by Marina Adair
“You offering, angel?”
“No,” she said with genuine distress. “I know I messed up, and my kissing you again would only make things worse. Kissing you now that I know you’re the inspector? That would be beyond unprofessional.”
“Let me get this straight,” he said, trying not to smile. Letting her know she was amusing him would only ruin the scowl he’d conjured up. “Lying to the inspector isn’t unprofessional, but kissing him is?”
She swayed back and forth as she considered this. When she finally spoke, her eyes locked on his—never wavering. “I’d like to say I didn’t lie, but I did because holding back information is just as bad. I didn’t want to let my boss down. I made a promise I shouldn’t have, then got caught up in the excitement of proving I was ready—”
“Even though you weren’t—”
“And I really thought I was doing the right thing for the lodge—and my boss. But”—she lifted one delicate shoulder—“if I kissed you? That would be selfishly for me without regard to how it would affect others, and that would be wrong.”
He laughed at her logic. “So your lie was for the greater good, but the kiss would be for selfish desires?” She nodded. “Well, thank God I’m not the inspector.”
She started to smile, then that tilt of hers went full watt, so bright he felt it hit him right in the chest. “You’re not?”
“Nope.”
If he was smart he’d turn around and head back down the mountain. Being close to Avery when he was this amped was like diving headfirst into trouble. Something he’d known the second he caught her on the hood of his truck. And kissing her again, inspector or not, would only further complicate things. But there was something about a woman like Avery and her never-back-down attitude that was impossible to resist.
“Then this shouldn’t be a problem.”
He didn’t give her time to reply, just lowered his head and sank into those lush, full lips that had been keeping up him up at night and driving him crazy all morning.
Avery Adams might not be skilled at the art of rappelling, but the second her arms circled his neck and that soft body of hers pressed into his, Ty found himself in one hell of a free fall.
Silly challenge or not, there was enough chemistry between them to spark a forest fire. In fact, Ty couldn’t remember the last time a kiss lit him up so fast and hot. She didn’t miss a beat, taking it from a truth-or-dare brush of the lips to a hands-gripping-his-shirt, have-to-have-you kind of display. And for one insane moment, their worlds aligned and their bodies melded together like magnets and they rode the fall together, giving in to the gentle sweep of sensation.
“Wow,” she whispered, her breath skating across his lips. “You kissed me.”
“I did.” And if she wasn’t an employee he’d kiss her again.
“Oh my God!” Both hands flew to her mouth to cover the perfect circle of joy. “If you’re not the inspector, then we didn’t fail the inspection.”
“No, we didn’t,” he said, hating the way her eyes lit with relief. Because the worst kind of blow was the one that you never saw coming. And Ty hadn’t played this round fair. “And since I don’t plan on failing it, I’m sorry, angel, but you’re fired.”
CHAPTER 6
Ty sat at the dining room table, surrounded by pictures and family heirlooms, all passed down through the generations, and he found it hard to breathe.
He could trace his Donovan roots back to Sequoia Lake since the eighteen hundreds. His great-grandfather operated a twelve-horse team over the pass, bringing in much-needed supplies to the area and wagon trains of people to settle the land. His grandfather opened the first hotel as a way to attract summer tourists from San Francisco. And Dale, the most successful of the Donovans, had turned that nine-room inn into one of the largest year-round adventure lodges in the Sierras.
Sequoia Lake Lodge had hosted Olympic teams, X Games athletes, and even a few politicians over the years. Through hard work and laser focus, Dale had made it the brightest spot in gold country and the Donovan family the golden family.
Ty had the same Donovan fever for adventure, only his tastes tended to fall into the extreme even for his family. Garrett’s dream had been to follow in Dale’s footsteps, make a life on the mountain and one day take over the lodge, but Ty had wanted more. He’d memorized every trail by sixteen and knew there were other things he wanted to see, bigger mountains he wanted to climb. He had an urge to explore where others had yet to venture, to expand the company to include other areas—a vision his father hadn’t shared.
