Weariness settled on her eyes. She surrendered with a heavy sigh. “He’ll sign the contract. I’ll make sure.”
She’d never failed her father, and she wouldn’t start now.
Chapter Thirteen
Avery glanced out the window of her father’s limousine, watching the Walker Mountain Ranch sign grow closer and closer until she could read the etched words, see the striations in the weathered wood sign.
A gagging sensation tangled her throat as the driver slowed and carefully turned onto the gravel road. She hadn’t been this nervous since Charlie Stanton had taken her to prom her junior year. He’d been one of the best-looking boys at her private school, and not stuck up like most of them. He was there on a scholarship to play basketball. He lived with his single mom in an apartment, which Avery had thought was wildly exotic at the time, compared to the other boys who lounged in their parents’ mansions, destined to remain eighteen well into their thirties. Charlie had this rawness, this realness that’d made him as unpredictable as a Midwestern spring—sometimes violently stormy, sometimes bright and sunny, other times as cold and distant as a late-season blizzard.
And Charlie had nothing on Bryce Walker.
“You’re sure you want to stay in this junkyard?” Her father asked, lowering his head to get a look at their surroundings. A look of disdain curled his lips.
“It’s not a junkyard,” she snapped, that fluttery, nervous feeling from her chest bubbling into her throat. “It’s old, that’s all.” Her gaze drifted to the window, to the homey log structure that brimmed over with Elsie’s warmth and authenticity. It had such a history of love and togetherness. “It’s still a beautiful place.” Maybe even more so because of the memories that had been made there…
“It will be more beautiful when it’s a five-star resort,” he grumbled, then waggled a finger in front of her face. “Do not lose your edge, Aves. Not now. I need you on this.”
Ignoring him, she continued to focus on the world outside, on the intricate shadows cast down by the trembling aspen leaves, on the charming little office building next to the lodge, on the clearing up a small hill where there was a pile of wood—
Oh, wow. She blinked to make sure it wasn’t some kind of dreamy mirage. Nope. When she opened her eyes, Bryce still stood there, and yes, ladies and gentlemen, he was shirtless, muscles tensed and hard as he raised a thick, gleaming ax to the sky. His powerful arms brought it down in one quick slice through the wood, and, yes, she trembled in that yearning way. What could she say? She was only human.
The car stopped in front of the office.
“I’m staying at The Knightley,” her father informed her.
That snapped her out of her reverie. “What do you mean you’re staying? Why aren’t you going back to Chicago?” She had to work on Bryce her way, continue to build trust with him, and the last thing she needed was Dad around to complicate things.
“I’m concerned about you,” he said in a placating tone that she saw right through. He wasn’t concerned about her. He was concerned about his deal falling through.
The driver opened the door. Her head ached. The pain meds were starting to wear off.
“Get this done, Avery. Let me know if you need me to take over.” Her father waved her away. “After the contract is signed, you can join me at The Knightley. I’ll send someone to pick up that pathetic rental car you have. Use the car service instead.”
“I don’t need your help. It’s under control.” She scooted out of the limo and found her footing on the ground, fighting the dizziness that delayed her movements. She wouldn’t need anything from him. She could handle this. She could manage Bryce Walker. “See you later,” she mumbled to her father.
The driver nodded at her, slammed the door, and drove away in a cloud of dust while she slowly made her way to the hill, where she could still hear the sounds of the ax reverberating.
If he was aware that she’d found him, he didn’t let on. Bryce kept his muscular back to her as he positioned another log on the stump in front of him. She tried not to stare. Tried, but wow. His sweat-slicked body was so broad, tanned, and defined. This definitely wasn’t his first wood-chopping rodeo.
As she got closer, she made sure to drag her feet to make some noise, but he still didn’t turn around.
He knew she was there. He had to know. He must’ve heard the limo. She cleared her throat extra loud, feeling the scrape all the way down her windpipe.
Bryce shifted to throw the freshly cut wood on the pile and looked right through her.
“Hey,” she squeaked, the bandage on her forehead itching with a sudden onset of perspiration.
A silent nod returned the greeting, then he turned back to the stump.
“Sorry about what happened at the hospital,” she tried again because, damn it, she had to do this. Not only for her father, but also for Bryce. For Elsie. Even for herself. She knew all about letting the past hold her in its fierce grip, making her a slave to things she didn’t want to serve. If she got him to sell, maybe she could help set him free.
Bryce’s shoulders slumped. He rested the blade of the ax on the ground and turned, those eyes blazing with something much stronger than irritation. “What d’you want?”
That was one loaded question. And unfair to ask when he wasn’t fully clothed. She steadied a hand against the chalky white trunk of an aspen tree. “To apologize,” she answered, making sure to sound wounded. “My father can be pretty intense. But I managed to convince him you weren’t trying to kill me.”
He balanced the ax against a tree trunk and stomped over to her. “I didn’t mean what you want right now. I meant what do you want from me?” The intensity of his glare robbed her of every word. Even breathing became difficult…
“You shouldn’t be here.” His head shook and his unruly, glistening black hair dropped in front of his eyes. He raised his hand and pushed it back. “You were spying on me.” He lowered his head to hers. “Taking notes on what a dump my home was and passing them off to your dad.” He turned back around and ripped the ax off the ground. “You can’t stay here. Not anymore.”
