by Jane Porter
“Which is a problem for a place already struggling financially.”
She swam toward him and propped herself on the wall. “Do you think the situation here is really bad?”
He was silent a moment. “I think this could be their last winter if something doesn’t change.”
“Can your friend sell?”
“It’s an option, but he wouldn’t get all his money back, and he’s sunk everything into the place.”
She squared her shoulders and gave a little nod. “Then we just have to make sure we help him find his customers. They are out there. We just need to help spread the word.”
Douglas’s gaze swept her face and he gave her a slow smile. “Challenge accepted.”
There was something in his warm blue gaze that made her heart melt and then, when he smiled that slow easy smile, her pulse jumped and she felt an electric little zing throughout her body.
He was something, he really was. And she had to be careful, so careful, because falling for him would be serious trouble.
*
He remained serious trouble, too, as during the next three days they continued sitting next to each other during presentations, and walking side by side during activities. They always ended up at the same table for meals, and he became her plus one in the chairlift up the mountain, and then again for the sleigh ride that circled the frozen lake.
It had been a long time since anyone made her feel so good about herself and Charity told herself to be grateful, and to focus on the moment because outside this lovely little bubble of Wyoming, they had nothing in common. There was no point in even considering more with Douglas. He was a city sportswriter, and she was a small-town girl, and if she wasn’t willing to move thirty minutes away to the Wyatt ranch in Paradise Valley, how could Seattle be an option? It wasn’t. And he wasn’t. And yet the attraction was always there. She never felt more alive than when he was close.
Just watching him enter the room made her heart beat a little faster, and when he looked at her, she couldn’t help but smile.
He was beautiful, and smart, funny and kind. Kinder to her than any man had been in years. Maybe that was the part that bowled her over. He was truly the complete package, possessing strength and warmth and surprising humility.
And now their trip was nearly over. This was their last night in Wyoming. Tomorrow they’d say goodbye.
Charity stepped off the ice rink to relace her boot, wishing she’d brought her own skates from home as she was finding it hard to get this pair to fit properly. She loved ice skating, too. It was actually something she could do well, and she was eager to show off a little for Douglas, who was out on the ice already, assisting some of the older women. Tonight’s party at the ice rink was the final activity and she smiled as he shifted from one timid travel agent to the other, steadying wobbly skaters, and encouraging others to let go of the railing.
And then Douglas lifted his head and looked at her, and gave her that smile of his that made her pulse jump and her body hum. Thank goodness she came this week.
She rose from the wooden bench and stepped out onto the ice, and it felt like she had wings on her feet as she skated toward him. He held out a hand to her and a rush of pleasure swept through her as Douglas took her hand, and they skated around the ice.
He lifted an eyebrow at her, as they circled a second time. She arched a brow back, daring him, and in wordless agreement. They picked up speed, skating faster, feet crossing, blades scraping as they pushed through the turns, the cold night air filling their lungs. This, she thought, cheeks burning, heart pumping, was pure joy.
They were making their fourth sweep when one of the agents limping around the side tried to pass another agent, and somehow went staggering toward the middle of the ice instead of back to the railing. The agent yelped as she sailed out of control, arms flapping. Her terror created panic in the others and before Charity fully understood what was happening or why, there were travel agents falling right and left, littering the ice.
Douglas tried to slow the very first agent, but she flung herself at him, bringing them both down.
Charity started to laugh, and kept laughing as she glanced around the ice. Everyone was down. Not a single person—but her—remained on their feet.
And then Douglas reached up, caught her sleeve and pulled her down, too. She didn’t fall hard, but the ice was cold and she felt the chilly dampness through her knit leggings. “That’s so unfair,” she protested as she scrambled back to her feet. “I’ll get you back, Douglas. Just you wait.”
He gave her a look that made her go all warm and mushy on the inside and then he was drawing the older ladies up off the ice, one by one.
Finally the ice was clear and Charity leaned on the wall, watching Douglas skate back to her. His gaze locked with hers, his blue eyes so warm.
She felt a thrill as he neared her. He wasn’t hers, but he was. She’d always remember this week. Douglas had been such great company.
He skated off the ice and took a position at the wall next to her, his big frame brushing hers as he leaned against the railing. He didn’t move away, either. He stood there, touching her and it felt right. Her heart raced. She wanted his arms around her. She wondered how he kissed.
Charity tried not to stare at his mouth. Not easy when he was standing this close, and his lips were just above hers, those firm lovely lips curved in a rueful smile.
“Planning your revenge?” he teased her, reaching out to pluck a long tendril of blonde hair from her cheek before smoothing it back behind her ear.
“Just you wait.”
“So you keep saying.”
“It’ll be good.”
“I hope so.” And his smile grew wider, whiter.
Her chest seized, air bottling in her lungs. She had to be careful. She wasn’t being careful. She was feeling too much, falling too hard, too fast. She wasn’t strong enough to be hurt again.
Charity made a show of wiping the frost from her mittens and then brushed more ice from her backside. “That was epic out there,” she said, trying for a lightness she didn’t feel. “It was like roller derby ice-skating.”
