Page 17 of The Last Resort
“I normally order two coffees and their home baked zucchini muffins to go, but I have been known to spend an hour or so working my way through their mountain of a breakfast,” explained Matthew.
An hour?She’d still be here by lunchtime, possibly even supper. “I won’t need to eat again today.” Rachel picked up her fork, spending a few seconds to decide exactly where she should start.
The food was delicious, and filling. The company was also great. Matthew was a genuinely nice guy. Normal. Best of all he hadn’t flinched when she’d mentioned her name and that she was from Atlanta. It was a positive first step in her efforts to restart her life, to bury her past once and for all.
Dad’s court case won’t follow me here, thiscould work.
This morning Rachel had felt a sense of hope for the first time in ages. The move to Aspen was all about wiping the slate clean. Of starting again in a place where no one apart from her sister and brother-in-law knew anything of her family. Somewhere that didn’t have people raising their eyebrows at the mere mention of the Davilla family name.
Rachel Davilla is now gone, Rachel Little is officially born. Welcome to the world.
Following a good ten minutes of eating, Matthew set his knife and fork down and sat back with a sigh. “I’ve learned to pace myself when it comes to the breakfast mountain they serve here.” He dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “Speaking of mountains, what sort of job have you taken in Aspen?” He pointed to her injured forehead. “I’m hoping it’s not as a ski instructor.”
She caught the teasing joke in his last comment. “Yes, I think the less I have to deal with ice and snow the better. I’m going to be doing some bits and pieces for my sister. She runs a gift shop here in town and needs help with errands and picking up stock. That sort of thing. It will give me some thinking time while I figure out what I want to do with myself.”
The little white lie about a retail job was a solid, easy one to offer up. It may well be the twenty first century, but she’d found in her experience that many men still tended to overlook the fact that women could have high-paying professional careers.
She did have her own career, but she didn’t want Matthew hopping on Google and delving into her past. The last time she’d typed inRachel Davilla architect, the top four results had all been about her closing her design company following the incarceration of her father. Here in Aspen, and especially with strangers, even handsome and dare she say sexy ones, Rachel was at pains to tread lightly.
There just weren’t enough architects in the greater Atlanta area called Rachel for her to feel comfortable in telling him the truth about her background. Even when she’d tried Rachel Little architect Atlanta, Google was too damn helpful with offering up other solutions such as her former name and that of her father.
Her strategy had been set in stone long before she’d set foot on the plane headed out of Georgia.
Get some money in the bank. Create options. Then make life decisions. In that order.
She’d come to Colorado with a plan firmly in mind. It was a simple one and she intended to stick to it. Matthew Jones might be a nice guy, but just because he’d bought her breakfast didn’t mean he was entitled to her life story.
He didn’t need to know the sordid details of how Anthony after having dumped her, had then proceeded to explain over dessert that in his eyes she’d only ever been a ‘starter wife.’ A matter of months later, her former fiancé had married some local Atlanta socialite, whom his mother had chosen for him.
Her charming breakfast companion was only ever going to experience this year’s brand-new version of Rachel. She’d traded in her old self for the recently released Aspen model which came with its own set of winter boots and a past as pure as the driven snow.
By the time they’d finally worked their way through as much of the breakfast as either could manage, stopping and chatting in between efforts, Matthew had decided he liked Rachel. Liked her enough to want to see her again. In light ofher family connections to the town, it would take some careful planning on his part to keep this friendship and his project separate from one another. But it was doable.
Besides, I only need to keep my identity a secret for a few more weeks.
Once the planning meeting was over, and he’d secured the sale contracts, he wouldn’t need to hide who he was any longer. If he and Rachel were still catching up for coffee and breakfast together, he would explain his reasons for the little white lie about his name and past.
He didn’t want to think about how she might react. Or how his money might change things between them. He’d always found it difficult to meet a woman who treated him like a normal guy. Far too many times in the past he’d looked into a prospective lover’s eyes only to see large dollar signs shining back at him. He was done with the fortune hunters of New York society. But a softly spoken girl from Atlanta?
Matthew pointed at Rachel’s plate. “What do you think of the food? Good?”
“Good? It’s the most amazing breakfast I’ve ever had. And the coffee is first rate. I’ll definitely be coming back here again.” She picked up her napkin. “But as we say in the South, I’m so full I’m about to pop. No more for me this morning.”
She’d like to come back.
It was time to take a chance. “How about tomorrow? In the meantime, try one of the muffins.” He passed her a takeout bag which contained a zucchini muffin. “If you like, we can make muffins and coffee a regular morning thing. I mean, if you want?”
Their gazes met, Matthew’s hopes lifting as he caught sight of the encouraging smile which sat on Rachel’s lips. “I don’t know if I will ever be hungry again, but yes, a coffee friend would be nice. Thank you, Matthew. But tomorrowand the next day are on me. I insist. I still owe you for saving my life at the airport.”
Her cell buzzed, and she glanced quickly at it.
“My sister just sent me a text. She’s wondering where I am. I’d better go.” She slowly slid out of the booth and got gingerly to her feet. “I thought I was fit, but everything hurts.”
I wish I’d been a few feet closer when she stumbled the first time. I might have been able to save her.
Guilt stirred in his heart. “I can give you a ride home if you like,” he offered.
“Thanks, but I think the best thing for this stiff body is to get some blood pumping through my veins. Besides it’s only a short walk home, and I have my snow chains on.” Lifting her foot, she proudly displayed her fancy ultra-grip boots. “Thanks for breakfast, Matthew. I had a really fun time. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place.”
