Rockies Retreat: Destination: Desire, Book 5

by Crystal Jordan

  Tate and Karen drifted closer, and Laurel turned toward them. “Up for a little partner swapping?”

  Her brother laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, we need to put Nick to bed.”

  “I’ll help Karen do that.” Ben wiggled his fingers at the toddler. “Come here, little man.”

  “Eeee!” Nick hurled himself toward his uncle, who caught the boy easily. “Unca Ben!”

  Hooking her arm through her brother’s, Karen swept her free hand in front of her. “Lead on. Bedtime stories await.”

  “Cool.” The trio disappeared in to the crowd, heading back into the house.

  Tate’s gaze lingered on his wife as she walked away, blatant love on his face.

  “Happiness looks good on you, bro.”

  He smiled, caught her hand, swiftly twirled her, and dipped her over his arm. “Thanks. Life is fine. Amazingly, outstandingly fine.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She poked his shoulder. “Rub it in.”

  Another fancy spin, then he said, “That’s what an anniversary party is for, right? Flaunting your marital bliss?”

  “That’s definitely worth celebrating.” And something he hadn’t been able to celebrate until recently.

  “Yeah.” His sigh was heartfelt and loaded with pleasure.

  A pang of quiet envy hit her heart as the music changed and she let him lead her around the floor. Not that she wasn’t thrilled for Tate and his wife, but she wished she had some of that joy in her life too. As much as she adored her older brother, his wife, and their darling son, being around them reminded her of how…lonely…her life could be. She loved her work, loved that she could travel at the drop of a hat, so her no-strings-attached lifestyle had been fabulous for years. But lately, she’d longed for more. She just didn’t know what more would look like. She wasn’t really a settling down, kids and a white picket fence type of girl, even though that life looked pretty good for her brother. She definitely wasn’t interested in her parents’ cold, distant excuse for a marriage.

  She couldn’t help feeling stupid for being so dissatisfied. She had the career she’d gone to college for; her talents were lauded far and wide in her field. That was what she’d always wanted, what she’d worked so hard for. But she was still alone, and maybe…maybe she’d like to be less alone sometimes. None of the men she’d dated had ever inspired her to wish for wedding bells and babies. She’d always thought she’d get around to those things someday, but when would someday finally turn into today? It’d been awhile since she’d bothered with dating, so maybe she should give some lucky guy a chance again.

  But then one of Laurel’s hubby candidates came waltzing by with her mother.

  “If you let her try to change partners, I will kill you. Anniversary or no anniversary.” Her voice was low and deadly. Only an idiot would think she was kidding.

  Because her brother was a smart man with a healthy sense of self-preservation, he executed a neat turn that moved them away from the other couple. “Sorry she’s hounding you tonight. Karen and I didn’t know about the flock she was bringing.”

  “Of course not.” She patted his shoulder. “Mom would have known you’d say no.”

  But seeing Francesca reminded Laurel of one simple fact. There were worse things than being lonely—there was being with the wrong guy. And with her mom on the matchmaking warpath, it was definitely time to get the hell out of Dodge.

  Thank God she was hopping on a plane in the morning.

  Chapter Two

  The Creative Enclave, Colorado

  “We’ve been driving forever. Are we there yet?”

  Normally, having a kid ask that question was guaranteed to grate on the nerves, but seeing the excitement on his daughter’s face was like a swift kick to Neil’s chest. When was the last time Violet had been excited about anything?

  Only he knew the answer all too well: not since before her mother—his ex-wife—had died in a car accident over year ago.

  Vi had always been mature for her age, but it seemed as if the weight of the world had settled on her narrow shoulders during the last thirteen months. She cried less now than she had at first, but grief was hard, ugly and awful. Just when you thought things were getting better, it snuck up on you again with a vicious sucker punch. Neil knew all that, had dealt with it himself when he’d lost his father and then his mother, but it didn’t help much. He could only try to be there for his baby girl as she worked through this process. Most of the time, he felt like he was floundering, but maybe that was true of any father trying to navigate the teen years with his daughter. All he could do was give Violet his love and support and hope the pain got easier with time.

