Wedding His Takeover Target (6 page)

Her stomach flip-flopped at the intensity of his gaze and his low, gravelly tone. She shook her head. “Good-bye, Gavin.”

She fumbled behind her for the doorknob, but the door swung open before she could locate the brass orb.

“Don't keep the man out in the cold, Sabrina. Invite him in,” her grandfather said.

Denial screamed through her. “Pops, Gavin has to g—”

“Thanks, Henry, I appreciate it.” Gavin overrode her objection and moved forward, forcing Sabrina to scramble out of his path.
Now what?

The three of them stood in the foyer with an odd, expectant tension she didn't understand stretching between them. Sabrina could feel Gavin's and her grandfather's gazes on her. She didn't know what they were looking for and she couldn't come up with an acceptable excuse to escape.

Gavin shifted his attention to Pops. “I'm trying to convince Sabrina to join me for dinner.”

Her grandfather nodded. “Good idea. I have a hankering for leftover pot roast, so there's no need for her to cook tonight.”

“Pops,” Sabrina squeaked in protest. “I've explained to Gavin that I have too much to do getting ready for our guests.”

“Not if I hire that handyman you insisted on to help with your to-do list.” Pops looked at Gavin. “Know anybody who's skilled with power tools and has a few hours to spare each day over the next three weeks?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Me.”

“No,” Sabrina all but shouted on a wave of panic. “We're going to hire someone local. Someone who needs the work.” She shot her grandfather a warning look—to which he seemed oblivious.

Gavin shrugged, splaying his big hands, palms up. “I need the work. Not financially, but because I'm going stir-crazy up at The Ridge with nothing to do. We already have a full staff. They don't need me. I'll donate whatever salary you intended to pay to the charity of your choice.”

“Well, ain't that nice.” Pops sounded far too smug for Sabrina's liking.

“I'd rather hire a local, Pops.”

Gavin smiled. “I am a local, Aspen born and bred.”

She gritted her teeth. “You know what I mean. There are unemployed people in town who actually need the income.”

Pops clapped Gavin on the shoulder. “Glad to have your help. And if you two aren't going out tonight you can stay for dinner. By the time I finish going over Sabrina's list with you, she should have something ready. She's a pretty good cook. My Colleen taught her.”

Sabrina wanted to scream. The only thing she wanted to cook up for Gavin Jarrod was food poisoning. “I'm sure Gavin has better things to do.”

“My evening's free,” the pig-headed rat replied with an innocent expression she didn't buy for one second. “Henry, show me that list, and we'll see what tools and supplies we'll need. I can be at the builder's supply store tomorrow morning as soon as they unlock their doors.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” her grandfather said before turning and heading for his study with a spring in his step Sabrina hadn't seen in a while.

Having Gavin underfoot for three weeks sounded like a disaster to her, and the glint in his eyes as he smiled at her made it clear he knew he was irritating the daylights out of her—and was loving every second of it. He followed her grandfather. If she'd had her grandmother's cast-iron skillet in hand, Sabrina would have hurled it at his head.

For her grandfather's sake and to get the work done that the inn desperately needed, she would endure Gavin's company. But that was it. There would be no more dates.

And there definitely wouldn't be any more kisses.

 

“I took Sabrina to the mine,” Gavin told Henry as the old man rifled through the slips of paper piled on his desk.

Henry's chin popped up. He examined Gavin over the top of his gold-rimmed bifocals. “Why in tarnation would you do that?”

“She wouldn't go out with me until I bribed her. Is she always that stubborn?”

“If she's strong-willed it's because life's made her that way. Ain't necessarily a bad thing. Reminds me of my Colleen. In my day we called it ‘grit,' and we wanted our women to have it. The ones who lacked it didn't last long.”

The declaration raised red flags. Gavin had kept Sabrina at the mine for an extra hour, showing her through the tunnels, explaining the mining process and subtly grilling her, but getting information out of her was damn near impossible.

“What made Sabrina tough?”

“You'll have to figure that out yourself. I'm not making it easy for you. Hiring you to help with the inn's as far as I'll go. If you want her you'll have to work to woo her, and I won't lie and tell you it'll be easy. But we agreed to keep the whys and wherefores of this deal between us. You breaking your word already, Jarrod?”

