Page 54 of The Last Resort
As he drew closer, he caught snatches of angry words.
“Not everyone thinks like you do. Some of us have scruples, we care about other people,” she snapped.
Whoever was on the other end of the line started a long rant. Even from where he stood some ten feet away, Matthew could make out the caller’s barely restrained fury.
“Yeah. But. But. Fine.”
Rachel hung up the call and sighed. For a long minute she stood shaking her head. When she finally turned around, their gazes locked. There were unshed tears in her eyes. On seeing him, she hastily wiped them away. Matthew couldn’t tell whether they were tears of anguish or anger.
He moved toward her, but as he drew close, wanting nothing more than to take her into his embrace and hold her, Rachel moved out of his way. She didn’t want his comfort.
“Are you alright?” he ventured.
“Yeah. Just an asshole, who doesn’t take no for an answer. Nothing to concern yourself with, Matthew. Did you take a look at the blueprints?”
Up until now, their relationship had been one where they’d both kept their personal lives hidden. He now knew she had a sister and brother-in-law, who were connected to the owners of the resort, but nothing else about her family.
It wouldn’t take much for him to go and search online, but after having lied to Rachel about who he was and why he was in Aspen, Matthew was reluctant to go snooping. He’d rather she told him face to face, than having Google Search reveal her secrets.
It was going to take some time for her to trust him again. Letting Rachel own her privacy was the best way he could think of to show her that he wasn’t a complete two-faced douche.
“I looked at the old plans. But seriously are you okay? Youmight not believe me, but I care about you. I came out here to check where you’d gone since it’s nightfall.”
She stepped past him and headed back into the lodge. “I’m fine thanks, Matthew. There are some people that you can’t fix no matter how much you try. And yeah, I won’t go outside in the dark again. That was stupid of me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The only godsend for what had already been a long, tiring day was the lodge’s kitchen. Leaving Matthew to continue poring over the rest of the original blueprints, Rachel went to fix some dinner. Standing, hands on hips in the cool room, she pondered her next move. Did she just make a meal for herself, or should she feed her enemy?
This time yesterday she would have happily let him starve, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to remain angry with him. He might be deluded about what should happen with the site, but Matthew was, to put it simply, a nice man.
Why did he have to be nice? It was so much easier to dislike someone if they were an asshat.
I’m sure he hasn’t a clue how to cook. He’s probably had chefs at his beck and call twenty-four-hours a day every day, all his life. Though that grilled cheese sandwich was delicious.
With no delivery services coming out from town, if she didn’t feed her fellow inmate, he would starve. She could just imagine how that would go down with Dan’s parents. She’d let a poor man die of hunger just to prove a point.
He has a car. He can drive into town.
Yeah, but that’s not the point.
Great, now I’m arguing with myself.
Footsteps on the tiled floor announced Matthew’s arrival. “Food. What a fab idea. I bought some pancetta and spaghetti this morning. I’ve got fresh parmesan, and a dozen eggs. How do you feel about me knocking up a traditional Italian carbonara for dinner?”
“I’m surprised that with your background you know how to cook, or am I pre-judging because of your wealth?”
“My family didn’t send us to summer camp. As soon as my brothers and I were old enough, Dad sent us to work in the hotels, an entire month of our long school break. I worked in the kitchens at one of our Washington DC hotels every year for five years. The chefs were more than happy to teach me how to make a meal or two.”
Matthew knew his way around a hotel kitchen. The man was full of surprises.
“I meant to ask, how’s the stomach? I’m sorry I hit you. You kinda crept up on me, and …”
He leaned over and picked up a packet of tall spaghetti from the shelf, then pointed it at her. “And your defense instructor would have been bitterly disappointed if you hadn’t landed a decent punch to my solar plexus. All that money invested in lessons and when a creep sneaks up on you, you turn into a damsel in distress? No, I deserved to get hit.”
Rachel softly laughed. She’d spent a lot of money on lessons. Mace had its uses, but when valuable seconds were lost rummaging in your bag for a can of spray, the notion of actually learning to defend yourself was a better option. “Yeah, I used to walk through some rough neighborhoods in Atlanta when I was first starting out.”
Her office, the only one she could afford on her own, was in an area where it paid not to venture out late at night. Evenduring the day, it had been a less than savory place. Her ex had pointedly refused to ever visit her at work. Anthony had said he didn’t want to risk parking his beloved Mercedes in that street, but Rachel had always had a sneaking suspicion it was because he didn’t want to be seen in that part of town. And yet after three years in her old building, it had broken Rachel’s heart when she’d had to walk away.
