Starting Over (Nugget Romance 4)

by Stacy Finz

  Sam must’ve looked doubtful, because Maddy said, “I don’t know if you know this, but he bought this place to get me back on my feet after I went through a nasty divorce. And Sophie and Mariah . . . Well, look what he did for them. He’s a good guy, Sam.”

  Everyone knew that Nate had fathered Lilly, Sophie and Mariah’s child. Which even Sam had to admit was going above and beyond, even for a best friend. Truthfully, she never would’ve expected Nate to be so progressive. The man seemed more conservative than any person she’d met in California so far. And he was wound tighter than a spool of thread. Although, to be honest, he seemed fairly loose when he was around anyone besides her. For the life of her she didn’t know what she had done to make him dislike her so much.

  She was punctual, positive, and professional. But from day one he’d given her the cold shoulder.

  The man’s ears must’ve been burning, because he pushed the door open—he didn’t even bother to knock—and stepped in.

  “I heard a rumor you were here,” he said to Maddy, and lifted Emma out of her arms and muttered something about her getting big.

  “She’s in the ninetieth percentile for length,” Maddy said. “She must get it from her daddy.”

  Maddy’s husband, Rhys, the police chief, was tall, even taller than Nate. In Sam’s opinion, though, not as handsome.

  “What brings you in?” Nate asked his sister. “I thought that husband of yours wanted you home, barefoot and pregnant.”

  Maddy took back Emma and punched him in the arm. “I’m meeting Emily and Pam, but wanted to drop in for a visit. I miss the place.”

  “Come back, then.” Nate said.

  “I don’t miss it that much. Plus, you’ve got Sam. I heard she bagged you Landon Lowery.”

  Oh boy, here we go. “We haven’t bagged him yet,” he said. “But I’m confident Tracy’ll reel him in.” Clearly the comment had been for Sam’s benefit.

  “I don’t think that’s such a hot idea, Nate.” Maddy swayed and bounced a fussing Emma.

  “You want to come back to handle Lowery?” he asked.

  “I think Sam should do it.”

  “Maddy”—Nate’s voice dripped with annoyance—“you really want to do this now?” He looked at Sam pointedly.

  “I was just leaving,” Sam said, grabbing her pashmina off the chair and making a beeline for the porch.

  She sat on one of Colin Burke’s rocking chairs. The man had made half the furniture in her house. Before coming to Nugget, his rustic pine pieces never would’ve appealed to her. But now she wouldn’t part with them for anything. She gazed out over the square and pondered the wisdom of getting a cup of coffee at the Bun Boy—her third one today and it wasn’t even noon. She could see Donna’s new employee, a local kid trying to earn college money, manning the window at the takeout stand, and waved. Carl Rudd had redone the windows of his sporting goods store with Tour de Manure bicycle jerseys. The race, a sixty-two-mile loop through the Sierra Valley’s ranchlands and historic townships, brought cyclists from all over. The inn was already booked solid for the ride.

  Yes, she thought, it was a nice town. No one here seemed to care about a person’s net worth, portfolio, or bloodline. And while the townsfolk had been leery of her, as they seemed to be of any newcomer—she knew they called her the runaway bride behind her back—they’d accepted her into their fold. Especially Maddy.

  She continued to survey her new home, thinking about how she’d chosen her own course for the first time in her life. And while she sat there reveling in that decision, her father sent her a text with his latest ultimatum.

  And this time it was a doozy.

  Chapter 3

  “Maddy, what is it with you and this woman? You hardly freakin’ know her.” Nate got up, tired of sitting. He was tired of the whole damn conversation.

  “She thinks you don’t like her,” Maddy replied. The baby had finally settled down and was asleep in her arms.

  “Because I don’t.”

  “Why not? What is there to possibly dislike about Samantha Dunsbury?”

  Nate shrugged. “She’s a flake.”

  “What are you talking about? She’s the least flaky employee we’ve ever had.”

  “She’s self-entitled,” he said.

  “Everyone else in town likes her. You think you might be crazy?”

  “Must be,” he said, looking at the clock on the wall and leaning down to kiss Maddy on the top of her head. “I’ve gotta go. Take care of my niece.”