“No, sir. I intend to be as honest with Sabrina as possible and still keep to our agreement. I told her you'd agreed to sell me the land, but not the conditions of the sale.”

Caldwell drilled him with a hard stare. “Guess that's fair enough. Once you sign the marriage license, I'll sign the deed.”

Henry extracted a piece of paper and passed it to Gavin. Neat, loopy, girly script covered the page. Sabrina's. Gavin scanned down the list. Nothing major. “This won't take three weeks.”

“Then you'd better work slow on the chores and fast on Sabrina.”

What choice did he have with the winter freeze approaching and the old man's obstinacy? Gavin knew if he didn't seal this deal soon, he'd have to wait until next spring to break ground. Postponing meant staying longer in Aspen, and that wasn't going to happen. For his siblings' sakes he'd stay his year, but not a day more.

The old man chuckled. “Gotta admit, this is gonna be fun to watch.”

I
t was hard to remember a day Sabrina had dreaded as much as she did this one. She shuffled toward the kitchen Wednesday morning, intent on preparing breakfast, leaving it on the buffet and getting out of the way before Gavin arrived.

Last night she'd taken the coward's way out by claiming the necessity of paying bills. She'd put dinner on the table for the men and then retired to her office to pick at her meal at her desk. Avoiding Gavin wouldn't be as easy today.

At the sound of male voices, she stopped abruptly in the back hall. She identified Pops's then Gavin's and her stomach sank. He was already here. She checked her watch. Six-thirty. Pulse accelerating, she backed out. A floorboard squeaked beneath her foot, betraying her presence. She cringed.

“Coffee's ready, girlie. C'mon in,” her grandfather called.

Ugh. Trapped. She debated ignoring the summons, but she'd be darned if she'd let Gavin Jarrod think her a coward.
Squaring her shoulders, she fluffed her damp hair, took a deep breath and marched forward.

The men sat at the table, her grandfather with his paper, Gavin with a mug cradled between his big hands. He looked good in a white turtleneck that showed off his tan. His light brown hair looked like a snowboarder's after a lightning-fast run down the mountain. The mussed strands seemed somehow sexy.

No. Not sexy. Messy.

His gaze drifted from her eyes to her mouth and her stomach did a swan dive. Knowing how he kissed and how he tasted changed everything.

No, it didn't. She still wasn't interested.

She gulped. “Good morning.”

He nodded. “Morning.”

She forced her attention to her grandfather. “You're up earlier than usual for a day when we have no guests.”

He shrugged. “No point in lying abed when there's so much to do. You'll want to go over the repairs with Gavin before the two of you head to the builder's supply center.”

Aghast, she stared at Pops. “I thought you were going with him.”

“Storm must be brewing. M'bones are aching this morning. I'll take it easy today.”

She worried more than a little that his aches and pains had worsened in the past year, making it impossible to ignore his physical slowdown. Was he also losing his mental acuity?

All the more reason for her to make sure Gavin Jarrod wasn't trying to pull a fast one on her grandfather and cheat him out of the mine and/or the inn. Hadn't Pops groused on more than one occasion about Gavin's dad, Donald, being a greedy, land-hungry bastard? Were all the Jarrods a bunch of swindlers?

She could feel Gavin studying her and headed for the
coffeepot to avoid letting him see he'd unsettled her. She wanted to escape this excursion, but if she did then Pops would go. A no-win situation. She didn't want to go, but she didn't want Pops and his checkbook alone with Gavin either.

She focused intently on the dark brew streaming into her favorite mug and tried to pretend she couldn't feel Gavin's gaze boring into her back like twin laser beams. The way he always watched her—as if she were a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out—made her nape prickle. She turned toward the sink, reaching for the faucet.

“You won't need to water down your coffee,” Pops said. “Gavin made it instead of me.”

The territorial invasion made her hackles rise. The man had been messing with her coffeepot.

The perfect excuse to avoid Gavin came to her as she stirred sugar into the liquid. “Your joints are a pretty accurate weather gauge, Pops. Maybe we should postpone repairs until after the front passes.”

“No, ma'am,” Pops snapped. “You're the one all fired up to get through this list. Best to start now and have spare time at the end than to be pushed to work 'round the clock before our guests arrive.”

True, but that didn't make it any easier to work with her new handyman.

“I can go with you,” Pops offered grudgingly, “if you're afraid the job's too big for you.”