  The airport van rounded a corner, which revealed a break in the dense green forest, and a huge wooden lodge came into view. He pointed. “Yep, I think we’re there.”

  “Cool.” A grin tucked a dimple into one cheek, and she glanced over at him, blue eyes wide. “This summer is going to be so bomb.”

  “Of course you’d think that.” He nudged her arm. “It was your idea for me to take the residency.”

  “Well, yeah.” She looked down her nose at him. “Like I said…the bomb.com.”

  With a wink, he tweaked her chin.

  “I’m so ready to not be sitting, though.” She bounced against the confines of her seatbelt.

  “You’re telling me.” Their flight from LA to Denver had been delayed by several hours, and the drive out to The Creative Enclave could only be described as long and bumpy. Plus, his knees were wedged up against the seat in front of him. There were definite disadvantages to being over six feet tall.

  He called to the driver, “Stop for a moment at the lodge and let me check us in, then we’ll head to the cabin.”

  “We’re in cabin 3B,” Vi reminded him. She’d pored over the orientation packet they’d been sent.

  The van braked and Neil climbed out. “Yes, but we should let The Enclave staff know we’re here.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Plus, a key might be useful.”

  “It might,” he agreed solemnly and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Wait here.”

  “Aw, man!”

  He ignored the whining objection and the way his cramped muscles protested movement. At this point in his very long day, he needed a hot shower and a beer. Sexual favors from a gorgeous woman wouldn’t be unwelcome either, but he was guessing only the first option was within the realm of possibility this evening. He’d take it. He mounted the lodge’s short staircase, striding across the porch and into the building. For all its size, the place glowed with homey comfort, all honey-colored wood walls and worn carpet runners.

  A young woman stepped out of an office. “Hi, can I help y—oh, you’re Neil Graves.”

  “That’s right. I need to check my daughter and me in for the summer program.” He mustered a smile. “Are you the person I need to speak to about that?”

  “Yes, Mr. Graves. One second.” She executed a pirouette, rifled through some files on her desk, and came back with a bulky envelope. She handed it over, and then her hands fluttered in front of her. “I’m Mimi Snodgrass. I’m The Creative Enclave assistant director—well, actually I’m the interim director while my boss is out on maternity leave. Anyway, I adore your books, and I was so thrilled when you accepted the invitation to be an artist-in-residence. I was sure you’d say no.”

  “Me too.” He winked. “You can thank my daughter for talking me into it.”

  “I will!” She beamed. “There’s a cabin key in there for her too, so you don’t have to be with her at all times. You’re one of our first artists to arrive. We have a meet-and-mingle with all program participants on Sunday at six PM, then we officially start on Monday.”

  Since it was Thursday evening, Neil hoped he’d be able to get some serious writing done before the program kicked off. Violet had wanted to arrive the moment they
could, and he’d liked the idea of unplugging from the rest of the world to focus on his work. He gave Mimi a nod. “I’m looking forward to the party. And the program, of course.”

  “We like to open the cabins a little early, in case our artists need some time to set up their equipment.” Mimi’s hands moved in arcs through the air. “We want to get started on time.”

  “Sounds good.” He had no major equipment other than his laptop, so he didn’t comment on that. “I should get back to the airport van. My daughter’s waiting.”

  “Oh!” She tittered. “Of course, of course. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

  “I appreciate that. See you later.” He nodded and turned to go. Unless he missed his guess, he had about thirty seconds before Violet came looking for him.

  “Thanks again for coming!”

  The words echoed behind him and he shot another grin over his shoulder before he exited.