Okay. He was mad. He had every right to be mad. Yes, she could understand how it had sounded when Dad had said, From what I hear…That hadn’t made her look good, especially when she was flirting with the man—kissing the man.
He was right. She shouldn’t stay, especially when he affected her this way.
She should go. But something told her he needed to feel her touch, to prove to him that she hadn’t been pretending or leading him on. The things he made her feel were real; she just couldn’t give in to them.
Even so, she crept closer and placed her hand on his shoulder.
The touch seemed to shock him into a rigid stillness. He gazed at her.
“I want what’s best for you. That’s all,” she murmured past the throb in her throat.
He didn’t respond, but he didn’t move or look away, either. That was an improvement.
“I happen to love your ranch.” The palm of her hand flamed. She let it fall to her side. Risky business, this touching stuff. “I love that you have a connection to it, that it runs in your blood.” They’d moved around so much with her father’s ambitions that she’d never had a place that felt like home. Except for Wrigley Field, but it wasn’t like she could live there. “I envy that.”
Bryce faced her fully, his gaze slowly taking her in.
She loved when he looked at her like that. Carefully, like the details mattered.
“I lost my mom.” She didn’t know exactly why she told him. Maybe so he’d know she’d lost a part of herself, too.
A look of surprise widened his eyes and parted his lips.
“She died when I was twelve.” Those same unresolved emotions surged, still raw, almost as strong as they’d been that day.
“How?” His eyes lowered to hers.
She held her breath until the sting in her throat subsided. “She was an alcoholic. She drank herself to death
.”
His face softened. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Coming from him the words didn’t sound trite at all. “Since I lost her, my life has always felt incomplete. Like I lost part of myself I can’t get back.”
“Then you should understand why I won’t sell.” He said it with such quiet, she couldn’t argue. “I don’t want to lose any more of myself, Avery.”
She understood. Really. She did. But she also knew what would happen when the bank foreclosed. Working under her father, she’d seen it a hundred times. He had a knack for flipping properties like Bryce’s, for taking some rundown building and turning it into luxury apartments.
If the bank foreclosed, Bryce would lose everything. His home. His credit. It would take years for him to dig out from the financial ruin. As much as he loved this place, he wouldn’t be able to keep his ranch.
She just had to figure out how to tell him that.
*
Why’d she have to come back? No. He should rephrase that. Why’d she have to come back looking so fragile and hurt, with that bandage across her forehead? Why’d she have to touch him and spark the reminder of how it’d felt to gather her into his arms and kiss the breath out of her? Why’d she have to go and change everything by telling him she’d lost someone, too? Her life hadn’t been all fairy tales and unicorns like he’d thought.
Avery gazed up at him, still looking so perfect, even with those wounds, maybe more so because of those wounds. Her fitted long john shirt stretched over her lovely curves, dirty and torn at the edges.
Bryce closed his eyes and massaged his pounding forehead. Other parts of him pounded, too, but he tried to ignore them, because how would it look if he dropped everything to kiss her right there? Again?
So they only stared, both of them waiting, he assumed, for the other to make a move…
“There you are, dears!”
He broke their stare and turned to watch Mom rush across the porch like she was afraid she was missing out on something important. She’d always had impeccable timing.
“I’ve been so worried!” She charged up the hill at a speed much faster than Bryce thought a sixty-seven-year-old should be capable of.
He looked down at Avery again. Her expression had changed. It wasn’t so sad anymore.
God, he loved the way her lips smiled…
“Avery!” Mom hugged her gingerly then held her at arm’s length to look her over. “Dear me, you must be hurting! Look at those bruises.”
“It’s not so bad,” she insisted bravely.
Come to think of it, she’d been pretty brave through the whole thing.
Bryce stepped aside; his presence obviously wasn’t required for this conversation. Or for any other conversation those two had…
“I’m so sorry, dear,” his mom clucked. “I just can’t believe it. Thank the lord it wasn’t worse!”
“I’m fine, Elsie. Really.” She gave him a look that revealed just how much she loved Mom.
Yeah. Join the club.
“I should go take a shower or something.” Avery laughed. “I’m sure I look much worse than I feel.” She patted her hair self-consciously.
“Nonsense. You’re lovely.” Mom elbowed him in the gut. “Isn’t that right, Bryce? Doesn’t Avery look lovely?”
Yes. The woman had no idea how stunning she was. But it was best not to touch that one. He ignored his mother’s probing gaze and focused on Avery. “So you’re staying?” He hadn’t meant to sound so hopeful, but damn it, she brought out that heart-raising desire in him. Mom was right. He hadn’t let go of Yvonne. He still dragged the memories of her along with him every day. They were heavy and cumbersome and Avery made him want to let them rest in the past where they belonged.