“Apparently Marianne used to skate, a very long time ago,” he said, referring to the California travel agent that had careened across the outdoor rink, wildly out of control.
“Thankfully you broke her fall.”
“I was terrified she’d break a hip.”
“The dangers of putting seniors on the ice.”
“And beautiful women like you,” he added, tugging on her knit cap. “Are you okay? Break anything? Hip, elbow, knee?”
His touch sent a frisson of pleasure through her. “No.” She smiled up at him. “Despite my encounter with the ice.”
“I couldn’t have you feeling left out.”
“You mean you couldn’t bear to have me still standing, when you were on your butt?”
“I was just looking out for you. I wanted you to know you will always be on my team.”
His team.
Charity was so close to telling him the truth. She wanted to come clean and confess she wasn’t Tricia Thorpe from Marietta Travel but Charity Wright, the receptionist at Melk Realty, but she’d made Tricia a promise and she’d keep her promise. “Thanks for putting me on your team,” she said. “It’s been fun.”
“I’m not saying goodbye to you, kiddo. You’re stuck with me, you know.”
She smiled crookedly, touched, but aware it wouldn’t play out that way. He might mean to stay in touch but things would come up. Feelings would change. This here at Little Teton was just what it was—a brief escape, an innocent romance—which was never meant to last in the real world.
“By the way,” he added, “you can skate.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you,” she answered.
“I played a lot of hockey growing up,” he said.
“Who knew?” she murmured, transfixed by his face, and his lips, wanting his mouth on hers, wanting to feel his kiss.
&nbs
p; “When do you head back to Seattle?” she blurted, trying to focus on anything but his lovely face so very close to hers.
“Next week.”
“What will you do until then?”
“Poke around here, do a little more research.”
“I can’t wait to read your article. You’ll have to send me a link once it’s—” She broke off as Marianne appeared and gave Douglas a grateful hug for saving her.
“My pleasure,” he assured her gallantly.
Marianne beamed. “Your mother raised you right. You’re such a gentleman. Tell her I approve.”
His smile faded. His head momentarily dipped. “Will do,” he said gruffly.
He was quiet after Marianne and her friends continued on. Charity looked up at him, wondering what had happened to change the mood. He’d been so relaxed a moment before but he suddenly seemed pensive.
“You okay?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced out at the still-empty rink. “Do you want to get back out there, or have you had enough?”
She swiped her still-damp backside. “I think I’m done.”
“Wish we had another couple days here,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed this here with you.”
“You were just the tonic I needed. Thank you.”
“You’re such a sweetheart.”
She didn’t know which made her more breathless, his deep voice or the words he’d said. You’re a sweetheart. Somehow he made it sound like the most wonderful endearment she’d ever heard.
“You deserve to be happy,” he added. “Demand happiness from life. Don’t accept anything less.”
The lump was back in her throat. He had this incredible ability to make her feel special and warm, gloriously warm. “I’ll remember that.”
He smiled down at her. “Do.”
*
He really needed to stop smiling at her. He was making her feel things and she couldn’t possibly feel more, not when she was already tingling from head to toe. “Did you play other sports besides hockey?”
“Football, basketball… baseball.”
“Did you play sports in college?”
“I did.”
“When did you stop playing to be a writer?”
“When I realized you can’t play forever.”
She grimaced. “True. You have to pay bills.”
He laughed, a big laugh that was another deep rumble, and then his head dropped and his mouth covered hers.
The kiss was light and yet electric. She felt every little bit of her come to life.
He deepened the kiss, her lips parting beneath the pressure of his, and her head spun.
This kiss made her yearn for happiness and magic. If only happy-ever-afters really did come true. Because at thirty she was beginning to be afraid, wracked with doubt that the happy-ever-after would happen for her.
And just like that, reality returned.
She remembered who she was and where she was and this beautiful, magical kiss was a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, pulling back. “As much as I want to kiss you, I shouldn’t. My life is a mess and this isn’t going to help.”
“No, I’m sorry.” He took a step back, putting space between them.
“It’s the timing,” she said. “If the timing was different, or we lived closer, maybe it’d make more sense.” She swallowed hard, feeling completely ridiculous because she’d wanted his kiss, and the kiss had been incredible. “I hope this doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. I could use you as a friend—”
“I already told you, we’re on the same team. You’re stuck with me.”
She struggled to smile. “Good.”
“And I am sorry about the kiss. I totally misread the situation. I’m embarrassed—”
“Don’t be. I wanted you to kiss me.” Her lips twisted, her expression glum. “The problem was, you kiss really good. Far too good.”
For a moment there was just silence, and for the first time since they met, it wasn’t an easy, comfortable silence, and it crossed Charity’s mind that it was already changing between them.
All it had taken was a kiss.
She shouldn’t have wanted his kiss. She shouldn’t have savored his attention. She’d come to Little Teton to escape the fire, not throw herself headfirst into the frying pan.
