He would talk to her again tonight. Maybe this time, he’d find the magic words to get her to open up.
“Hello? Earth to Hank?”
He looked up in surprise. Carter’s fist hovered in front of his face, undoubtedly ready to do the old knock-knock on the forehead.
“Sorry. I was distracted.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I asked you the same question three times. You sure you’re awake?”
“Right. Because if this was a dream, of course I’d plop us in the middle of a blizzard.”
The doors to the office building were dead ahead, shining like the pearly gates. He couldn’t wait to slip inside their warmth. Just a few steps to go.
“So what were you asking?”
“Forget it.”
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve got a lot on my mind these days.”
By way of apology, he held the door for Carter.
“Age before beauty,” he quipped. A guy had to take his fun where he could find it.
“So.” Carter stamped snow from his feet. “How is it having Brynn in the cabin?”
“Fine.”
“Just fine? I thought I’d get more of a reaction than that.”
“Why?”
Carter shrugged. “Because, blind one, she’s a good-looking woman.”
Hank stopped midstomp. “Did Ma put you up to this?”
“To what?”
Pointing out Brynn’s assets and proximity. Pushing me to start dating. Reminding me that I’m turning into a grumpy old man and I’m not even thirty.
“Nothing.”
“God, aren’t you all sunshine and flowers this morning.”
Hank waved to the receptionist and hustled down the hall toward the conference room. “You earned it fair and square when you burned the last Pop-Tart.”
“What the— That was twenty years ago, Hankie.”
“Yeah, but you did it on purpose because we were out of your blueberry ones, so you didn’t want me to have any, either. And they were strawberry-frosted, man. With sprinkles. Best Pop-Tarts ever.”
“You know, most people let go of the past at some point.”
“Lucky I don’t have that problem.”
Carter snorted and shook his head. “You keep telling yourself that, bro.”
Hank pulled open the door to the conference room and deliberately walked in ahead of Carter this time. He subjected everyone to the kind of look he would give Millie when she pushed him beyond his limits and dropped into his seat without once making eye contact with Brynn.
All he could say was that it was a damned good thing he loved his family.
* * *
BRYNN WATCHED THE assorted Norths carefully as they straggled into the room, trying to gauge the emotional climate of the group before she started. She could and had handled hostile, indifferent and present-in-body-only groups in the past, but each situation required a different approach. Last week the Norths had been mostly curious. This week would be the real test of how they felt about working with her.
As expected, Moxie arrived first. She nodded at Brynn, took her seat at the head of the table and launched into a loud recap of that week’s Dancing with the Stars. Janice and Cash entered next, deep in a discussion of schedules. They barely glanced at her, but a wave and a quick smile let her know that they were on board. Mr. North—“Call me Robert”—trailed behind with his typical bemused look, as if he had been dragged from his research and had yet to reenter the real world, but he was the first to actually talk to her, asking how she was doing and if she needed anything. She had a feeling his genes were the ones that had asserted themselves when it came time to mold Hank’s personality.
Taylor scuttled in on the dot of ten. The worry lines on her forehead gave Brynn pause, but her cousin tugged on the collar of the shirt peeking out from beneath her argyle sweater and winked. Brynn recognized both items as ones that belonged to Ian and her happy meter zipped up a couple of notches.
Carter and Hank walked in together, five minutes late. Correction: Carter walked in, paused to survey the room and slipped into the empty chair beside Moxie. Brynn breathed a small sigh of relief. She had feared he would take the seat next to Taylor.
Hank stalked into the room with a chip on his shoulder so huge, she could almost see an indentation mark.
Oh, hell. He was not going to be happy by the time this meeting was over.
“Sorry,” Carter said. “Someone went into the ditch right in front of me. I had to give him a push.”
Moxie waved a hand, which Brynn interpreted as something along the lines of a papal dispensation. Taylor shot him a quick smile that made Brynn’s stomach clench, then reached up and rubbed her collar. Whew.
All eyes turned to Hank. He met them without blinking.
“I was late. So fire me.”
Moxie sighed. Janice gave him the kind of stern, one-fingered point that Brynn recognized as a universal gesture of motherly reprimanding. Cash rolled his eyes.
“Shall we begin with a rousing chorus of ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It’?” The words were out of Brynn’s mouth before she realized it, the rote reply born of years jollying her brothers through marauding catastrophes. Just in time, she stopped herself from wincing over the blunder. Better to have everyone think she’d said it on purpose.
Fake it ’til you make it.
Hank stared at her like he couldn’t believe what she had said. The disbelief slowly faded into something resembling respect mixed with humor, laced with chagrin. Underlying it all was a hint of something else, something that brought a flush to her cheeks.
He quickly resumed the bland-indifference act, but now she saw it for what it was.
Hank was trying to fake out someone, and it wasn’t her. She probably shouldn’t be curious. And he definitely wasn’t going to like what she was about to propose.
But she had to admit that things had just become a lot more interesting.
“Let’s hear how everyone has progressed this week. Mrs. North?”
“Dammit, girl. I told you to call me Moxie.”
Reports were given. Items were checked off the agenda. Brynn filled them in on her progress, noting with satisfaction the looks of approval being sent her way. There were few things she loved more than attacking a to-do list and bringing order out of chaos. Another week and she would have this group purring like a finely tuned kitten.
There was just one bump in the road to navigate first.
“Okay folks, we’re making excellent progress. There’s one last item I want to raise. You might not agree with me. That’s fine. But I feel very strongly that the festival should not be held in the village park, charming as it is, but someplace with stronger ties to the family.” She offered her best smile, feigning a confidence she sure as hell didn’t feel as she looked straight over her glasses at Hank. “I propose that the festival be held at the Northwoods Cabins.”
The color drained from his face. So did any traces of warmth.
“Are you out of your ever-loving mind?”
“Quite probably,” she said with all the cheer she could carry off. “But it’s still on the table.”
“What,