  “Where? We’re not done talking about this, Nate.”

  “To play basketball and yes, we are. Tracy’ll do a good job, you’ll see.”

  “Nate, are you sleeping with Tracy?”

  He jerked in disbelief. “What the hell kind of question is that? She’s a vice president in my company. I don’t sleep with employees. You know that.”

  “I just don’t get why you’re so hot and heavy for Tracy. In all the time she’s worked for you, she’s never shown an interest in this property. Whereas Sam loves the inn—loves Nugget.”

  “Maddy, this is all a big game to her—the socialite playing innkeeper, or whatever she’s doing here.” He looked at the clock again. “Look, as much as I love having you second-guess my decisions, if I don’t get going they’ll start without me.”

  She got to her feet. “I’ll walk you out. Tell Rhys to take it easy. He just got over a cold.”

  As if he’d tell his badass competitive brother-in-law to take it easy. The man carried a gun. “Will do,” he said.

  “Wanna come to dinner tonight?”

  “I’m watching Lilly so Sophie and Mariah can go to a concert in Reno,” Nate said. “Maybe I’ll bring her over.”

  “What concert?” Maddy asked, surprised. Since having Lilly, Sophie and Mariah were mostly homebodies.

  “Melissa Etheridge,” he said, and smirked.

  “You made that up.” Maddy swatted at him.

  “Yep.” He laughed. “I have no idea. But they bought the tickets a while ago and could use a night out.”

  “That’s nice of you to babysit,” Maddy said, gathering up her purse. “Just bring the porta-crib and we’ll set it up in Emma’s nursery.”

  “All right, I’ll see you tonight, then.” He grabbed his gym bag and jogged across the square.

  At lunchtime there was always a game of pickup behind the police station where Rhys had installed two in-ground basketball hoops. Anyone who wanted to play could.

  Nate changed in the police station’s locker room, a spare bathroom with a shower, and headed to the court. Eight people, including Rhys, his officer Wyatt, and dispatcher Connie, leaned up against the stucco wall, waiting. Usually, Jake, another member of Nugget’s finest, also played. Nate figured he must be holding down the fort today.

  Clay McCreedy, a local cattle rancher who’d grown up with Rhys, arrived a few minutes later and they broke into teams.

  “Hey,” Clay said to Nate. “You’ve been around a lot lately. I thought you had the redhead picking up the slack for Maddy.”

  “She’s not quite up to speed. And I’m trying to help out with Lilly.”

  “She’s a pretty little thing and getting big.” Clay had two boys of his own. “Things slow in San Francisco?”

  Nate sighed. “Things are never slow in San Francisco, but I have a good staff there.” Unlike here, where he had Daisy Buchanan running the show.

  “Good,” Clay said. “Then you’ll be coming to the wedding.”

  Clay and Emily Mathews, a local cookbook author, were getting married in June. The rest of the women in Nugget were in mourning, as Clay was the local heartthrob. His first wife, who from what Nate had heard was a serious hobag, had died in a car accident while having an affair with the developer of Sierra Heights. Sometimes life in Nugget imitated a soap opera.

  “I’ll be there,” Nate said.

  “Bring the redhead too.”

  “Uh, are we ready to get this party started?” Connie said,
dribbling the ball. “Or do you ladies want to continue your conversation about babies and weddings?”

  Nate laughed. The dispatcher liked to play hard-ass and was legendary for busting balls in the police department. But Nate got a kick out of her.

  Sometimes he’d go into the police station and bum a cup of coffee off her. The inn made great coffee, but Connie’s was better. She was a certified coffee snob, ordering beans from a specialty roaster in Oakland.

  For about an hour they played basketball, running up and down the court until they were sweaty and out of breath. As much as he missed the city, he liked it here. There were a number of guys his age and they had a nice camaraderie, especially between him and his brother-in-law. Rhys Shepard was about the most stand-up guy Nate knew. If not for Maddy, Nate probably never would’ve gotten close with Rhys. The two men trucked with different people. Nate had more in common with Maddy’s first husband, also a hotelier. But when Dave cheated on Maddy, Nate had cut all ties with his sister’s ex. As a matter of fact, he’d like to hurt the guy.

