“No. The car will come back for us when I call. We’re walking up the hill.” His smile pushes his tusks higher on his cheeks. “To a place with a familiar view.”
“Our rock?” Still holding his hand, I spin left and right, getting my bearings. “I always hiked to it from in town, never from this direction, and it’s been a while.”
“It’s not far. If it gets too much, I’ll carry you.”