If for Any Reason (Nantucket Love Story #1) - Courtney Walsh Page 0,104

would reveal just how much he had overheard.

“Could you do me a favor and not mention any of this to Emily?” Eliza asked. “I’d like to discuss it with her myself.”

“I think maybe Emily should know your concerns about the man she’s hired,” Hollis said. “Especially if she’s going to have to make a change.”

“You let me worry about that. It’s a family matter, really.” Her smile looked forced, but she’d made her point—he wasn’t a part of the family. “And maybe, while you’re working around here, you can keep an eye on Mr. Walker?” Eliza’s penciled-in eyebrows elevated over her eyes. “If you see anything out of the ordinary, anything suspicious, you can let me know?”

Why did it feel like he was conspiring with Eliza against Emily? Why did it all feel horribly wrong?

“Hollis? You ready to talk sets?” Emily had entered the kitchen, and Hollis wondered if she’d eavesdropped the same way he had. Eliza was talking so quietly, he doubted Emily could’ve heard anything, but she would definitely ask him questions.

What was he going to say? He couldn’t lie to her. He wouldn’t.

And yet, for some reason, he had a feeling he needed to find out for himself who Jack really was and what he was doing here before alerting Emily. No matter how many times Eliza told him to butt out, even she couldn’t stop him from asking his own questions if it meant making sure Emily wasn’t in any danger.

The only problem was, he had a feeling that if he started digging, he wasn’t going to like what he found.

CHAPTER 38

EMILY WATCHED HER GRANDMOTHER exchange a tense look with Hollis before heading out for another morning of shopping with an old friend.

“What on earth was that about?” she asked, expecting Hollis to tell her how pushy her grandmother was.

Instead, he half laughed and waved a hand in the air dismissively. “She was asking about the crew, the kind of job they’re doing, that sort of thing.”

Emily groaned. “She doesn’t think I can handle this job. She’s checking up on me. That’s probably why she’s here.”

Hollis flashed her a smile. “What do you expect? She’s used to calling all the shots.”

Jack poked his head in from the hallway. “We’re good on paint colors for the bedrooms, right?”

Emily spun around. “Oh, there you are! I got you coffee.” She’d gone looking for him but ended up dropping the donuts with his crew chief, a younger guy named Marcus.

Jack moved a few steps in, took the cup from her, inhaled, and drank. “How’d you know I needed this today?”

“I’m just that good.” She grinned.

He left, and she turned to find Hollis wearing a scowl. An actual scowl. Had everyone gone mad overnight? “Whoa,” she said. “What is that look for?”

Hollis shifted, changing his expression. “No coffee for me?”

She tilted her head to the side and drank him in. He looked exquisite this morning in a pair of jeans, work boots, and a blue T-shirt with the Colorado flag on it.

“You feeling left out?” she mocked.

His smile made her heart sputter.

“Of course I got you coffee.” She handed over a cup, and when he took it, his fingers brushed over hers for a brief second, sending a shiver straight down her spine.

Oh, please, she thought. Get a grip. You sound like one of those stupid girls who live for a look or a word or a touch from a good-looking guy. That is not who you are, Emily Ackerman.

Although . . . what she wouldn’t give for a look, a word, or another touch from Hollis McGuire. . . .

This was not good. If he’d never made that speech about wanting a simple life—with kids and Little League and a picket fence—she’d be perfectly fine right now.

But he had made that speech. And many more just like it. And those speeches kept her awake at night, daydreaming about the possibility of throwing caution to the wind.

Because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it spoke to the deepest part of her soul. It made her think—as impractical as it was—that she might want those things too. And she’d never wanted those things, not really. At least not in the aching sort of way she wanted them now.

“No donut?” he asked after taking a sip.

She smacked his arm. “You’re the worst.”

Their familiarity had grown. In some ways, it was just like old times. But every now and then, she’d catch him looking at her—at rehearsal as he worked