Page 1 of Never Finished

Emma

“That sounds fabulous,” I enthused with a smile that made my cheeks feel like they would split. I detest that feeling. I used to smile warmly and genuinely, but I didn’t have it in me to put in the effort.

Truthfully, I haven’t felt the energy to put much effort into anything lately. I suppose I could blame it on feeling adrift ever since my mom passed away—or I could blame it on the hoity-toity business dinners, which almost always involved some minuscule serving of what amounted to a gourmet cracker with a teaspoon of pureed meat and a sprig of whatever was in season draped across it.

My client continued to go on about some new spa treatment that didn’t interest me in the slightest, and I bit back at a smile as I remembered an old friend who used to call it “rich people food.” He teased the meager servings were why rich people were so thin, saying they consumed nothing but “petrified shingles with some sort of sauce, along with vodka and tonic.”

Jaime always had a colorful way of describing the world around him. I missed that—and Jaime—a lot. Perhaps too much for someone I hadn’t seen in twelve years. The last time I saw Jaime Acosta, he’d left me dizzy with the deepest, most soul-searing kiss I’ve ever had, and no one had come close since. So, I guess it wasn’t too surprising he popped into my head as frequently as he did.

Like now as I remembered how I frequented the local diner just because Jaime was a cook there—and how badly I could go for one of those burger, fries, and shake combos.

Mercifully, I steered my client back to business and wrapped things up. Soon, I was standing alone outside the restaurant. It was early fall in Colorado, and having spent most of the last decade in Los Angeles, I’d forgotten how cool it got that time of year.

It was a little nerve-racking being back in Colorado, and I blamed being so close to home for why Jaime kept taking up my thoughts. Thankfully, I wasn’t back in Silverpine. Being in my hometown would be far too difficult, especially since my mother died, not to mention the memories of Jaime.

One thing I could take comfort in was the knowledge I would not have to drive far before I stumbled on a greasy diner. With all the truckers who ran through our state, diners were a staple, and while I doubted any place could compete with Mabel’s Diner in Silverpine, I was certain I could find something ten times better than what I’d just consumed.

I went in the opposite direction of my hotel and kept my eyes peeled for any telltale signs of what my stomach was growling for.

Sure enough, not far out of town. I saw the familiar sign of a half-moon, which directed me to Gus's Bar and Grill.

The parking lot was mostly gravel, and as I slid my rental BMW into a spot in front of the building, I felt a little embarrassed by the stark difference between it and the beat-up cars and trucks dotting the haphazard parking lot.

I was born with money, but I’d never felt like I had a silver spoon in my mouth. My parents grew their wealth from the ground up. My father cashed in a small portion of the land my mother’s family owned and built a resort—which is now one of the premier ski resorts in Colorado—and I’m carrying on my mom’s legacy as the head of business development at Pine Crest Resorts.

My mom's family had been in the state of Colorado since before it’d been officially settled. They’d had thousands of acres of land and worked it diligently, even through the Depression and the countless blizzards that had threatened their homestead.

My mom could identify every tree, deer track, and bird call—she’d loved nature, and it’d rubbed off on me. She’d loved it so much her first job was a nature guide, and as fate would have it, my father was in one of her tour groups.

He was almost ten years older than her, and I sometimes wondered what had attracted them to one another. But then, I knew my father—he had charm for days and an easy smile, and he could be loving and giving to a fault. There was also a hard edge to him. He could be brutal when it came to business, but my mother always had a way of softening his edges.

Unfortunately, since she’d passed away, there’d been no softening of those edges, and John Carter was not mellowing with age. It was all business all the time now, and he didn’t care who he had the squash to make a deal.

I was becoming increasingly alarmed by his thirst. I tried to employ some of the same tactics my mother had used, but she’d had the magic touch. Every time I tried to calm him, he would snap and say, “This is the way business is done. You need to toughen up and take that heart off your sleeve, or you're never going to make it, much less take over the company.”

I had to give my father credit. He took that piece of land my mother gave him and built the grandest resort the state of Colorado had ever seen. Our resort hosted more celebrities, debutants, and suspected mob bosses than I could count. If you were famous or had money to burn, you were welcome at Pine Crest Mountain.

Regrettably, that had rubbed my mom the wrong way. She’d wanted Pine Crest to be a place where families could have fun and enjoy the beautiful bounty that was Colorado. But that didn’t change the fact my father had made a success out of the place.

Toward the end of her life, my dad had begun nagging her to sign over the rest of her land. I knew he had thoughts of expanding it into a mega-resort. But as much as she’d had a soft spot for my father, my mother had signed the land over to me, and it was a source of contention between my father and me.

He was always in my ear about how much money we could make off that land, but for the first time in my life, I found the strength to put my foot down and tell him I would honor my mom’s wishes. I didn’t want to see all that beautiful land bulldozed.

Even though I knew I’d done the right thing, I felt guilty. I only had one parent left, and he was upset with me. So, I worked my tail off to prove to my father I could be a savvy businesswoman, especially as he talked more and more about eventually handing me the reins. The problem was, I wasn't sure I wanted to take over. It was easy to think about the things I could do with the resort if I were in charge. I could make it more accessible to regular families and kid-friendly, just as my mom wanted. But it was also a huge responsibility.

I wasn't about to admit any of that to my dad because he'd have a fit. I was, however, going to prove to him I was more than capable of managing our business.

It came at a cost, though. I was lonely, exhausted, and still grieving. So much so, my best friends, Caroline and Abby, had tried talking me out of coming on the trip. They’d suggested I tell my dad somebody else should take the lead, but I wasn't about to let that happen. I knew if I turned it down, he’d believe I didn’t have the courage to be CEO one day. So, I did what I did best—put on a happy face and get the deal done. Which was exactly what I did. Being back in my home state wasn't all terrible. It was nice to see a Colorado sunset again, even if it made my heart ache for things that might've been.

As soon as I entered the diner, the smell of grease, meat, and sugar hit my nose. I inhaled deeply, drinking it into my veins. My mouth practically watered in anticipation of what I was about to order.

A tired-looking waitress handed me a sticky menu and directed me to a booth where I happily slid across the cracked vinyl seat and poured over the menu, tempted to order it all. But I settled for my old standby: a burger, fries, and a chocolate milkshake. That was my celebration dinner for surviving my trip to Colorado.

The following day, I would be on the first flight back to LA, and I could pretend there wasn't a gigantic piece of land beckoning me home. I could throw myself into work and pretend my mom wasn't gone, and maybe if I were really lucky, I could fool myself into pretending Jaime and I had never been friends.

I smiled to myself ruefully. I didn't really want to do that. As much as it pained me to remember what I'd given up, I wouldn’t give up my memories with Jaime for anything. It was odd how those memories could both torture and comfort me in my darkest times.

I struggled to accept I was a thirty-year-old woman pining for someone I knew in high school. Sure, we’d stolen a few moments, and sometimes, I believed we could have been more, but in the end, we were friends.

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