Her spine snapped with indignation. She was practically running the inn single-handedly now. “Do you really believe I can't handle the shopping?”

“I don't know, girlie. The maintenance on this place is a daunting job.”

She didn't like the sound of that. “It's a job I love and do willingly. I lack a few skills, but I'm learning every day.”

Gavin rose and crossed the kitchen, invading her space and
making her move out of the way. He casually refilled his mug as if he weren't a guest. Pushy bastard. “I borrowed a pickup truck from The Ridge, but it's a single cab. The bench seat will hold the three of us, but it'll be a tight squeeze.”

And she'd be sandwiched between the man she loved the most in the world and the one she wanted to avoid at all costs. One who'd stirred up all kinds of dormant feelings she'd prefer to leave sleeping. No more passion for her. No passion meant no pain. She liked it that way.

She tipped her head back to glare at Gavin. “I can do the shopping. In fact, I don't need your help.”

“Your van isn't going to carry twelve-foot timber, and I can't loan you the truck because of liability issues.”

She clenched her teeth in frustration. Did he have to be logical? “I'll have the order delivered.”

“You'd lose several days' work time waiting for the materials.”

He had an answer for everything, she fumed silently, and it didn't help that he was right. “Fine. I'll ride with you. Pops can stay here.”

Instead of returning to the table, Gavin leaned a hip on the counter right beside her. She scalded her tongue on her first, hasty sip of coffee.

“Did you know our grandfathers were friends?” Gavin asked.

“Best friends,” Pops added. “'Til your grandpappy stiffed me with a bum mine. He claimed he'd found silver chunks the size of a goat's head in there, but that was bull.”

“I've never found anything that large,” Gavin confirmed, “but I still do a little digging and look for a vein each time I come home.”

The comment instantly carried her back to the seclusion and intimacy she'd discovered in the mine—not a mental
journey she wanted to revisit. She pivoted away. “What would you like for breakfast today, Pops?”

“Y'might want to ask our guest that since you're gonna put him to work.”

She bit the inside of her lip. Gavin wasn't a guest. He was a temporary employee and a pain in her backside. “Gavin?”

“Henry's been bragging about your blueberry pancakes. Might as well see if he's all talk.”

“And bacon,” Pops added without a trace of guilt. “Crisp.”

She glanced from man to man. They'd been discussing her? Why? Surely her grandfather wasn't matchmaking? He knew better. And he knew what kind of man she preferred—one like Russell. Generous, smart, loyal and fearless, as an army medic her husband had been willing to put his life on the line and even die for any member of his unit—a point he'd proven by throwing himself on a grenade to save his team.

Egotistical jerks who swaggered around being excessively bossy and sneaky did nothing for her.

She narrowed her eyes on Gavin. He gave her a half smile. “If you don't have the ingredients, I could always take you to breakfast at Jarrod Ridge.”

No way. She'd walk barefoot over broken glass to get what she required before she'd have breakfast with him on his turf. It was bad enough he'd forced his presence on her for the shopping trip and chores, but if she wanted to keep her life flowing in the comfortable groove she'd carved for herself since moving to Aspen, avoiding additional one-on-one time with Gavin was a necessity.

“I have everything I need. If you'll excuse me…?” She made a shooing motion with her hand and waited for him to return to his seat at the table before she pivoted back to the pantry.

She'd made the recipe a hundred times, and she assembled
the ingredients by rote. But this time felt different. Her hands were clumsy, her movements awkward as she furiously whisked the egg whites. She realized her frenzied actions were probably giving away more than she intended and deliberately slowed her strokes. She folded the froth to the flour mixture, egg yolks and milk, then ladled the thick liquid onto the hot griddle. The sizzle of butter and batter didn't drown out the sounds of the men's voices as they discussed politics, cars and sports. No matter how hard she tried to block them out, she couldn't escape Gavin's deep, velvety tone.

Escaping gained appeal by the second, and it seemed to take forever to fry the final piece of bacon and pile the last golden disk on the platter. She carried the plates to the table and turned to leave.

“Whoa, girlie. Sit down and eat.”

“I need to wash the dishes.” She'd done most of the work while cooking, but still—

“I'll do them while you're at the store. You're not hiding in the office like you did last night. These chores were your idea. You need to contribute to the planning.”

