gone. I still don’t want to run it, but I don’t want to let it go, either.” There. No bursting into tears, just a flat declaration of a belief she’d mocked, or at best, ignored, almost her entire life. One that she now clung to with the vise-grip determination of someone dangling by their fingernails from the edge of the Grand Canyon. “It took their deaths to make me see that I’d do anything to maintain that legacy. To uphold the Mayhew name and tradition. I’m all that’s left. I can’t let their memory down.”
Gray seemed to absorb that for a few moments. “What happened? With your parents, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Her hands clenched around his. But Ella wanted to get it all out. If this man was the first in three years she actually wanted to date, she wanted to do it right. Be totally upfront. So what if he was only here for two weeks? It could be the best, most intense two weeks of her life. It could set the tone for all her dating relationships going forward. Although that felt too portentous. Probably unwise to heap all those expectations onto him. This was all about her. How Ella wanted to move forward. How she didn’t want to tiptoe—or worse, have him do it—around the truth of her past. Gray’s response, good or bad, wasn’t the point. Mostly.
“Funny you should ask. That’s the final part of my story. Are you sure you want me to keep going?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I’m sure I want to take you out on a date, and this appears to be the only way to make that happen.” Sliding off the bench, he leaned back against it, with one arm draped along the seat. Gray beckoned her over.
Whether he was being sweet, or just polite, she didn’t want to squander the opportunity to touch more of him. Ella didn’t hesitate to scooch into the warmth of his side. She deserved some reward for revisiting this emotional battlefield, didn’t she? And it was too early for her usual go-to: a triple scoop of chocolate ice cream with dark chocolate sauce, four cherries, and as much whipped cream as she could squirt directly into her mouth. But cuddling with Gray might just be better. His hand curled around her shoulder in a comforting, miniature version of a hug.
“My parents and I achieved an uneasy peace once I agreed to work as a massage therapist in the spa at Mayhew Manor.”
“Really? They just rolled over?”
Hardly. “After a three-month battle during which they tried to convince me to run the place. But I held firm. I’d be a massage therapist, either here or elsewhere. That was the only choice. So they decided agreeing meant I’d at least be under their roof, so to speak. My interpretation was that I needed to get out from under at least one of their roofs, and get my own apartment.”
“I’m surprised you lasted that long,” he mumbled.
“Why, when did you move out?”
The rhythmic stroke of his curled fingers stopped cold. “It’s, uh, complicated. Sooner, let’s just say.”
Yup. It was definite. Ella wasn’t the only one with a thorny past. But that would be for another time. If Gray decided both that she wasn’t crazy-pants, and that there would be another time. “I found a great little place. Dad shot it down. Insisted the complex was at an unsafe corner. A dangerous blind entrance. I don’t know if you noticed, but big stretches of the road that hugs the lake don’t have streetlights. Locals don’t care, and tourists don’t know enough to care. Or they’ve visited eight wineries in three hours and are way past caring about anything.”
“You guys should put up streetlights.”
Right. Like nobody from the mayor all the way down to the trash collectors had thought of that. “Well, if you’ve got a spare five hundred thousand dollars to implement that plan, feel free to stick around and present it at the next Town Council meeting.”
A soft chuckle, and his hand resumed its stroking. “Message received.”
“I put down a deposit on the
Gray seemed to absorb that for a few moments. “What happened? With your parents, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Her hands clenched around his. But Ella wanted to get it all out. If this man was the first in three years she actually wanted to date, she wanted to do it right. Be totally upfront. So what if he was only here for two weeks? It could be the best, most intense two weeks of her life. It could set the tone for all her dating relationships going forward. Although that felt too portentous. Probably unwise to heap all those expectations onto him. This was all about her. How Ella wanted to move forward. How she didn’t want to tiptoe—or worse, have him do it—around the truth of her past. Gray’s response, good or bad, wasn’t the point. Mostly.
“Funny you should ask. That’s the final part of my story. Are you sure you want me to keep going?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “I’m sure I want to take you out on a date, and this appears to be the only way to make that happen.” Sliding off the bench, he leaned back against it, with one arm draped along the seat. Gray beckoned her over.
Whether he was being sweet, or just polite, she didn’t want to squander the opportunity to touch more of him. Ella didn’t hesitate to scooch into the warmth of his side. She deserved some reward for revisiting this emotional battlefield, didn’t she? And it was too early for her usual go-to: a triple scoop of chocolate ice cream with dark chocolate sauce, four cherries, and as much whipped cream as she could squirt directly into her mouth. But cuddling with Gray might just be better. His hand curled around her shoulder in a comforting, miniature version of a hug.
“My parents and I achieved an uneasy peace once I agreed to work as a massage therapist in the spa at Mayhew Manor.”
“Really? They just rolled over?”
Hardly. “After a three-month battle during which they tried to convince me to run the place. But I held firm. I’d be a massage therapist, either here or elsewhere. That was the only choice. So they decided agreeing meant I’d at least be under their roof, so to speak. My interpretation was that I needed to get out from under at least one of their roofs, and get my own apartment.”
“I’m surprised you lasted that long,” he mumbled.
“Why, when did you move out?”
The rhythmic stroke of his curled fingers stopped cold. “It’s, uh, complicated. Sooner, let’s just say.”
Yup. It was definite. Ella wasn’t the only one with a thorny past. But that would be for another time. If Gray decided both that she wasn’t crazy-pants, and that there would be another time. “I found a great little place. Dad shot it down. Insisted the complex was at an unsafe corner. A dangerous blind entrance. I don’t know if you noticed, but big stretches of the road that hugs the lake don’t have streetlights. Locals don’t care, and tourists don’t know enough to care. Or they’ve visited eight wineries in three hours and are way past caring about anything.”
“You guys should put up streetlights.”
Right. Like nobody from the mayor all the way down to the trash collectors had thought of that. “Well, if you’ve got a spare five hundred thousand dollars to implement that plan, feel free to stick around and present it at the next Town Council meeting.”
A soft chuckle, and his hand resumed its stroking. “Message received.”
“I put down a deposit on the
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