The Man Most Likely

by Cindi Myers

  Instead, Troy had released her from that trap, freeing her to come to Crested Butte, where she’d opened a successful business and made new friends. And now she’d met Bryan—a man similar to Troy in some ways, but so different from him in ways that really counted.

  Being careful not to wake him, she slipped from the bed and tiptoed into the bathroom. She almost laughed at the tousled hair and smudged makeup reflected in her mirror. Now there was a sight to make a man think twice about staying the night.

  She turned on the shower and stepped under the steamy spray, sighing happily as the hot water cascaded over her. Humming to herself, she washed and rinsed her hair, then turned to let the water run over her face. She’d rate a hot shower second only to great sex on the list of life’s pleasures. Well, maybe third. There was, after all, chocolate.

  She turned around again and opened her eyes and was startled to see Bryan on the other side of the glass shower door. He stared at her, eyes wide, mouth slightly open, clearly stunned. She instinctively turned to cover herself. With shaking hands, she shut off the water, reminding herself that he had, after all, seen her naked before.

  But that had only been in the dimmed lights of the bedroom, in the heat of passion. The bright fluorescent glare of the bathroom lights was not so forgiving, and she was suddenly painfully aware of every bit of excess flesh, every sag and stretch mark, every part of her that was rounded out that should have been curved in.

  She opened the shower door and reached past him for a towel. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, wrapping the towel around herself. He made no move to speak or stop her as she ran from the room.

  So much for the wonderful, perfect relationship. The poor man had probably been horrified at the sight of all that white, naked flesh. No matter how much he professed to love her, the reality of her sheer bulk compared to the other women he had known must have been a shock to his system.

  After a moment, she heard the shower resume running, and she took advantage of the opportunity to dress. She towel-dried her hair, then pulled it back in a ponytail. By the time Bryan emerged from the bedroom, she was in the kitchen, making breakfast. “Good morning,” he said, and kissed her, but there was no mistaking the sudden awkwardness between them. As they ate, they talked in generalities, and his eyes could not meet hers. And there was no talk of returning to bed, or even of when they would see each other again.

  Angela felt as if a giant fist squeezed her heart, and it took every bit of acting ability she possessed to smile and pass the toast and not demand that he tell her—at once—what was wrong. But she was too afraid of what his answer might be.

  She was almost relieved when he left. “I promised Zephyr I’d help him with a project over at Trish’s,” he said, and kissed her goodbye.

  She shut the door, then sank into a chair, not even bothering to watch him drive away. “Oh, no,” she whispered, in too much pain even to cry.

  “DUDE, WHAT IS WRONG with you this morning?” Zephyr asked. He snatched the saw from Bryan’s hand. “You just sawed that all crooked. And before that, you almost nailed the door shut.”

  The two friends were on Trish’s back porch, attempting to enclose part of the space to serve as storage. “What’s going on?” Zephyr asked. “And don’t say nothing. If I think you’re a space cadet, you know you’re way out there.”

  “I spent the night with Angela last night,” Bryan admitted.

  Zephyr laid the saw to one side and settled himself against one of the sawhorses they’d set up on the porch. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean, you knew?”

  “Dude, your car is always parked in front of her place these days. I didn’t think the two of you were exchanging recipes.”

  “But you never said anything.”

  “Who you sleep with is your business, dude.” Zephyr grinned. “I’d have never pegged Angela as your type, but if you dig her, she must have more going for her than her chocolates.”

  “Don’t joke around,” Bryan said. “This is serious. I think I might be in trouble here.”

  Zephyr’s expression sobered. “What kind of trouble? Is she pregnant?”

  “No, she’s not pregnant.” At least, he hoped she wasn’t. “It’s not her, it’s me.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Zephyr’s eyebrows rose.

  Bryan glared at him. “Will you listen?”

  “I’m trying, but you’re not making sense. Spit it out, dude. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m in love.” Even saying the words out loud made his heart beat faster.

  “Is that all?”

  “What do you mean, is that all?” To him, it was everything.

  “You don’t look very happy about it.”

  “I am happy. And scared. And confused.” He shook his head. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before and…and I’m not sure I like it. It feels sort of…out of control.”

  “That’s only because you haven’t had much practice yet,” Zephyr said. “Once the newness wears off, it’ll get better.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Bryan had thought he could handle it—thought there wasn’t anything in the world better than the way he felt when he was with Angela. She made him feel more confident, more alive, even smarter than he did at any other time.

  Then this morning, he’d walked in on her while she was taking a shower. The sight of her standing there naked, her head tilted up toward the spray, water streaming down her body, had paralyzed him in his tracks. She was so beautiful; he had realized that every part of her was precious to him.

  That awareness hit him hard and strong. In that moment, he knew he would do anything to protect her, anything to keep her from being hurt, anything to make her happy. An injury to her would wound him, and the thought of losing her made him sick and cold inside. She had a power over him he would have never allowed anyone, yet he’d surrendered to her without argument.

  “Have you told her you love her?” Zephyr asked.

  Bryan nodded.

