Chapter 17 Everly
EVERLY
Until today, I never gave much thought to the sight of a man of powerful stature, undeniably good looks, and large hands eating an ice cream cone.
The corners of Grey’s lips lift ever so slightly, like he’s enjoying himself, rather than his usual stony expression, as if his meal did something to offend him. He tilts his head to lick a drip.
Even though I stand in the shade, I warm all over.
“Your ice cream is melting,” Grey says, gesturing with a napkin in his hand.
“Oh, right. Forgot.” My laugh is of the high-pitched variety that suggests I was distracted.
His brows pinch slightly because, after all, this was my idea, so forgetting about the frozen treat in my hand seems unlikely.
But then what would’ve captured my attention?
“Oh, look, a bird!” I point over his shoulder.
Grey turns his head slowly, as if expecting a prank or for me to say, Made you look.
“Didn’t want it to swoop in and steal your ice cream.”
“Are mourning doves known to do that?”
“Absolutely. They’re thieves, scoundrels. Make sure you still have your wallet.”
Something rumbles from Grey’s chest and I half expect him to laugh.
Instead, he looks at me carefully. My cheeks tint pink in response.
But not because I just tried to cover myself by making up something stupid.
Rather, his eyes on me make me very aware of his proximity.
Of what he might see and whether he likes it.
I go to work eating my ice cream cone, but can’t help but be distracted by Grey—his small movements, the way he watches the passersby, the cloud of sadness that seems to follow him wherever he goes.
While I make quick work of eating my ice cream, he savors his, licking it like he hasn’t had something delicious in a long time. Like he’s not sure when he’ll have ice cream again.
“So, you have to adhere to a pretty strict diet for football, huh?”
“Yes, but my parents had a garden, we raised our own animals, and I’ve always eaten clean.” He takes another taste of his ice cream.
I choke on the little end of my cone filled with the last bits of creamy ice cream because the way he delights in his is almost personal, intimate, like I shouldn’t be watching.
“What?” he asks, peeking at me.
Clearing my throat, I say, “Enjoying that?”
“Immensely. Thanks,” he says as an afterthought.
“I should thank you because you insisted on paying.”
“As I mentioned, I’m a gentleman.”
But there is nothing gentle about this beast of a man, except, as it turns out, the way he eats an ice cream cone.
“I figured this would be a good time to explore your people skills before we turn you loose into the wild tomorrow.”
“But you’re coming, right?”
My inhale catches in my throat. “Yes. I’ll be with you for the remainder of the thirty days.”
Up until this exact moment, I didn’t think about what returning to the United States might mean in terms of my security.
Todd has texted and called numerous times.
Sometimes he tries to make nice, plying me in a friendly tone.
Other times, he’s all bite and venom, spewing threats if I don’t make good on our marriage arrangement.
I don’t want to get tangled in his sticky web and yet, it’s not enough to tell myself that he’s all noise and to forget about him. I’m hoping to get some of my money back, but that means keeping the door to our history open.
“Everly?” Grey asks from what sounds like another room, even though he takes up all the space beside me.
I give my head a little shake. “Yeah?”
Grey must’ve asked a question and I didn’t hear. He squints slightly, like the sun just caught in his eyes or he’s concerned about my well-being.
“Yes, I always wanted a pony,” I test an answer.
Those eyebrows of his pinch tighter. “My mother has a couple of horses.”
Apparently, my stab at what he was talking about was off the mark. “I love popcorn, kettle corn especially.”
“They had a popcorn-flavored ice cream inside.” He tilts his head toward the door to the ice cream parlor.
“Yes, I even eat the licorice-flavor jellybeans.” Another guess in response to what he may have said.
I get a full forehead furrow in response like my head is full of jellybeans. I guess that’s not the right answer either, but I don’t want to admit that I wasn’t paying attention or have him ask what I was thinking about.
“I’m fine. Everything is good.”
Two children race each other toward the ice cream parlor, then pause when they see me and look back toward their mother. She gives a friendly wave.
“Hard to believe we’ve been back a week. I’ve been meaning to call you,” Patty says.
“Yes, I love kids,” I say more to Grey than to the woman I met at the baggage claim as the question he asked filters back to me. At least, I think that’s what he was talking about.