“It would be great to stay in touch. That way if I’m ever in Seattle, we could have dinner, or if you’re ever this way again, we could meet for a drink or coffee.”
“That would be great,” he said. “Where do you live?”
“Montana. A little town outside Bozeman.”
He gave her an odd look. “What’s the name of your travel agency?”
“Marietta Travel.”
“You’re from Marietta?”
“You’ve heard of it?”
His expression was almost incredulous. “I have.”
Chapter Three
Had he heard of Marietta? Of course he had. It was his hometown.
Back in his room, Quinn stretched out on his bed, aware that everything had just become more complicated. If Tricia looked him up, she’d discover there was no Douglas Quincy, at least no sportswriter in greater Seattle named Douglas Quincy.
Quinn didn’t like deceiving people, much less people from his hometown. Marietta had been good to him, and people had rallied around his family after the tragedy on the Douglas ranch. He had nothing but respect and appreciation for Marietta, so the last thing he wanted to do was deceive someone who knew the real him.
Thinking of Marietta, and his years at Marietta High School, Quinn remembered a Colton Thorpe. Quinn had played sports with Colton, a kid who had equal parts talent and anger. The anger had won out, and Colton gave up organized sports to get into trouble.
Quinn didn’t know what had become of Colton, but he couldn’t help thinking that Tricia might be related to him. A sister, or a cousin, possibly? Either way, he needed to explain things, and come clean with her about who he was, and why he was there in Wyoming, because he wouldn’t be writing about the ski town.
He liked Little Teton a great deal, and spending the past five days with Tricia had made it even more special. Tricia was an amazing woman.
Was he disappointed she wanted to keep things platonic? Absolutely. He liked her, a lot, and all he wanted was to get closer to her, not keep his distance. He couldn’t remember when he was this attracted to anyone. He wasn’t even sure he’d felt this chemistry with Alice.
He left bed early the next morning and went to her room, wanting to catch her before she left. But she didn’t answer the door and when he checked with the front desk, they said she’d already gone, leaving just after dawn.
Disappointment swept through him, and he kicked himself for not going to her room last night. Why had he waited?
Marianne, the travel agent from California, approached Quinn to say goodbye. “You look so lonely,” she teased him. “Where did your cute little girlfriend go?”
“Home,” he answered.
And then it struck him. Home. Tricia had gone home, to Marietta. Which meant, he knew just where to find her.
*
Charity couldn’t have asked for more perfect conditions to drive home. The Teton Pass was clear, the wind was calm, and the rising sun made the dramatic mountain peaks glitter. Snow dusted the huge conifers making her think of white frosting. There was no ice on the road either. Her car handled the climb and descent beautifully.
She was lucky, she told herself as the miles accumulated. She was lucky to have such ideal weather for driving home. Lucky to have had a break from work. Lucky to have missed the Marietta Stroll where Greg was escorting his new girlfriend about.
And lucky to have met Douglas.
Her pulse jumped just thinking of him. Douglas Quincy had been absolutely lovely in every way. Meeting him at Little Teton had been rather like a perfect holiday romance, without the romance ending. But that was okay. She appreciated the story elements. Handsome stranger, playful a
ctivities, wonderful chemistry, and then the quick, bittersweet goodbye because they were off in different directions.
Maybe one day they’d see each other again. Maybe one day the timing would be better.
Or, maybe more realistically, this would just end up being a very sweet, special memory for her to cherish.
Charity adjusted her sun visor, blocking out the bright morning glare, and used her car’s Bluetooth to call her sister, not sure if Amanda would be at work yet, but Amanda answered her cell phone.
“Where are you?” Amanda asked.
“Back in Montana, still driving, a couple hours away,” Charity answered.
“How was the ski resort?”
“Really good. Super cute little place. I’m glad I went. I’ve lots of notes for Tricia.”
“You sound happy.”
“I had fun.”
“Tricia said everybody would probably be on the older side.”
“Lots of older people, but there was a hot guy. We hung out together.”
“And he’s a travel agent?”
“No, he’s a sportswriter, but he was there to get the resort some coverage.”
“And he was good-looking?”
“Gorgeous. Tall, built, handsome as heck.”
“Where does he live?”
“Seattle.”
“But I’m sure he travels.”
“I don’t, though.”
“Then why are you so happy?” Amanda asked.
“He was just… lovely.”
“He was chivalrous, too. He opened doors and held my chair and helped me with my coat. He even tied my scarf once and it was just sweet because he looks so manly. Like big, rugged muscles everywhere, and then he was such a gentleman.”
“You’re smitten.”
“I’m just grateful I met him because I realize that no one has treated me so well since Joe and I broke up, and that was an important epiphany. Next time I date someone, I want to be treated well. I want more of a man, not less.”
“That’s exactly right. You deserve more, not less.”
“I realized something else,” she added. “I’m letting fear hold me back. I’m afraid I’m not good enough so I’ve stopped making clothes for anyone but you. I’ve stopped designing altogether. I think that’s a mistake.”