A difference in opinion that made their father-son relationship a difficult one. What Dale saw as his son’s legacy, Ty always viewed as a jumping-off point. It wasn’t that he didn’t admire what his dad had created or appreciate everything Dale had taught him—he just knew there was more he wanted to do. But running a lodge was a family business, and it was expected that the Donovan boys would stick around to do their part. Something Ty tried to embrace, but when Garrett died he knew any chance he had of sticking around was gone.
So he’d left. And now he was back, and it was as if no time had passed.
“You had no right to fire her,” Dale said, his voice that of a drill sergeant, even though his frame wasn’t as imposing as it had once been.
“She was a problem waiting to happen,” Ty pointed out, wondering if they could skip dinner and go right to the good night parting. His mom, sensing his need to run, passed him the potatoes.
“Well, she was my problem to deal with,” Dale said. He’d passed the meatloaf, sweet rolls, and salad, yet he hadn’t put a speck of food on his plate.
“Yet there we were, staring down Canyon Ridge with a Duraflame log and a slipknot. Had I not stepped in, there might not have been anything to handle.” Ty pushed the bowl his dad’s way and smiled. “Potatoes.”
Dale ignored this. “If you hadn’t shown up like you did, I might not have been too distracted to notice.”
And here they went. No matter what transpired it always boiled down to one thing: Ty was in the wrong. And maybe he was at times, but in this particular situation he’d made the right call and they both knew it.
“What happened to calling ahead?” Dale added. “Guests do it all the time. The lodge might have been filled and—”
“You don’t need to call ahead. Your room is always waiting for you. Isn’t it, Dale?” Irene said, placing a roll on Dale’s plate. When he didn’t answer, she held a heaping spoonful of brussels sprouts over his plate. “Isn’t it, dear?”
Dale eyed the offending sprouts and then reached for another roll. “No one wants that small room anyhow, with all your stuff clogging up the closets.”
“And no one wants to hear you grumble. Confrontation is bad for digestion,” she said. “Now, please pass the potatoes.”
Dale did as told, then, as if he couldn’t hold it in, mumbled, “Letting go of staff in the middle of a trek is bad for business—makes it look like we hire incompetent guides. Was that your goal? Come here and make me look bad?”
“Dale,” Irene scolded.
But Dale wasn’t done. He set the plate down and leaned in, flashing that look of frustration Ty had come to associate with his visits. “What else am I to think? The boy shows up here, sand still in his hair, spouting about how bad everything’s gotten while he’s been relaxing in the surf.”
First, Ty had worked his ass off to become the top in his field. And second, he hadn’t even gotten started on how bad things were. Not only had he heard rumors that some of the male guides were exploring a lot more than just the rugged peaks with the female lodgers—the whole reason behind his scheduled hike with Brody—but he’d spent several hours after his morning with Avery combing through the lodge’s equipment.
He’d need to do a deeper inspection, but what he found made him nervous. He hadn’t told his dad he knew about the failed inspection, didn’t see a need to. Dale would have taken that news like an attack on the Donovan name. Having his so
n call him out on it would only hurt his pride, and that wasn’t why Ty had come.
He swallowed back a bitter taste of frustration and tempered his words. “I didn’t come here to step on your toes or upset you, Dad. I happened to be there when a problem arose, and I tried to handle it how I thought you would.”
Dale blinked, as if in all of the bluster he hadn’t even considered what he would have done. “Well, you’re not me, and you haven’t been around long enough to know what decision I’d make.”
“Fair enough,” Ty said, even though he knew Dale would have fired Avery on the spot. “Next time, I’ll let you handle the situation.”
“There you go thinking that there will be a next time,” Dale said. “Like I can’t handle my business.”
Ty put up his palms in surrender. “Look, there’s a lot to be handled between now and SAREX, and you’re short-staffed. I figured you could use some help, so I took some vacation time and came up to offer my help where it’s needed.”
