Page 1 of Against All Odds

CHAPTER 1

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She didn’t look desperate. She lookedsmokinghot.

“He left her, so she’s hanging around bars. You know how divorced women are? Like I said,desperate,” my ex-wife, Alexa, continued her tirade against the slender, gorgeous brunette sitting at the bar counter talking to the bartender. She had a quiet elegance about her—in the way she moved, laughed, and even sipped her wine. She reminded me of a doe…like Bambi?

I didn’t want to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be here, but Alexa dropped by the resort, where I was the general manager, and asked for a ride back to her place.Thensuggested we go to her place together so I could check up on our daughter, who wasn’t feeling well. Since Juno was taking a nap, Alexa wanted to stop for a drink at the local watering hole, and hence, I was stuck with her, which I found irritating since we weren’t married anymore, and I didn’t want to spend time with her, notunless there was a gun to my head…and maybe not even then.

I didn’t hate Alexa, but I didn’t enjoy her company and hadn’t for several years, even while we were together. We married young and somehow grew in different directions. She turned into one of those desperate housewives they have several television shows about, wanting to buy the most expensive whatever and show it off while tearing down other people. It bothered me that Juno spent half her time with her mother—because I had seen traces of Alexa emerge in our daughter, especially her need for designer wear. I was hoping that she’d grow out of it, or at least I’d be able to divert her from turning into her mother.

I’d zoned out what Alexa was saying, but she drew me back when she whispered rather loudly, “Andshe’s pregnant.”

Who? Bambi? She didn’t look pregnant, not from where I was sitting. And she was drinking wine, so….

“Who’s pregnant?” Alexa’s sister, Natasha, asked and helped me out.

“Jack’s assistant,” Alexa continued as she glanced at the woman I was now addressing as Bambi in my head.

Jack, I assumed, was Bambi’s husband, and from what I gathered, he had been cheating on her and apparently had also knocked the mistress up.

This was one of the problems of living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It was a fucking nightmare. I knew for sure people talked about Alexa and me and our divorce because we were friendsand friendly despite the papers being signed over fifteen months ago. There was no fucking way I was going to let my daughter get caught up in a nasty divorce, so I kept everything copacetic, but spending time with Alexa in a bar was pressuring those sensibilities.

“His assistant, Molly?” Natasha shook her head as if in disgust and then glared at her husband, Fred. “She’s like twenty-five and a twit. He left Sable forher. What’s wrong with men?”

Fred raised both his hands in defeat. “No clue, babe.”

Alexa sighed. “Sable’s barren, and Jack wanted to be a dad. Can you blame him?”

Barren? Fuck, did we still use words like that? And Bambi’s name was Sable. It suited her—an elegant name for an elegant lady.

I rubbed a hand up and down my face.

What the fuck am I doing listening to this crap?

When I asked Alexa for a divorce, she had agreed after a year of me trying marriage counseling and all that other bullshit, which I knew wouldn’t work. However, she insisted that we move from San Diego to Aspen, where her family was, so we could continue to co-parent our then fourteen-year-old daughter. Now, a year later, I was still part of Alexa’s social circle—many of whom I didn’t mind, except Alexa when she went on thisgossipshit that irritated the fuck out of me. I liked Natasha most of the time, and Fred and I were nearly friends due to our love for golf in the summer and skiing in the winter. Alexa’s parents were okay people, but I kept my distance. Daniel and Cynthia Vikar were Aspen royalty. They’d offeredto help me find a job anywhere I wanted to in Aspen, but I told them it wasn’t a problem.

I’d worked at the Royal Hotel Group for years and was close friends with Maverick Royal, the owner and CEO. He was happy as a clam that I wanted to leave the Royal flagship property in San Diego and move to Aspen, where they had a struggling ski resort. Ihadturned it around and now had all the Royal hotels and resorts in Colorado under my purview. It was a good career, and I loved the hotel business. It could be hectic, and I was on the floor of the hotel, but I enjoyed the hubbub of the lobby, the sounds of happy families by the pools, and watching adults enjoy our Michelin-star-level restaurants and bars.

Alexa used to work in PR in San Diego. That’s how we met. She was working on the team doing a project for Royal Hotels. We both had been young. She’d been, what, twenty-three and I twenty-five. We got married quickly enough and had Juno almost immediately.

The marriage, I wouldn’t say, soured immediately, but started on that path right after Juno was born. Alexa decided she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I respected that. I had married a career woman, but if that’s what she wanted, I would move heaven and earth to give it to her. Then, as I climbed the corporate ladder, Alexa became more and more the kind of woman I didn’t respect. She hadn’t wanted to stay home to take care of Juno, she wanted to hobnob with other wives of wealthy men and talk about who bought what and went on which expensive vacation.

By the time I asked for a divorce, we’d had enough shouting matches that I knew weren’t healthy for our child. Alexa resisted it, insisting we go to marriage counseling first. We did for six long, excruciating months. We had grown into two people who didn’t have much in common. We didn’t havefunas a family—it was starting to affect Juno. My ex may not have been happy about the divorce, but our daughter had been thrilled. She felt we got along so much better as friends than a couple, and she was right. Not living with Alexa meant that when she got on my nerves, I could just walk away instead of getting into the same bed with her, where we would tear pieces of each other apart.

Alexa had tried to insinuate that San Diego was the problem since we were doing so well in Aspen. I didn’t burst her bubble that we were doing well because we were, in fact, not married. When she hinted that maybe we should think about reconciliation, I didn’t encourage it. There wasn’t enough Xanax in the world to make that happen.

And speaking of mental health, I needed to get the fuck out of here before I lost my mind.

I looked at my watch and decided that I’d just head on to Alexa’s place by myself and spend some time with Juno, even if she was sleeping. Anything was better than this. And then, because the universe was a fucking bitch and Alexa wasn’t bad enough, Leslie, one of her friends from high school—apparently, they were BFFs—what forty-year-old actually said that? My ex was who—joined us, her eyes eager.

“Are you talking abouther?” Leslie snarked, tilting her head toward Bambi. “I hear thatshe’sspending a lot of time with Ben.”

That I assumed was the older Native American bartender who Bambi was in deep conversation with.

“Ben Greyfeather?” Natasha sighed. “Come on, Leslie, Ben’s old enough to be our grandfather.”

“Oh, please, Sable was always such a slut,” Alexa remarked. “Even in high school, remember the time there was a sex video?”

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