A Last Resort

by Brenda Sinclair

  A LAST RESORT

  Brenda Sinclair

  Kindle Edition

  ISBN 978-1-926474-26-7

  Copyright 2020 by Brenda Sinclair

  This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. Except for use in any review, the reproduction of this work in whole or in part in any form now known or hereafter invented is forbidden without the written permission of the author.

  All characters and locations in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone or anything bearing the same name or names.

  Romance author, Emma Sullivan, has a deadline to meet and travels to her editor’s remote luxury cabin for alone time to complete her current manuscript. When she discovers the mountain retreat is already inhabited by a contractor who refuses to leave, Emma agrees to make the best of the situation. Despite their vastly different likes and dislikes, his presence there soon becomes invaluable.

  Lyndon Reynolds loves living in his client’s cabin while building the three-car garage as a surprise for the owner’s wife. Until the pretty but stubborn author moves in and totally disrupts his life. After finding some normalcy, their world is rocked by an unexpected third party who destroys any hope of their peaceful coexistence.

  Can Emma and Lyndon discover a solution to their living arrangements with the recently arrived final straw? Or is the unexpected third wheel the one thing that could possibly help ensure their future together?

  DEDICATION

  To my Nakusp pals, Vicki and Shaa,

  who understand and appreciate the special importance

  of a girl-time runaway with fellow authors.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Title

  Story Blurb

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Acknowledgements

  Books by Brenda Sinclair

  About the Author

  Find Brenda At

  Chapter 1

  Emma Sullivan learned from experience that men created endless challenges and difficulties in life. Both allegations applied, whether the guys were an imaginary version or as real as any of her past relationships. No wonder at thirty-three, she remained happily single.

  She loved the heroine in her current manuscript. The hero had created problems for her since she first invented his persona during early plotting sessions months ago back home in Calgary. As she drove through southern British Columbia, she attempted to compose a bedroom scene in her mind, hoping for a moment of inspiration. But these two characters steadfastly refused to cooperate while she watched for the turnoff.

  She slowed her Nissan Rogue and steered onto the secondary highway. Climbing the winding two-lane paved mountain road remained the most nerve-wracking challenge en route to her friend’s hidden retreat. But the breathtaking views of Mount Maskosis, a Cree word meaning bear cub, proved more than worth the trip. As she traveled eight miles up the mountain to reach the Lewis’s cabin, a wall of solid rock and spindly pines towered over her on the left, while a drop of hundreds of feet awaited anyone who steered off the shoulder and continued over the ledge on the right. “Won’t be doing that,” she muttered to herself.

  Fortunately, in mid-October she encountered minimal traffic since leaving Revelstoke after a brief break to purchase gas, grab a Timmy’s coffee, and stretch her legs. As often was the case here, the first snow hadn’t fallen yet and with any luck would hold off until November. She couldn’t imagine there’d be many tourists heading to the public resort or any private cabin owners traveling to their mountain hideaways this time of year. Especially on a Tuesday.

  Off-season started last weekend and her friend and editor, Rachael Lewis, offered Emma the use of her cabin. She assured Emma endless peace and quiet, enabling her client to finish the manuscript and meet her deadline. Emma told her friends in Calgary she would be out of town due to a family thing, leaving her absence vague and date of return open-ended. A necessary little white lie. Too many commitments, both professional and personal, resulted in Emma falling behind on her scheduled completion of this book, number eighteen for her resume as Emma Storre. And the problematic hero wasn’t helping either.

  Emma gazed across the wide expanse on her right, taking in the remarkable view of mountains and tree line. Puffy cotton-ball clouds hung in the sky almost at eye level as she carefully drove along the winding roadway, climbing into the higher elevation. At least, the pavement was in good repair although she didn’t dare drive too quickly. Straightaways were very short and the curves only negotiable at carefully controlled speeds. The sun began to dip behind the mountain with the days growing shorter. Thankfully, the automatic control had turned on her headlights. She never thought to do it herself.

  Emma slowed as she approached the one hairpin curve, praying she wouldn’t encounter another vehicle. While maneuvering her way through using white-knuckled caution, she caught herself holding her breath; she would never completely relax when negotiating this section of road. Although there would be plenty of room for two vehicles to pass if the drivers remained in their own lanes, Emma muttered her way through the curve. Please no one appear now. Please no one appear now.

  Finally, the straightaway lay ahead without her encountering a single vehicle, and she accelerated again. Only one last mile to the popular Maskosis Resort and another three miles from there to reach the Lewis’s million-dollar retreat hidden away from public eyes, and only accessed by a short private road you wouldn’t know existed unless shown it.