“Who says I’m shorthanded?” Dale asked, sounding so confident that he had everything handled. A ridiculous stance, since they were down two senior members.
Then he remembered Avery with her knitted cap and determined eyes and shook his head. “I thought Mark took a job in Donner and Brody was injured.”
When Dale looked at him as if he were the ridiculous one, Ty looked at his mom to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood the situation.
“That’s right.” Irene patted Dale’s hand and lowered her voice to the same soothing level she used when one of her boys skinned a shin or scraped an arm. “Remember Brody turned his ankle Sunday, then the doctor told him to take it easy for the next few weeks?”
Dale looked at Ty, and for a moment his dad looked tired and confused. Almost lost. Then in the blink of an eye, he gave that same dismissive shrug that used to shatter Ty’s world. Now it just pissed him off.
“Since this is your vacation, don’t feel you have to waste it on heavy lifting,” Dale said and dug into his dinner, grumbling something about the time for being needed had long passed.
“Well, I’m here now,” Ty said.
Dale let that sink in. “And you’re going to stay until it’s done, or until you’re bored with mountain life? Because if so I need to schedule that in.”
Jesus, there was no pleasing his dad.
“I could leave now if that’s what you want.” Dale remained silent, stoic and stubborn. And Ty had his answer. He stood and tossed his napkin on the table. “Thanks for dinner, Mom.”
Ty had barely made it to the coat rack when he heard the door to Dale’s home office slam shut. Ty rested his forehead against the window and took a breath. When had things between him and his dad become so bad? Growing up, seeing the other’s point of view had never been easy—it was what happened when two people were so much alike.
But after Garrett died things went from hard to impossible, and Ty knew that there was nothing he could do to make it better, short of trading places with his brother. A swap he’d do in a heartbeat if possible.
Ty looked out the window, staring out at the twinkling lights that ran the length of the mountain until they looked like stars lighting the inky night sky and reflecting off the glass lake below. Sequoia Lake Lodge sat in the middle of fifty acres of family-owned pines and trails, and it was surrounded by another two hundred acres of the most incredible national forest in the Sierra Nevada.
Ty had been a lot of places, seen a lot of things over the past decade. But no matter how breathtaking or challenging, no place got to him like Sequoia Lake. There was something so humbling about how small the moon looked above the steep mountains and unforgiving peaks. Maybe that was the draw, that he had conquered—and still could—something so unforgiving.
Only what was the point? He’d never found any form of forgiveness here.
A comforting hand settled on his back. “He just misses you.”
“Yeah, I got that when he asked what day I was leaving so he could start the countdown.”
“He doesn’t handle loss well,” his mom said with quiet apology. “Like most Donovan men, he’d rather be the one pushing than risk having something he cares for pulled away.”
“Well, he doesn’t have to push—I got the point.”
“You’re both so convinced of the other, neither of you are really taking the time to see what’s happened. I’ve tried to bring you two together so you can see what I see in each of you,” she said, her voice heartbreakingly sad. “But you Donovan men are too stubborn for your own good.”
Ty gave the lake one last look, then faced his mom. “I’ll try talking to him.”
Irene touched his cheek. “When you do, be sure you’re ready to listen.”
Ty wanted to say he was an expert listener, that it was just when it came to being told what a failure he was that he tuned out. But seeing his mom so upset made his gut ache, so he covered her hands with his. “Sorry about dinner.”
“It will make wonderful sandwiches for the weekend.”
Ty grabbed his coat off the rack, ready to tell her that he wasn’t going to be here come the weekend, but the sad look in his mom’s eyes had him taking a deep breath and placing it back. For every time his father had made him feel misunderstood and like a disappointment, his mom had taken him into her arms and hugged away the hurt.
Irene Donovan was all heart and gentle compassion, and Ty had promised himself years ago he’d never be the cause of her tears again. “You got any coffee in the pot?”
