Page 27 of Bound to the Griffin (Hillcrest Hollow Shifters #3)

“Back already?” I muttered as I abandoned the kettle and the strange recipe, heading down the hallway, half-expecting Luther with another flourish or apology.

This town was weird, the people were strange, but I had to admit I would have loved that if I didn’t feel so unsafe inside my own house.

That was the dreams more than anything, I could feel them pulling at me, even when awake.

I hadn’t told Jackson that, certain he’d want me to stop coming here.

I wasn’t sure if I’d oppose that decision if it came down to it, but I didn’t like sitting around, waiting.

It seemed like Jackson believed that unpleasant Warlock might know something and would come to us if he was sure.

I needed to polish the doorknob and repaint the door, I noted as I opened the heavy panel.

At least it was thick hardwood, still good despite the peeling paint.

The cold wind blew in first, accompanied by a flurry of snowflakes.

The weather was getting worse. Jackson had said this morning that a storm might be coming.

From the sight of the darkening clouds overhead, he might be right.

I was instantly worrying about the roof.

How much progress had Jackson made? Would it hold through a storm?

The door nearly slipped from my fingers in the wind, and I wrestled to keep hold.

Then I froze, still clutching the panel with both hands and staring at the man on my stoop.

It wasn’t Luther at all—it was Evan. My ex, standing on my doorstep like he’d just stepped out of a memory I wasn’t ready to relive.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I demanded.

Rude, but I was beyond caring when it came to that bastard.

Not only had he cheated on me with my best friend, but he’d also had the audacity to blame his infidelity—and my response to it—on me.

He wanted me to apologize for making a scene before getting back together, like that was still on the table.

Like the owner of the General Store who’d visited me a moment ago, Evan was slick and looked out of place on the frozen main street of Hillcrest Hollow, or simply the Hollow, as many locals seemed to call it.

He stood there on my stoop like he owned it, like he owned me.

His suit was city-perfect—charcoal wool, sharp lines, not a wrinkle in sight—and his shoes gleamed despite the snow.

His hair, expensively cut, hadn’t so much as frizzed in the damp cold.

He looked every bit the silver-spoon Chicago defense lawyer he’d always been, and the way his lips curled at my greeting said it all: distaste.

“Really, Gwen,” he drawled, his voice dripping with that cultivated arrogance.

“Is that how civilized people greet one another? Especially when I’ve come all this way?

” He spread his arms in a do-you-see-this kind of gesture, inviting me to look at him.

At his slick looks, his gym-perfect body, all the charm he’d once thrown my way.

Just enough of it genuine that I’d been hooked at first, blinded by the dazzle until I could see the tarnish behind the shine.

“I didn’t ask you to,” I snapped, my stomach sinking.

My mother had put him up to this, there was no doubt about it.

She was the one with something to gain if this marriage went through, but it never would, and I’d been telling her that for days.

I’d even told her I’d met someone new, that I had a boyfriend and wasn’t ever coming back.

Not that boyfriend felt like the right word to call Jackson.

It was much too mundane and didn’t cover the intense things I felt when I was with him.

He brushed past me as though my doorway were his, shoulder grazing mine.

“Let’s at least talk inside like adults, shall we?

” This was exactly what I expected him to do, and still, I wasn’t ready to block the move.

The door slipping from my fingers and stinging the pads as he shoved it open.

He moved as if he were welcome—easily, gracefully—but he and I both knew he’d yanked the door from my fingers with sheer force.

Before I could shove him back out, which I was ready to do bodily if it came down to it, a deep voice cut in behind me.

“Do you need help, Miss Avery?” I startled, because I hadn’t heard a thing.

Ted was suddenly at my back, a heavy wrench still in one hand, eyes sharp and gold-tinted in the pale light.

He wasn’t the only one who’d showed up, either—across the street, Luther stood in front of his store like a shadow, watching.

The plumbing shop’s door banged open, and Kai came striding out, cowboy hat clutched in his fist, a woman at his side who planted herself like a shield next to him.

It hit me all at once: this town was watching.

