Had Grant heard Thandie correctly? There had to be a million people named Davis in the world. But no matter the improbability that her Davis and his boss were one and the same, he had to admit the possibility was there. While he had helped her put away the mats and the food, he wanted to ask her. He had steered the conversation toward work, toward her past, even asking if she was single, but hadn’t been brave enough to ask the question that he wanted answered most. What had Davis, whoever he was, done to her?
He doubted she would ever tell him, now that she had let go of the hurt that she had been carrying with a spectacular kick that sent her cairn flying into the grass. Her whole dramatic display only proved to him that he knew nothing about women in general, but he had an overwhelming sense that he was supposed to know this one.
Everything his soul was telling him to do flew in the face of what he knew he should be doing. He was to get in, do the assessment, and get out. No one should know who he is, and he should not remember any of the people he conversed with. Small talk was the game, and he was failing on an epic scale.
The more he got to know Margret, Anne, and the other guests, the more connected he felt to everything around him. The Foundry wasn’t just a collection of cabins beside an empty lake with seemingly random activities and an activities director that was either genius or totally making up things as she went along. It was showing itself as a place of hope and renewal.
One thing he was certain about was that if this place could make even Grant Goldie come out of his broken shell, it was something special, to be sure.
Grant checked his outfit in the oval bathroom mirror hanging above the sink. His gray-and-blue flannel shirt was perfect for the bonfire. He would be warm enough, but not too hot. He buttoned the shirt all the way up, stopping at the top button and deciding to leave it open for a more casual look. He tucked in the hem and re-zipped his fly.
“Nope,” he said to himself, and untucked the shirt from his pants. No matter how many times he tried, he just didn’t like the way he looked stiff and unnatural when his shirt was tucked in. Plus, he reminded himself, it’s only a bonfire. It would be dark and cool.
He sprayed cologne on his chest and shook his shirt to disperse the scent. Pleased with his appearance, he reset his toiletries on the little cabinet shelf and folded his towel in perfect thirds before hanging it on the bar beside the shower.
His stomach growled, having skipped dinner. He had taken a nap instead of attending the meal. A snooze was always a good idea, though he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually taken one. His alarm went off an hour before the bonfire and he killed time with showering, cleaning up his stubble, and second-guessing his shirt choice.
What he was really second-guessing was whether he was being a fool about Thandie. She was beyond kind, not only to him, but to all the guests. She was patient and thoughtful. The way she invited everyone to participate in the events, without ever appearing pushy or intimidating, spoke to the sort of woman she was inside or outside of work.
Right now, she was at work, likely setting up for the bonfire and making sure everything was taken care of for the guests. Though he shouldn’t feel bad, as he was a guest at the retreat, he wondered if he should have helped her with the bonfire. Relaxing wasn’t something he did well, and as far as anyone else was concerned, he was a man needing wellness at a quiet upstate retreat.
That part was half true. The nap had been much needed, and he was glad that he had taken a few hours for himself. The moments to do so were few and far between with his job. He was always on the way to some new place at some ungodly hour and typically felt pride in his go-go-go attitude toward life. This particular assignment was affording him an opportunity to rest while still doing his work. He could lean into it, or he could over-work himself into a heartless report for Mr. Mothan and miss out on really experiencing the rest of the week.
It wasn’t easy to miss that Thandie was working harder than anyone else he knew, and he wondered when or if she got time to rest. He was glad that he had not taken no for an answer, and lightened her load, even for a little while, and that made him feel warm inside. He hadn’t helped her because he wanted something in return, and he hadn’t helped her so that he could hear some inside scoop about the inner workings of The Foundry and add to his report. He hadn’t lent a hand to win her over.
He had simply listened to his heart and helped someone who would never have asked.
As a schoolboy grin pulled at his cheeks, he poured himself a small glass of cold water. Downing it in one gulp, he wiped the drops from the corner of his mouth and placed the glass in the sink. With one last check in the mirror, he opened the cabin’s door and nearly stumbled over a tray sitting at the threshold. A note on top read, “Thought you might be hungry. Enjoy,” and he knew it was from Thandie.
