Gold Fire

by Starr Ambrose

  “She’s the assistant manager,” he said, feeling he should do some small part in focusing on her present, since he expected the same from her. “I gave her an automatic answer at the time, pure impulse. Now I’m trying to be rational, take everything into account. So what do you think?”

  “I told you, I can’t imagine you doing anything else. I thought you were happy running the Rusty Wire.”

  She watched him as if his answer really mattered. He hadn’t expected that, putting his feelings ahead of the logical considerations of money and economic impact. Maybe the old Jennifer was still alive under that hard shell.

  “I am happy here,” he told her. It might not be the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. He’d shut down other parts of himself nine years ago, the parts that pursued challenges with abandon, and set meaningful goals. The parts he’d once thought would be his whole life. It hadn’t mattered—nothing had meaning after Adam died. Life since then had more or less drifted by in a pleasant blur, maybe not as fulfilling as he’d planned, but not without happiness. That part wasn’t a lie, so he repeated it. “I’d miss the saloon if I sold.”

  She squinted at him, as if she might be missing something. “Why are you asking? Is there something you’d rather be doing?”

  Thoughts prodded the back of his mind, trying to pierce the barrier—the Olympic games he’d missed, the business he’d started with his buddy Brandon then practically abandoned. He shoved them back. “No.”

  She seemed to relax. “Then there’s your answer.”

  He nodded. No need to reassure her that her job was secure when it appeared she was more concerned with his life, and whether he was happy. He was glad he’d asked, glad to know some part of Jennifer cared about him. If she’d wanted his life to be pure misery, he wouldn’t have blamed her.

  Any doubts about his answer were settled. Russ and Jennifer were behind him on this. He wouldn’t sell.

  • • •

  Zoe stared at the computer screen and the nine-year-old obituary displayed there. Adam Holbrook, age twenty-three, killed in a skiing accident. The details had been harder to find than Jase’s Olympic fame, but were far more revealing. Adam, a top-rated skier, had been practicing downhill runs with his best friend, Olympic champion Jase Garrett. Adam tried to pass Jase by cutting through a small stand of pines. He’d hit a tree, sustaining fatal head injuries. He was resuscitated at the scene but remained unconscious, and died two days later in the hospital. Zoe didn’t need a news report to figure out what hadn’t been reported—two days of agonizing hope and indecision before the family decided to take him off life support.

  The family—that was another surprise. Adam’s father, Russ Holbrook, was the man who’d introduced himself as the manager of the Rusty Wire. Adam’s mother was deceased and his sister lived in Phoenix, but the young widow, Jennifer, looked too much like the woman tending bar to be a coincidence. Zoe already knew that Jase had bought the saloon eight years ago, which meant it was a year after Adam’s death. The fact that he’d hired Russ and Jennifer had to mean something, but she wasn’t sure what.

  Jase had dropped out of the sport after Adam’s death. Annual competitions he’d previously entered never listed his name again. On a hunch, she searched for combinations of Jase’s name with Nike, the largest company offering an endorsement contract after his Olympic victory. She viewed copies of old ads, noting the dates. The most recent one had run two years after Adam’s death. Nothing since. She imagined that Nike had been patient in waiting that long to pull their support and find a new champion. Other sponsors undoubtedly did the same. Four Olympic medals only pay off for a limited time once the athlete quits the sport.

  Zoe rocked back in her chair, pondering the information. The Rusty Wire had become Jase’s sole focus after Adam’s death. But it wasn’t like he’d thrown himself into the work, not if he’d hired Russ to manage the place. He seemed more like what she’d taken him for at first, a regular patron who showed up to socialize. Adam’s death seemed to have reshaped the entire course of Jase Garrett’s life.

  “What are you up to?”

  Zoe jumped at Matt’s voice, and closed the screen. “Nothing important.” For some reason she didn’t bother to examine, the information felt too personal to allow Matt to include it in his strategy to make Jase sell. Although she was certain it figured prominently in Jase’s flat-out refusal.

  “Good, then we can go check out the Rusty Wire. It’s nearly nine, so we should be able to get a good idea of what Jason Garrett does there that keeps him so tied to the place.”