Protecting. My throat tightened, because they were showing up in force to protect me .

I was part of their town now. If I had any doubts remaining about their reversal in how they treated me, their willingness to make me part of their world, they were gone now.

Yes, this! This kind of community, this sense of being part of a family, this was what I’d been searching for.

It was exactly what I needed after escaping Chicago, my mother, Evan, and the cold betrayal of my supposed friend.

I offered Ted a smile, feeling much steadier than I had expected to be.

I suppose that’s what knowing you had support did to you, and it gave me the strength to see this through.

Unlike my mother, Evan was as much a businessman as he was a manipulator.

When he discovered he had no leverage, no deal to make, he’d back off.

My voice was warm and my smile genuine when I nodded at Ted. “No, thank you. Everything’s fine.”

Evan raised one perfect brow at the display, clearly unimpressed, but at least he had the sense not to sneer out loud. I stepped back and decided—against my better judgment—that it might be smarter to let him in, hear him out, and get rid of him cleanly.

Inside the warm, fire-heated living room, I didn’t offer him tea, I didn’t offer him a damn thing.

Ted hovered by the doorway anyway, pretending to fuss with his toolbox.

I shot him a reassuring look. “It’s fine, really.

Just… an old acquaintance.” He studied me for a long moment, then gave a curt nod and retreated down the hallway to the kitchen.

We could even hear the soft scuff of his boots as he went down the basement stairs.

Evan waited until the basement door shut before smirking.

“Colorful lot you’ve fallen in with. Rough around the edges, but I suppose that’s your style.

” His gaze swept the living room as if it offended him.

“At least they fix your pipes when they’re not staring at you like you’re their meal ticket.

” The loud, metallic bang from below made him jump.

I bit back a smile, amused, because Ted had been the quietest of workers so far.

He had definitely heard Evan, and he was warning him to tread carefully.

I folded my arms, bracing myself for a fight, and propped my hip against the lazy chair by the fire. It was the only proper seat in the room, considering the other furniture had been disposed of after the burglar had done a number on them.

My unwelcome guest stood in the middle of the large, but currently fairly empty, room as if he weren’t quite sure what to do when he couldn’t dominate the most important seat in the room.

Then his eyes flicked to the sideboard, where I’d placed a tray with some glasses and a carafe of water.

He quirked a brow at me, and I knew what he wanted, but I didn’t rise to the taunt.

It wasn’t that he wanted water; he definitely wanted me to play the polite, demure little hostess.

Screw that, I wasn’t going to be polite to him about anything. “Say what you came to say, Evan.”

He adjusted his cuffs, perfectly calm, as if we were in a boardroom and not in my half-renovated B&B. “Simple. You’re coming back to Chicago with me. I’ll cover your debt on this place, smooth over whatever mess you’ve made of your life, and reinstate things as they should be—but on my terms.”

I blinked at him, anger flaring hot, shocked by the audacity.

“Why the hell would you even want me back? I’m not rich.

I’m not… some prize catch. And you made it very clear before that I wasn’t worth the effort.

” I’d walked in on him and Kelly in my own freaking bed, of all places, and discovering they’d defiled my most private sanctuary that way had been the ultimate slap in the face.

He looked me dead in the eye, cool as ice.

“Because nobody leaves me, Gwen. That’s why.

Now, back to the conditions. Do you accept?

” He hadn’t even listed his conditions, just told me what he’d do for me, as if that was a carrot I couldn’t possibly resist. The arrogant, disgusting bastard.

The whole exchange made me feel dirty, like he thought he could buy me.

“No,” I said, hissing the word and straightening, hands balling into fists at my sides.

I saw his eyes drop from my face, cool, not in the least impressed by my show of anger.

It felt like he saw me as this tiny, harmless kitten he could brush off.

I couldn’t believe I’d ever been dumb enough to accept his marriage proposal after a whirlwind romance of less than two months.

His eyes landed on the tool belt hanging low on my hips, a hammer, box of nails, and several putty knives weighing it down. His mouth twisted in distaste.