Better Together

by Jessie Gussman

  She smiled and shook her head.

  He’d started the conversation when she’d been all nervous sitting in the airport. Now he’d be willing to bet she hadn’t even noticed that the plane had been in the air for almost an hour. Only ten more to go. They were scheduled to touch down in Chile at 6 a.m. on Friday. If he knew his dad and stepmom, they had a jam-packed long weekend planned.

  “Since we’re engaged, you can lay your head on my shoulder and get some sleep,” he said to Harper, noting the man next to the window was already sleeping.

  “I’d do that even if we weren’t engaged. Unless your real fiancée was here.”

  “I’m not going to have a fiancée that wouldn’t be okay with that.”

  She lay her head on his shoulder and mumbled, “I wouldn’t be okay with that.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harper craned her neck as Wyatt slowed the rental car, easing into the plowed lot beside a large, yellow-orange log lodge. Although it wasn’t as big as some of the glamorous hotels they’d passed down the steep, winding road, it sprawled out, almost like an eagle in flight. Two wings flanked a large middle with massive windows winking in the sunlight.

  “This is where your dad and stepmom live?”

  Wyatt studied the structure. “Yeah. There’s about fifty rooms on either side of the house. The family has a private kitchen and rooms in the basement level. Dad’s office is down there, too.”

  “Wow, it’s huge.” She couldn’t believe that Wyatt had lived in such splendor. It made her little farm look dirt poor in comparison.

  “It’s small compared to most of the resorts in the Andes.”

  “I know. But over the years, when you’ve talked about it, I always pictured it in my mind as a little shack at the bottom of a big mountain, with skiers running around all over the place.” She nodded in the direction of the lifts, where the white snow was dotted with people in brightly colored jackets. “I was right about the skiers.” The way the house was set, there was probably a great view of the mountains from the back.

  “There’s a lot more to do here than ski.”

  “I can’t believe you never described it better.” She should have asked. Maybe he just assumed she knew because of the few pictures she’d seen on the internet. She’d never imagined anything this grand. Rich.

  True, it paled in comparison to some of the monstrous hotels they passed. “This looks very exclusive.” The nervous buzz that had been humming in her stomach all morning cranked up a few notches.

  “They get some rich ticks here. Olympic caliber skiers. Brazilian jewel heiresses. The skiing is good, but the real draw is probably the hot pools that you can only reach by ski or snowmobile.”

  “Hot pools? Like you swim in?”

  “Yeah, it’s cool. To be in your swimsuit in the water, surrounded by snow. It’s really amazing under a full moon at night.”

  It sounded romantic, too. She shoved the thought aside, not wanting to picture Wyatt with anyone else. Especially here.

  Wyatt pointed at the mountain looming over them to the east. “That’s an active volcano. That’s why the hot pools.”

  “I would think this would be wildly popular.”

  “It is, to some extent. Dad’s got the lodge and a huge hunk of the mountain, so he makes money on letting rooms, meals, and also the skiing and snowmobile trails. There’s horseback riding down the road, plus all the hotels. He sells passes to those people, too.”

  They parked and walked up the cleared stone walk to the door. From the snow to the massive windows to the gold trim on the doorframe, everything seemed to glisten in the bright noon sun.

  “I guess I should have been holding your hand.” He opened the door for her.

  “You pulled my luggage instead.”

  Wyatt had brought only a shoulder bag, claiming that he had clothes in his room here. Harper had packed the suitcase, and she was glad now that she’d brought more clothes than she ever thought she’d need. This didn’t look like the type of place where one lounged around in jammie pants and a tee shirt all weekend.

  The ball of nerves in her stomach exploded into a riot. The muscles in her back ached from the tension. She should have been the one to think of holding Wyatt’s hand. She had agreed to play his fiancée. But she’d been obsessing about the luxury and money on full display. In shock because it finally hit her. Wyatt’s family was rich. Which meant, of course, that Wyatt was rich.