  Very little, she thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t the business itself that kept Jase tied to the saloon. It was a dead man. She’d find out how and why. Then maybe she’d tell Matt.

  Chapter

  Four

  Matt held the passenger door open for her, just like a date. Too much like a date. It felt old-fashioned, which was both awkward and good at the same time.

  He got behind the wheel for the short drive down the mountain and gave her a curious glance. “Aren’t you hot in your jacket?”

  She was. But she was also acutely conscious of the need to look professional, and not like the good-time girl she once was. That kind of reputation died hard. Besides, his shirt alone looked like it cost more than her entire outfit—heck, so did his haircut—and she needed every advantage if she was going to stand next to the glow of perfection. “I only wore a sleeveless shell underneath,” she told him. “Not professional enough for a business meeting.”

  He chuckled. “I’d hardly call an evening at a decrepit old saloon a business meeting. Sleeveless is fine.”

  “It’s not really decrepit, you know. He’s kept it up well.”

  His glance seemed to question whose side she was on, so she showed her loyalty by doing as he suggested and shrugging out of her blazer. He looked at the white scoop-necked shell, his gaze lingering appreciatively, and smiled. “Much better.”

  Definitely like a date.

  So was the hand he placed on her back when they entered the Rusty Wire, guiding her to a table near the dance floor. Zoe decided to go with the feeling. If a rich, handsome man came on to her, a man with a likable personality and the right career goals, she’d be a fool to turn him down just because he happened to work with her. Above her, technically. But it wasn’t as if Matt got involved in the day-to-day running of the resort. He didn’t even live in Barringer’s Pass.

  At least, she didn’t think so. It was as good a conversation starter as any. “Do you live around here?” she asked.

  “Sometimes. I have one of the condos in the Pine Hollows unit,” he said, naming a luxury condo complex for singles owned by the Alpine Sky but detached from the main lodge. He gave her an odd look. “You must have known that.”

  “I knew Mr. Flemming had one,” she said, slightly flustered. “I mean, your stepfather.”

  “It’s mine now.” He smiled and cocked his head as if suddenly struck by an idea. “You’ll have to come see it sometime. I could use some female input on redecorating.”

  He made it sound harmless, but who knew? He was too damn good with those lingering looks, the kind that made a woman think there was nothing in his world at that moment but her.

  Or perhaps her and the waitress. Matt’s gaze snapped to the young blonde walking by in what seemed to be the Rusty Wire uniform: white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a short black apron to hold her order tablet and pen. He motioned the young woman over, flashing the same attentive smile.

  “Miss, could you take our order?” he asked. He slung an arm over the back of his chair, and turned to face her. His change in focus was subtle but clear, and the waitress seemed to pick up on it.

  She looked him over and grinned back. “Sure. What’ll it be?” she said, without bothering to take out the order pad.

  “Two Coors.” He let his gaze slide to another table and gave a short nod in that direction. “And that pizza sure looks good. Could you bring us a small pepperoni? I’ve ne
ver been here before and I’d like to try it.”

  She gave an approving nod. “Good choice. We have the best pizza in town.”

  “Really? I’m not from around here, so I’ll have to take your word on that.”

  It might not be much of a line, but it got the waitress’s attention. She gave Zoe a glance, as if wondering whether he was here because of her or if the new guy in town was up for grabs. She must have decided to go for it, because she gave Matt a wink. “Trust me on this one. The Rusty Wire only does nachos and pizza, but they’re fantastic.”

  Matt laughed. “Fantastic, huh? That’s quite a promise.” They exchanged smiles for a couple of seconds while Zoe wondered if he could possibly not realize he was flirting, and decided he couldn’t. Her expectations cooled several degrees.

  “You must like working here,” Matt said, oblivious to Zoe’s unamused stare.

  “I do,” the waitress agreed.

  “It’s nice to hear someone say that. So the management is as good as the food?”

  “The owner’s a great guy,” she assured him.

  Matt shook his head. “Lucky you. Wish I could say the same about the guy I work for.”

