by Lara Lacombe
Blaine nodded. “No problem.” His fingers flew across the screen as he typed out a message. “It’s done,” he said, glancing up a minute later.
“Thanks,” Max said. Knowing Furbert was going to be taken care of helped ease his mind.
“Anytime,” Blaine said. “So...how long have you and Molly been together?”
The question came without warning, as if it were just another topic of regular conversation between them.
Max shifted. “I don’t know that we’re really together,” he hedged.
“I see,” Blaine replied. “So how long have the two of you been hooking up?”
Max frowned. “Hooking up” was too crass a description for what they were doing. “It’s more than that,” he protested. What they had went beyond mere sex—Max felt intensely connected to Molly on an emotional and spiritual level, as well.
He just didn’t know what to do about it.
“All right,” Blaine said with exaggerated patience. “It’s complicated, I get it. But you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Two years,” Max said.
Blaine’s eyes widened. “Isn’t that how long you’ve been coming here to relax?”
Max nodded. There was something freeing about telling his buddy this secret. He knew discretion was important to Molly, but he was talking to Blaine now as a friend, not an employee of The Lodge. And given the personal nature of Blaine’s question, Max felt certain he was trying to determine if his cousin was okay, not if a fellow employee was engaging in ill-advised behavior with a guest.
“Wow,” Blaine said softly. “I had no idea.”
“That was by design,” Max replied.
The other man processed this for a few seconds. Then he said, “And now she’s pregnant.”
It wasn’t a question. Max knew Blaine had put two and two together when he’d stepped into the hospital room. Still, Max stiffened defensively. He’d only known about the baby for a few hours—he hadn’t had time to process the news properly. Talking about Molly’s pregnancy wasn’t something he wanted to do right now. But he couldn’t ignore his friend.
“Yeah,” he said with a sigh.
“I take it from your reaction this is a shock?”
Max nodded.
“How far along is she?” Blaine asked.
“About five months,” Max replied.
“Whoa. That’s half the pregnancy.” Blaine frowned slightly. “That doesn’t sound like Molly,” he said, almost to himself. “I can’t believe she kept something like this a secret from you for so long.”
“She didn’t,” Max said quickly. It was important Blaine knew she had contacted him; he didn’t want Molly’s cousin thinking the worst of her.
Max leaned forward in his chair, glancing around to make sure they were alone. There was a man sitting on a small sofa a few feet away, but he appeared to be asleep. “She reached out to me several times over the past few months. But I was so wrapped up in a major fund-raising push I didn’t get back to her.”
“But now you know.”
“Yeah.” He leaned back with a sigh. “She blurted it out when the avalanche hit. Things were pretty dicey there for a few minutes. I think she was afraid we were going to die, so she wanted me to know.”
“Man.” Blaine shook his head. “That’s a memorable way to find out you’re going to be a father.”
Max actually laughed. “Tell me about it.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure,” Max admitted. “We weren’t exactly planning this, you know?”
“Yes, I’m familiar with that feeling,” Blaine drawled. Tilda, Blaine’s high school sweetheart, had gotten pregnant on their prom night. She thought she had miscarried their baby, but when she’d realized the truth, Blaine had already left for basic training. Blaine had missed a lot of time with his son, and Max knew his friend was thrilled to have the boy in his life now.
“Two years is a long time to be together, though,” Blaine continued.
Max shook his head. “It was never anything formal,” he said. “More of an understanding. And I’m not quite sure what Molly expects of me now. She’s not exactly demanding a ring.”
“She won’t,” Blaine cut in. “That’s not her style, and you should know that by now.”
The subtle rebuke stung, but it was the truth. Molly wasn’t the type of woman to beg, especially not for something as important as a serious commitment.
“Obviously, I’m going to make sure Molly and the baby are taken care of,” Max said. “I’m just not sure about the rest.”
Blaine studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. “What’s holding you back?”
Max shifted, his friend’s scrutiny making him uncomfortable. “You know I tried the marriage thing before. It didn’t work.”
“Molly isn’t Beth,” Blaine pointed out.
It was true, but that didn’t make the thought of marriage any more appealing. “I think I’m just not cut out for marriage.”
“Hmm.” Blaine sounded unimpressed.
“What?” Max sounded defensive, but he didn’t care. It was clear the other man had something more to say. Might as well let him get it out of his system.
Blaine narrowed his eyes. “You’re scared, dude. I get it. But if you think being a part-time dad is going to be a viable long-term strategy, you’ve got another think coming.”
“I never said—” Max began, but Blaine cut him off.
“You’re thinking you and Molly can carry on as before. You come for a visit once every three months, and in the meantime, you cut her some checks to make sure the kid has everything they need. I’m telling you right now, that’s not going to work. Molly deserves more than that, and so does your child.”
Max clenched his jaw, anger building in his chest. No one had talked to him like this before, at least not since his time in basic training. The fact that Blaine was his friend was the only thing keeping Max from unleashing his temper and giving the man a verbal beatdown.
