Breathing in the crisp air, he tipped his head back and let flakes pelt his face. He pictured her laughing and happy, cheeks chapped from the cold, and he couldn’t hold back a smile. An early September snowstorm…it felt like one last gift for him to take with him.
“Good-bye, baby,” he said, standing stronger than he had in as long as he could remember. Leaving the weight of his regrets behind, he tromped back up the slope.
When he got back to the road, everyone was there—Meg, Paige, Ben, Sawyer, and yes, even Shooter. They’d gathered near Ben’s Jeep and were harassing each other about their baseball skills, or lack thereof.
Instead of quieting as he approached, they got even more rowdy.
“I could take you down right here, right now,” Meg said to Shooter. Everyone laughed.
“How about we drive up to the top of the pass instead?” Bryce called over, fully anticipating the shocked looks they sent his way.
For three years, they’d all invited him to go on their backcountry adventures and he’d always declined. But it was a new day and he wanted to spend it out in the snow.
Everyone exchanged looks and the gasps of surprise dissipated.
“Hells, yeah,” Shooter said, leading the way back to their Jeeps. “Let’s do it.”
The laughter and chatting picked up again, and it was like nothing had changed. But he knew better. The snow. A promise of something new.
It was an invitation for him to finally live in freedom.
Chapter Twenty
Snow? How could it possibly snow in September?
Sure enough, when the driver opened her door, a frigid wind delivered a swarm of huge, wet flakes that melted against Avery’s bare shoulders. What was up with that? Yesterday she’d watched the baseball game in a tank top. This morning, the sun had made her world feel a little less dreary.
Avery climbed out of the car, suddenly regretting the sleeveless black cocktail dress she’d selected for dinner. Actually, she regretted a lot of things. Like sending Vanessa on without her so she had more time to get ready. Like agreeing to make an appearance in the first place. After saying good-bye to Bryce and Elsie, her emotions were cranked tight, teetering on the edge of a collapse. All she wanted to do was waltz in here, shake a few hands, smile, have a stiff drink, then get the hell out of there so she could pick up some cheesecake brownie ice cream and sneak back to her hotel room to submerge her sorrow in a tub full of suds.
Wrapping her arms tightly around her chest to ward off the cold, she said thank you to the driver.
The thought of a steaming hot bath bolstered her with enough resolve to adjust her posture and march toward the door like a woman on a mission. For ice cream. And a whirlpool tub. She’d masqueraded her way through plenty of high-society dinners, smiling and shaking hands and playing an Academy Award-winning role. Judging from the looks of Elevation 8,000, this dinner would be no different.
The building was one of the oldest in Aspen, with a stone façade that resembled something you’d see on a cobblestoned street in Rome. Black awnings billowed above oversized windows, which were tinted just enough to make the place look mysterious. The sign above the door looked more like a sculpture, with rod iron twisted to impersonate tree branches and white lights twinkling in the gaps.
Beyond those doors, she’d no doubt find herself among pretentious men in tightly buttoned suits, trophy wives clad in low-cut cocktail dresses, dim mood lighting, and a wait staff that kept every wineglass topped off without asking.
Here we go.
Before she could reach the handle, the door magically opened. A young hostess appeared, sparkling in a black sequined dress. Her skin glowed with an ethereal smoothness. Not even one freckle.
“Miss King, welcome to Elevation 8,000.” She held open the door and swept out her arm in a grand gesture with which she might’ve greeted a queen.
“Thank you.” Avery sashayed past her, anxious to get this over with.
The inside of the restaurant had a trendy minimalist vibe. All clean lines, natural woods, and symmetrical décor. Hanging lamps with white shades dropped over private booths like upside-down mushrooms. Instead of artwork, industrial metal paneling garnished the walls. The place appeared quite full: beautiful sparkling people set against the lovely background music of refined murmurs, clanking silverware, and soft laughter.