  Zoe studied him as the two shared a laugh. Matt gave the waitress one last grin and turned as she left, aiming his sparkling gaze back at her.

  “What was that about?” she asked, all resentment gone.

  “Just checking to see how well liked Garrett is. It’s good to know everything you can about someone if you’re doing any kind of business with them. Don’t you think so?”

  She nodded, reassessing Matt. She’d never thought to do that when she approached Jase with her offer to buy his saloon. Matt Flemming could probably teach her a lot more about management than she’d learned on her own.

  She was still absorbing that when he spoke again. “Do you always wear your hair up?” he asked.

  She gave a startled blink. “Usually.” It went with her straight-laced professional look. Long reddish-blond waves didn’t.

  “You should take it down.”

  She didn’t change her fashion or grooming styles just because a man asked her to. In fact, that was usually a good reason not to do it. But Matt was doing that intense thing again with his eyes that made her want to please him. Made her want to keep him looking at her like that, and not at another woman.

  It would have been a good place to draw the line, letting him know that their relationship was strictly business and was going to stay that way. Maybe it was a test, designed to learn her boundaries.

  She unfastened the clip and shook out her hair.

  • • •

  Jase frowned at Zoe, then dodged a waitress who ducked past him in the hallway that led to the kitchen and restrooms. He’d been frozen there ever since he spotted Zoe sliding her delectable ass onto one of the saloon chairs.

  She looked different without her official blazer. More approachable. Her date must have thought so, too, leaning in close when he talked to her. Jase didn’t know what the guy had said that made her let her hair down, but he instantly resented him for it. The man was trespassing on his fantasy—he’d had the thought first, when she’d sashayed into the Rusty Wire in her prim business suit and with her take-charge attitude. He hadn’t put words to the feeling then, but he did now; he should have been the one she unclipped her hair for. He narrowed his eyes as she shook her head, sending long reddish-blond waves cascading over her shoulders like some sexy-librarian wet dream come to life, then smiled at her pretty-boy date. Who in the hell was this guy?

  He kept his eyes on them as he wove his way around the dance floor, pausing to talk to friends as he made his way to their table. Zoe was laughing at something her date had said as he got there, head thrown back in apparent delight. Jase rested a hand on the back of her chair, making her jump as her head brushed against his arm. She lifted startled brown eyes to his.

  “Jase!”

  Her cheeks had a pretty pink flush. “Hello, Zoe. Nice to see you enjoying the humble atmosphere of the Rusty Wire. I didn’t think it was your style.”

  “It’s not. I mean, I wasn’t . . .”

  “And you brought a date.”

  “He’s not . . .” She stopped in mid-denial, looking uncertain. “Jase Garrett, meet Matt Flemming, the president of Alpine Resorts, Inc.”

  Ah, the enemy. And possibly Zoe’s date—the enemy twofold. He showed his teeth and stuck out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I didn’t know there was more than one resort.”

  “There isn’t. Yet.” Matt smiled easily and took Jase’s hand, a firm clasp, radiating sincerity. “Nice place you have here.”

  Sure, that’s why he wanted to tear it down. He bet the guy was one hell of a bullshitter. “Glad you like it. Come back anytime, we’re not going anywhere.”

  Matt chuckled, a rich laugh filled with camaraderie that made Jase feel like he was buying a used car. “A direct man—I admire that. I think I’ll enjoy negotiating with you, Jase.”

  “Hate to disappoint you, Matt, but you won’t get the chance.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I can make you a very tempting offer, maybe add a few perks you haven’t even thought to ask for. We’ve given this a lot of thought, and want to make it beneficial for both sides.”

  “We, meaning you and your mother?”

  “It was an expression. She’s the owner, but I run the business. I’m afraid my mother never took an interest in Buck’s holdings.”

  “She was interested enough to check out my fifty acres earlier today.”

  The news didn’t seem to have an impact. “We talked about it, of course. She probably wanted to see what we’ll be buying.”

  He had the same problem as his mother—the confidence that he could get whatever he wanted. “Wanting isn’t the same as having. The land isn’t for sale.”

