Page 26 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)
Gwendolyn
For four days straight, Jackson and I lived in a routine that was pleasant and domestic, not interrupted by strange dreams or invasions of privacy.
The only hiccups were the insistent phone calls from my mom to return home, to which I responded more firmly each time that I wouldn’t be changing my mind.
She had a hard time accepting the truth, but by day four, she’d only called twice, not ten times.
She was beginning to get the point, I hoped.
Each night, I’d slept with Jackson at his cabin, but we spent most of our days at the B sometimes, he carried things into the B I didn’t need more.
In this, I was not ashamed to admit being a city girl: I had no clue—and didn’t want to have a clue—how to skin a deer.
Thankfully, Jackson swung the frozen carcass over his shoulder, which I took to mean he’d take care of it.
“You stash the money in the basement, where Ted is working today, okay? He’ll put it away so it’s out of sight for now.
I’ll be back after my rounds to work on the roof.
” He dipped down to kiss me, but I leaned back when the smell of dead deer wafted into my face.
He laughed, not offended, and jogged back the way we’d come, ducking into the alley by the General Store to head, presumably, back to his cabin with that deer.
I had only just unlocked the front door and stepped inside when, with impeccable timing, Ted showed up on my stoop to get to work.
I could only assume that he was waiting by his shop window to see me arrive before heading over.
When he’d first shown up, I thought he’d be around a day or so and then give up on the heater or present me with a massive bill.
He’d been at my house every day, though, and I was pretty sure his presence was the reason Drew wasn’t guarding my door any longer.
Doing as Jackson had suggested, I brought a basket with stacks of money down to the basement, where Ted was already getting back to work not much later.
It felt odd to pile it on the floor there and ask him to hide it, but he shrugged, not in the least perturbed.
In fact, he came with me to haul the rest downstairs and flicked on an extra lamp so I could see how he freed a hatch by the back wall.
It was only then that I realized he was replacing all the pipes with brand-new ones.
Beautiful copper pipes that would last forever.
No wonder he was down here so long. I gaped, staring at the retrofitted boiler and the neat lines of pipes running up into my kitchen.
He shuffled his feet, rubbed the back of his neck, and just told me the house needed it, she deserved it.
That was odd and kind of sweet, and I was still debating what to say when the pretty, jingling doorbell I’d installed yesterday rang.
An expensive, vintage one that I’d splurged on online.
Ted and I shared a look, and when I headed up the stairs, I knew he’d follow me up.
He stopped at the top of the stairs and huffed, “It’s just Luther.
” Then he turned and headed back down to resume work.
Just Luther? Wasn’t that the guy from the General Store?
I eyed the supplies on the kitchen table as I passed them, which had all come from there, and trailed my hand over the waxed banister as I passed it—also courtesy of a pint of wax he’d added to my pile of things that first day, despite his clear distaste for having to do so.
I knew things were different now that Jackson had told me the town’s secret, but I still felt apprehensive as I opened the door.
For a second, I almost didn’t recognize him without the tasteful ambient lighting of his General Store behind him.
His black hair gleamed like ink against the snowy rooftops, his skin a deep honey tan even in the heart of winter.
He had that lean, elegant sort of build that made me think of expensive cologne ads; suave, untouchable, and absolutely out of place in Hillcrest Hollow.
He was dressed too well for the weather, for the town, for…
everything, really. The last time we’d met, he’d made me feel like a fool with his sharp tongue and short supply of patience.
Now he smiled, a smooth curve of lips that didn’t quite reach his icy blue eyes.
“Miss Avery,” he said, his voice warm and urbane, with a hint of a European accent, German, maybe.
“I owe you an apology. I was… brusque the other day, which was uncalled for. Consider your current tab forgiven. A clean slate, yes? My way of welcoming you to our little corner of the world.”
I blinked, stunned, not certain if I’d heard him right.
Forgive my tab? That mile-high bill for the massive crate and basket full of supplies Jackson had compiled that day?
I hadn’t seen the number, but I was pretty sure it would be, at the very least, several hundred dollars.
Some of those RVS boxes of screws did not come cheap, and it had included several high-grade tools I’d been extremely happy to use as well.
Before I could answer, he slid a folded piece of heavy paper into my hands.
“I also heard you’ve come into some fresh venison.
A recipe, if you’d like. One worth the effort.
” His fingers were cold against my skin, the touch quick and impersonal.
I fumbled to keep hold of the paper, nearly dropping it when a gust of cold wind whipped past my latest guest.
The paper was thick, creamy, and smelled faintly of something old, like a library book that had been sitting closed for a hundred years.
The cursive scrawled across it was elaborate, looping, almost too ornate to read.
It looked like the sort of thing you’d find in your grandmother’s ancient handwritten bundle of family recipes, not something handed over in a snow-dusted doorway.
Though, to be honest, if that was his handwriting, it wasn’t entirely a surprise, it suited him. “Uh, thank you,” I managed.
He inclined his head, the picture of courtly grace.
“Enjoy.” Then he turned and stepped down off the stoop.
I blinked, glancing at the recipe in my hand, and when I looked up again, he wasn’t in the street.
He wasn’t walking away, he wasn’t anywhere.
The road stretched empty and silent, and the General Store was dark and quiet.
How had he moved that fast? Where had he gone?
At this point, I was ready to accept that as one of the town’s mysteries they wanted to protect and call it a day, but my curiosity had been sparked.
I needed to ask Jackson to tell me more about my neighbors.
I shut the door quickly and leaned against it for a moment, heart thudding, then carried the recipe into the kitchen.
I didn’t ask how he’d known about the deer, obviously, he’d been able to see it lying on my stoop before Jackson and I got there.
The strange paper made a crisp sound as I set it on the counter, the swirling letters almost moving if I stared too long.
That was just my tired brain, I reckoned, not magic, but it didn’t help.
Today was not going to be quiet, like the others had been, while we waited for the burglar to make their next move.
The doorbell chimed again. I sighed, staring at the kettle on the stove and wondering if I should even try to get started with the wallpaper upstairs.
The day had been full of surprises and interruptions so far.
I wanted Jackson to come back; I wanted the burglar to be gone for good, not under watch.
It was beginning to feel too much like I was playing bait, though I was pretty sure that Jackson would oppose that description.