“Your party is in our private room upstairs,” the girl murmured discreetly, as though addressing a spy. She’d obviously had plenty of experience dealing with the rich and famous. “If you’ll follow me.” The girl loomed over her in four-inch stilettos that could’ve cracked her ankle in half. She traipsed up an iron spiral staircase and stepped aside at the top.
This room was a miniature version of the main floor dining room, with the same metal paneling and soft lighting. Instead of booths, the room held one polished dining table that would easily seat twenty. Floor-to-ceiling windows extended across the back of the room, framing an incredible view of Aspen Mountain. Across the way, leather couches faced off in front of a stone fireplace. Not surprisingly, that was where her party mingled—Dad, Vanessa, Mayor Pendleton and a few men she didn’t recognize.
“You can order a drink back there.” The hostess gestured to the area behind her where a full bar and bartender became the first bright spot of Avery’s day.
“Food has already been ordered and will arrive shortly.”
Before Avery could thank her, the hostess disappeared down the staircase and left her standing on the outskirts of the dinner party.
No one had noticed her tardy arrival yet. Her father seemed to be in the midst of an intense discussion with two gentlemen she didn’t know. From the looks of their arm gestures, it appeared they might be discussing golf.
Vanessa sat on the couch next to Mayor Pendleton, but Avery recognized the blank look on her friend’s face. The woman was bored out of her mind.
The volume in the room far exceeded a normal decibel level, which meant everyone had already consumed a fair amount of alcohol.
No fun to be the only sober one at a party. She made a beeline for the bar. “I’ll take a dirty martini with two olives,” she said to the bartender as if she ordered that same drink every day, instead of the more fru fru drinks she tended to gravitate toward—mojitos, margaritas, anything with a lot of sugar and only a touch of alcohol.
It was a special occasion, though, right? The day she’d decided to quit her job, leave her doting father behind and step out into the unknown? Her stomach clenched. Normally, she didn’t drink much. After what she’d seen as a child, she’d always been too scared, but tonight called for an exception.
The bartender passed her a napkin and the telltale wide-brimmed glass. After a quick “Thanks,” she sipped the murky liquid.
Ohhhh, it burns. A trail of fire roared up her throat and scorched her eyes. Her sputtering cough caused every head in the room to turn in her direction and a hush fell over the crowd.
“Avery!” Vanessa squealed and leapt off the couch, no doubt grateful that she didn’t have to listen to Mayor Pendleton prattle on and on.
“Hi everyone.” She blinked to clear the blur from her eyes and made her way to the fireplace.
“It’s about time,” Dad grumbled, swirling the ice in his brandy.
Ignoring him, she beamed an apologetic expression to the rest of the room. “Sorry I’m so late. I got held up.”
“No problem at all, Avery.” Mayor Pendleton rose from the couch with the grace and elegance of a dignitary. He introduced Avery to William something, a city council member, apparently; then to Gary (she didn’t quite catch his last name), who was some bank bigwig. Next, he moved on to George something-or-other, CEO of the what’s-it corporation and his assistant, Chet. Now that she could remember, even with a good amount of vodka coursing through her veins. Chet. One syllable. Uncomplicated. That was how she liked a name.
The other men were older than her father, but Chet was younger, good looking in a Clark Kent sort
of way, with serious blue eyes accentuated by dark-rimmed glasses and a very symmetrical face. Laugh lines in the corners of his mouth and eyes gave away his propensity to enjoy a good joke.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” She choked down more of the martini and gagged back the threatening cough.
“Nice to meet you, too, Avery.” Everyone else faded back into their own conversations, but Chet’s gaze wandered down her dress and back up. A look of appreciation made him look less studious and more laissez-faire. He peered into the almost empty glass in her hand. “Can I get you another drink?”
“Sure!” She started to hand the glass over, but Vanessa clamped a hand onto her arm. “Avery? Can I have a word?”
“Ow.” She tried to shake her, but the woman had some grip.
“This won’t take long. I promise,” Van said to Chet. A fake smile wrinkled her nose as she dragged her away. “We’ll be right back.”