  He didn’t look worried about it. Flashing whiter-than-white teeth, Matt said, “We’ll see. It’s early yet, and it’s been my experience that people sometimes change their minds.”

  Jase gave him a tight smile. He figured his first impression was a fair one—the man was a prick. Every instinct said things were going to get messy. He wanted to think better of Zoe, but working for a man like Matt Flemming, and possibly dating him, might say a lot about her willingness to go along with some underhanded tactics, like bashing in car windows and headlights. Matt didn’t seem like the type to flinch at that, or more. Maybe that stunt was why she seemed a little nervous right now.

  He looked down at her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, and had scooted forward so she wouldn’t accidentally touch his hand where it rested on her chair. It was obvious he made her uncomfortable.

  Guilt would do that. He couldn’t explain why he felt disappointed in her. If she was helping Matt Flemming, she wasn’t worth his attention.

  “You kids have a good time,” he told them, his heartiness as fake as Matt Flemming’s geniality. He left with a last lingering look at Zoe and the tumble of hair she’d finger-combed into a semblance of neatness. It looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. No wonder she kept it in such a severe style at work—when he looked at that untamed fall of hair framing doe eyes and a softly curved mouth, work was the furthest thing from his mind.

  He was lost in the image as he entered the back room and nearly walked right past his best friend.

  “Hey, Jase. What’s the problem?”

  Brandon Myers gripped an upright pool cue as he gave Jase a curious look. Jase shook his head. “Nothing, just preoccupied.” He looked at the young man with Brandon who was taking his shot at the balls, figuring him for a college student on summer break. Probably too green to be playing Brandon. “You taking advantage of this boy? Don’t let him hustle you, kid, he’s not as bad as he claims.”

  “Neither am I.” The kid made an easy shot, sinking the ball.

  “Don’t ruin my fun,” Brandon said. “Who’s that chick you were talking to?”

  “What chick?” He said it just to give himself a coup
le of seconds to focus as the seductive image of Zoe slammed back in place.

  “The hot redhead. She looks familiar.”

  “Just someone who works up at the Alpine Sky. Name’s Zoe Larkin.”

  Brandon’s eyebrow went up and he glanced in Zoe’s direction. “That’s why she looks familiar. I went to school with her older sister, Maggie.”

  “Shit,” the kid muttered, stepping back with a sour expression. “Your turn.”

  Brandon stepped to the table and looked over the scattered balls. Singling one out, he sighted along his cue stick. “You ever heard about the Larkin sisters, Jase?” He smacked the cue ball and watched it ricochet before clipping the four and knocking it in.

  “Yeah.” Jase looked back at Zoe just as Matt leaned close and made Zoe laugh. His stomach tied itself in a tight knot. He turned to see Brandon studying him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” He lined up his shot and gave the cue ball a hard tap. It smacked two other balls, sinking them both. The kid lost his confident look as Brandon prowled the table, considering the layout as he talked. “You got time to do some trout fishing tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” Forgetting about the saloon for a few hours sounded fine.

  “Good.” He leaned over the table, then gave Jase a hard look. “’Cause you and me gotta have us a talk.”

  • • •

  Matt’s gaze kept drifting back to Jase where he stood in the back room. “He doesn’t talk much.”

  He didn’t have to—he got his point across. “Are you going to make him a new offer?” Zoe asked. If so, she was dying to know what he thought would tempt Jase.

  “Not tonight. Tonight we’re just getting the feel of the place, trying to figure out what’s so special about the Rusty Wire that Garrett doesn’t want to sell.” His gaze slid to the dancers as the music changed from a rollicking, shout-along country tune to a much slower pop ballad. “Come on, let’s try out the dance floor while we’re waiting for our food.”

  Before she could answer, he jumped up and took her hand, leading the way to a clear spot on the floor. She stepped hesitantly into position, left hand on his shoulder and right one waiting to clasp his. He took the hand she offered, sliding his other arm around her back and pulling her close. Her left arm folded awkwardly between them, and she moved it to the only comfortable position, draping it around his neck.