“Glad to hear it. This week has been hectic as we settle back in after the trip. Zoe just started swim lessons and Sam’s pet frog keeps escaping.”
I smile fondly at the delightful chaos of family life—not that I ever experienced that. “Did you get your suitcases back?”
“Believe it or not, they were waiting for us when we got home. A small miracle if you ask me. How about your stuff?”
I glance at Grey because he returned my suitcase to me. “Sure did, but I’ve hardly unpacked and am leaving again. Usually, my job keeps me here, but I’ll be heading back to the US. This is Grey, by the way.”
“That rhymed,” Zoe says, swinging her mother’s arm with her hand.
Sam adds, “Your name can’t be Grey. That’s a color.”
“It’s a nickname. My whole name is Greyson. It’s nice to meet you all.” The man almost smiles and I’d say that’s also a small miracle.
“Who gave you that nickname? Did they know it’s a color?” Sam asks.
Patty wears a kids say the darndest things look of apology.
“My brother called me that.” Rubble lies beneath Grey’s attempt at a cheerful tone.
“I don’t have a brother. Just a sister.” Sam’s lips pinch together.
Patty’s expression changes, warms. She winks at me. I glance at her belly and she beams. I mouth, Congratulations. There must be something in the water here in Concordia, with Patty and Shonda both pregnant.
“Our dad is meeting us for ice cream,” Zoe says.
I’m guessing they’re about to announce the exciting news to the kids.
“What’s your favorite kind?” I ask.
They both start talking at once, and I consider suggesting to Cate that we run a manners program for kids.
Before I find out what their order is going to be, their dad appears, kisses his wife on the cheek, and scoops up each child for a hug.
Even though I’m wearing Heidi’s high school gym shorts with the school mascot on the leg and a red shirt with white polka dots that Heidi once had a matching skirt for, a mature tug pulls me toward maternity, motherhood, and marriage.
More than anything, I want a family of my own.
Not sure how that’ll work, considering I’m married but don’t plan on dating.
We make brief small talk before they go inside.
“So, you like kids?” Grey asks.
“Love ‘em.”
“You?”
He grunts as he tosses out his napkins. I don’t peg Grey for being a family man. But there’s a lot I don’t know about him, including his life before we got married. Who knows, he could have an ex-wife and little brooding, grunting duplicates of himself terrorizing the neighborhood.
My phone beeps with a text message. I check, dread dropping inside as I fear it’s yet another message from Todd.
Instead, it’s from the pharmacy, telling me my prescription for a post-surgery medication that I have to take for another month has been filled.
It’s only down the street, so when we walk by, I’ll check the hours.
I’d rather pick it up later when Grey isn’t with me.
I don’t want to open up the conversation about his insurance, other than to thank him profusely.
“It would be a shame for you to come to Concordia and not get to see the sights. Would you like to take a stroll through the village?”
“Sure,” Grey replies, which is more of an answer than I expected.
I point out a few good restaurants, some historic buildings, and the library—my favorite. It’s in the Beaux-Arts style with a dome, dramatic arches, and stained glass rosettes.
When we pass the pharmacy, I surreptitiously glance at the hours and see they’re open late, a contrast to the rest of the places of business, which close on the earlier side.
The scent of bread and baked goods wafts from a bakery. Yes, even though I just had my fill of ice cream, complete with a waffle cone, I’m still craving something.
Someone?
But this reminds me that I “borrowed” some ingredients for cookie dough and ought to replace them before we leave tomorrow.
When we reach the market, I pause. “Would you mind if I run in and grab a few items?”
Grey gestures toward the door. “By all means.”
He trails me while I locate the sugar, vanilla, and chocolate chips.
“Okay, all set.”
He eyes the items in my arms. “When was the last time you ate something grown in a garden? Something green?”
“Do mint-filled chocolate cookie sandwiches count?”
Grey looks like he’s concerned for my health.
“I’m kidding. I had a salad last night with dinner, remember?”
A little twinge inside suggests I’m disappointed he didn’t notice that I’d been a good girl and ate my greens because I sure noted the way he tore into his tenderloin...and how he handled the ice cream earlier.
While we wait at the checkout, I explain the cookie dough replacement ingredients.
“You know you’re supposed to cook the dough, right?”
“No, I didn’t get that memo.”
“Well, that explains why you like your steak rare, barely cooked.”