  “And did she say she loved you back?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what are you worried about? You love each other. I assume the sex is good. Time for happily ever after.”

  Bryan glared at him. “I can’t believe I’m asking you for relationship advice.”

  “Hey, I happen to be in a very good relationship with a wonderful woman,” Zephyr said. He stood. “And she’s going to pitch a fit if we don’t finish this shed like I promised. So, come on. Get to work.”

  “Why didn’t she hire a carpenter?” Bryan asked, picking up the saw again.

  “Because I work for free. Come on.”

  Bryan forced himself to focus on his work, to forget about Angela for a while. But Zephyr brought the subject up again.

  “Maybe your problem isn’t really being in love with Angela,” he said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Maybe your real problem is that you can’t make the feelings in your heart and the thoughts in your head match up.”

  “Now you’re not making sense.” Not that that was anything new with Zephyr.

  “Think about it. Angela isn’t the kind of woman you usually go for. To be blunt, she’s no beauty queen. And stop looking at me like I just ate your dog. I’m trying to be honest here.”

  Bryan took a deep breath and reined in his temper. Maybe Zephyr would get to a point—eventually. “Go on.”

  “But for whatever reason, you’re attracted to her. Physically, emotionally, whatever. Am I right?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re a pretty logical guy. So, the logical side of you—the one that knows you’re a man who doesn’t have any trouble getting women, beautiful women, to fall all over you—sees you with a woman like Angela and there’s a disconnect.”

  “You’re still not making sense.”

  “Pay attention. Maybe all these weird feelings you’re having about being in love are a form of self-defense. A kind of early warning s
ystem trying to get you to pull out of this. Before you wake up one morning and realize you’re living with a woman who isn’t right for you.”

  “So you think I’m so shallow I can only be happy with a woman who looks like a model?”

  Zephyr shrugged. “Can’t fight evolution, man. Survival of the fittest might also be survival of the best looking.”

  “You’re nuts,” Bryan said. “Besides, I happen to think Angela is very beautiful.”

  “I can see her appeal,” Zephyr said. “But you gotta admit, being in love is supposed to be a pleasant experience, and you don’t look like you’re having much fun at all.”

  “Maybe it’s like you said before. I need more time to get used to the idea.”

  “Well, while you’re getting used to it, give me a hand with this panel here.” He hefted a section of plywood. “Just remember, there are worse things than being in love.”

  “Let me guess—not being in love.” He helped hold the panel in place while Zephyr fastened it to the frame they had built.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of being eaten alive by lions, but I guess not being in love could be worse, too.”

  “Tell me again why I’m friends with you.”

  “Easy. Because I’m so smart and entertaining.” He waved the hammer in the air. “And because you know I’ve always got your back.”

  As declarations went, it didn’t exactly inspire confidence, but Bryan felt some of the tension ease from his body. Zephyr did know how to make him laugh. Maybe the best approach to his feelings for Angela was to not spend too much time dissecting them. He’d relax and go with the flow and things would work out the way they were supposed to.

  Either that, or he’d go crazy. Considering the turmoil his emotions had been in lately, who was to say love and insanity weren’t closely related.

  “Max and I are riding Sunday afternoon,” Zephyr said. “Want to come?”

  “I can’t. I got roped into playing golf with Carl and some of his buddies.”

  “Golf?” Zephyr stared at Bryan as if he’d suddenly sprouted an extra head. “You hate golf.”

  “Yeah, but I figure I can pretend to like it long enough to make a good impression on some of the movers and shakers in town.”

  “What do you care about any of them?”

  “That’s how business works.” Bryan picked up the saw and prepared to cut a two-by-four. “The golf course is where most of the big deals go down.”

  “I never thought I’d see the day you’d be sucking up to a bunch of suits on the golf course,” Zephyr said.

  “Give me a break,” Bryan said. “What if you had the chance to play golf with a big record producer? You’d do it.”

  Zephyr shook his head. “The Z Man doesn’t play golf. But I could show the producer a mountain biking or hiking trail he’d never forget.”

  “Yeah, well, these guys aren’t interested in mountain biking or hiking. If I have to give up a few afternoons to hit a ball around a manicured course, I’ll do it. The faster I get promoted and start making the big bucks, the sooner I’ll be able to open my own place.”

  “Just don’t forget who your real friends are on your way to the top.”

  Bryan set aside the saw and glared at Zephyr. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m just sayin’. Those guys on the golf course aren’t the ones you can really count on. If you make the mistake of choosing the movers and shakers over the pals who’ve been behind you all along, you might find out why they say it’s lonely at the top.”

  “I don’t believe this. I bail on one bike ride and I’m a bad friend.” He tossed aside the two-by-four and picked up another.

  “I’m just sayin’.” Zephyr shrugged. “This job is changing you.”

  “People change. They grow up.”

  Zephyr ignored the dig. “Grow up, grow old. It doesn’t matter to me. Just promise me you won’t turn into one of those stressed-out high rollers who’s more concerned about what kind of car he’s driving than the scenery along the road.”

  Was that really where Zephyr thought he was headed? “No chance,” Bryan said. “Not while I have you around to remind me.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” Zephyr picked up the cut two-by-four and examined it. “Crooked again. Trish is going to pitch a fit.”

