The One That I Want (Scorned Women Society Book 3)

by Piper Sheldon

  I hurried back to my room to quickly change into hiking boots because the sky was blanketed in heavy gray clouds and my weather app warned of a storm later.

  “Argh,” I yelled into the room as soon as I shut the door behind me.

  “Everything okay?” a voice from the corner asked.

  “Shit!” I yelled, jumping and clutching my heart. “Skip!”

  He laughed. “Sorry.” He was opening a suitcase on the second bed. “Didn’t think my face was that scary.”

  “It really is.” I grinned and stepped toward him. I opened my arms. “But boy am I glad to see that ugly mug.”

  He embraced me and I smacked his back before we broke apart. “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  He shrugged and looked at the ground. “I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about in Green Valley.”

  Maybe I hadn’t sounded as put together as I had thought when we talked. At 2 a.m. Where I had called him in a manic state. Okay, so he was clearly concerned for my ability to handle things for OTB when my heart was in knots.

  “You really didn’t have to come all the way down here.”

  He gave me a look. “I thought maybe you’d like company.”

  I scratched at the back of my head. “Everything’s okay. I just talked to Roxy. And we have our first official client.”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets and jutted his chin toward the door. “It sounded like things were great when you came in.”

  I laughed. “Oh that?” I didn’t know how to explain my behavior to myself so I certainly couldn’t explain it to him. I searched around quickly for an excuse. I glimpsed my bandaged fingers. “I just hit my hand on the door as I was coming in.” I held up my knuckles.

  He studied my face too closely. He had freaky best mate X-ray vision, so I knocked my smile up a notch and busied myself by grabbing my hiking boots.

  “Feel like a hike? Are you tired?” I asked him.

  “Nah. That sounds good. By the way, I’m actually not rooming with you.” He gestured to his stuff.

  “You can crash here. I don’t mind.”

  He hesitated a split second before saying, “Just waiting to check in. The person at the front desk gave me a key to your room. I’m not trying to tell them how to run their business but they may want a little better security.” He grabbed the poncho he packed. Then he reached back into his suitcase and tossed one to me. Probably a good idea. Skip always had my back.

  “What would I do without you, Skippo?” I swung an arm around his shoulders as we made our way out to the hall.

  “I shudder to think.”

  “I’m glad to see you, mate. Really, I am,” I said seriously. I hadn’t realized how lonely I was feeling until I saw him. For him to drop everything … I really was lucky to have a friend like him.

  He cleared his throat and pushed the button for the lift. “What’s this about our first client?”

  I explained to him about the meeting with Vincent.

  “Sounds like a big deal. And you’re working with Roxy?” We’d just made it to the trailhead as a drop of rain hit my nose.

  “Yep,” I said.

  We slid our ponchos over our heads as we walked.

  “Would it be better if I took the lead on this one?” he asked coolly.

  Yes. I thought immediately but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t lose an opportunity to be with her as much as possible for the brief time I was in Green Valley.

  “Nah. She and I are good. We talked today actually. Completely on the same page now.”

  “Good. She’s a straight shooter.”

  “That she is,” I said more than a little forlorn.

  “She’s okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Wants us to be coworkers only. Keep things simple while I’m in town,” I explained.

  “Sounds reasonable.” He shot me a skeptical glance.

  “Very much. We could even become friends.” I rubbed my chest, the mystery heartburn returning.

  “You’d be okay just being friends?” he asked as we crossed a small wooden bridge over a stream.

  “Better than nothing at all,” I said.

  Rain started to fall harder. “Maybe we should head back,” he said.

  “Just a little more.”

  He looked back toward the Lodge. “Only another few minutes. I don’t want to die out here.”

  We walked on as the rain relented into a mist and then stopped. “Seems to be clearing up.” We’d been walking about twenty minutes. My muscles were working, blood flowed. I felt better already. So I flew across the States to see a girl who only wanted to be friends. That was fine. I was fine. Eventually, she’d come around and see that our connection was more than just fleeting.

