“Great.” Stiffly, he held out the mums, decorated to look like a turkey. “These are for you.”
“How sweet. You didn’t need to.”
“I wanted to.”
She hadn’t intended to insult him. “They’re lovely.” Her fingers grazed his in accepting them. The small contact zapped his energy through her, sizzling along her nerve endings.
As if aware of it too, he tensed, and somehow loomed taller beside her. His presence seemed to fill the foyer. Her feet anchored in place, concentrating her focus on him. When his gaze dropped to her lips and he eased closer, her grasp on the flowers loosened.
The rattle of the door opening caused him to glance away to the couple entering with overnight bags.
To clear her head, Joss stepped toward them. “Welcome.”
She remembered to tell Eric, “Why don’t you hang up your coat and join the others?”
“Of course.” He stepped into the front room and halted. His fists clenched when Lydia looked up.
Her aunt brightened. “Doctor Hendricks. How wonderful. Come sit beside us. Tell us how you’ve been.”
He shot a tentative glance at Joss.
She cradled the flowers. “Go ahead. It’s safe. My aunt won’t be doing any readings tonight.”
He released a breath, seeming to steel himself before going in.
Maybe it was time to open a bottle of wine. First, she greeted the newcomers. After setting the flowers on the reservation desk, she engaged in small talk with a couple registering for a room, nerves rattling from her encounter with Eric. Would he have kissed her if the visitors hadn’t arrived when they did?
At the foot of the stairs, she directed the people to the second floor. Instinctively, she turned to the front room and immediately met Eric’s gaze. Electricity shocked her, concentrating in her lower belly. Hoping it would subside, she hurried to the kitchen.
The vibration remained steady. “I think I’ll open the wine now. Lydia’s latched onto Doctor Hendricks already.” Joss rummaged in the drawer for the bottle opener.
“Doc Hendricks is here?” Tammy strained to look past her.
“Yes. He brought flowers,” she blurted, then regretted it. Unsure why she mentioned it, Joss’s cheeks burned.
Annie’s brows flew upward. In a knowing tone, she said, “Oh,” and exchanged a sly glance with Tammy.
She should never have said a thing. “It’s a formal gesture from a guest to a host.”
All innocence, Tammy said, “Sure.” She busied herself arranging stuffed mushroom caps on a platter.
Despite the buzz still singing along her veins, Joss kept her voice airy. “They’re cute. Mums shaped like a turkey.”
Too enthusiastically, Annie nodded. “I’ve seen those. They are cute.”
At her placating tone, Joss worked the corkscrew faster. The blessed pop of the cork’s release was a wonderful sound. She poured a glass of Riesling and gulped.
At Annie’s quizzical glance, she swirled the last in her glass. “Had to test it. It’s a new brand. Very good.” She downed the last of it. The tingle working through her subsided, and her muscles relaxed.
Grabbing napkins, Tammy shouldered the tray. “I’ll take these out front.”
Annie opened the oven door. “Twenty minutes, tops, before dinner.”
“Perfect. Hopefully everyone will be here by then.” If only Kyle had the courtesy to arrive early. Joss suspected he’d make a late entrance and an early departure. At least her family would spend the holiday together.
* * * *
The crackling fire and mellow wine eased Eric’s tension. Another last-minute decision, coming here. Because of an emergency call, he’d missed the flight to Denver. Profuse apologies to his sister failed to ease her concern about him spending Thanksgiving alone, eating a microwaved turkey dinner.
“I won’t be. There’s a new inn down the street. I’ll eat there with neighbors.” That placated her, and the idea gained appeal. Why not? He’d hate to miss an old-fashioned turkey dinner. A legendary one. He had almost smiled.
By the time he’d parked outside the inn, his grin had disappeared along with his confidence, and he’d wondered why the hell he’d come. The urge to flee had momentarily overtaken him. He’d slipped the keys back into the ignition. An image in his head had stopped him. Sheree, opening her apartment door, pulling him inside.
Another vehicle parked beside him. He forced himself out of the truck and followed the couple inside.
Luckily, Charlie Fulton’s arrival shifted everyone’s focus to him. He described at length the renovation process, praising Joss and Annie for their hard work. “Especially Mrs. Gibson. She’s a dynamo, always on the move. You know?”
Eric knew too well. Anytime he was near her, his head spun. She was always in motion, always changing things. A whirlwind of energy.
When Joss announced dinner, Eric followed everyone into the dining room. He evaded Lydia and sat near Charlie. Joss, Annie, and Tammy rotated from dining room to kitchen, kitchen to dining room, carrying trays of food.
The buffet style reminded Eric of home, jostling for first place with his sister. It lent a casual atmosphere to the evening. The food itself was another matter. A turkey at his parents’ home seemed bland as flour paste in comparison. Whatever herbs mingled with ingredients in each dish tantalized his taste buds, and his senses. His awareness of the room around him heightened. He was especially sensitive to Joss’s presence. Throughout dinner, he glanced frequently at her whenever she entered the room. Stupidly, he’d imagined her sitting beside him during the meal. She didn’t sit anywhere, unless she’d eaten in the kitchen.
Charlie dominated the conversation, so there was little pressure to contribute much unless asked. Eric wondered whether Charlie’s interest extended beyond the inn. The handyman perked up whenever Joss came by, and went out of his way to speak to her. She graciously stopped at their table, her easy laughter a reminder to Eric of the many hours she’d spent with Charlie. Her glance strayed to Eric many times, each time riveting him further. A curiosity lingered in her gaze. An invitation so compelling, when she stopped to ask if he wanted coffee, he rose from the table.
“You’re not leaving, are you?” she asked.
“No,” he blurted. He couldn’t leave. Embarrassed at his inexplicable reaction, he covered by asking where the rest room was. The warmth—and relief—in her face told him he hadn’t imagined it. Something was happening between them. He had no idea what, yet it overwhelmed him. He found himself in the downstairs bathroom with no recollection of having walked there.
Splashing cold water on his face, he told his mirror image, “Get a grip.”
A long-forgotten urge twisted through him, making his hands fumble the towel onto the rack. You’re getting carried away. Yet he couldn’t deny, something about her beckoned to him on the deepest level, and he didn’t want to stop. He returned to his seat and stared at the apple cranberry cake on the plate. Unadorned of whipped cream, it needed no embellishment. It smelled delicious.
Mr. Appleton inquired about his practice, and, as Eric suspected, wanted free advice on his cat’s condition.
“I couldn’t be sure without taking a look. If you’d like, bring him by tomorrow.” He had nowhere else to be. The thought of spending the day alone used to appeal to him. No harried travel. No inquisitive relatives. Suddenly, his immediate future seemed bleak and pathetic. Nothing like when he visited the inn, always too short a stay.
As he spooned