She dropped her forehead to the edge of her desk. “I just really, really don’t want to.” It would be so easy to wallow, to blame fate, to sink into that place where it was all about being the victim and not being in control of her life. She wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t. But, right at that very moment, she simply didn’t know where she was going to find the strength to rise again.
On a surge of anger, aimed at both the world in general and at herself in particular for not having an immediate plan of action, she shoved her chair back, took up her mug, and stalked into the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since the middle of the day before and that wasn’t helping the hollow pit of dread in her stomach. Of course, the thought of food at that moment was abhorrent, but it was something she could do instead of staring and swearing. She popped the fridge door open and saw the neatly stacked containers of pasta and sauce. Her stomach gurgled. Pasta for breakfast. She reached for the container. Why the hell not?
She was heating up a bowl of noodles when Brett walked into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.” She kept her gaze on the microwave door. As if that was going to speed things along. But she didn’t know what to say to him, so it was a handy distraction. The bell dinged and she slid the bowl out.
“Pasta for breakfast?” he said, coming closer but stopping at the cook island.
“Sounded like a good idea at the time.” She fished in the silverware drawer for a fork. “Thank you for saving some for me. And for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t mind.” He took another step closer. “Kirby—”
He broke off, and she paused in the act of forking up her first mouthful and glanced at him directly for the first time.
“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising her.
She lowered her fork. “For what?”
“Whatever’s going on with you. And for pushing last night. I just wanted to help out. I still do.”
“If I don’t fill this inn to capacity by the weekend and keep it that way until at least the middle of April, I’m going to lose the place,” she said, putting it out there without meaning to but too tired to get back into the verbal cat and mouse game they had played last night. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do about that, but I appreciate the concern.” She realized she sounded less than gracious and was certainly not on good hostess behavior, not by a long shot, but there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it. Brett was a guest, but he wasn’t exactly a guest. And he’d asked for the truth, so she refused to feel bad about giving him what he’d asked for.
“Actually,” he said, just as calm as he’d been before her less-than-cheerful reply. “I could. Help, that is.”
“How? You have a lot of poker buddies who need a place to hole up for a few months, get out of the desert for a while?”
He smiled at that. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. If Vermont had a gaming commission, I could probably get a game going out here, make you all kinds of revenue.”
“We have a lottery, but no gambling that I’m aware of.”
He didn’t respond right away, and it was clear his mind was spinning on something.
“What are you thinking?”
“I was thinking maybe something for charity. There are ways around the rules, or to make them work for you, anyway.”
She straightened from where she’d been leaning against the counter by the sink. “That’s—well, that’s actually a very nice idea, but if anything like that even looked like it was going to happen here, I can bet you the resort would find a way to co-opt it. They’d be equipped for it.”
“Yes, they would. And that would be exactly the way to go.”
She took her bite and then gestured to him with her fork. “So, how would that help me?”
“Because putting on an event like that isn’t just about bringing in a few players. It’s a lot more complex, and there are a lot of tentacles. I’m sure your place and any other place around here with rooms to spare would have no problem booking.”
“Is professional poker that big a draw?”
He didn’t say anything to that, and the light dawned.
“You’re that big a draw.”
“Do you want me to look into it?”
It was both a non-answer and all the answer she needed. Maybe it was time to do a little research on Brett. She’d been curious, but out of respect for his request, she hadn’t done any digging. Besides, in the past twenty-four hours, her thoughts had been on other issues. But with this offer, it appeared all bets were off when it came to leaving the past in the past.
“Could you honestly set something up that quickly?” She immediately waved a hand. “Forget I said that. I’m sorry. I have no business exploiting your fame, or livelihood.”
“I’m pretty sure I offered. That’s not exploiting.”
“You came here to get away from that. You’re a good guy, Brett, an incredibly nice guy, but I don’t want you to do something that you otherwise wouldn’t do.” She waved off his response again. “It’s amazingly generous of you to even offer. And I am appreciative, even if I don’t sound like it. But even if I was willing to let you do that, I think it would be too late to save me—the inn, I mean. And then you’d have done all of that for nothing.”
Now he closed the gap between them. He carefully took the bowl of pasta out of her hands and set it on the counter. Then he stepped right up into her personal space, pinning her back against the counter before he’d even touched her. Kirby could have scooted away. She could have done a lot of things. But she didn’t. And what that said about how much she’d learned regarding what she should accept, and what she should stand up to, she didn’t want to know.
But sticking her ground, at that moment, felt like the right thing to do. And if she was just lying to herself about that, well she could add that to the list of things to beat herself up over later.