“Let go of me,” Avery hissed once they’d cleared the fireplace. “What is the matter with you?”
Vanessa released her, but she confiscated the glass and smelled it. “Seriously? A martini? When’s the last time you chugged a martini?”
She sighed, but instantly regretted it when she caught a whiff of her own breath. “I’m just nervous, okay?” she whispered to Van. She’d always hated giving her father bad news, and he was in for a double whammy tonight. First, the fact that the ranch was off limits, and second that she’d decided not to go back to Chicago. She couldn’t, or she’d get pulled into her old life again before she knew what had hit her.
Her friend’s jaw dropped. “You’re telling him tonight?”
Rolling her eyes, she shushed Vanessa’s loud mouth. She obviously had no training in being discreet. Maybe she could take some lessons from the hostess downstairs. Avery escorted her closer to the bar. “I have to. Before I lose my nerve.”
“Oh, boy. You’re sure about this? Totally, one hundred percent sure this is what you want?”
“Yes.” But the consequences of that one word caused a blast of anxiety that nearly blew her back downstairs and out the door. No. She had to do this. She had to be brave. She set her unfinished martini on the bar and straightened her dress, but before she could march across the room and give it to him straight, Dad strode over to her.
Oh, boy. Her head felt light, like it’d somehow disconnected from her body.
“Is everything okay?” Dad gazed down at her with his concerned father expression, mouth tight, eyes narrow and searching.
She searched his face too, and she saw it in his eyes. He cared about her. He might be terrible at showing it, but he loved her and he would want the best for her. Right?
Dad glanced over at the martini glass. “You don’t usually drink. What’s going on?”
“Um…well…” She leaned into the bar for support. “Here’s the thing, Dad.” Whew. Inhale. Exhale. “Bryce has some investors,” she informed him, making sure to pump an appropriate amount of sympathy into her voice. “We have to find another place to build the resort.”
She braced for his reaction, but he simply smirked. “No we don’t,” he said, folding his arms in a foreboding posture. “That’s the president of his lending company right over there.” He gestured to one of the gentleman standing near the fireplace. “He’s a friend of Mayor Pendleton’s.”
Understanding settled heavy on her heart. Of course he was. That’s what this whole dinner was about. Schmoozing the president of Bryce’s bank so her father could work out a deal. She yanked on the sleeve of his suit jacket and directed him to a quiet corner. “What are you doing? What are you going to do to him?”
He pulled away and straightened his jacket, adjusting the gold cufflinks on his crisp, white shirt. “Don’t worry about it, Avery. I’ll take it from here.”
Panic shut down to her lungs. “I am worried about it.”
“And why is that?” he asked, even though he clearly already knew the answer.
So what was the point of lying? He’d probably known ever since that day in the hospital room. “Because I care about him. I care what happens to him.”
“I figured as much.” He sipped his brandy, looking so stately and self-important. Untouchable. “Which is why I had to work things from my angle.”
Her bravado collapsed and she no longer felt brave, only sick. “What did you do?”
“Your friend has quite the colorful past,” Dad said. “Mayor Pendleton told me all about him.”
His alcohol problem. He was talking about Bryce’s alcohol problem. Anger trampled her fear, and she didn’t need courage. Not anymore. She only needed to be real. “I know about his past.”
“He’s a loser. With a drinking problem and a hell of a temper, from the sound of things.”
“No.” She knew him. She’d seen his heart. “He made mistakes.” But he wasn’t that person anymore. “People change.”
“Your mother didn’t.”
The words were a slap, infuriating, sure, but even more than that, so painful her skin stung. He knew exactly where to jab her to make it hurt the most.
“Don’t.” She pointed a finger in his face. “Don’t you compare him to her. He got help. He’s stronger than she was.” Cotton filled her throat and pressed a dry, bitter taste into her mouth.
Dad’s sturdy shoulders caved. “I’m only trying to protect you, Avery. You have to know that. I want what’s best for you.”
