Page 16 of The Proximity Effect

As everyone spread out to take photos and enjoy the view, Tessa and I found ourselves drifting toward a quiet spot near the edge of the overlook. The lake and mountains stretched endlessly before us, and the sky was so blue it almost hurt to look at.

“Not bad for a YouTube-certified guide, huh?” I bumped Tessa’s shoulder playfully, secretly pleased with myself for managing to navigate us here without getting hopelessly lost. Those three hours I’d spent watching hiking tutorials last night had paid off, even if my browser history now made me look like I was planning to become a park ranger.

She laughed. “I take back at least sixty percent of my doubts.”

I gasped, pressing one hand to my chest like a Victorian lady about to faint. “Only sixty? I’m wounded. I got everyone here alive, didn’t I?”

And really, that was the bare minimum qualification for a successful hike—no casualties. Though I had to admit, there was that one sketchy moment with the questionable trail marker that I wasn’t going to mention.

“The day’s not over yet.” Her smile faded slightly as she gazed out at the view, something distant in her expression that reminded me of how I used to stare out the window of my old office. Funny how some looks are universal, that ‘watching your dreams from afar’ expression that seems to transcend circumstance.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She was quiet for a moment, fingers playing with the tassels on her scarf. “You ever feel like you’re lost? Like everyone else got some manual for life that you somehow missed?”

The question hit home, and I had to resist the urge to laugh at how familiar that particular flavor of uncertainty tasted. “Only every day before coffee.” When she didn’t laugh, I softened my tone. “But yeah, I know what you mean. Before this place fell into our laps, my marketing company was circling the drain.”

That got her attention. She turned to face me, surprise evident in her expression. “Really? But you seem so...”

“Put together? Confident? Devastatingly handsome?” I waggled my eyebrows until she cracked a smile. “I was a mess. Great ideas, terrible execution. Story of my life, really. Ask Archer—he’s got a whole file on my failures.”

“Is that why you guys don’t get along?”

I kicked at some snow with my snowshoe. “Partly. We used to be best friends, all of us. Had these big dreams of starting a chain of hotels after college. Gavin had a large trust fund and was going to be the financial backer to start us out. But stupid immature shit happened, we grew apart, and then...” I swallowed hard. “Well, here we are.”

“And you want to make this place work?” She studied me carefully.

I laughed, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “Yeah, I do. Archer and Liam can’t wait until we can sell, but I’d love to carry on with what Gavin started… even though I make stupid decisions like turning the honeymoon suites into love shacks.”

“Hey, those beds have character. Besides, rooms can be redecorated. What matters is that you care about making it work.”

“You think so?” Something in my chest loosened at her words, like untangling a knot I’d been carrying around since my last spectacular business face-plant. “Because sometimes I feellike I’m just waiting to screw it all up again. You know, like that moment when you’re carrying too many grocery bags, and you know they’re about to split and spill everything everywhere?”

“From what I’ve seen, you’re doing better than you think.” She reached out and squeezed my arm, her touch warm even through my winter coat. The gesture was casual but somehow exactly what I needed, like she had some sixth sense for emotional Band-Aids. “At least you’re trying. That’s more than most people do.” The way she said it, with such quiet conviction, made me want to believe her. Maybe she had a point. After all, I’d managed to lead an entire hiking expedition without losing anyone in the wilderness. That had to count for something.

“You should stay.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

Shit. My brain scrambled for the right words, something that wouldn’t sound like I was desperately trying to keep her around, even though I totally was. “We need a chef. You need a fresh start. And clearly, the universe brought you here for a reason, right?” I spread my arms wide, gesturing to the snow-covered wonderland around us like some cut-rate game show host showing off the grand prize.

“The universe, huh?” Her eyes held a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Not because you want someone around who appreciates your YouTube survival skills?”

“That’s just a bonus.” I held her gaze, letting her see I was serious despite my joking tone. “Think about it, please?”

She looked back out at the view, but I caught the small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll think about it. But only if you promise not to redecorate any more of the rooms or other parts of the hotel.”

“Deal.” I grinned, hope blooming in my chest like the first signs of spring. “Though you should really see the plans I had for a dolphin theme in the bathrooms.”

She giggled, and for the first time since Gavin died, I felt like everything would work out okay.

Chapter 7

Contraband Ice Cream

Tessa

On the trek back to the resort, Evan and I devised a plan that he insisted we call Operation Bon Appétit. The goal was to get me into the kitchen and far enough into dinner preparation that Archer couldn’t refuse my services.

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