  She hadn’t quite gotten her head around that yet. Yeah, she knew he travelled the world. That he’d done things normal people didn’t do. That it cost money to parasail and bungee jump and climb mountains. She knew that in her head, she just hadn’t realized the implications. To her, Wyatt was a sweet little motherless boy.

  Okay, not so little. In need of a friend. In need of her. But, looking around at all this, well, he really didn’t need her.

  She stepped inside. Massive vaulted ceilings flew up around her. Sunlight streamed in the solid walls of windows. They could see clear through to the mountains beyond. Large, comfortable looking chairs and massive couches were artistically arranged. A few people milled about. Several sat reading. Some had food and drinks at a table and played a board game. The low hum of conversation buzzed around. Something that smelled like vegetable soup and homemade bread mixed with the homey scent of cut wood.

  A middle-aged woman in a black and white maid outfit bustled around running a sweeper. She glanced up as they came in and did a double take. A smile wreathed her face as she expertly shut the sweeper off, locking the handle, and hurried over to them, her arms spread wide.

  “Wyatt!”

  “Abuelita,” Wyatt said, wrapping his arms around the woman, who murmured in Spanish. Wyatt answered in the same language.

  Harper couldn’t understand what either of them said, but she could tell that Wyatt spoke slower. She hid a smile. His Spanish, which he’d admitted he’d never been good with, was rusty.

  Wyatt had talked some about his abuelita when he’d first come to the states to live with Fink. If Harper remembered correctly, she wasn’t his real grandmother, no relation at all, actually, but had travelled some with his mother, taking care of him.

  Keeping his arm around the short, round woman, he turned to Harper. “Abuelita, this is Harper.”

  Harper started to hold her hand out, but after a warm glance at Wyatt, the woman enfolded her in a soft, loving embrace, scented with lemon and pine, that suddenly made Harper very homesick.

  “I’ve heard so much about you over the years,” she said.

  “Wyatt’s spoken very fondly of you, as well, Abuelita.” The unfamiliar word trundled awkwardly off her tongue, but Wyatt had never called her by any other name, and he hadn’t introduced one now.

  She turned to Wyatt, speaking in rapid Spanish. Wyatt grinned, shaking his head.

  He answered in English. “My Spanish was never very good, and it’s pretty rusty now. Plus, Harper’s brilliant,” he smirked at Harper, “but I could never get her to speak fluently.”

  “I understand a few words, but not enough to have a conversation.”

  “That’s fine,” Abuelita said. “People speak all kinds of languages here, but English is often the one most people know.” She gave Wyatt a squeeze. “I’m just so happy to have my little boy back. Are you staying?”

  “We’re leaving Monday. Didn’t Dad tell you I was coming?”

  Her lips pulled back. “He said you were coming, not how long you were staying.” Her eyes almost disappeared in folds of skin as she smiled. “I am so glad my Wyatt finally decided to settle down with a good woman. So many girls chase after him here. He is popular, no?” She chuckled. “But he is not interested in those silly girls. He has someone else in his head and,” she patted her chest, “his heart.”

  Wyatt shifted. His cheeks became ruddy. Harper wasn’t sure what to think. Abuelita seemed to be saying Wyatt had pined for…her. She cast a speculative look at Wyatt. He avoided her gaze.

  �
�Where’s Dad?” he asked.

  Abuelita pulled her phone out and checked the time. “He is probably getting ready to begin instruction with the group of beginner skiers. He said you might help.”

  Wyatt snorted. His face seemed to say that it was typical of his dad to expect him to jump in. Harper was sure he didn’t mind—she knew he loved being here—except…

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll follow you around until I get tired of it. Then I can entertain myself.”

  A muscle jumped in Wyatt’s cheek. “It’s just so typical of my dad. He wants to meet my fiancée, but wouldn’t change his plans to do so.”

  Abuelita turned sympathetic eyes on Wyatt. “He is planning a big dinner tomorrow night. He is very excited.”

  Wyatt raised a brow.

  “Do you want to rest? Are you hungry?” Abuelita asked them.

  “I can always eat.” Wyatt grinned.

  Harper reached down for her shoulder bag. “I’ll put my stuff away while you grab something, if someone will tell me where to go.”