Her hands clenched in a desperate attempt to get a grip on the emotions that exploded in her chest—pain and loss and a deepening sadness that threatened to swallow her. “Don’t protect me. Not anymore.” She kept her gaze steady on him so he would know she meant it. “I quit, Dad. I’m done.”
“What?”
She wasn’t prepared for the wounded look that gouged his cheeks, but she had to do this. “I’m sorry. I can’t watch you take away the only thing he has left.” Tears flooded her eyes and ran over in warm streaks down her skin. “This resort is not Mom’s legacy.” She touched his arm to get past that cold exterior. “We’re her legacy. You and me. Our lives are what will honor her memory.” And her life hadn’t even started, yet. “I’m not coming back to Chicago,” she said quietly. “I’m going to live a life that would make Mom proud.” A life of the freedom her mother had craved, but was never able to grasp.
As quickly as it had come, the hurt on Dad’s face tightened into a look of rage. “You won’t get a dime. Do you understand me? Nothing. You walk away from me, Avery, I swear to god you’ll regret it.”
An alarming calmness steadied her because she didn’t want anything from him. Not anymore. “I love you, Dad.” She threw her arms around his stiff shoulders.
Then she turned and left.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cold. Holy moly she was so cold. Avery stopped at the end of the block and scanned the deserted streets. Maybe she’d made a wrong turn and ended up in Antarctica.
The wind whipped straight through to her bones as she started out again, feet slipping on the few inches of snow and slush that had piled up on the sidewalk. A swarm of snowflakes blinded her and made it hard to read the street signs. Was she going the right way?
In her haste to flee the restaurant, she hadn’t thought to call for the car. The hotel was on the other side of town, maybe three miles away, but, technically, it was her father’s car and she no longer had any rights to it, no rights to anything that belonged to him. He’d made that clear.
The streets were quiet for nine-thirty, but beautiful, too, frosted by the new snow. It piled up on the black lampposts that lit the sidewalks in an orange glow. Snowflakes cascaded down, slanted sideways, and danced on the wind. It would’ve been so peaceful if her muscles weren’t stiff.
She paused again and wiped her eyes, tried to see past the blinding snow. Straight. She should go straight, then take a right at the next intersection. At least, she was pretty sure…
Move. She had to keep moving. Putting her head down, she fought the win
d and staggered past the warm storefronts that were all closed for the night. Of course. That was one good thing about Chicago. Nothing closed early.
A couple of cars passed her by. One slowed, no doubt to gawk at the crazy lady tromping around the snow in the dress. But then it sped away like the driver might be afraid she’d ask for a ride. Which she might’ve, come to think of it. Because she definitely needed a ride. There was no way she’d make it back to The Knightley on her own.
Shivers coursed through her and rattled her shoulders. She stopped underneath a store’s awning and dug her phone out of her purse. Who could she call? No one who would inform her father on her whereabouts. Not even Vanessa, because she’d freak out and tell Dad and the next thing she knew, he’d be there with the warm car, making her feel guilty for wanting to leave and talking her into staying. Then the point she’d just made wouldn’t matter. Besides, it was hard enough to walk away from Dad once. She couldn’t do it again.
That left one person. The only local number she had. Bryce. As dangerous as that felt after their little rendezvous last night, it did sound more appealing than hypothermia. Besides that, she had to tell him her father had met with the president of his bank. So, yes. She’d call Bryce and ask him for a ride back to her hotel. She’d even pay him. Like a taxi. Maybe then it wouldn’t feel so personal.
Hands shaking, she scrolled through and found his number.
It only rang once before he picked up. “Avery?”
The deep vibration of his voice in her ear sent a rush through her. “Hi,” she almost whispered.
“Hey, I’m glad you called. I’m on my way to your hotel. I need to talk to you.”
“I’m not there,” she said, her voice weak with the cold. But his words wrapped her in warmth. He was on his way to her hotel? He had to talk to her?
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