  “Just me and my best mate out in nature. What else do I need?” I stopped and held out my arms wide. Just then lightning flashed and thunder cracked. We both ducked instinctually.

  “Shit,” Skip swore.

  “Okay. You may have been right. Let’s head back.”

  Without any more discussion, we began a slow jog back toward the Lodge. We were used to bad summer storms in Denver. One second it’d be perfectly sunny, the next a torrential downpour was washing out the ditches. I guess I’d been expecting more of a soft misting rain all day.

  We made it to the little bridge that had marked the start of the trail only to find the trickling stream transformed into a full river, almost completely submerging the bridge. It was barely passable.

  “We’re gonna just have to go for it,” Skip shouted over the raindrops pelting our ponchos.

  He leapt onto the bridge. Skip was about my height, tall, lean, athletic. He smashed five steps and made it across despite the torrential downpour. To be honest, he made it look stupid easy and my fragile male ego felt challenged. Before I could overthink it, I launched myself forward.

  I copied him exactly, but after my first three steps, I hit a snag. Literally. A large stick, some might say a log, came rushing down the stream, some might say river. The heavy log smashed into my ankle just as my poncho caught the edge of the railing.

  The moment happened fast but I processed it in slow motion. Like how the world spins out of control only to slow back down to a narrow focus in a car wreck. My upper body was tugged back and my legs slipped forward. I slammed onto my back. Unable to catch my breath. Vaguely, distantly, I was aware that this may have been a good thing because I was completely submerged.

  My lungs burned to take in a breath. Icy water gushed over my entire body, into my ears and mouth. Instinct had me remembering my training, reminding me that I needed to get up. I needed to move. But I couldn’t fight the current. My foot felt pinned down. Something was weighing me down besides the rushing water. Panic threatened to force me to gulp in air.

  It occurred to me in a soft warmth settling over my body that this may be how I died. How silly. Of all the adventurous things I’d done in my life, crossing a flooded bridge was what finally did me in. But I had always suspected it would be this way. Only the good die young, as they say. I’d had a good run.

  At least I’d seen her face one last time.

  Roxy

  “Some idiots went down the Little Creek Trail,” the front desk clerk called out to me as I came into the lobby from my lunch break.

  “Sh—” I started to say, then remembered myself. “Just now?” I asked instead.

  “Little bit ago.”

  I blinked at him. He flinched.

  Did it occur to him to stop them from going? Knowing the rain was pouring down? Apparently not. But I learned long ago not to expect other people to behave like I would in a situation. That way led to disappointment.

  “I assume you’re telling me because they haven’t come back. Where’s John?”

  “Who’s John?” The kid looked at me blankly.

  “Our security guy.”

  “Oh. No idea. This Lodge has security?”

  I blinked at him. He blinked back.

  It never fa
iled. Despite at least three different signs warning about the trail during rainstorms, almost monthly, someone would head down there.

  I frowned down at my clothes and heels. “You seen Vincent? A manager?”

  The kid shook his head, he was already over this conversation and moved on to help the waiting guest.

  “Dammit. Dammit,” I grumbled. “If I don’t come back in twenty minutes, please send someone. And try and get ahold of Vincent. I’m taking the walkie.”

  “Will do.”

  This was definitely karma’s doing for explicitly disregarding Vincent’s instructions to work with Sanders. I was going to. Just on my own terms. That didn’t mean I had control issues.

  I headed to the back office and quickly traded my heels and blazer for the extra pair of galoshes and the massive poncho I kept on hand for this exact reason. Both had come in handy more than once. I left the side door and jogged to the trailhead. The grass squelched with every step and the rain was unrelenting. Little Creek had most likely become Rushing River already.

  I could just make out the shape of two grown men heading back down the trail through the rain at a good clip. I let out a tense breath. At least we wouldn’t have to call search and rescue. Good Lord, was Jethro still a ranger? Last thing I wanted was to see him. I made my way toward the men just so I could chew their asses out for not paying attention to their surroundings. And not reading signs. And for making me get soaking wet.

