Natalie jerked from Faith’s grasp with a disgusted huff and stalked to the door, flinging it open. Her dramatic exit was foiled when the anti-slam hinges Faith had installed kept the door from hitting the wall. Little did Faith realize she wasn’t installing them as much for the children of Holly as she was for the adults who acted worse than children.
But long after Natalie disappeared into the night, Faith was left with Natalie’s words eating away at her. She turned to get back to work so she could forget that she had no say in what Grant did or who he did it with. To ignore the hurt of knowing she was no more special to him than any other woman. And to work off the anger of getting extra mad at herself for placing her self-worth on a man’s view of her.
Only, she realized, depending on Natalie’s decision, she might not be delivering all these supplies to the festival. Which meant she’d just placed the success of the festival and the influx of money for Holly and all the good people here on the shoulders of an immature, self-centered, spoiled little bitch.
And that was when the repercussions of her anger registered. And her shame sank in.
Her father would be so disappointed in her.
Faith’s heart dropped clear to her feet. She leaned back against the sales counter, covered her face with both hands, and started bawling.
10
Grant virtually bounced up the steps to the hardware store after his time with Patrick. His brother had developed into a remarkable businessman, and once he’d gotten Faith’s story out of Grant, they’d talked in depth about the possibilities for her future. And he couldn’t wait to share them with her.
But when he reached the top step, he realized the store was dark and the closed sign was up on the door. Disappointment snuck in, but when he tried the door, it opened. He stepped in and listened, but heard silence. “Faith?”
No answer. Grant looked at the door leading to her apartment but didn’t start that direction. She’d probably crashed early. And after what he’d put her through last night, he really should let her get some rest.
When he turned toward the front of the store again, his gaze passed over the sales center, where a piece of paper taped to a register caught his eye.
It read:
Grant, I’m upstairs. Please lock the front door before you come up.
He relaxed and smiled. His body flipped from off to on. From dark to light. From depressed to exhilarated.
Oh, hell, yeah. This was definitely different.
He turned and locked the front door, then pulled the note off the register and tossed it into the trash on his way to the apartment door, but paused when he caught sight of the back room. It was packed, floor to ceiling, wall to wall with equipment. One look and Grant knew it had taken her all night to collect, haul, and stack everything into that space. He also knew she hadn’t had any help. Her employees would have been taking care of the store, and Grant would bet his brand-new Rover that she’d sent them all home on time.
He looked at the door to her apartment, then dropped his gaze to his hand on the knob. But what he saw was all in his head—and it was Faith’s world in the big picture. He saw who she was, where she’d been, and the mountains she still faced in her future. He saw her stresses, her fears, and all the commitments she honored out of loyalty or love.
A profound sense of humility came over him. He’d been away from his roots too long. He’d been living that fast life with no outside perspective. He’d forgotten just how hard the average American worked every day to stretch those monthly ends until they meet. That took sacrifice and dedication and perseverance. It took hard work and even a certain amount of skill. All the elements Grant had always believed set him apart and made him one of the greatest hockey players in the NHL.
But the truth was, there were a hell of a lot of people who had the same qualities. They just didn’t have thousands of eyes on them nearly every night, eight months out of the year.
Like Faith.
The band around his heart, one he’d only become aware of last night, tightened just a little more, spilling fear into his body. And fear was an awkward, unfamiliar, painful emotion Grant would rather not experience. It was the reason he’d pushed his fucked-up family away. It was the reason h
e didn’t get serious with women.
He looked up at the door again and realized… “It’s too fuckin’ late for that.”
He was serious about wanting Faith Nicholas.
The concrete revelation took an edge off his thrill of getting upstairs with the hope of finding Faith lying naked in bed, waiting for him. But he pulled the door open and noted the silence. She was probably passed out. And that was okay. He liked the idea of just sliding into bed next to her and watching her sleep awhile. Maybe he’d take a nap himself, then wake her in the night…
That put the smile back on his face and helped his feet move up the stairs a little easier.
Halfway up, his ear caught a voice—but not Faith’s. At the top of the stairs, he found the living room empty and dark and turned toward her bedroom. He stopped in the doorway and found her lying on her bed, curled on her side, with her back toward the door. Her head was propped on her hand and she was watching a video on Grant’s laptop. He’d left it here that morning, along with the video editing software. She wore pale pink sink pajama bottoms that rode low on her hips and a matching tank with spaghetti straps.
Just the sight of her closed a gap in Grant’s life and set everything right. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and exhaled, smiling.
She sniffled and glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, hey.” She turned back to the screen. “I was just watching some videos to see if I could learn anything about the software you bought.”
Something was wrong. Like majorly wrong. Even if Grant hadn’t heard it in her voice, he could feel it in the room.