“I want to help you, Kirby. One of the things about having achieved the successes I have is that I am in a position to do things like that. I kind of thought it must be something pretty drastic when you walked in here last night and, barring bad news about a family member, your business was the only thing I could think of that would put that look on your face. So, I gave it a lot of thought, but until just now, I didn’t see a clear path on how to help. Other than just hand you a chunk of cash to bail you out, if that was the problem, which I’d do. Hell, I’ll buy the damn place and you pay me back instead. I’m a lot friendlier than the banks. But I figured you’d be too proud to do something like that, despite the fact that I wouldn’t think one iota less of you for doing so. It won’t put a dent in my world, and it could make all the difference in yours.”
“You’re right. I couldn’t accept that kind of offer.” She looked past his shoulder, then made herself look back at him. “So, you’d already spent time thinking about this before you came in here?”
“Yes. If it was something with your family or a friend, I’d just do whatever I could to ease the situation, but if it was your business, the inn, then I figured a more direct kind of help would be better. I just didn’t know how to do that. But the charity event is perfect. It’s a way to do good, all the way around, without much of a downside.”
“Except putting you back in the world you just drove cross-country on a bike to get away from.”
“That’s my decision.”
“It feels like all of this is your decision.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. You can decide whether or not to take what I’m offering. I can’t force that solution on you. All I can do is let you know it’s available if you think it would help. But it’s your choice, your business to keep or lose, your life. If you have other ideas, then that’s great. I’ll help you there, too, if there is any way that I can.”
“Why?”
That stopped him. “What do you mean, why?”
“Why is it so important to you to help me? I realize we had sex, and I realize that you’re going to
move on to whatever it is you decide to do next. This is merely a stop on your journey.”
“What in the hell does that have to do with me helping you? Do you think this is some kind of angle for some other…I don’t even know. What other agenda could you possibly think I have? I know you have some issues you’re dealing with, and I’m not talking about the inn now but with going forward with new relationships. You were totally up front with me about that. But I’m being totally up front with you. I have no other agenda other than I can help, I see you need some, and so why wouldn’t I step up?”
She’d pissed him off. Which she was sorry for, but it also was kind of fascinating to see. He was typically so laid back, matter of fact, but so soft spoken in the way he stated his thoughts. So this…this was different. And she wasn’t going to lie, it had her attention in more ways than one.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was out of line, but I didn’t mean any insult. You’re right. I’m not as evolved as I thought I was. I still have some hang-ups—”
“I said issues. We all have them.”
“Whatever the case, you’re right. I’ve been too complacent in the past, too willing to let others dictate the course, even when I didn’t agree with it. I don’t want to do that anymore. So, it’s important to me to find my own solutions. To figure things out on my own.”
He surprised her by smiling. “Okay. So…you found me.”
“Actually, you found me. Or the inn, anyway.”
“Chicken and egg. The bottom line is I’m in your life and if you’re someone who looks at fate or things having a bigger meaning, then maybe that’s why I’m here. The point is, you are in control of this. I’m just saying I could be the solution to this problem.” His smile grew and it made that twinkle come to life in his eyes. “Maybe you’re just supposed to be smart enough to recognize a solution when there is one and use it to your advantage.”
She couldn’t help it, she smiled, too. “Either you really believe what you’re saying, or you’re an amazing bullshit artist.”
“It’s possible there is a little of both there.”
“So, what’s in it for you? You probably already know that your chances of getting lucky again are in your favor. And I doubt you’re looking for a free ride on your room charges.”
“Actually, I’m not certain of anything where you’re concerned. A pushover you are not.”
Now she smiled. “Well, then I’m making progress.”
“As for what’s in it for me? It’ll make me happy to help you out, to see you push through this stumbling block and have the chance to make this place be what you know it can be. You can’t help the weather.” He finally reached up and touched her face.
It took remarkable control not to rub her cheek into his palm.
“Let me do something good here. It helps me, too. Okay?”
“You make it really, really hard, you know that?”
He reached for her hips, tugged her up against him. “Well, then, I’d say we’re even.”
She laughed even as she blushed, which was kind of funny given what they’d been doing in this very kitchen just yesterday.
“Eat your pasta,” he told her, reaching past her to pick up the container.
“Now you’re going to ride herd on my food intake?”
He tucked the container into her hands and then framed her face and kissed her. Hard. “No,” he said when he lifted his head. “I just think stamina is probably going to be a good thing.”
“You think so, do you?” she said, going for sanguine, missing by a mile. He was…hell, she couldn’t even quantify any longer what he was.
“Let’s just say I’m hoping.” He pressed a finger to her mouth, then stroked her bottom lip. “And if you say anything else about my offer to help being some kind of insurance for extra favors, I will take that as a direct insult. Other than being one of the many reasons why I’m all wrapped up in you, this,” he said, dropping another hard kiss on her mouth, “has nothing to do with that.”
“Wasn’t going to say a word,” she said, looking a bit stunned.