  But now his sister had a good man, a baby, and two teenagers, who Nate loved like his own family. The teenagers were Rhys’s much younger half siblings, who’d been left in his care when Rhys’s father died. Lina had recently gone off to college, but Samuel (there were too many Sams in this town) was still in middle school. They lived in a big white Victorian near McCreedy Ranch.

  Attending one of their big rambunctious dinners reminded Nate of growing up in Madison, Wisconsin, where his parents and other sister, Claire, and her family lived. Nate was the only one in the family who wasn’t hitched, with kids. Although he had Lilly, it wasn’t the same. The deal he’d made with Sophie and Mariah was that he would always play a minor role in Lilly’s life, but they were her parents. The terms had seemed easy at the time, when all he’d wanted to do was help his two best friends make a baby. Now, not so much. Especially when he held her in his arms and gazed into those saucer-sized brown eyes that so much mirrored his own.

  Nate showered and changed into his work clothes. When he got back to the inn, Sam was giving a young couple a tour of the grounds. It sounded to Nate like they wanted to hold their wedding at the Lumber Baron and Samantha was showing them their options. He leaned against the porch railing to eavesdrop.

  “If you decide on August we could hold the ceremony on this side of the property where you’ll have a magnificent view of the sun setting over the mountains,” she told them. “Then we can move the party to a big tent on the other side of the inn.”

  The bride seemed to like that idea.

  “What if the weather’s bad?” This from the groom.

  “We’ll get a tent with sides that we can close,” Sam said. “As for the ceremony, we can move that inside. Given the size of your guest list it’ll be pretty tight, but we can make it work. Obviously, I can’t guarantee weather, but that time of year is a pretty safe bet.”

  “I’m not worried about the weather,” the bride said. “My biggest concern is orchestrating everything—flowers, food, photos, music—from Sacramento.”

  It was roughly three hours away, so not a bad question as far as Nate was concerned.

  “That’s what I’m for,” Sam said. “I will help you find everything you need. We’ll pick a weekend when the both of you can come up—maybe you want to bring your parents—and I’ll set up back-to-back appointments for you with vendors that the inn has used and we are eager to recommend.”

  Nate had to give it to her, she sounded polished, not at all pushy but assertive and knowledgeable. He suspected it was the old money upbringing. It bred confidence. His ex, Kayla, had been the same way. They’d go to parties in Cambridge and she would hijack the conversation, pontificating about the latest exhibit at the MFA or how Kayla’s bankruptcy law professor should be the next president—because she was that brilliant. That had been nearly a decade ago. But even today, Nate remembered Kayla working a room like a royal. Confident. Gracious. Charming.

  And poisonous as a snake.

  It looked like the wedding kids were ready to sign a contract. Nate watched as Sam ushered them into her office. She must’ve sensed his spying because she shut the door practically in his face. Impertinent woman.

  “Excuse me.”

  Nate turned around to find a beefy man with a florid face, wearing a baseball cap that advertised a brand of pro-rodeo gear Nate had never heard of. Not that Nate knew a lot about rodeo gear. “Can I help you?”

  The man examined the lobby, stuck his head inside the guest parlor with its grand fireplace, and seemed pleased with what he saw. “I was wondering if you have a vacancy for the night.”

  Nate looked around for Andy, who had the uncanny knack of never being around when you needed him. He was supposed to be working the reservation desk when Sam had clients. Nate planned to give the kid a good talking-to.

  “Let me see,” Nate said, clicking through the computer. It had been a while since he’d checked in a guest. “How many nights would you like to stay, sir?”

  “Just tonight. I have an appointment in the morning with Lucky Rodriguez.” He said it like Nate would automatically know who Lucky Rodriguez was. He didn’t.

  “Is that so? Looks like we can accommodate you, Mr. . . .”

  “Danvers. Rick Danvers.” He pulled a credit card from his wallet and slid it across the counter.

  Nate asked for an ID and noticed that Mr. Danvers had a Florida license. Didn’t get too many Floridians up in the mountains.

  “Is there a place to eat around here?”