  She smiled, envisioning herself in the open-concept cabin, sprawled on one of the leather sofas in front of the woodstove, sipping a glass of Chardonnay while the vegetarian lasagna she packed for her dinner warmed in the oven. Although the remote cabin provided adequate Wifi and the satellite TV was reliable, there were no land line or cell phone services. But her hosts’ extensive CD and DVD collection would provide every genre of music and film she desired. Tonight, she’d relax with popcorn and a movie. Tomorrow, she’d tackle the troublesome manuscript with fresh eyes and renewed conviction.

  She heaved a sigh as she turned onto the gravel road leading to her final destination. The roadway appeared recently used; she expected to discover it littered with autumn leaves resembling the residential streets in her south Calgary neighborhood. Finally, she turned onto the long parkway in front of the cabin and gaped. A huge three-car garage stood to the left of the cabin, a structure that hadn’t been there last time she visited.

  A tall, good-looking man dressed in faded jeans and a red flannel shirt stood beside a huge saw atop a makeshift sawhorse table. He wore a toolbelt slung low on his hips, like he’d been a gunslinger in a centuries-ago former life. The
guy stared back at her while holding a length of board and she glanced away, heating under her collar, when she caught herself ogling him.

  “What the heck? Why didn’t Rachael mention him?” she muttered aloud, turning off the ignition before unhooking her seatbelt. She climbed out of her SUV and slammed the door shut, visions of a peaceful month of writing and relaxing fading before her eyes. “Who are you?”

  “I was about to ask you the same thing.” The man set the board on the sawhorse table. “I’m Lyndon Reynolds. Mike hired me to build a garage as a surprise for Rachael.”

  “Emma Sullivan.” She shook hands with him. “Rachael offered me the use of their cabin for the next month to finish my book.”

  “Takes you a month to read a book?” The man stood hands on hips.

  “Write a book,” she clarified. “I need to finish my manuscript to meet the deadline.”

  He nodded. “Crossed wires, I guess. Mike hired me to build a garage with attached workshop. Told me his wife had been hounding him about it for years.” Lyndon dragged one hand through his hair. “Obviously, he doesn’t know Rachael offered you the cabin and she doesn’t have a clue I’m here.”

  Emma gazed off into the distance. In the closing dusk, the mountains had taken on a blue haze and an autumn chill invaded the air. Or was the reduction in temperature due to the unexpected six-foot welcome committee in front of her? What the heck should she do? A carpenter would create an enormous racket while she attempted to write, hammering and running an ear-splitting electric saw all day long. Unless he was almost finished.

  “How much longer do you plan to work on this?” She waved her hand, encompassing the entire work space.

  He shrugged. “Probably have another three weeks of work to complete.”

  “Three weeks! The garage appears almost done.” The lower level rock façade and tan siding above matched the luxury cabin’s exterior perfectly. She had to admit his work appeared exceptional; Rachael would love the new addition.

  Lyndon’s gaze roamed the new structure. “Yeah, on the outside. I haven’t even started the workshop area yet.”

  Emma paced in front of her vehicle. Three weeks. She required an entire month minimum to complete her book. At least, that was her plan. Lyndon would be underfoot and making unbearable noise almost the whole time she’d be living and working here.

  “I assume you planned to reside in the cabin?” he ventured, pointing at her vehicle bursting at the seams with boxes, bags, and suitcases.

  “I’ll be here until I finish my manuscript. A month at least, maybe six weeks.”

  Lyndon threw up his hands. “Mike is never going to believe this,” he muttered and then his expression clouded, eyes narrowing. “You cannot tell Rachael I’m here. If you ruin Mike’s surprise for his wife…” He left the thought hanging.

  “I would never ruin Mike’s big reveal. Besides, Rachael loves surprises.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Lyndon frowned at her. “Me… not so much.”

  “I’m sorry if my arrival ruined your day. I’ll get myself moved in and then we’ll work something out so I can write while you’re here completing your project.” Emma opened the back cargo door on her vehicle and started unloading. While piling boxes and suitcases on the ground, she considered her options for a doable arrangement. “Weather permitting, I’ll wander off somewhere with my laptop and write on a secluded cliff or near a lovely waterfall. There’s a covered bridge overlooking a creek a short walk from here. That would be perfect.”

  Lyndon stood arms crossed, staring at her. “Not going to work.”

  Emma hauled the largest suitcase out of the backseat and faced him. “You’re not willing to hammer out a compromise with me?” No pun intended, she added to herself.

  “The suggestion that you write somewhere away from the cabin while I’m working sounds okay.” He strode over to the SUV and hefted a large box filled with groceries into his arms before heading toward the cabin.

  “Good then. I’m certain we can make this work.” Emma followed, wheeling her largest suitcase and carrying an armload of outerwear on hangers.

  “There’s still one problem… evenings and nights.”

  “I won’t disturb your tools or building materials. Don’t worry, everything will be exactly where you left it the night before.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a minute. Since I’ve been keeping an eye on them myself.”