  “Better watch it, or people will start calling you henpecked.”

  Zephyr grinned. “I prefer to think of myself as a kept man. Besides, I like to let her think she’s the competent one in the relationship.”

  “Dude, she is the competent one.”

  “And I’m the sexy rock star, so I figure it evens out.” He balanced the hammer on the end of his finger. “Everything’s a trade-off, y’know? I don’t pay any attention to Trish’s nagging, and she overlooks the fact that my income stream is erratic. We make it work, because we know what’s really important.”

  “And what’s really important?” Bryan asked. He expected his friend to make one of his trademark smart comments about brains and beauty or money and sex.

  Instead, Zephyr’s expression turned serious. “Don’t you listen to the radio or look in the bookstore? Love’s what’s important. It’s what all the good songs and most of the books are about, what makes the world go ’round and the sun come up.”

  “Right.” Bryan nodded. Love. One four-letter word that made his heart race and his stomach hurt. Zephyr thought love was the answer, but Bryan wondered if, sometimes at least, love wasn’t the problem. If he weren’t in love with Angela, maybe he’d be able to think straight and see more clearly where, exactly, the two of them were headed.

  BY MONDAY MORNING when she arrived at work, some of Angela’s anxiety had subsided. Bryan had called her Sunday evening and his conversation had given no hint that anything was wrong. They’d made plans for him to pick her up for the hotel management dinner Thursday and they talked about the possibility of going into Gunnison to see a movie that weekend. He’d ended the conversation by telling her he loved her, sounding as sincere as ever.

  Obviously, she’d let a combination of an overactive imagination and her long-held insecurities get the best of her Saturday morning. Bryan was a great guy and everything between them was going to be all right. That reminder—and the batch of cream cheese brownies she whipped up Monday afternoon—went a long way toward relieving her fears.

  Angela dressed carefully for dinner that Thursday, in a black velvet sheath with a beaded bodice, a fringed silk shawl, and black-and-silver stiletto sandals that made her almost as tall as Bryan. “You look gorgeous,” he said, kissing her warmly when he arrived to pick her up, his gaze sweeping over her in a way that proved the compliment was anything but perfunctory.

  “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” she said. In a stylish black suit and silver-and-blue tie he might have graced the cover of a fashion magazine. She didn’t miss the interested looks he drew from a number of women as they entered the private dining room at the country club that had been set aside for the evening’s events, and allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Eat your hearts out, ladies, she thought. He’s with me.

  Bryan’s boss, Carl Phelps, greeted them as they crossed the room. “Hello,” he said, shaking Bryan’s hand. “I’m glad you could be here tonight.”

  “Carl, you remember Angela, don’t you? She helped with our Flauschink parade float.”

  “Hello again, Ms. Krizova.” Carl’s handshake was firm, if a little stiff. “There are some people I’d like you to meet.” Phelps took Bryan’s arm. “Please excuse us, Ms. Krizova,” he said. “We won’t be long.”

  Bryan sent her an apologetic look. Angela was left standing with a smile frozen on her face, feeling awkward. She didn’t see a soul she knew. Fine. She’d get a drink and meet some people. Maybe someone here would like to order some custom chocolates for their guests.

  She was standing at the bar when Bryan returned to her side. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Carl can be a little single-minde
d at times.”

  “Did you meet anyone interesting?” she asked.

  “The regional vice president is here, along with some marketing people. I’ll try not to abandon you like that again.”

  “That’s all right,” she said, accepting a glass of wine from the bartender. “I’m a big girl. I can look after myself.”

  “We’re sitting over here.” Bryan led her to a table and introduced her to the couple already seated there. “This is Millie and Dan Alderson,” he said. “They own the Cottonwood Guest House in Taylor Canyon.”

  Millie, a fifty-something woman with a mass of silver-blond curls, smiled in welcome. “That is a gorgeous dress,” she said.

  “Thank you.” Angela settled in the chair next to Millie. “Tell me about your inn. Taylor Canyon is such a beautiful area.”

  Over their salads, the two couples talked about innkeeping, the spring weather and the local passion for softball. When the waiter had cleared their plates and was serving their entrées, Bryan leaned over and whispered to Angela. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’d be really nervous around some of these bigwigs if I didn’t know you had my back.”

  “I’m glad you invited me.” She squeezed his hand under the table. “I’m enjoying myself, and the food is excellent.”

  “We make a good team,” he said.

  “Yes, we do.” The idea sent a warm glow through her. She’d been independent for many years and had always prided herself on her strength and self-reliance, but the idea of partnering with someone, offering mutual support and being there to bounce off ideas, held a strong appeal. Being with someone no longer felt like a weakness, but an added strength.

  BRYAN LISTENED to Dan Alderson’s story of how he and Millie had started their inn, wishing he had paper to take notes. To his right, the manager of the Econo Lodge in Gunnison talked about an e-mail marketing program he’d launched to bring in new guests. To his left, Angela and Millie traded anecdotes of dealing with tourists new to the mountains.