“I’d like to stay. If that’s all right.” She gave him a tentative smile. “I mean, I’m stuck here for a few days, anyway, because of work, and I enjoy it so much…”
“Don’t be silly, dear. Of course you’ll stay here!” Mom gave Bryce a stern look. “Why wouldn’t you?”
Because he had a hard time being practical when Avery was around and he did stupid stuff like kiss her when she stood too close to him…
“Thank you, Elsie.” She knew better than to thank him.
“Of course, of course. You’re welcome here anytime. You must be absolutely exhausted.” Mom took her arm and started to guide her down the hill. He trailed behind them like the outsider.
“You should rest. Then I hope you’ll come to the game this afternoon.”
Avery stopped so fast he almost rammed into her back.
Here we go…
“Game?” she asked.
“Yes,” Mom answered before he could remind her that concussions required rest, which meant she wouldn’t play. Not on his watch.
“We have a game at five. Isn’t that right, Bryce?”
“Yup.” Not like he could lie about it now.
“I’d love to come!” Avery’s eyes went wide. You never would’ve known she had a head injury if it weren’t for that bandage on her forehead.
“Wonderful,” Mom gushed, “and I hope you’ll join us for dinner afterward.”
“Really? Are you sure? I don’t want to be too much trouble.”
“It’s no trouble, dear. I’ve missed cooking for a crowd. We’ll plan to eat at seven. That is, if you’re not too tired. You’ve had one humdinger of a day.”
“Seven would be great.” Avery broke away from them and started to jog.
Seriously? She was jogging? “Hey!” he called after her. “Take it easy. You still have a concussion, you know.”
“Okay! I will!” she sang, but she sure as hell didn’t slow down.
Stubborn. The woman was more stubborn than a mule.
“I’ll go get cleaned up and meet you outside in a half hour,” she yelled before disappearing into the lodge.
He shook his head while Mom shot him a knowing smirk. “Such a nice girl.”
It was getting much harder to deny that.
But she was Edward King’s daughter. In other words, off limits.
Better keep reminding himself of that until she left Aspen and he could get his life back to normal.
Chapter Fourteen
Avery popped some ibuprofen and checked the mirror that hung over the antique log dresser. The white bandage square in the center of her forehead might as well have been a neon sign news-flashing her clumsiness to the world.
She sighed and pulled her long hair into a single braid at the back. Not a pretty sight, but it couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t erase the bruise on her forehead or conceal the stiches that gathered her skin at the edges of that bandage. At least Bryce hadn’t seemed too repulsed by her. When he’d first seen her lying in the hospital bed he’d winced, but he’d looked more empathetic than disgusted, and since then he’d been nothing but sweet. Well, mostly.
Ah, Bryce. She had a vague memory of him whispering something over her when he carried her down the mountain. You made me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time. Or had she imagined that? She’d always excelled at wishful thinking. Irrational optimism, her father called it, but it served her well. It made her think differently, in terms of possibilities instead of concrete ideas.
And when it came to Bryce, there were so many possibilities. So many wonderful, amazing, beautiful possibilities. Her skin flushed with a lazy warmth that made her feel the slightest bit tipsy.
But no, she couldn’t be tipsy. Not right now. Not with her father in town, figuratively breathing down her neck. After this was over, though…after she’d convinced Bryce he needed to sell and get a fresh start somewhere else, who knew what could happen? The whole horse riding accident had brought out another side of him, a side she wouldn’t mind getting to know better, and if he walked away from the ranch, maybe he’d be ready to walk into something new. With someone new…
Unable to confine a smile, she reached for her ball cap and gingerly plunked it on her head, tuggin
g it down as far as she could to keep the bandage in the shadow beneath the cap’s bill. There. That helped a little. After slinging her backpack on one shoulder, she opened the door.
“Whoa.” Bryce stood right in front of her, hand raised as if he’d been about to knock.
“Hi!” Her voice went all high and breathy like it always did when he caught her off guard. Somehow he managed to catch her off guard every time she saw him, though, even just wearing gray sweats and a dark t-shirt. It was probably because he stood a full head taller than she, and her eyes happened to be at the same level as his impressive chest, those sturdy shoulders…
“Hey,” he said in that deep lullaby tone. “Just wanted to check on you.”
Awww. Seriously? She glanced up. She’d get trapped in those mesmerizing green eyes of his if she wasn’t careful…
“Still up for the game?” he asked.
“Of course.” She slipped out the door and stood close enough to feel the heat emanating from his body. Or maybe that was her body, smoldering from the memory of being crushed against him, those lips on hers…
“You okay?” he asked slowly, sounding concerned.
Nothing to be concerned about. She was just checking him out again. Couldn’t tell him that, though. So she simply smiled. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
His lips quirked with amusement and he leaned one shoulder against the wall. “No reason.” He pointed at her backpack. “What’s in there?”
“My glove.”
“Your glove?”
Embarrassment prickled across her skin. “Yes. I picked one up earlier this week,” she muttered. “You know, just in case.” In case she got to play again. She couldn’t help herself. A few days ago, she’d been walking around town and happened to saunter past the local sports shop. In the window she’d spotted this amazing Minuzo Classic—throwback leather, rugged and rich—pre-oiled, even!
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