The House on Hancock Hill (11 page)

Then why had that moment on our knees felt like a life-altering experience? With every minute I sat there, growing colder in the silent apartment, I felt like I was hurtling toward something inevitable. The irrational fear that I wouldn’t recognize it when it hit me, and I’d make the wrong decision, left me tired and drained.

I sighed, rose to my feet, gathered my things, and stepped outside again. In the distance, I heard trucks clearing snow and distributing salt, and knew that Hancock was already moving on from the latest snowstorm. If the power was back up by tonight, I wouldn’t even have to sleep in Henry’s bed again.

W
HEN
I
reached Henry’s house, he was clearing the drive with a shovel—wearing sunglasses this time. Sweat was making his curls stick to his forehead. About two-thirds done, he stuck the shovel in the two feet of snow and walked over as I dropped my bag inside the garage.

“I’d help you,” I said, grinning, “but my ribs hurt. You understand.”

Henry glared at me over his glasses, then burst into a loud laugh, throwing his head back. “You always were a little shit.” He pushed his glasses on top of his head and crinkled his eyes at me. “Remember when you got a job mowing lawns one year, and you had this fantastic idea where we’d split the money? But there was only one lawnmower, and I ended up doing ninety percent of the work?”

“I did the leaf blowing!” I protested. “Besides, I split the money, didn’t I?”

Henry laughed again. His teeth were very white. “You kept half of it.”

“Well, let me make it up to you now. I’ll take you to lunch.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

I smiled at him. It reflected on his face like it was contagious. “I know that. I want to.”

“Okay, yeah. Sure.”

“Go have a freezing shower, you’re sweating.”

“Someone needs to finish the shoveling, and it’s not going to be you, is it?”

I glanced around. “We can get the truck through the part you cleared, can’t we?”

“You run your bakery like that? Cutting corners?” Henry grumbled, but he took off his gloves and went to retrieve the shovel.

“I’m on vacation,” I called after him and went inside to change out of the wet jeans. My shoulder and ribs ached a little from carrying the bag over, but since I’d just taken some ibuprofen, I’d have to put up with it.

Henry came downstairs while I was snooping in his cabinets to check what ingredients I’d need to show off some of my skills.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Sure. Do you mind if we do some grocery shopping after lunch? We should have time before our fun trip to the funeral home.”

“Yeah, we can do that. Anything in particular you need?”

“Oh, just some stuff,” I said vaguely, following him into the garage.

“Do you have everything?” Henry asked as he clicked his seatbelt into place. “Your pain meds maybe?” I considered it, but decided I’d be okay until we got back.

“I’ve got what I need, it’s fine.”

“You sure?” Henry’s eyes dropped to where I was rubbing my hands together. My fingers were so cold they were nearly translucently white. “Here.” He dug another pair of gloves out of his coat pocket.

“Oh, thanks.” I put them on.

“Better?” Henry raised a sardonic eyebrow at me, and I grinned at him.

“Much.”

Putting the Avalanche in reverse, Henry hooked an arm around my seat and backed out of the garage.

W
E
LUNCHED
at a new place outside town. The food wasn’t spectacular, but the restaurant offered a gorgeous view of the Mont Ripley ski hill and its slow-moving chairlifts that dangled empty in the sky. Not many skiers on a late-February afternoon by the look of things.

Tearing my eyes away from the hunting-themed interior, complete with mounted deer heads, I said to Henry, “Tell me about your life here.”

Eyeing me curiously over his coffee, he said, “It hasn’t changed much. People bring me the injured animals now, and I get paid to treat them.”

“Do you like it?”

For such large hands, he opened the piece of chocolate that came with his coffee with surprising finesse. “I wouldn’t want to miss it.” He seemed to ponder his words. “But you never know where life takes you.” Considering I was having lunch in a town that had hardly crossed my mind in over a decade, I thought he had a point. “How about you? You like Traverse City?”

“I do.” I opened my mouth to tell him more when I realized there wasn’t much to say that he didn’t already know. Was the bakery really all I had?

“Where did you go to college?”

I shrugged and said, “Boston.”

“Did you go to Harvard?” he asked, eyes widening in surprise.