The tray held a white dinner plate covered in aluminum foil, and a single little bottle of red wine. He took the tray, looked down the path in hopes of glimpsing her, and brought it inside to the kitchen counter. He could smell the earthy scent of a buttery filet mignon and roasted potatoes before he even peeked under the hood. He placed the plate in the fridge with every intention of digging in following the bonfire.
Which he was now late getting to.
Grant left his cabin and followed the gravel path toward the old dock. Like a beacon, the fire illuminated the space with an orange glow and silhouetted some of the guests as they moved around the flames.
He spotted Thandie long before he reached her. She was radiant. Her skin glowed like a sunset, and her jeans and white t-shirt were the most attractive things he’d seen her wear. She knew how to pull off the wholesome, all-American, drop-dead-gorgeous-without-even-trying thing so well. He swallowed hard, realizing that she was way out of his league.
Margret came up behind him and linked her arm through his. His hand reached across and naturally fell to the older woman’s. “What’s a good-looking guy like you doing here all alone? I don’t want to hear any tale about you needing to find yourself.”
“I told you—”
“The truth?” she pressed.
Grant leaned in and whispered, “I’m a spy. But you can’t tell anyone.”
Margret released her hold on his arm. “And why would you tell me something like that? I don’t believe it for a moment,” Margret said. “Anne, Anne. He said he’s a spy.” She laughed as she walked toward her friend.
Technically he hadn’t fibbed. He was spying on the establishment in order to ascertain its profit potential. But Margret didn’t need to know that. Nor Anne, or anyone else, especially Leo or Thandie. He laughed at having exposed his true reason for being there and for the delightful fact that no one would believe it.
“What’s so funny?” Thandie said.
When had she noticed him standing there? Thandie jumped in front of him with a wide smile and bright eyes gracing her face. “Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
He brushed the back of his hand down the length of her arm and lingered where their fingers touched by her side. A little shiver ran through her at his touch, but he could tell by her pinched brow that she was unsure how to feel about the way her body reacted to him. For that matter, he was unsure how he should feel about his own intense attraction to her.
In an effort to break their connection, he side-stepped towards the bonfire. Makeshift benches encircled the fire a few feet away from where the logs and sticks were piled in the center. The air smelled thick with cedar and sweet pecans. Grant sat on a wooden plank that spanned two cut logs, and the thin board gave under his weight more than he was comfortable with.
“Can I join you?” Thandie said. “Everything is all set up over there and I can actually relax for a minute.” She pointed to a blanket spread on the grassy area nearby. “Can I get you anything? Cider? Hotdog on a stick?”
“I have a filet waiting for me back in my cabin,” he said. “Come sit with me.” Though he considered the added weight on the board might bring them both down.
An owl hooted from a nearby tree, and a smile lifted Thandie’s cheek. The firelight twinkled in her eyes and made her skin appear golden. She acquiesced and straddled the bench, facing toward his side. “I was afraid you wouldn’t get it.”
“I almost stepped right on the tray.” He laughed.
“I knocked. You know?”
Grant was sure that he would have heard someone knocking on the door of his small accommodation. It was only one room and the bathroom. He snapped his fingers. “I must have been in the shower,” he said. “Sorry I missed you.”
Thandie leaned into his ear as he watched the flames bob and weave through the burning wood. “I missed you too.”
At that sensual phrase, Grant turned his face. He was a breath away. “I thought we were keeping things professional.” Her chest grazed his arm, and he froze, knowing that his next move was dangerous. If he did nothing, she might be insulted. If he closed the distance between them and let his lips warm hers, he was overstepping their professional host-guest relationship. Either way, he would lose.
Thank goodness for nosey-nellies, or in this case, nosey Margret. “Just kiss her already!” Margret encouraged and broke the crux of his impossible situation.
Thandie stood up and moved away without acknowledging Margret’s jeering. Grant was relieved that the pressure was off of him, but annoyed that Thandie was now run-skipping up the short incline away from the heat.
“Wait! Thandie, wait up,” Grant said and ran after her.