  As I slowed, the first man sprinted across the bridge. He grazed across like a skipping stone on a smooth lake. Recognition set in. It was the co-owner of Outside the Box, Skip. It was so confusing to see him here in this setting, it took me a minute to register. What was Skip doing in Green Valley? Had I offended Sanders so much that he left? Had he turned tail and run as soon as he heard I wasn’t going to …

  No wait. Then that meant …

  “Oh, you’re clucking kidding me.” I picked up my pace just in time to see the second man, definitely Sanders, start across the bridge. My feet slipped in the muddy bank as I halted abruptly on the deep slope.

  His initial leap was as smooth as Skip’s had been, but a fraction of a second later, once he was already in the air, time suspended. It was like a scene from Final Destination: a few otherwise harmless events lined up in just the right way to set him up for disaster.

  The flap of his poncho that caught the railing. The log that popped out of the water, slamming into his ankle. There was nothing I could do but gasp and wait for the dominoes to fall. And fall he did. One second he was vertical. The next he was horizontal.

  I gasped and lunged forward.

  I was going to kill him. As soon as he came out of this alive, I would kill him. I could picture him, laughing it off, saying he’d felt like a swim. I half ran, half slid down the hill that led to the bridge about ten yards away.

  But when he didn’t immediately pop back up, it was clear something was wrong. I could just make out the shape of him—unmoving—under the dark, rushing water. Skip had already jumped back toward the bridge.

  On the walkie-talkie I shouted for help. I didn’t have time to hear their response. I tucked it away and ran to Skip’s side.

  Skip was gripping the railings, fighting the now knee-high current.

  “His leg!” I shouted and pointed to the log that was now stuck between Sanders’ leg and the bridge.

  Skip’s pale face shot to mine. If he was shocked to see me, there was no time to acknowledge it. He nodded and shouted back, “I’ll get his head.”

  We moved into action. Skip somehow straddled the railings to get behind Sanders as I waded into the rushing water.

  “Can you lift his torso out? I’ll try and unpin him,” I yelled.

  Fear gripped my heart. In all my years at the Lodge, there had been a few emergencies and typically I slipped into action mode easily. Each time I was able to take the necessary actions with clarity, following established safety protocol without hesitation. This time hot fear sliced through me, filling my mind with panic. Why wasn’t he out of the water? Just sit up, Sanders.

  My fear went icy.

  Sanders was unconscious. Pale as a sheet, his blond hair plastered to his forehead and his mouth slack. No time to think. I felt around his legs. Sure enough the current was pushing the log directly into his ankle, lodging it at an angle.

  “Can you pull him back?” I yelled.

  Skip hefted Sanders under his armpits. His face was taut with focus and fear. I gripped the log to keep the weight off as he worked. The freezing water made my fingers clumsy but pure adrenaline gave me determination. Distantly I was aware of the rough knobs and bark cutting into my fingers. The water was leaking into my ears, my whole lower body submerging in the frigid water as I dropped to leverage my weight. I shook with fear or cold. I couldn’t be sure. None of it mattered. There was only getting his leg unpinned. My hands kept slipping. Getting a grip was near impossible. I had to angle my feet on the opposite railing and shove with all my upper-body strength.

  As Skip shifted the weight, there was just enough wiggle room to push back the log from its stuck position. Instantly, the gushing stream shoved the log roughly past. It floated away like a crocodile down the river, none the wiser that it almost killed a man.

  Without discussion, I grabbed Sanders’ ankles, as Skip hefted the bulk of his friend’s weight across the bridge. It was a struggle. Sanders’ unconscious body was heavy. My galoshes slipped with every step. I fell to my knees. Skip yelled something at me but I couldn’t hear him. There was only carrying Sanders up the hill and away from the water. Finally, we made it to a picnic table a few yards away. It was up a mound and under some thick pines protected from the worst of the rain, cocooning us in dry safety.