“You done?” he said, his voice tight.
Blaine actually smiled, as if he was enjoying Max’s reaction. “For now,” he said. He stood, then reached down and grabbed Max’s arm to pull him out of the chair. “Come on, let’s get you to that B and B. More and more press are descending on the town to cover the avalanche. The motel will be crawling with them.” He slapped Max’s good shoulder. “You’ve got a lot to think about. A good night’s sleep will help.”
“I hope you’re right,” Max muttered, his anger draining away as fatigue took center stage. He was tired. Even though being trapped in the gondola hadn’t been physically strenuous, the cold and stress of the ordeal had taken their toll on his body. Once upon a time, he’d endured far worse conditions for far longer and come out the other side fine. But his tolerance had waned since retiring from the military. Normally, he didn’t notice the difference. Now, though? He felt weak and far older than his thirty-seven years.
Blaine glanced over and slowed his pace. “It’s going to be okay, buddy,” he said. “You don’t have to figure everything out tonight. You and Molly have time to decide what to do next.”
“Yeah,” Max said, only half-convinced. They’d already lost so much time—he didn’t want to waste any more being indecisive.
“Cut yourself some slack,” Blaine advised. “You’ve had a hell of a day. Tomorrow will be better.”
“I thought the only easy day was yesterday,” Max joked.
Blaine shook his head and made a face. “What, are you a SEAL now? Get out of here with that crap.”
“Just trying to embrace the suck,” Max said, smiling at his friend’s reaction.
“That’s not a bad strategy,” Blaine replied. “But a word of advice? Don’t say that in front of Molly. I can tell you from experience, women generally don’
t appreciate the poetic nature of military expressions.”
They pushed open a set of double doors and walked into the parking lot. A cold wind gusted, sending small piles of snow swirling along the asphalt. Max shivered a bit, but was immediately distracted by the sight of several news trucks parked close to the hospital.
“My God,” he said softly, slowing his pace to take in the line of reporters standing in the cold, huddled and shivering as they clutched microphones and spoke into cameras. “You weren’t kidding. It’s a zoo out here.”
“Keep moving,” Blaine muttered. “And don’t make eye contact.”
They walked faster, heads down. But they made it only a few feet before a voice shouted out, “Hey, it’s the man from the gondola!”
Max swore under his breath.
“Green truck, straight ahead,” Blaine directed. They jogged for it, ignoring the commotion behind them as half a dozen reporters and their attendant camera crews thundered across the parking lot in pursuit.
“Buckle up, buddy,” Blaine advised as they slammed the truck doors shut. “This is gonna be fun.”
Blaine gunned it. Max was slammed back in the seat as the truck shot forward, pulling out of the parking spot before the reporters had a chance to pen them in. Max glanced in the side mirror as they put the hospital behind them. The media folks had already begun to trudge back toward their original spots, close to the ER entrance.
He was glad they’d escaped the scrum, but worry washed over him as he thought about Molly. “You can’t drag Molly through that,” he said. Part of him wanted Blaine to turn around so Max could stay with Molly and guard her from any overly nosy reporters who might try to get into her room. But he knew their return would only heighten the media furor...
“I won’t,” Blaine replied, sliding him a glance before returning his focus to the road.
“Promise me,” Max demanded. “She shouldn’t have to run through a cold parking lot after everything she’s been through today.”
“I’m a highly trained operative, with loads of experience in both covert operations and hostage extractions,” Blaine drawled. “I think I can sneak my cousin out of the hospital without the press getting wind of it.”
“Maybe I should help,” Max mused. “I could create a distraction, draw their attention.”
“Or you could stay in and get some rest,” the other man said. He pulled into the driveway of a large Victorian-style house. Light shone through the windows, casting golden squares on the floorboards of the wraparound porch. The place looked friendly and welcoming, but Max couldn’t get his mind off Molly, alone in the hospital room.
Well, not exactly alone, he thought. The baby was with her.
The thought should have brought him comfort, but instead only heightened his worry. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he didn’t notice that Blaine had climbed out of the truck. Suddenly, the passenger door swung open.
“Let’s go,” Blaine said.
“I think I should stay and help you,” Max replied. “Make sure Molly gets home okay.”
“Nope.” Blaine grabbed his arm and tugged him out of the truck. “You’re going to head inside. They’re expecting you.” He reached past Max and locked the door before slamming it shut.
“Wait!” Max protested, as Blaine circled around the hood and climbed into the driver’s seat once more.
Blaine rolled the window down a crack. “I’ll be back in the morning,” he called. “Sleep well, princess!”
Max stood in the driveway, amusement and frustration swirling in his chest as he watched Blaine drive away. Deep down, he knew his friend would take care of Molly.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” he told himself as he turned and headed up the stairs to the house. Molly was probably happy to have a break from him, given the fact that they’d been trapped together all day. A little time apart might help them both. After all, they were going to be seeing each other a lot over the next few days.