I frown. “You’re one to talk. Yours was practically bloody.
” But my lips reverse course because he did notice what I ate.
I’m not sure why that should matter. But I guess being invisible most of my life, and now trying to get off the radar insofar as Todd is concerned, makes me want to be selectively seen—but why by Grey?
His lips quirk and I realize that once more, I lost the thread of our conversation and didn’t hear something he said.
I glance at the last-minute items available at the checkout. “I prefer mints over gum.”
He gives his head a little shake as if to say If this were a game of hot or cold, I’m freezing.
“The Great Gatsby is a literary masterpiece.”
“Never read it.”
“You’re missing out.” Trying again, “Rainy summer days are a delight.”
“Not even close.”
I refuse to break and admit I didn’t hear his question or comment, but it’s my turn to pay. I demonstrate impeccable people skills with the cashier, making me feel like a slightly better coach than I was a minute ago.
When we exit the store, Grey starts to say something, but the call of my name drowns it out. With Todd’s threats fresh in my mind and because the voice is low and hoarse, my chest constricts, but thankfully, it belongs to a female.
A woman with a shock of white hair opens her arms wide. “Everly!”
“Goodie!”
We exchange a hug like we’ve been best friends for decades and haven’t seen each other in nearly that long.
“My sister and I haven’t stopped talking since I arrived. I’ve practically lost my voice.” She presses her hand to her throat.
“I take it the surprise visit worked out nicely?”
She nods. “Marvelous. A real treat. But who do we have here? He looks like the Viking.”
My cheeks heat. She must’ve seen me drawing in the Cookie Dough Diary when we were on the plane.
In my head, I spin a story about my grand imagination. Out loud, I say, “You have a good eye. Found him on the seashore and figured I’d help him clean up—learn to be civilized.”
“Nice job.” She waggles her eyebrows and invites us both over for cookies next week. “I figured we get the gang back together. Turns out Manimal is my sister’s mailman.”
“And there I thought he lived in one of those caves in the foothills.”
“See him every day and he’s as horrible as we suspected. I even tried to sweeten him up with cookies.”
“Some people just don’t know what’s good for them.”
When we part with a promise of a recipe exchange and to keep in touch, Grey chuckles softly.
“Are you amused by my ability to coax older women out of their best-kept secrets?”
“Cookie secrets? You’re quite popular,” Grey says.
“The talk of the town,” I say facetiously.
“You’re friends with young and old.”
“And in between.” My phone beeps.
“And you get a constant stream of text messages.”
“Those? Pshaw. They’re spam, and I don’t mean the meat-like product in the can,” I say dismissively.
“Do I want to know what a Manimal is?”
“A man-animal hybrid, obviously.”
“And I’m a Viking.”
“I had to keep myself entertained on the airplane.”
I tell him the story about meeting Goodie and the Manimal in the seat between us, leaving out the part about how my Viking warlord sketch rode in to save me. We soon figure out we were on the same flight and our conversation opens from there, with us chatting about travel.
Wrapped up in the fact that Grey is talking to me like a human and not a reanimated cave beast, I forget that we’re about to embark on a trip until later that night.
As I repack my suitcase, my chest feels unusually achy. The forecast predicts rain. I’ve noticed that weather changes bring on a dull, almost arthritic pain along my breastbone. The doctor said I may sometimes experience phantom sensations.
Unfortunately, I haven’t gotten rid of the vampire-spider-ghoul from my past. However, I haven’t heard from Todd since earlier today and am relieved.
He probably found something else to occupy his time—a mistress, a business scam, or other sketchy dealings done under the guise of the prestige given to his family name and job.
It’s already dark, but the night is pleasantly mild and the moon rises in the sky. I’m about to settle in when I remember I put off picking up the prescription at the pharmacy. I slide on the metallic ballet flats, head outside, and hurry along the lantern-lit path.
Thankfully, I get there minutes before they close. Prescription in hand, as I return to the lane that leads to Blancbourg, a figure enveloped in shadow approaches from the other side of the street.
Where is the sun or a silver bullet when I need it?
As I near the gate to the manor, I glance over my shoulder. The man takes shape. He’s slender, pale, and his eyes are dark. Could be a vampire. But no, it’s the Spider.
I hasten, but it’s too late. There is no avoiding Todd, my ex-fiancé.