  He wasn’t sure how he was going to get everything done this summer, and probably should have turned the invitation down. As a bestselling novelist-cum-screenwriter, he’d had non-stop deadlines since he’d signed his first book contract. The ink had barely dried on his college diploma when he’d landed that deal. He’d hit the New York Times list with his third novel and, as amazing as that was, it meant he hadn’t had a real break in a long, long time.

  Not that being an artist-in-residence qualified as a vacation, but Vi had loved the idea and they could use some away time to unwind. Having Vi living with him full-time this year had been a huge adjustment for them both. Since the divorce, she’d spent the school year with her mom in Maine and summers in California with him. His ex-wife, Cara, and he had managed a friendly relationship for their daughter’s sake. Losing her had been a blow for him too. He hadn’t been in love with her anymore, but they had history, and it was painful to see someone who’d once meant the world to him gone too young, too soon.

  Yeah, he could use a respite and so could Vi, preferably somewhere they’d never been before. Better still, somewhere Cara had never been, somewhere with no memories. That was why, despite being behind on his latest book deadline and owing screenplay adaptations on four of his novels to a film company, he’d agreed to this residency. Of course, he’d had to swear to his publisher and the film company that he’d have his book and a draft of the first script done by the end of the summer program in order for them not to freak the fuck out.

  Even if it meant he’d be mentoring a new writer along the way—adding to his already overflowing plate—if this trip made his too-somber daughter happy, he’d find a way to work it all out.

  It was that simple, and that difficult.

  “Did you get the keys?” As suspected, Violet was crawling out of the van.

  “Yep.” He shook the envelope, which jangled metallically. Shooing her back with his free hand, he resumed his seat.

  “There’s a sign with arrows.” Vi pointed before snapping on her seatbelt. “We’re that way. Cabin 3B.”

  “Got it.” The driver glanced in the rearview mirror for a moment, then signaled and turned right, heading toward a long line of small buildings.

  They pulled up to the specified cabin a minute later, and Vi was out of the vehicle in under three seconds. She sprinted up the stairs and flew through the door. Neil unfolded himself from the van slowly, still feeling every single kink in his muscles. After lacing his fingers together, he lifted his arms overhead and stretched from head to toe. More than a few joints gave satisfying pops.

  The driver heaved their suitcases out onto a grassy path beside the dirt road, and Neil tipped him generously. With a silent nod, the other man disappeared, and the van pulled away.

  After picking up two of the three bags, Neil followed his daughter inside.

  “Wow, this is teeny.”

  “Mmm.” He made the sound as noncommittal as possible.

  The place lacked square footage, but was still one of the more spacious cabins available. A quick walk-through showed it had a living room, a miniscule bathroom, and two small bedrooms. No kitchen. The briefing packet he’d received had warned that there was electricity, but no Wi-Fi internet, and they were way outside of cell phone range. Thank God. If anyone wanted to get in touch, they had to call and leave a message with the main lodge. The lodge had a computer they could check emails on once a day. Twenty minutes per day, max, and the connection was dialup.

  Perfect.

  He’d never have guessed he’d be excited to disconnect, but it just showed him how much he’d needed this trip for himself. Not just to make Vi happy.

  “Looks like I get the room that’s tinier than your walk-in closet in LA. Cozy.” She passed him to flop onto the single bed, apparently claiming her territory.

  “There are only two other families here with kids, so we get the deluxe editions. Some of the cabins are studios—no separate bedroom.”

  Her dark brows winged up. “Any kids my age?”

  “Not sure.” He propped his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Guess we’ll find out at breakfast tomorrow.”

  “That’s right. Cafeteria-style eating, like at school. And we have to play lunch ladies twice a week.” Her expression was a cross between fascinated and horrified by the prospect of cooking for dozens of artists.

  He grinned. “There will be other folks helping us, but yes.”

  “That also means five days a week, people need to wait on me.” She folded her hands behind her head, looking pleased. “I like that.”

  “You realize we have a housekeeper who waits on you seven days a week at home, right?”