But as Max stepped inside the warmth of the house, a small voice in his head wondered if he would ever get tired of being around her.
Chapter 8
Someone was pounding on her door.
Molly groaned and rolled over in bed, squinting at the clock on her nightstand. Eight seventeen in the morning. Who could possibly be visiting now?
Normally, she was already up and about and on her way to work by this time. But she hadn’t been released from the hospital until around ten thirty last night. True to his word, Blaine had returned to give her a ride home. He’d draped a jacket over her shoulders, placed a ball cap on her head and led her out a side door. “You don’t want to get caught by the press,” he’d said.
Molly hadn’t argued. At that point, she’d been so tired she would have agreed to almost anything if it had meant getting closer to her bed. Blaine had dropped her off around eleven, but before she could go to sleep, she’d wanted to take a hot bath and wash the day off her skin.
She’d finally crawled between the sheets a little after midnight, feeling warm for the first time in hours.
Sleep had claimed her quickly, but her dreams had not been peaceful. She frowned as images flitted through her mind: Max, standing cold and unmoving as she tried to hand him their baby. Then his face twisting in cruel smile as he grabbed the baby from her arms, walking away as she lay chained to a hospital bed, unable to follow. It didn’t take a psychiatrist to interpret those nightmares.
She shook her head to dismiss the disturbing thoughts. She stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, trying to muster the motivation to get up and answer the door. But her bed was so comfortable, and her head ached...
The knocking stopped. Oh, good, she thought, closing her eyes once more. Whoever was at her door had given up; she could go back to sleep in peace.
An electronic jingle started up from the direction of her nightstand. Molly muttered a curse as she reached out, fumbling blindly for the phone. She opened her eyes a slit, pressed the green button on the screen and closed her eyes again.
“Hello?”
“Open the damn door, Molly,” her brother demanded.
She sighed heavily. “Good morning to you, too, Mason.”
“I’m serious, Mols. Let us in.”
“Us?” She really wasn’t in the mood for company. Mason was one thing—she could handle him. But she didn’t want a large audience this morning.
“Elaine is with me,” he said, referring to his wife.
He wasn’t going to leave her alone until she relented—she knew from experience that her brother was nothing if not stubborn. “Give me a minute,” she told him, ending the call before he could reply.
She pushed herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The change in position triggered a wave of dizziness, but it passed quickly. Moving slowly, she shoved her feet into slippers and grabbed her robe.
She opened her front door to find Mason standing on the welcome mat, fist raised to start pounding again. Molly lifted one eyebrow. “Really? I told you I was coming.”
“You took your time about it.”
She shook her head as she turned around and trudged into the kitchen. Footsteps sounded behind her as Mason and Elaine followed.
“To what do I owe this early-morning pleasure?” she said, making a beeline for the coffee maker.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were trapped on the gondola yesterday?” Mason demanded.
“I didn’t want you to worry,” she replied. The heavenly smell of coffee rose into the air as she scooped fresh grounds into the filter. She added water to the reservoir, then pressed the start button. Soon, she thought longingly.
Mason touched her shoulder. She turned to really look at her brother for the first time since his arrival. His normally styled hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his hands through it. Instead of his usual suit and tie, he was wearing
torn jeans and a college sweatshirt that had seen better days. “Of course I worried,” he said, pulling her in for a hug.
“We had to find out about it through the news,” Elaine chided, her voice dripping with disapproval. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a messy bun and she wore only a hint of lip gloss on her otherwise bare face. Yet she still managed to look like a cover model, even in her yoga pants and slim-fitting fleece jacket.
Molly felt a niggle of insecurity about her own appearance. She hadn’t bothered to comb her hair or brush her teeth before answering the door, and her comfortable pajamas and fuzzy robe left much to be desired in terms of fashion. But she wasn’t planning on going out today, so really, what did it matter how she looked?
“I’m sorry,” Molly said as her brother released her. “I didn’t think it was going to take so long to get out of there, and I didn’t want to scare anyone.”
“That’s what family is for,” Mason pointed out. “If I had known you were up there, I could have—”
“What?” she cut in. “What exactly could you have done?” Her brother looked as if she’d slapped him, so she softened her tone. “I appreciate the thought, but we were in contact with the rescue team the whole time. There wasn’t much to do but wait. I knew if I told you I was in the gondola, you would have been climbing the walls, or worse, getting in the way as you tried to ‘help’ the rescuers do their job. Besides, I figured you had your own job to worry about.”
Mason was the director of sales for the Colton Empire, the family nickname for the all-encompassing company that included The Lodge, The Chateau and several other properties in Roaring Springs. As a popular, smooth-talking businessman, Mason had likely spent much of yesterday afternoon reassuring investors and potential clients in the wake of the avalanche.
“That still doesn’t mean I had to find out from a reporter!”
“You’re right, and I apologize. I didn’t know it was going to be such a news spectacle. But I’m fine, so let’s move on.”
He eyed her forehead. “You don’t look fine.”