  Skip and I hefted him onto the table. Every muscle in my body strained at the effort. As soon as his back was on the table, Skip checked his mouth for obstructions as I pressed my ear to his chest.

  Why wasn’t he responding?

  I climbed on top of him, straddling his body so I could leverage my full weight. I hammered on his chest. His face was so pale.

  “Wake up, dammit!”

  Where was his ever-present smile? He looked so lifeless. I hit his chest with my fists. Why wouldn’t he respond? His heartbeat was strong.

  I had been about to start mouth-to-mouth when he finally coughed.

  “Let’s try getting him on his side,” Skip said in obvious relief.

  I lifted off of him and helped Skip turn him on his side. Sanders threw up water and coughed out such a ragged gasp for breath, my own throat felt raw from sympathy. He lay back up and looked up at the sky, getting his bearings. He blinked rapidly as a few raindrops leaked through the branches and hit his face. I leaned over him to block them from falling on him. The moment I did his entire face transformed. His eyes widened and a huge smile revealed his goofy teeth.

  I’d never been so grateful for a smile in my whole damn life.

  “Hi,” I said.

  “Hi,” he said back.

  I gently pressed my hand to his icy cheek. “I’m gonna kill you.” My voice shook with emotion I hadn’t expected.

  “With kindness?” he asked.

  A laugh-cough broke out of me. My own watery smile split my face at the sight of his. I couldn’t help it.

  His gaze moved to my mouth. He closed his eyes with a sigh and dropped his head back to the table. “Totally worth it.”

  Hands pulled me off him as two EMTs got to work checking on him.

  As I moved back, it was like the rest of the world reappeared. It had been complete tunnel vision since the moment I saw Sanders fall. It felt like years of my life had passed but it could have only been a few minutes.

  Skip came to stand at my side.

  “He’s gonna be fine.” I said it to him as much as I did to myself.

  Skip nodded. “He always is.”

  Tension lined his gaze. I realized this wasn’t the first time Skip had experienced this level of fear f
or his best friend.

  Skip and I followed the stretcher as the EMTs carried it back to the Lodge.

  Sanders was fully conscious and already charming the pretty EMT with thin braids that stretched down to her lower back. “Just felt like going for a quick dip,” he said.

  Skip and I exchanged a look.

  “Yeah, I think he’s gonna be just fine,” I said.

  I’d been pushing him away since the movie night because of the fear of losing the life I’d built for myself. Within a few horrible minutes, I understood there was way more at stake than my career.

  Chapter 12

  Roxy

  A few hours later, Skip and I sat under separate plaid blankets, sipping tea, and chatting by the great fire in the main lodge. Or what would be the great fireplace. Right now it was still a regular fireplace that matched the rest of the art deco vibe of the Lodge. If Diane Donner had her way, the whole place would soon resemble a modern-style cabin. The Lodge kept the fire going year-round because it added to the aesthetic. It made for a cozy setting, set off from the main lobby.

  We were waiting for Sanders to come back down after he showered. He had a goose egg on his head and a nasty bruise forming on his ankle, but all things considered, he was fine. Surprisingly fine for how terrifying the whole experience had been. On my end, incident reports had been filed and the EMTs sent on their way. I’d cleaned off in the staff shower and changed into backup clothes I kept in my locker. My body felt warm and borderline high with a post-adrenaline buzz.

  Skip was good company. Just like in Denver, we chatted like old friends catching up. He didn’t drain me of energy like some people. His beardy ruggedness should make him so much more my type than Sanders. And yet any feelings I had for Skip weren’t even comparable to the buzz I felt around Sanders. Skip was like slipping into your favorite sweatshirt. Sanders was like … Sanders was like nothing I’d ever felt. How I imagined it felt to have a couture silk gown slide off my body until I stood naked in nothing but Louboutin heels and a wicked grin.