Page 26 of Hotshot
Definitely jealous.
I hummed as cued, ignoring the pang of homesickness while I stared out the window at the forest. I thanked Cassy for the update, assuring her I’d visit on my trip to Denver next weekend. Then I grabbed my hat and keys, pushed away from my desk, and at the last second, snatched the dog-eared Post-it note stuck to my computer screen.
A green melon…and a phone number.
A green melon? Mellon maybe?
Denny?
No, he wouldn’t call the mill directly. I checked my cell for a message from him, but there wasn’t one. Emily had handed over the note first, so maybe this green melon message had been important too.
And now, I was looking for clues to interpret messages at work.Wow.
I locked up and headed out to the lone truck in the lot. I started the engine before inputting the number. A woman answered on the second ring. I explained that I was returning a call, apologizing for not knowing her name as I navigated toward the main road.
“Oh, the wood guy,” she said around a cough.
“Well, yes. I guess I am. How can I help you, Ms.…”
“Mellon. Denny’s grandma.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline.What the fuck?Denny’s grandmother?
“Uh…”
Confusion caught my tongue, but she didn’t notice. “I think I’m being uncool, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. I want to meet you to be sure you aren’t a psycho looking for a cheap story. I don’t drive anymore, and I’m not paying that cranky old Sal to take me on a joyride to Wood stinkin’ Hollow. You’ll have to come to me. I can offer you cookies or bread for your trouble. I work at the bakery in Elmwood on Tuesdays at ten a.m…or whenever I feel like coming in. Just ask for Annie. I have nothing else to say, so don’t make this weird. Good-bye.”
She hung up.
I stopped at the corner of Pecker and Belvedere to stare at the screen on my dashboard. This was a new one. I’d never been summoned to meet an acquaintance’s grandmother. And that was all Denny and I were…acquaintances. Nothing sexy had happened and he hadn’t agreed to help me out, so we weren’t even business associates. Or friends.
We were just…
Okay. Fuck it.I didn’t know what was going on, so I scrolled for the number I’d inputted a few nights ago and texted Denny.
Your grandmother wants to meet me.
I continued along the winding road to Elmwood, passing Lake Norman and the giant copse of elms near Carlton Creek.The moon shone like a spotlight on bare trees, church steeples, and quaint homes dotting the wintery horizon. I missed Denver, but I had to admit this place was charming and idyllic, like a picture straight out of a Vermont travel brochure.
I stopped by my father’s new house and checked in with the contractor finishing up the kitchen and bathroom remodel. It was very…nice.
The house itself was unassuming—a two-story white colonial with green shutters and a narrow porch. The hardwood flooring was in decent shape and the rooms were spacious with large windows overlooking a grassy field and the forest beyond. The kitchen and bathrooms had been stuck somewhere in the eighties and desperately needed updating, but it had good bones.
Dad hadn’t been willing to go from a sprawling ranch in the mountains of Colorado to a tired, hundred-year-old Wood Hollow house. He’d wanted the comforts of home, including a tricked-out, modern kitchen, space for his horses, and privacy. This was a humble version of Red Robin Ranch, but he would have approved.
It was mine for six whole months now, and nope, I wasn’t happy about that.
My situation was looking bleak as hell at the moment. The mill was plodding along at the same rate it had for decades, which wasn’t anywhere near what was needed to meet the demands of new construction. And after two years of hanging out with horses and therapy patients, I was out of practice in dealing with corporate assholes and angry workers.
I walked through the kitchen with Steve the contractor, oohed and aahed at the restaurant-grade appliances Dad had ordered, and admired the giant quartz island and the breakfast nook that supposedly had a nice view of the forest. It was too dark to appreciate the scenery at this hour, but I believed him.
“Thank you. It looks amazing, Steve. How much longer will you need?” I asked.
Steve smoothed the edges of his full mustache as he peered around the kitchen and great room area. He was a big man in his fifties with rosy cheeks and a beer belly. “One week to paint and clean. I don’t know if you need movers, but my son and his friends would be happy to help.”
“That’s nice of you, but I don’t have anything to move. Just a suitcase. I’ll have to order furniture online. Unless you have any stores here.”
“Not in Elmwood. You’ll have to go to Pinecrest. It’ll be pricey, but you’ll want nice things for this house.” He swept his arm wide and continued conversationally. “This is turning into a fancy section of town. I don’t know if you follow hockey, but Vinnie Kiminski is your neighbor. Your property abuts his on the other end of the creek. Vinnie and his husband, Nolan have two kids now. Gee, they must be seven and four or five. I saw them sledding down that little hill from your window a couple of weeks ago. Technically on your property, but I’m assuming you like kids, and I sure as heck hope you don’t have a problem with a family with two dads.”