Page 18 of The Last Resort
For the longest time after Rachel had walked out the front door, Matthew sat and pondered his next move. Female company hadn’t featured much in his life over the past couple of years, and before that his experience with actual relationships was virtually nonexistent. In his mid-twenties he’d grown tired of the match-making mamas of New York society. He’d become jaded with all the pretty young things who viewed his family name as their life’s meal ticket.
When it came to relationships, he’d already decided he wanted more. When he was ready to look for love, he wanted a woman in his life who saw the real Matthew Royal, not just his bank balance. Someone who valued him for himself.
There was something about the girl from Atlanta that stirred his interest. What that thing was, he couldn’t say.
But I’d like to find out.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday morphed into Thursday, then into Friday. By Saturday morning Rachel and Matthew had established a comfortable breakfast routine. Each morning they would meet at the bakery and grab their booth. Coffees, muffins, and friendly chats followed.
Rachel soon found herself getting out of bed earlier each morning and taking her time to do her hair and makeup. On Sunday morning, as she was looking at herself in the bathroom mirror, carefully applying her mascara, she realized what she was doing.
I’m dressing and putting on makeup to go and meet a man. And I feel good about it.
Today was the fifth day she and Matthew were catching up at the coffee shop. A small bubble of excitement bounced around in her belly.
This Aspen gig might turn out to be a gamechanger after all.
After dressing, she grabbed her jacket and cell, and snuck quietly out of the house. If Kellie and Dan were making a go of their marriage, it was only fair she gave them some weekend privacy.
In her former life, back in Georgia, Sunday used to involve elegant brunches with her parents at their private club. Long hours mingling with the elite of Atlanta society. Here in Colorado the simple pleasure of sharing coffee and muffins with a hot accountant held more appeal.
On her way to theManhattan Escapee, she tapped a quick text to her sister.
Meeting friend for coffee. Back later to help clean the house. Love U.
At the bakery her happy morning mood ended in the parking lot. When Rachel arrived, she discovered there were people everywhere. A large blue and white travel coach was parked across several parking spaces out front of the bakery. She couldn’t see inside the cafe, but it was clear she and Matthew wouldn’t be getting their usual seat this morning.
Damn. We’ll be lucky if we can get food. I wish I had Matthew’s number so I could let him know.
She’d just turned away from the crowd, when a red Jeep SUV passed her on the road. It pulled up a few doors down from the bakery. A now familiar figure, dressed in a black puffer jacket and green scarf, stepped out and waved to her. Matthew made his way over.
“Apparently they are competing in some college ski comp,” he said, pointing at the bus. Rachel glanced back at the cluster of people milling around, drinking coffee, and eating. They were all so fresh faced. So young.
“When did we get old?” she sighed.
Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know. Last week I was eighteen, and this week I’m closing in on thirty one.”
“I’m the same, the bigthree-Ocaught me in September.” Grad school felt like only yesterday, but it was almost six years ago. “I don’t think we are going to get our usual seat this morning. Are there any other places you can suggest forus to go and eat?” She didn’t want to go home and miss her time with him.
“Wait here a minute, I’ll be right back.” He disappeared into the throng of puffer jacket clad teenagers, leaving Rachel wondering what on earth was going on.
When he returned five minutes later, Matthew was carrying a tray laden with take-out coffee cups and a large paper bag. He’d managed to get them food. The man was a miracle worker.
“How did you wrangle that?”
He gave her a sheepish look. “I drove past here thirty minutes ago and saw the bus and the crowd. I called the bakery and put in a phone order. That’s how I knew it was a college ski group. The bakery is loving all the new customers this morning, but they like to take care of their regulars.” He nodded in the direction of the line which stretched out the door, and grinned. “You should have seen the dirty looks I got when I walked in and went straight to the front counter.”
She took the warm bag of muffins from him. “You are a clever man, Matthew Jones.”
“But not clever enough. If I was smarter, I would have got your number by now, and I could have called you. Saved you the worry of thinking you were going to go muffin-less this morning.”
Rachel rested the bag of muffins on a nearby bench, then pulled out her cell. “I was thinking the same thing, so let’s fix the phone number problem before we eat.”
He gave her his number and as soon as she had tapped it in, Rachel sent Matthew her contact details. “There. Now we can get in touch whenever one of us sees a wild herd of college students gathering outside our cafe.”
“We could sit here and watch the wildlife if you like, but some of those skiers are looking a bit green around the gills, and we don’t want to be anywhere near them when theirbacon and egg rolls hit their stomachs and bounce,” said Matthew. “Let’s walk.”