  Abuelita nodded. “I washed everything and aired your room out. I will show you down. Wyatt knows where the kitchen is.”

  “I’ll take her,” Wyatt said, grabbing the suitcase.

  Harper blinked. Did he not want her to be alone with Abuelita? It certainly wasn’t like Wyatt to be so short. Then she realized…was there only one room? She hadn’t even given it a thought.

  After leading her through the great room and left down a short hall, pulling the suitcase, Wyatt picked it up and led her down a staircase that made a right turn halfway down.

  “There’s a lot of storage space, our private kitchen, living room, and the family’s bedrooms are all down here. During the busy season, especially, the upstairs is open to guests, but this is always off limits.”

  “Are you okay?”

  He kept walking. “Sure. Why?”

  “You’re not acting like yourself.”

  “I’m fine.”

  They came down into a large open area, with a wet bar at one end, and a kitchenette. Several couches angled around a large screen TV. Walking through that area, Wyatt entered the hall and walked past three doors on the right before opening the next.

  Harper stepped in, puzzled. Wyatt never hid things from her.

  A large bed, maybe queen-sized, took up most of the room. Along one wall sat a dresser. Two doors, a closet and a bathroom possibly, flanked it. High windows lined the far wall. Done up in navy and red, the room felt dark, and when Wyatt stepped in behind her, small.

  He hit the light switch, and the overhead light/ceiling fan turned on. “I’m sorry. I should have thought they would expect us to share a room.”

  There was a narrow walkway between the right side of the bed and the wall. Harper gestured toward it. “I suppose I can sleep there.”

  “No. This is my fault. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

  “We’re going to be here two nights. I’ll sleep there one night, you sleep there the other.”

  “I said I’d sleep on the floor.”

  “Are we seriously fighting about who gets to sleep on the floor?” Harper dropped her bag and set a hand on her hip.

  “We are. And this is one fight I’m winning.” Wyatt grinned, but it didn’t really reach his eyes.

  And that’s when it hit Harper. “You thought he’d be waiting to see you.”

  He grunted and looked away.

  Harper’s heart ached for him. She closed the few steps between them and encircled his waist, laying her head on his chest.

  Wyatt only hesitated a second. Despite his complicated feelings about his dad, Harper had figured it out. Or at least as much as anyone could. He put his arms around her and pulled her close, relishing her soft warmness and the cool comfort she offered. Breathing deeply of her berries and vanilla scent, he allowed himself to pretend for just a second that their engagement was real. That hugging Harper was his right. And if it were true, then what his dad did or didn’t do wouldn’t matter.

  Wyatt pulled himself back from the fantasy and made himself loosen his hold, patting Harper’s back like she was his friend and not his fiancée.

  His dad was busy. Wyatt didn’t really expect him to put his life on hold to meet his fiancée. But as hard as his dad had pushed for him to bring her down to meet him…

  “I don’t think he really cared about meeting my fiancée. I think he just wanted me down here to help him.”

  She leaned her head back and looked up at him without letting go. “I think you’re right. But isn’t that how your dad has always been?”

  Disappointment descended like gray clouds in his mind. “Yeah.”

  “He’s probably not going to change. So, you’re just going to have to love him the way he is.”

  Resentment balled in his chest. “I know you’re right. There’s just a part of me that says if he loved me, he’d act a certain way.”

  “Sure. I think we all think that to a certain extent. But some people, especially driven, successful people, have trouble pulling themselves from their work and expressing their feelings.”

  Wyatt didn’t think of himself as especially driven or successful, but maybe he’d inherited some of his dad’s issues. After all, he was holding the one woman in the world that meant everything to him, and she didn’t know it. And he couldn’t tell her. Not now. He squeezed a little tighter instead.

  She lay her head back on his chest. “But you don’t have to change to be what he wants, either.” Her hands slid up, then back down his back.

  He shivered. Her touch was…different. Maybe Harper felt more than friendship for him. He allowed his hands to drift up her back. His heart thumped in his chest so hard and loud she had to hear it. He swallowed. His thumb touched the back of her neck and he slid it across her skin.

