Page 76 of Unpacking Secrets
“They can wait another half hour,” I said, then I grinned, stretched out along her body, and laid a fiery path of kisses across her collarbone.
A husky laugh escaped her lips, then a low moan as my mouth reached its destination.
“Yes, they can,” she gasped, welcoming one last glorious interlude before the real world beckoned.
Thirty
Juliet
IquicklyagreedwhenHenrysuggested I come with him to the inn. Even with an unmarked police car outside the house, I had no desire to be alone just yet.
We definitely missed the half hour window of Henry’s estimate, but Mrs. Gregson greeted us with a broad smile that implied she understood the delay. Henry winked at me once we were alone in his office.
Covering my face with my hands, I whispered, “Do they all know that we’re . . . ?”
Another of my vague, embarrassed hand gestures had him grinning like a fool, though he tried for a look of innocence as he suggested, “Dating? Having nightly sleepovers? Making sweet, sweet love? Getting down and dirty?”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, certain my cheeks were growing pinker by the second. This was yet another facet of small town life I would need to get used to. Henry bent down to kiss me, then sat behind the desk to fire up the computer.
“Yes, thank you for that, Mr. Walker,” I muttered as I sank into the chair in front of him. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Yes, Juliet, everyone knows we’re together. Sneaking around in Spruce Hill is virtually impossible.”
“Fantastic.”
His gaze stroked over me, heating my cheeks further as memories of our morning flashed through my head. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you blush? Almost as good as when you—”
My outraged shriek cut him off, but he didn’t lose the smirk until the monitor flashed a blue screen of death at him. He scowled at the computer as his fingers flew across the keyboard, though I was grateful for the distraction.
“Maybe I can convince the new owner to upgrade these damned computers sometime soon,” he growled.
I laughed, thinking about all the ways he might convince me. Of course, he didn’tneedto—if Henry thought it necessary, I trusted him to make that decision for the inn. Still, I wouldn’t mind seeing what tricks he had up his sleeve if he wanted to try to persuade me.
After a few minutes, however, I couldn’t stop bouncing my knee with the nervous energy still pent up inside me. Watching Henry growl at the computer was arguably more boring than him watching me sketch.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Computer Nerd, I’m going to take a very Victorian turn about the gardens. I saw Gerard out there weeding when we came in. I need some fresh air.”
He leaned across the desk to cup my chin in his hand, studying me with an expression that made his concern abundantly clear.
“Sure, but stick close to Gramps, okay? I’ll be as quick as I can with this. Will you tell Mrs. Gregson where you’re going, pretty please? I’ve had my fill of panicked phone calls recently.”
I caught his hand in mine and kissed the center of his palm. “Yes, I will. Good luck with the computer.”
Though I felt his eyes on me as I left the office, he didn’t say anything to stop me. I wandered into the sitting room, where Mrs. Gregson was arranging a vase of flowers. For a moment, I simply watched the older woman work, her capable hands and eye for perfection soothing my nerves.
The inn would probably never feel completely like home, not in the way the cottage had, but being surrounded by all that my grandmother had built soothed me as sweetly as a lullaby.
When Mrs. Gregson finished with the flowers, she glanced up and looked at me with such sympathy that it nearly unraveled the calm that had come over me. “How are you doing today, dearest?”
The endearment was all it took—such a little thing to pack such an emotional punch.
I covered my face with both hands and burst into tears. Mrs. Gregson’s arms came around me barely a second later, along with the kind of motherly comfort that had been absent from my life for more than half a year now.
Without shame, I accepted every soft word and gentle pat until I'd cried myself dry.
“I’m sorry,” I said with a shaky laugh as I rubbed my face with my palms.
Mrs. Gregson clucked, giving me a fond smile. “You have nothing to apologize for, darling girl. Can I get you some tea? I think there’s a tray of cookies in the kitchen. Why don’t you sit down for a bit?”
