Page 6 of You, Me, & Après-Ski
“Mr. Keller! Ms. Sharpe!” An older man with a swathe of graying hair beamed as he approached. “I’m the property manager, Barney Huxby. Arthur instructed us to direct you to Sunset Heritage House. If you’ll allow me to assist you…”
I turned to look for the woman once more, but she’d gone.
Fifteen minutes later, Cressida and I were unloaded and moved into our new home for the winter. Sunset Heritage House was a massive five-bedroom, three-bathroom A-frame home with a two-story addition. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls on either end of the A-frame afforded an unimpeded view of the wilderness and snowcapped mountains. The home was a far cry from my Presidio Heights residence—it felt like the log cabin inLittle House on the Prairie. But the faded ceiling beams, enormous stone hearth, and warm wood floors were nice enough, if extremely dated.
“I’m going to shower and relax for a bit before heading out to explore,” said Cressida as she hustled down the hallway with her massive suitcases in tow. I knew better than to offer to help because the last time I had, she’d barked at me. She liked doing things for herself, and I was proud of her newfound streak of independence. From a young age, her parents had crushed her spirit, forcing her into the mold of obedient eldest daughter. And in her engagement to me, she was filling that role once more. Guilt bubbled in my chest, but we were both trapped and there was nothing to be done about it.
Sighing, I sank onto the threadbare couch crowded with pillows. With a moment to myself, the familiar mantra reentered my brain, louder than ever now that I was back at Hale’s Peak.
Your mother’s death was not an accident.
But I cut off the loop before it could consume me. Glancing at my watch, I sighed. I was supposed to meet my Arthur-appointed “tour guide” at the lodge bar in twenty minutes—someone named Valeria López. Sure, I’dmeether to get Arthur off my back, but I’d never actually use her services. The mysterious letter’s contents throbbed in my mind like an aneurysm, but I couldn’t allow my past—or present predicament—to distract me. My career was on the line.
I adjusted my tie, smoothed my hair, and set out for the lodge, the box of memories rattling in my head.
Can only ignore it for so long.
Sooner or later, I’d have to face it. But I’d rather have a whiskey in my hand while I did so.
Chapter 4
VAL
Iflewdownthemountain,the wind whipping my hair behind me in a tornado of curls. Leaning hard into the last turn, my board kissed the snow as I sailed past Austin, the white world awash in blue from my tinted goggles.
When I surged down the last stretch, I thrust my fists into the air in triumph, turning in a sharp arc and spraying powder. One second later, Austin sent up his own cloud of snow—directly into me.
Laughing, I brushed myself off. “If you want a rematch, just ask.” I perched my goggles on my head so he didn’t look like a member of the Blue Man Group anymore.
“You’re on,” he said with a mischievous smile.
I’d had a great afternoon riding with Austin. We’d both finished our lessons early, then shredded to our hearts’ content. After the first few runs, we fell into easy companionship and I stopped thinking of it as a date—it was the only way I could talk to him without stumbling over my words.
But reality came surging back as I saw the Escalade parked at the resort’s roundabout by the check-in lobby. That could only mean one thing. My heart shot into my throat and I patted my pockets, looking for my phone. “Crap, what time is it?”
Austin pushed up his sleeve to glance at his watch. “Two.”
Double crap.I popped my bindings and grabbed my board, then jogged toward the lodge. “Thanks for the ride—and the race! Rematch tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” he called after me. “Good luck.”
I’m seriously going to need it.
I smoothed my curls into some semblance of order as I approached the mahogany bar that dominated the lodge’s great room. Frowning, I took one of the many vacant seats. The place wasn’t as crowded as it should have been, especially for opening week. But fretting over our declining clientele and my dwindling bank account wasn’t on my worry list today, so I took a deep breath to calm my frazzled nerves. I wasn’tlatenecessarily, just very nearly on time.
Scanning the handful of guests behind me, I searched for someone who looked like a rich dude with a stick up his butt.Kind of describes more than a few of these guys, honestly.
“Hey, Val. Want the usual?” Hugh asked as he wiped the bar in front of me.
“Definitely. But only if you tell me the secret of how you make your hot chocolateso damn good.”
He chuckled and winked. “Family secret.”
I sighed. “Girl’s gotta try.” He hustled off to make my drink, and I settled in to people watch while I waited for Nolan Keller to show up.
To my left, a young couple a few years younger than me nestled close over their shared bottle of wine.Newlyweds. In its heyday, Hale’s Peakhad been a popular honeymoon destination but had fallen off in recent years.
A few seats to my right, a man nursed a glass of whiskey, and I observed him out of the corner of my eye. Because holy lord, I could not look directly at him without breaking into a cold sweat. Sometimes businesses from Bozeman hosted retreats at the resort, so seeing a pack of attractive men in business attire wasn’t uncommon—a group was over by the fireplace right now. But this man in particular had me wanting to blush and throw up all at the same time. His button-down and slacks fit him flawlessly, painted onto his lean muscles. Light brown hair, strong jawline with just a hint of stubble, chiseled cheekbones, blue eyes ringed in gree—Jeez, he’s looking right at me.
