Page 40 of The Candlemaker

“My father left when I was six. Left my mom with nothing. Moved away. Started over—started a whole new family while we struggled to make ends meet.” Every statement was like a bullet from a gun, putting lethal holes in the character of the man that Chandler could hardly even refer to as his father.

My throat was tight as I went to swallow. I understood his anger. His bitterness. I understood because it had been my own.

“That’s why you want to sell the inn,” I said softly, seeing more of him as a layer of his persona melted away.

Again, silence chewed through minutes, until I thought for sure he wasn’t going to respond. This conversation was beyond business. It was beyond the inn, beyond ghosts, beyond taunting and flirting.It was beyond dangerous.

“He never should’ve left it to me,” he said like it had been a dagger in his back.

“I’ve only been a Kinkade for nine years,” I confessed in return. “My father met my mom and got her pregnant with Lou and me not long after they started dating. He wanted to marry her, but when she insisted on a prenup to protect her business, he left her—left us.”

“I’m sorry.” His apology sounded like mine—more understanding than sympathy.

“When Lou and I turned eighteen, we changed our name to Kinkade. For Mom and our oldest brother—half-brother, Jamie, who was more like a pseudo-father. Him and my uncle George.” I let out a deep breath. “That was the last—the only tie—we had to him, and it felt good to let it go.”

There was a rustle on top of the mattress, but I didn’t dare look.

“I’m working on escaping all the ties to mine.” The husk ofhis voice was different this time. Raw, not from anger but from pain.

“Oh?”

Was he talking about the inn?Because that would be easy to escape if he’d just take a little less and accept Lou’s offer.

“My father was also in real estate,” he revealed like he needed to get this off his chest, even if it was to me. “I’m slowly reducing his business to nothing, and then I’m going to buy it. And dismantle it.”

“You mean…”

“Remove all traces of it—of his legacy,” he declared solemnly. “And then I’ll be free of him.”

Even though I wanted to say that didn’t sound like freedom but simple revenge, I held back. It wasn’t my place…and I shouldn’t even think about caring what path his life was headed down after he left Friendship.

“So then, where did your advice come from?” I wondered instead.

Again, the fire crackled into the conversation for a few breaths as though it was the only thing going to respond to me. I worried my lower lip until I couldn’t resist the urge to glance in his direction. Not that it helped; I couldn’t see much except for his arm that must’ve been folded on top of his chest. It rose and fell with the deep movement of his breath.

“My business partner, Tom…he’s been a family friend for a long time.”

“He sounds like a smart man.” I could hear that he cared for this man—that they were close by the emotion in his voice even if he tried to downplay it.

Chandler grunted. “He also doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

I sucked in a breath.“Chandler?—”

“Good night, Frankie,” he doused the conversation, and Ididn’t need to look to know that the grunts and grumbles of the air mattress were from him giving me his back.

“Good night,” I murmured and turned toward the fire, welcoming its warmth so I could pretend the heat I felt had nothing to do with the man sleeping on the bed next to me.

But even that was impossible because the first deep breath I took was filled with him—more musk and sandalwood than clove.He’d held my pillow…and he’d let me thinkthe small chivalry was the worst thing about it. Now, there was no escaping him. Not tonight. All because I’d failed to plan.

Tomorrow, I’d do better,I swore as my eyes closed and the scent of him wrapped its fingers around my fantasies and held onto them tight.

Tomorrow, I’d come up with a plan. To haunt the inn. To forget our kiss. To keep my distance. Because in six days, Chandler Collins was going to walk out of my life in one of two ways—me hating him or him hating me. And in neither of those cases was it safe for me to feel anything other than strictly professional toward him.

His perfect muscles and small chivalries and wounded soul were none of my business.

Chapter Ten

Chandler

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