  She moved her head, and he froze, his breath seizing in his lungs.

  “Wyatt?” Her eyes had darkened with something stronger than friendship. But what that emotion was, he couldn’t tell.

  Her tongue touched the corner of her lip. His eyes clung to it like butter on bread. Suddenly, he couldn’t get enough air. Limbs that had been young and strong only moments before now trembled. His hand fisted in the back of her hair. Her eyes widened briefly, then darkened with something even more potent. He could only hope it was desire. Whatever it was, it pulled him in. He couldn’t stop the lowering of his head. Her arms tightened around him. He pressed her more firmly to him, feeling her curves blend into the hardness of his body. The hair on his arms stood up. He breathed her air. Her name feathered past his tingling lips. “Harper.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Wyatt turned his head. Abuelita stood at the open doorway, a tray filled with fruit and chopped vegetables in her hand.

  Harper gasped and jerked. Wyatt dropped his hands. Her hair slid out of his unclenched fist. The emptiness burned, matching the burn of disappointment in his chest. He had been one second away from kissing Harper. She avoided his gaze, studying the tray Abuelita held instead. But two spots of color marked her cheeks. If only he knew what she was thinking. If only she were as disappointed as he.

  The room was as silent as a tomb and the seconds were ticking by.

  One side of his mouth kicked up and he winked at Abuelita. “Hey, no problem. You can barge in anytime as long as you have food.”

  Harper moved back. Wyatt allowed her to put some distance between them.

  “You better shut the door if you are going to be carrying on like that.” Abuelita shuffled in and placed the plate on the bed. There was nowhere else to set it.

  Wyatt laughed. “We weren’t carrying on ‘like that.’ I was just hugging my girl.” If only she really were his girl.

  Abuelita pulled two bottles of water from her apron and set them beside the plate. “There is plenty of food in the kitchen. You know you can help yourself.” She turned and began walking out, but paused at the door. “You remember what time meals are?”

  “Twelve and s
ix. Breakfast is buffet served from six to nine.”

  “Just checking. I don’t want you to starve while you are here.”

  “If there’s food, I can find it.” Harper laughed softly. The sound soothed the prickly heat in his chest. She wouldn’t be laughing if she were upset.

  Abuelita looked out into the hall before she spoke again. “Kayla is here.”

  Harper stiffened.

  “Thanks for the warning,” Wyatt said.

  Abuelita pressed her lips together. After a few silent seconds, she left.

  “Kayla?” Harper asked softly.

  “My stepsister. Sophia’s daughter.”

  “You never talk about Sophia. I’d kind of forgotten you even had a stepmother.”

  He shrugged. “Not much to say. I don’t know her that well. She and dad got together after mom died and I was in Pennsylvania.”

  “And Kayla is their daughter?”

  “No. Sophia had Kayla before she met my dad.”

  “Is there some kind of issue there? Abuelita’s tone seemed like a warning.”

  He rubbed a hand over his head. He should have known Harper would feel the tension in the air when Kayla was mentioned. “I guess Sophia might try to push Kayla into the picture. Abuelita has hinted at it a few times, but Dad’s made no secret that he’s leaving the lodge to me.”

  “I can understand why Sophia would want her daughter included. This place has to be worth a fortune.” Harper gestured with her hand, indicating the entire resort.

  “It is. And it runs in the black, way in the black, every year.”

  She grabbed a carrot stick from the tray. “Then what’s not to love?”

  He held up a hand, following her over. “I’m coming down to stay. Once Uncle Fink is better, I’ve committed to being here.”

  “But you don’t want to.”

  He took one of the ice-cold waters Abuelita had brought down, twisting the cap and taking a long swig before speaking. “You know my mom wandered around a lot. I mean, we were here more than anywhere else, but it’s not like we lived here. This doesn’t feel like home to me anymore than anywhere else in the world.” For some reason, he couldn’t admit to her that her farm was the only place he’d ever lived that felt like home. He’d never even set foot on it until he was seventeen.