  Nate started to tell Danvers about the Ponderosa, but Sam and the wedding couple came out of her office.

  Sam saw Nate fumbling with the computer and said, “I’ll take care of that.” She flashed Danvers a kilowatt smile. “I’ll be right with you, sir.”

  The guy did a visual lap over that clingy dress of hers, lingering on her breasts, and seemed more than happy to wait. He pretended to thumb through a tour guide—Maddy kept a stack of them on the counter—while he checked out Sam’s ass.

  Samantha said goodbye to the wedding couple, giving the girl a hug like they’d known each other for years, and told them that she’d be sending them a packet of literature in the mail. When she returned to the reservation desk, Nate thought Danvers’s tongue might fall out of his mouth.

  “I gave Mr. Danvers room 208,” Nate told her.

  “You’re in luck, Mr. Danvers, that’s my favorite room.”

  “Is it?” Danvers raised his brows and gave Sam another once-over, zooming in on her chest again.

  Nate stood in front of her, hoping to send a subtle message to the man, but Sam maneuvered him out of the way. “I heard you ask about restaurants.”

  Nate listened to Sam describe Nugget’s two dining options—the Ponderosa and the Bun Boy. Danvers seemed more interested in Sam’s lips than the words coming out of them. Done watching the buffoon disgrace himself, Nate headed back to his office.

  A few minutes later, he realized he’d left his gym bag behind the reservation desk and went back to retrieve it. Danvers and Samantha were gone. And the door to her office was wide open with the room empty.

  Shit!

  Had the idiotic woman actually taken Danvers up to his room alone? Nate took the stairs two at a time. Now he was going to kill Andy.

  “Mr. Danvers, stop that,” he could hear Sam saying.

  “Call me Rick.”

  “I’m going to call the police if you don’t get your hands off me.”

  “Sam, you up here?” Nate called.

  “Right here.” It came out as a squeak.

  When he rounded the corner, she was straightening her dress, her face red as a fire engine. Danvers jammed his hands in his pockets, trying to look like he hadn’t just been mauling Nate’s employee.

  Before Nate killed Andy, he planned to kill Rick Danvers. He’d heave his dead, bloated body out the window until the gardener came tomorrow with a wood chipper.

  “You’ve
got a call,” he told Sam.

  “Okay,” she said, and he could tell she wasn’t sure how much he’d seen or heard, but tried to compose herself. “You coming?”

  “I’ll be right down,” he said.

  When he was sure she’d made it out of earshot, he grabbed Danvers by the collar. “I want you out of here in five seconds.”

  “Okay, man. Take it easy. I don’t know what you think you saw, but nothing happened.”

  Nate took his hands away from the guy’s neck and shoved them in his pockets so he wouldn’t strangle him.

  Danvers straightened his collar. “Where am I supposed to stay?”

  “Not my problem.” Nate looked at his watch. “That was two seconds.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting? We were just flirting.”

  Nate glared at him and Danvers must have realized that he was a hair’s breadth away from getting the crap knocked out of him, because he yanked up his duffel and briefcase and beat it down the stairs and out the door. Nate followed just to make sure Danvers didn’t harass Sam on the way out.

  “What happened?” Sam stood behind the reservation desk, looking rattled.

  “Mr. Danvers is no longer a guest here. Get Andy in here, now! We’re having a mandatory staff meeting in five minutes.”

  Until then, Nate needed to cool off. He went outside and sat on the porch steps. A few seconds later, he heard the squeak of the screen door. Sam and her dress sat down beside him. The dress was really quite modest and completely professional, so he didn’t know why he found it so provocative. Must’ve been the way she filled it out.

  Nate let out a breath, fisted his hands in his lap, and said, “First rule in hotels—for women and men—a guest comes on to you or ogles you the way Danvers did, you never, ever put yourself in a position of being alone with him.”

  “I didn’t know that,” she said, her voice low. “I’m sorry.”

  He stared out over the square. “Sorry for what? That the guy was a prick?”

  “For not knowing the rule.”

  “Well, you know it now,” he said, then asked, “Sam, why are you doing this?”

  “What?” she asked, confused.