She was quick. Grant finally caught up to her, but only because she slowed down after reaching the refreshments area. White platters, arranged on top of stacked hay bales, reflected the fire’s orange glow. Grant’s mouth watered at the display of hotdogs and smore’s ingredients in front of him. Beside the food, wheelbarrrows were piled high with woolen blankets and small lanterns. He made a mental note to include how cozy and welcoming the setup looked in his final report.
“You’re fast,” he said and braced his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. Though she faced away from him, he reached out for her hand. Removed from the other guests, Grant whispered her name, “Thandie.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I didn’t mean to insinuate. . .”
Her words trailed off, and Grant wrapped his arms around her shoulders. The fire licked the night sky. Flickers of embers floated through the air on the breeze around them like a wispy drape, giving them a sense of privacy from the other guests. Grant pulled her in, her back rested against his chest, and he spoke softly behind her ear. “I want to kiss you, but I’m more afraid than you know.”
Her head rested back against his shoulder and her muscles relaxed into him. “Then tell me why this feels so natural,” she said and turned to him. “I feel like I’ve known you for years. When we touch, I can’t explain it. It’s like the fire. Burning so bright and hot and . . . and . . .”
“And what? When this is all over—”
Her hand covered his mouth. “Whatever you are about to say, don’t. We don’t even know each other! And you don’t want to say something you’ll regret later.”
“I know I won’t,” Grant said and bent his face to her. His mouth was just out of reach of her lips. Her breath cooled the edges of his mouth, and he lingered, waiting for her. She had to be the one to take the next step. It was no longer his impossible situation, it was hers.
His pulse thumped in his ears with excruciating impatience. The pitter-patter of his heart beat against his ribs. He sensed her coming closer. The slight arching up on her toes, the tension in her back, her chest rising with deep, thoughtful breaths, and her lips brushing ever so slightly against his.
“Rain,” she sighed as their lips touched for too brief a second. She pulled away. “Rain. It’s gonna rain soon. Can you smell that?”
Now she was toying with him, he suspected, as he looked to the sky and pointed past the orange glow. “Look, the stars are still out. There’s no rain.” He leaned in to pick back up where they left off, but the moment had unceremoniously passed by.
“It’s not raining yet,” she said. “It’s coming. I’d check the radar, but there’s virtually no signal around here. And, thanks to someone, I don’t have a working phone anyway.”
“You can use mine. I left it back in my room.” Grant offered and realized that it may have sounded like he was making a move on her to get her in his cabin. So, to not leave any confusion between them, he added, “I can go get it really quick.”
“I appreciate the offer, but we’ll know here in about fifteen minutes, I suspect.” Thandie bent down and came back up, holding two long metal skewers and two hotdogs. “Shall we?”
Grant took the dogs from her and threaded them on to the fork end of the skewers. “We better be quick about it,” he teased.
“You just mark the time. I know what I know about this stuff.”
At the fire, Thandie made an announcement that the rain would be coming soon and suggested that they wrap things up and head in for the night before it was too late. She sat on the bench and charred her hotdog, not taking the time to cook it properly.
She must have noticed him noticing her and laughed. “What? I like the skin all crunchy.” She picked a slice off the hot dog and chewed it, and it did indeed crunch. “You like yours raw?”
Grant looked down and saw that his wasn’t even in the fire, not enough to be cooked, or even warmed in the short time they had remaining before Thandie’s rain might arrive. He stuck the dog directly in the fire and pulled it out a minute later, flame and all.
“That’s better,” she said and tapped her dog against his to put out the blaze. “Have you ever done this before?”
“What? Cooked a hotdog on a stick? Sure have,” Grant said proudly with an anecdote at the ready about his time in the scouts, but she cut off his thought before he had a chance to tell his tale.
“No, I mean. Have you ever just gotten to know a woman, with no expectations, with no pressures from friends or family to move things along at a certain pace or in a certain way—”
“Or because it feels like if I don’t get to know you that I’ll be missing a piece of myself forever?” he said and immediately regretted being so frank. He hadn’t even admitted to himself what was true. It was as though the years of running from love had brought him all the way around to a place where he might be able to experience it again. Life is funny that way, he thought and met her gaze.
She nodded with a grin and a bite of her lower lip on one side before taking another crunchy strip of hotdog and shoving it in her pretty mouth.