“Good.” He nudged the bowl at her. “Eat.”
“Not all that hungry all of a sudden.”
“Hmm. Well.” His smile spread slowly. “Maybe we should focus on building your appetite, then. As it happens, I have quite an appetite. Where you’re concerned, anyway.”
Her entire body responded to his suggestion in ways that the best comfort food in the world couldn’t have appealed to her. “Shouldn’t we be working on…whatever it is we have to do to see if your idea will work?”
“I just have to make a few calls, find out what the time frame will have to be. It won’t take that much to generate interest; then it’s just a matter of figuring out the logistics.”
He kissed Kirby’s knitted brows. “Don’t worry. I’ll set it up so it works out for the best. For both of us.”
“Okay,” she said, still torn between massive relief and being a little worried that he was leaping before he was looking. “So, what happens next?”
“I’ll make those calls; then we’ll have to wait to get some feedback. I don’t think it will take long.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. “I know we can make this work.”
She took a short, shaky breath. “Okay. Wow, but okay.” She looked at him. “You’re sure?”
“One hundred percent sure. The question isn’t will it work, but how long it will take to put together.”
“All right.” She smiled a little, then, more confidently. “All right.”
He laughed. “See? Not all that hard, right?”
She laughed, too. “Oh, I didn’t say that. But I appreciate this, Brett. All of it. Your proposed solution and making it easier to say yes to accepting your help. This is the best solution I could hope for. Win-win.” Then she held his gaze in steady regard and grew more serious. “As long as you promise me this isn’t going to put you in a place you don’t need to be. I don’t know all the reasons you stopped playing, or why you left Vegas. But I can’t move forward with fixing my problem if it adds to yours.”
“I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.” He bracketed her hips and tugged her closer again. “So, I was thinking, we could either stand around here in the kitchen and talk about not eating my very fine pasta, or…”
Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. They both laughed.
“I’m not sure, but I think I was just flattered and insulted all at the same time.”
She shook her head. “But maybe I should at least make an effort. Is there anything I can do…with the rest of this? Any calls I can make locally to get the ball rolling?”
“Once I get things started out west, then yes, it’s definitely going to have to be a team effort.”
“Team efforts are good.” She picked up the pasta and found that she was kind of ravenous all of a sudden.
“Agreed.” He stepped back, gave her some space, and went to fix himself a cup of coffee.
Too late, she thought to warn him about the toxic level of caffeine she’d been shooting for earlier and had to apologize when he gagged. “Sorry.”
“Wow,” was all he said after he finished choking. “Sort of like a caffeine Slurpee.”
“Pretty much. I didn’t sleep. I needed a boost.”
“Astronauts need a boost. This is…wow.”
She sat down her bowl. “Let me make another pot.”
“I can do that. Eat.”
She saluted him with her fork. “Yes sir, captain sir.”
“It’s not so much about bossing you around as it is about me making a cup of coffee that won’t keep me up until 2025.”
“I’d call you on that, but you might have a point.” She gestured to the cupboard over the coffeemaker. “The beans are in there, and the grinder.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Freshly ground coffee?”
He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. She went back to
forking up her now cold pasta. It was quite possibly the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten. “You know, and I’m not trying to butt in or anything, but given that you have apparently cashed in more than a few poker chips in your day, you could go out and get your own grinder and coffeemaker and have freshly ground and brewed coffee every single morning. Just saying.”
“For that I’d have to stay in one place for more than a week at a time. And remember to buy beans.”
“So you travel a lot? Are famous poker players like rock stars where you have a list of things you request that have to be in your dressing room?”
“We don’t get dressing rooms.”
“Right, you get actual rooms. Humongous suites in fancy hotels. Well, if the movies are to be believed.”
She looked at him expectantly. He didn’t refute her supposition, other than to say, “Little inns in Vermont are more my speed.”
“So, in these big, fancy suites, can’t you make a few demands?”
“I could try.”
“But you don’t.”
“Never thought I needed anything that badly to be a pretentious ass about it.”
“Back to that arrogant-cocky argument.”
“Something like that.”
She made a humming noise and continued to regard him while she ate and he went about making the perfect cup of coffee with his new bright, shiny object. Boys and their toys, she thought. In Brett’s case, that included bikes and, apparently, bean grinders. She wondered to what other realms his interests extended.
“I can hear the wheels,” he said as he flipped off the grinder.
“That was the coffee grinder.”
He shot her a smile over his shoulder. “No, that was you, trying to figure out which of the million questions you have were okay to ask.”
She waved her fork at him. “Now that could be mistaken for arrogance.”
“Only if it wasn’t true.” He continued to look at her.
A little flush climbed her cheeks. “Okay, okay. Guilty as charged. But I wasn’t going to say anything, or ask anything.” At least not right that second.
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