“Yes, actually.” I looked away. “And I’ve heard it all before, trust me.”

“Whoa, hey.” Henry held his hands out, palms up. “I’m not at all surprised you got into Harvard, all right? Just that you’ve chosen to be a pastry chef rather than the next big CEO or something.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I sighed. “It caused a lot of problems with Tom, the guy I was with during college. He didn’t understand it either.”

Henry was silent for a moment, and I looked up. “Tom?” he asked gently.

“Yes, we lived together for years and… well. It didn’t work out.”

He chewed his lip, then licked it. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s amazing you chose to do something you love. What does Tom do?”

“He’s a lawyer.”

“Figures,” he laughed, and I grinned too. I drained my coffee and was just considering a refill when he said, “You look tired.”

I cut him a glance. He stared at me, and I wondered if he meant tired from the accident and the cold last night or something else entirely. Either way, I had no response, and he seemed to know it. If it had been pity he’d been regarding me with, I would’ve found a tendril of annoyance or anger and grabbed it with both hands. Instead, the emotion in his eyes was warm understanding, like a first sunny day that carried actual heat after a long, long winter. It did, in that instant, dissolve the last armor I possessed against him.

When he said, “Let’s go find you some warmer clothes,” all I could do was nod and rise to my feet.

The cab of the Avalanche was still warm, and I shuddered my appreciation. Even Henry had donned another pair of gloves on the walk over from the restaurant.

“What else are you hiding in that coat?” I asked. “It’s got an endless supply of gloves and hats from what I’ve seen.”

“Best to be prepared.” He grinned and pulled the gloves off with his teeth.

“What are you, a boy scout?”

“Rather that than frozen.” He started the engine and added, “There’s a year-round gear store in Houghton I usually go to. It’s mostly gently used, but they have new things too.”

“A secondhand store?” I said before I could stop myself.

Henry looked unimpressed. “It’s where I get most of my winter stuff. I can find you a sports shop or something if you prefer.”

The “snob” was implied, and I quickly shook my head. “No, no.” I cracked a grin, the half-frozen, half-bruised skin on my face protesting. “You can take me to your thrift store.”

“It’s not a—” Henry rolled his eyes when he saw my face. “Shut up, you.”

By the time we reached the bridge, I regretted my decision not to bring along my medication. My cheekbone and jaw throbbed along with my heartbeat, and my nose stung like someone had just punched it, not to mention every time the car jolted, my lungs felt like they were being jabbed by a hot poker. Henry kept glancing over like he knew, but thankfully said nothing so I could concentrate on keeping the waves of nausea down.

The sigh of relief when we pulled up in front of a huge store made him laugh a little, and he turned in his seat.

“Why don’t you write down what you need from the grocery store, and I’ll go get it while you buy some decent clothes.”

“I have decent clothes,” I said automatically to hide how very much I didn’t want to trundle through aisles pushing a cart.

“So that’s why half the stuff you’re wearing is mine?” The grin Henry gave me was slightly wicked; he had a point, and he knew it.

A search of the cab yielded a pencil and an empty envelope. Thinking quickly, I penned down what I needed from memory. “That’s about it,” I mumbled, sucking on the end of the pencil, spitting it out when I tasted the eraser. Henry put his fingers to my cheek, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

Fingering the bruise there gently, he said, “You’re just as stubborn as I remember. It’s all right to be in pain, you know. No need to put on a brave face. Not for me.”

Eyes saucer-wide, I gaped at him. Nausea forgotten, I dropped the pencil and barely noticed. Should I kiss him? The way he was looking at me, with those honey-golden eyes reflecting sunlight like it was their job, I wanted to more than anything.

As the moment passed, Henry dropped his hand and—I wasn’t imagining it—sighed with regret as he plucked the shopping list from my fingers.

“I don’t even know what half this stuff is,” he mumbled as he looked the list over. He shoved it in the door. “I’ll pick you up—” he began, already reaching to switch on the engine, and I threw caution to the wind.