  Emma tipped her head. “You have surveillance cameras set up?” She wasn’t one of those people paranoid about being watched by security cameras. If the guy wanted to monitor the area to ensure his property wasn’t tampered with, then that suited her, too. Especially since she’d be here alone. She opened the door for him considering his arms were full.

  “Not exactly the issue.” Lyndon preceded her inside through the front door.

  “Why is that?” Emma hung her coats in the entryway closet and then wheeled her suitcase toward the bedroom she always used whenever she visited.

  “Because I’m staying here already,” he called. “At Mike’s insistence. For as long as it takes to finish the job.”

  Emma parked her luggage outside the bedroom door and retraced her steps to the kitchen.

  Lyndon set the box of groceries on the island’s granite countertop and stepped toward her. “Guess we’re roomies.”

  She shook her head. “No way. That is not happening.”

  “Where do you plan on staying then?” He smiled broadly and winked at her. “I was here first.”

  He headed out the door, leaving her standing open-mouthed and speechless. Soon, he returned with another suitcase and a smaller box in his other hand. He suddenly halted. “Why am I helping you unload if you’re not staying?”

  Emma paced the tiled floor, silently fuming inside. She hadn’t planned on sharing the cabin with anyone; she loved spending an entire day in her pajamas and writing all hours of the day and night. Now she was expected to share the space with an infuriating carpenter with an agenda of his own. Cover model handsome. Blue eyes she could drown in. And when he smiled and winked awhile ago, she forgot every reason why he couldn’t stay. He had a point, though; he’d probably been living here for weeks already. Truthfully, anyone would consider her the interloper. She glanced over at him still holding the box and waiting for her response. He’d seemed willing enough to share the accommodations with eight bedrooms and almost five thousand square feet of living space. They wouldn’t be tripping over each other.

  “All right, we’ll share the cabin. But don’t expect me to cook for you.”

  “Of course not. And don’t even think about touching my beer,” he called as he headed out the door.

  She huffed out a breath and followed him outside to bring in another load.

  He picked up a large square box, feigning strained effort from the weight. “What’s in here?”

  “Read the print. It’s a case of Chardonnay.”

  “You buy wine by the case?” he blurted.

  “You buy your beer by the case?” she countered.

  He chuckled and headed for the cabin. “Point taken.”

  “Rachael loves Chardonnay also. I always bring extra and leave any left over for next visit.” Not that she expected there’d be any left over after dealing with him her entire stay. If anyone would drive her to drink…

  Emma grabbed the cardboard Bankers box of notebooks, files, and her research materials for the current book. The boxes and bags must have multiplied in back while she drove. Had she actually packed this much stuff? Intending to stay a month or more, she’d come prepared with additional food and extra clothes, and she was more than ready for anything. With one exception.

  Lyndon Reynolds!

  Nothing could have prepared her for him. Worst of all, she couldn’t even email Rachael and complain or she’d ruin Mike’s thoughtful surprise. And she couldn’t guess the cost of that new custom structure he’d been fabricating. Of course, techie multi-millionaire, Mike Lewis, could certain
ly afford it.

  Emma stuck her head into the vehicle to grab her purse and cell phone off the passenger seat. Suddenly, something touched her leg and visions of a wild animal coming up behind her popped into her mind. Her heart almost stopped as she dropped her purse and whipped around. A pair of the prettiest brown eyes met her gaze as she backed out of the vehicle. The critter tipped its head, curiosity evident in its expression. A stubby black tail wagged furiously, and she smiled as her heart began beating again.

  “Who are you?” she whispered as a wet tongue licked her hand.

  “That’s Jake. Likes to wander off, exploring. Curiosity got the best of him finally.” Lyndon continued on toward the cabin, carrying a 24-pack of spring water in one hand and her computer bag in the other.

  Emma glanced at Lyndon; she’d be unpacked in no time with his help. A chore she hadn’t been looking forward to. She crouched down and petted the cute pure black cocker spaniel. “Jake, aren’t you a handsome fellow? Your owner didn’t mention there’d be three of us.” She ruffled the canine’s long soft ears and she’d swear the dog was smiling at her, lapping up the attention.

  “Hope you approve of dogs in the house. He’s a recent rescue and he goes everywhere I go.” Lyndon closed the cargo door on her vehicle. “Is that it?”

  Emma gazed inside. She’d carried in all the luggage and boxes from the back seat and he’d emptied the cargo area. “That’s everything. Thanks for your help.”

  “Not that bad,” he muttered and walked toward the garage. “My ex-wife would have packed twice as much.”

  Emma’s traitorous heart skipped a beat at what sounded like a compliment. So, Lyndon was divorced. Perhaps he’d rescued Jake for company since he was single. Misplaced modifier. Lyndon was single, not Jake. Jake probably was also. Oh, for Pete’s sake. Authors seldom missed spotting poor grammar, even when it was their own. Finding himself single again, Lyndon adopted a cute rescue named Jake. She mentally shook herself as she silently rephrased her thought. Once an author…