She gave him a watery smile, then wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in. She smelled like sugar cookies, lavender soap, and coming home. Even though Ty knew home wasn’t a reality for him anymore, he allowed himself to pretend—for a moment—and did some leaning of his own. Into the past, and into his mother’s gentle strength, resting his cheek on her head and breathing in until his heart slowed and his soul was at rest.
“I’ve got a pie cooling in the kitchen,” Irene said.
Ty lifted his head and looked down into his mom’s face. “Pie?”
“Well,” she said, patting his cheek. “With a smile like that, I should have started the dinner with pie—it might have ended better.”
It might have ended with world peace. His mom’s pies were that good.
Not good, legendary. They were the only thing Ty had dreamed of more than a hot shower when he and his team had been tracking a lost family for six days down the Colorado River—in November.
When Ty had been twelve he’d ripped his knee open racing Garrett down a ski slope on bikes in the summer. He’d hobbled home knowing he’d need stitches, only his mom had just taken one of her olallieberry pies out of the oven, so he’d covered his gash with Garrett’s hoodie and sat at the table.
When his mom discovered the cut, he’d received sixteen stitches, three weeks’ grounding, and a pretty severe tongue lashing. All easier to take with a bellyful of pie.
“I think there’s even ice cream in the freezer,” she added, heading toward the kitchen. “And even though firing that sweet girl wasn’t your finest moment, I don’t see why you can’t have two scoops.”
Ty followed her, grabbing a stack of dishes and bowls from the table. “She was about to take me over Canyon Ridge. Firing her was me going easy.”
“She had you there with her, so all would have been well,” Irene said with so much confidence and affection in her eyes it made Ty squirm a little as he crossed to the sink. “It would have been a perfect first descent for her. Poor girl, she’s been waiting for her shot.”
Poor girl his ass. Although he had felt like a jerk when after they’d made the hike back, she’d apologized again, then thanked him for the hike as if he hadn’t just kissed her and then fired her. “She wasn’t qualified, and I was the client.”
Irene took the bowls out of his hands. “No, honey, you’re one of the best climbers on this mountain, and you didn’t pay, so that makes you a plus one.”
Ty snorted, because tha
t was exactly how he imagined Avery justifying the morning to herself. “She didn’t know that.”
He opened the dishwasher and stacked the dishes, grabbing a couple of clean bowls from the cabinet when he was done.
“She probably took one look at those strong, capable arms and decided there was no one else she’d want to fall with.” Irene set the pie on the counter. “And she is such a sweet girl. I hope you put your best foot forward.”
“It wasn’t a date, Mom.”
“No, of course it wasn’t.” She grinned up at him, the gleam in her eyes one of mischief. “Funny that your mind went there, though.”
So funny it gave him heartburn. “What’s going on with the lodge?”
“You know?” Irene’s easy smile faded, and she pulled out a stool, resting against it as if she needed the added support. “Of course you know, and your work friends told you more than they told us, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”
“You make it sound like I don’t visit,” he teased, but a small knot of guilt lit his stomach. “I was up here for your birthday.” Which was what?
Eight months ago. Man, how did a good son go eight months without seeing his mom when he was a half-day’s drive away?
A good son didn’t. Period.
“I know you visit, honey. Just like I know coming home is hard for you.” She took his hands in hers, and Ty wondered when her hands had become so frail.
“It’s not hard,” he said, and she clucked. “Okay, it isn’t Hawaii, but if you and Dad need me for anything, all you have to do is ask and I’ll be here.”
“And if you were the one needing help, would you come here?” Ty’s face must have projected the wrong answer, because Irene’s voice turned sad. “I didn’t think so. Which tells me that if you’re here, then it must be bad.”
At this point sugarcoating it wasn’t going to do anyone any good. His mom needed to know what they were facing. And Ty needed one of his parents thinking straight when it came to updating the equipment—and the direction of the lodge.