My fingers circled his wrist, and Henry lifted his head, startled. The intensity with which he considered me made my heart skip a beat.
It’s just a kiss
, I told myself.
Nothing more
. Worst thing that could happen was he’d say no. But Henry’s pupils were blown, and he was breathing too fast. He wanted this, I was sure of it. Counting on his humanitarian side that he’d at least not punch a guy with a broken nose, I leaned in and, ignoring the flaring burn of my ribs, kissed him on the lips.

As if it was a blow to the gut, Henry expelled a harsh breath against my mouth. His lips moved like he was saying something, but there was no sound. I blinked and saw surprise in Henry’s wide-open eyes. Had I made a mistake? Before there was a chance to pull away, Henry grabbed my shoulder with his left hand, held my jaw with his right, and kissed me back. At first he hesitated, barely putting any pressure against my lips. To coax him out of his shell a little, I pushed my tongue gently against his lower lip, and he made a low humming sound that tickled my mouth.

Very quietly, not moving away, he said, “I’m afraid to kiss you.”

“You’re fine, you’re doing great, and we don’t—” I stopped when Henry huffed a small laugh.

“No, I mean….” He gently pressed his thumb next to the stitches on my chin.

“Oh.” I’d completely forgotten about that. Again. “It doesn’t hurt,” I told him lamely, but I imagined he didn’t exactly want to kiss a bruised face.

Henry smirked like he knew what I was thinking. “Okay, then.” Swiping his thumb over my bottom lip and making it tingle, Henry eased off to trail the rest of my bruises, looking them over with such affection, it made something dangerous swell in my belly. Then he finally kissed me like he meant it, like he
wanted
it. I parted for him easily, and the instant heat of it had me clutching his biceps. Henry worked his fingers through my hair, tugging a little, fingertips massaging my scalp. He kept making lovely little noises whenever we shifted to deepen the kiss, his mouth confident on my mouth, tongue insistent but not forceful against mine.

Breathless, Henry gasped, “Oh, my God,” and pulled away enough to look at me. He kept touching my face, my hair, my neck. “That was—” He blinked at me owlishly, out of words. I couldn’t stop smiling at how gorgeously flushed he was.

“Good?” I offered when he still said nothing.

“No,” he immediately corrected me. “Better than good. Amazing.” A hand to the back of my head, he made me lean my forehead against his. “So amazing.” Gently, I kissed his lips again, once, twice, and sat up, my ribs objecting painfully.

“We should probably—” I indicated the shop we were parked in front of, the bright sun that still shone even though it felt like an eon had passed.

Rubbing a hand over his face, he said, “Yeah,” and laughed a little self-deprecatingly. “We probably should.”

I handed him one of my credit cards for the groceries despite his protests and slipped out of the car, even though there was nothing I wanted more than to drive home and kiss him all afternoon. Henry reversed, lifting his fingers off the wheel in a small wave when he saw me watching, and drove off.

I
NSIDE
THE
store a girl with a piercing through her bottom lip gave me a knowing grin, causing me to flush as pink as Henry always did.

The shop was huge, and it took me longer than I expected to find what I needed so I wouldn’t have to do any laundry until I got back to Traverse City. The thought of leaving sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine, causing me to zone out as I handed my things to the girl.

Had that been Henry’s first kiss with a guy? Even if it wasn’t, how was this fair to him? As soon as this whole mess with the farm and the body was dealt with, I was gone. The next few weeks were going to be crazy busy with the opening of the new bakery. I had nothing to offer Henry. Nothing he deserved anyway.

“Sir?” I blinked, and the girl held out a pen and a receipt for me to sign.

“Sorry,” I told her, quickly scribbling an approximation of my name on the flimsy piece of paper.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a smirk that wasn’t unkind. “If I had a boyfriend like that, I’d be daydreaming all the time too.”

I was still trying the word out for size while I stood outside waiting for Henry.
Boyfriend.
I’d never had one of those. Tom had always referred to himself as my
partner,
and apart from him, there had never been anyone who’d stuck around long enough to fulfill the meaning of the word. I didn’t notice the Avalanche pulling in until it stopped right in front of my feet. I startled when Henry jumped out of the car.

“What are you doing? You should’ve waited inside. Have you been out here long?”

“No, I—” Henry grabbed my bags and tossed them onto the back seat.

“Right, that’s why your lips are blue again. Get in.”