Page 3 of Making New Plans

“Do I have a choice?” he ground out.

My cheeks heated, and I resisted the urge to chuck the ledger at his head. “Yes. You had the choice to call ahead and let us know that you’d be arriving even earlier than planned.”

His eyes widened as if he couldn’t believe someone would talk to him like that. I couldn’t quite believe it myself. Maybe it was the lack of caffeine. Maybe it was the broken moose head in my office. Or maybe it was because, in a few hours, his dad’s will was going to decide who got control of the lodge: me, the manager who’d spent years working countless hours to make it a go-to destination, or his absent son who only showed up when someone died.

That last part was a little cruel, but most of what I knew about Hunter Erickson came from his dad and some of the older town gossips. And he fit the profile of the angry, distant son to a T.

But the rumors had left out his effect on people. Or maybe it was just me. The two times I’d seen him as a grown man, my chest had tightened, and I’d forgotten how to breathe. Why? Maybe my quick resentment. Or my very slight attraction to his harsh hotness.

After what felt like an eternity of us studying each other, Hunter finally pulled back, his face shuttering. “That’s true, Miss Higgins.” His eyes flicked over me briefly, making me bite my lip. “How long before I can get into my room?”

“Um, give me an hour.”

He nodded. Then he wheeled his black suitcase over to one of the ugly green plaid couches by the lobby fireplace and sat down. Pulled out his phone and started tapping.

Was he seriously going to sit there until it was done?

More for my peace of mind rather than his, I approached him. “Wouldn’t you rather wait in town? Maybe at the diner? Or there’s a new coffee shop and a bookstore.”

His eyes met mine with such disdain, I almost stepped back. “Absolutely not.” Then he went back to his phone, utterly dismissing me.

I remembered both times he’d come back for his grandfather’s then his dad’s funerals. He’d only ever stayed one night. Here and gone. Like he couldn’t leave fast enough. But I couldn’t piece together why he couldn’t even stand the idea of wandering about town for a while.

Then I turned around and saw Mable’s face pressed to the kitchen door window. Well, there was one reason—he’d be the talk of the town. Mable continued to ogle Hunter, and I shook my head at her. No point in telling her that if he caught her staring, she’d probably be incinerated on the spot. She’d known him as a kid. No doubt, she was opening up the Tangled River gossip lines even as she gawked.

Trudging back to my desk, I pulled out my phone and texted the on-duty maid to hit the Evergreen Room first and to please hurry. Then I sent an urgent, I-need-it-now message to Sarah for coffee.

For the next hour, I helped guests check out of their rooms, feeling like I was in a performance review with Hunter sitting nearby. Thankfully, the checkouts went without a hitch, and I could breathe a bit easier.

That relief was cut short when an ominous figure appeared at the double-door lodge entrance. Short, thin, and carrying a shiny onyx cane. And early, like her grandson. I sighed. I’d rarely seen her since her son’s funeral, but she never changed.

Sal Erickson swept into the lodge, bringing in a rush of cold March wind with her. She gave me a curt nod before I could greet her, her ice-blue eyes focused on her grandson. Tapping past me, she stopped in front of the couch.

“Hunter.”

He looked up, his face blank, his voice cool. “Sal.”

“You’re early.”

“So I’m told.” His eyes cut over to me as I pretended to organize papers on my desk like World War III depended on it.

“Good trip?” Sal asked.

“Fine.”

I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Those two couldn’t fill a kid’s picture book with enough words.

I’d always thought Hunter had stayed away from Tangled River because of his father. Understandable, in my silent opinion. But seeing him glare at Sal made me wonder if there was another reason.

I was so focused on the wordless battle of wills occurring in the lobby that I didn’t hear someone approach the desk until a throat cleared in front of me. Startled, I glanced over to see a man who could probably blend in with gray wallpaper.

I smiled. “Hi, welcome to Pine Grove Lodge. Are you checking in?”

He shook his head, patting his briefcase like it was a cherished pet. “I’m here for the reading, Miss Higgins.”

My heart pounded. Already? But it was early! Everyone was early. How did they even know Hunter was here? Ah. Mable. I clicked my pen a few times, my palms suddenly sweaty.

“Of course, yes, the reading. Um, shall we?” My gaze shifted to Sal and Hunter again.

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