Page 14 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
“It’s catchy.”And it was written by the most beautiful woman I’ll probably never see again. Trig leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bar. “It’s the kind of jingle we need for Mystic. Something snappy and catchy that people will recognize.”
“You’re still convinced you can keep Pudge and Betty from selling Mystic, aren’t you?” Ryan squinted at him. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dreamer?”
Only every woman he’d ever dated. “They can’t sell this place. Especially not to Miles Fucking Montgomery.”
Raking his hand through his shiny black hair that somehow always swooped perfectly into place, Ryan said, “Look, I hate the Montgomerys as much as you do. But Pudge and Betty can’t pay the bills. They can’t get a loan to expand. And they’re getting older. My grandparents are tired, man. They need a break.”
Sometimes Trig hated talking to Ryan about Mystic. Ryan had zero interest in working at the resort, and even less in running it. But Trig loved this place. It was his home. When everything else had gone wrong, when his parents moved away, when Tina broke his heart, the hot springs had been there for him. What people said about Mystic wasn’t an exaggeration, these were healing waters. And Miles Montgomery would turn this place into a commercial nightmare with huge concrete pools, two-story water slides, room rates so high many of the locals would never be able to afford to stay here. No more character. No more charm. No more magic.
“I know they do,” Trig said. “And I want to give it to them. I can run this place all by myself. I can market us better, pull in more guests. I just need them to give me a chance.”
“All by yourself, huh?” Ryan asked, half-smiling.
Trig popped the top off a beer and passed it across the bar. “Although it would be a hell of a lot easier with a partner.”
Ryan took the beer but left the bait. “You know where I stand on that. I’ve seen firsthand how much this place takes out of Pudge and Betty. I don’t want the headache. Besides, I’ve got my shop. Unless you’re suggesting I start tattooing people out in the foyer.”
“Could be interesting,” Trig said. “Get you a nice spot by one of the windows. Great view of the mountains.”
Ryan flipped him the bird, then his expression sobered. “Speaking of the Montgomerys, though. I heard a rumor that Lane was back in town.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”
“Yep.”
“Well, that’s just great,” Trig deadpanned. He couldn’t even hear the homewrecker’s name without his blood pressure rising. He’d probably burst a vessel if he actually saw Lane again.
“He’s home helping his mother out with their annual Valentine’s Day shindig. And,” Ryan’s brow arched, “he’s here without Tina.”
Trig had heard they’d broken up from Janice when he’d stopped by the boutique to stock up on her lavender detergent. “Good. One of them in town again is bad enough.”
“Heard she cheated on him,” Ryan said before sipping his beer.
“What goes around comes around,” Trig muttered, nodding down the bar to field an order from Billy.
“When areyougoing to come around?”
“Come around to what?” Trig said, mixing Billy an Old Fashioned.
“You haven’t been with another woman since Tina. It’s been, what, almost three years? It’s time to move on, Trig. You can’t actually marry the hot springs.”
“Sure I can. Just yesterday I read an article where a man married a hologram. At least this place is real.”
“You are a very sick man,” Ryan alleged. “You need help.”
“You need to open your mind, expand your horizons.”
Trig caught the bar napkin Ryan threw at his face, readying himself to throw it back when a sound made his heart stumble over its next few beats. The napkin never left his hand, instead he clutched it tightly to his chest and gasped, “Holy shit.”
The voice coming from the hallway was sweet, husky, and achingly familiar. It was a voice he hadn’t been able to shake out of his head for two years.
“I can’t believe you brought me here!”the voice cried.
“You okay?” Ryan asked, uneasy. “Are you having a heart attack or something? Do I need to call 911?”
“She wasn’t on the logs. I checked. I always check. She wasn’t—”
“What the fuck are you even talking about? Wait,doI need to call 911?”