Her cheeks burned at being called out in front of Gavin, but again, Pops spoke the truth. Refusing to join them would be both ungracious and cowardly. She retrieved her coffee, a carafe of orange juice and three glasses, stalling, she admitted, before returning to the table.

She had no appetite. How could she when awareness of Gavin made her jittery? Russell had never made her uncomfortable. He'd been dynamic and exciting, but he'd never made her feel crowded, breathless or restless.

She forced down a pancake without tasting a bite. She'd almost finished when Pops pulled his checkbook from his back pocket. She smiled at his old-fashioned gesture. Almost everyone she knew used debit or credit cards these days. No one wrote paper checks anymore—except Pops.

“Pops, I can charge our purchase to the inn's card.”

“Don't trust that electronic junk. Too many accounts get hacked.” He made the check out to the store and signed it, leaving the amount spaces blank, then tore it out of the book. She put down her fork to take it, but he passed the check to Gavin.

Tension snarled in Sabrina's stomach, turning her fluffy pancake into a lead brick. How could Pops be so trusting to a virtual stranger? He'd literally handed Gavin a blank check.

It was up to her to make sure Pops's trust was not abused. She wasn't letting Gavin Jarrod out of her sight until this job was done and he crawled back under the rock from which he'd come.

 

Sabrina surreptitiously checked her watch, willing time to pass quickly.

“Relax and drink your coffee. The cashier said our order would be ready in an hour,” Gavin said from across the table.

She pleated her paper napkin. “I've never known them to take so long to pull an order.”

“They only have one guy licensed to drive a forklift working today. Are you sure you don't want something to eat? You barely touched your breakfast.”

“I'm fine.” With her nerves already stretched to the breaking point, the last thing she needed was more caffeine. As for eating…no way. Her stomach churned like the cement mixer rattling the diner's windows as it thundered down the street.

Gavin's calmness only agitated her more. But then
he
was getting his way. “Dragging me to a restaurant has been your goal all along. Congratulations. You've succeeded.”

“And the enthralled expression on your face will make every woman on the sidewalk want my phone number.”

His dry sarcasm made her lips twitch. She wasn't going to like him. No way. Not after the past hour.

In a store as large as the one they'd just left, how could there have been such a shortage of space that she and her unwanted shopping partner had repeatedly made contact? But they had. Their hands had bumped over banisters and their hips by the hedge trimmers. Every time she'd turned around he'd been in her personal space, crowding her and not giving an inch.

Her pulse hadn't been in the normal range since she'd climbed into his cramped truck cab, and she'd gasped so many times while shopping that anyone who didn't know her would think she had a chronic lung condition.

How could she get rid of him and still protect Pops? She traced the lip of her mug, then glanced at Gavin. His attention seemed riveted to the movement of her finger, and then abruptly shifted to her face. The impact of his dark gaze swept her into an out-of-control, lighter-than-air feeling that made no sense considering she was sitting in a diner in the middle of downtown Aspen. But she felt as if her parasail had suddenly been caught by a strong gust and she'd been lifted off her snowboard, off solid ground and carried up the mountain.

She snatched her hands from the table and gripped the booth's bench waiting for her breathlessness to ease. She scrambled to find a rational thought. “Did you have to order top-of-the-line everything?”

“The more expensive products have better warranties. If you have problems the replacements are free.”

That much was true. But still…the total of the supply bill had been about twenty percent higher than she'd anticipated. Luckily, she'd balanced the checkbook last night and knew the account had enough to cover the amount. The inn wasn't hurting financially yet despite some zero occupancy days,
but it was the principle of Gavin being so free with someone else's money that bothered her.

She sipped her unwanted coffee, grudgingly admitting the brew he'd made this morning was better than the trendy diner's—maybe even better than hers, and she prided herself on making great coffee for the inn's guests.

So the man made decent coffee. Big deal. That wasn't a reason to keep him around.

“What do you want from my grandfather?”

“I told you. The mine and the acreage surrounding it.” He sounded sincere, but the way his eyes turned guarded and he tensed ever so slightly contradicted his words.

With almost fifty years between him and Pops, the men's sudden friendship seemed unnatural and calculated. Gavin had to be up to something. That blank check he'd managed to get from Pops spoke volumes. There had to be more. She just didn't know what yet, and the only way to figure out his agenda was to get to know him better. Not a project she relished.