  She made a face at him, and he reached over to ruffle her curls. She jerked upright. “Hey, now! Not the hair.”

  It was weird that she suddenly cared about her hair. She’d also started playing with make-up. He wouldn’t allow anything too crazy, but she was in junior high, so he understood it was a losing battle. He sighed and hoped like hell if any of the other kids here were her age, none of them were cute boys. He wasn’t sure he was ready to handle her first major crush.

  “I’m going to grab the last suitcase.” She hopped up and jogged outside.

  He called after her, “Call me if it’s too heavy.”

  “KK!”

  “You could just say okay. I don’t need two Ks!”

  “OMG, Daaaaaaaad!” The wail was just satisfying enough to make him grin and recall how much his parents had bugged him for using slang as a teen. The cycle came full circle.

  The cabin was a bit stuffy, so he walked around and opened all the windows. The sun was starting to dip behind the mountains, and the sky was streaked with shades of orange and gold, pink and purple. It was gorgeous. He stood there for a moment, taking deep breaths and trying to let all his stress go.

  Then he heard the sound of his daughter’s voice, talking to someone else. So he headed outside to see what was up. A woman stood chatting with Vi, and it was clear his daughter hadn’t so much as touched the suitcase yet.

  But it was the woman who caught his eye. She had her back to him, so all he could see was that she had vivid teal streaks in her dark hair, a petite build, and an ass perfect enough to make any heterosexual man drool.

  “Hey, Dad! Come meet our new neighbor. She’s in 3A. It’s one of the studios, but she says it’s bigger than the flat she had in London and has a better view.”

  The woman chuckled and moved aside to make room for him. “I loved that flat, but it did have its drawbacks.”

  She had an American accent, so she wasn’t English, but that was all he could tell about her. Her dark eyes were wide and lovely and a little mysterious, like she knew many secrets and relished every single one of them. The sudden need to touch her gripped him, so he was glad he could offer a hand to shake. It was nice when social norms coincided with physical wants. “Hi. I’m Neil Graves. And you are…?”

 
She took it, her grip firm. Then she blinked at him. “Neil Graves, the horror writer?”

  “One and the same.” A buzz of awareness sizzled up his arm, goose bumps breaking over his flesh. Heat flashed like lightning within him, and he wanted her. No questions, no wondering why. It was simply fact. He pulled his hand back because they weren’t alone, and now wasn’t the time to hit on someone he’d only just met.

  But she could tell—that same awareness sparked in her gaze. The smile she offered him was more than a little impish. This lady had the kind of charisma that drew people in like a Lorelei. She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen—he’d had too many years around the physical perfection of Hollywood starlets—but she had skin as smooth as alabaster, high cheekbones, and a generous mouth that made him think of things he really shouldn’t. His cock began to stir with interest.

  Down boy.

  Dear God. Please, please don’t let this woman be the author he was supposed to mentor. He’d spend the summer with a semi-erection, wishing his khakis were a whole lot looser.

  He tried to keep his voice even. “So are you a mentor or mentee for the program?”

  “Mentor.”

  Thank you, sweet baby Jesus. His smile probably reflected far too much relief. “That’s great!”

  Brow furrowed in confusion, she tilted her head, and the fading sun caught on her jewelry. She had a tiny diamond stud in her nose, two delicate gold earrings in each lobe, and an electric blue metal hoop in her tragus. A wicked part of him wondered if she might have more intimate parts of her body pierced too. He gave himself a mental shake. That was the last thing he should be thinking about anyone at The Enclave—he had many more important things that should be on his mind. Like his daughter and his deadlines and his mentee. Yep, he was busy.

  He hoped he didn’t run into his neighbor too often, because he sincerely doubted his libido would be up to resisting this unexpected and unwanted attraction. He hadn’t felt this sudden burn of need for a woman in more years than he could remember, and it was damn inconvenient for it to happen now.