Unexpectedly Hers (Sterling Canyon Book 3)

by Jamie Beck

  “True that!” Andy nodded, and then, apparently resigned to his fate of living an ordinary life, said, “So if you don’t need me here, I’ll go deal with that leaky pipe in your mom’s room, and then I’ll vacuum.”

  Emma shooed him away with one hand. “Yes, go do that, please. I’d better get lunch together before Mari bites off my head.”

  “You can hold your own with her, Emma.”

  “We’ll see.” Emma had doubts thanks to Mari’s intimidating combination of elegance and power. In a way, Emma envied that presence. Men usually found it appealing. “Tell the truth. Do you find Mari attractive?”

  Andy shrugged. “Objectively, sure. But she’s not my type.”

  “Oh?” Emma chuckled. “I didn’t know you were so discerning. I’m curious, now. What is your type?”

  Andy’s gaze wandered from hers. “Someone more like you.”

  The quiet admission stunned her into an awkward silence. Surely he didn’t mean it literally, did he? He must be trying to boost her confidence. Before she could respond, he retreated to teasing her. “Then again, Mari is kinda hot. Do you think she’s under forty, or over?”

  Grateful that he’d dispelled the tension, she replied, “No idea, although she’s definitely around that age.”

  “Getting a little lonely these days, especially with Grey and Avery always at the house reminding me of what I’m missing. Wonder if Mari’s in the market for a little vacation fling.”

  Emma scrunched her nose. “Mari’s not on vacation, and neither are you!”

  “I know.” Andy sighed. “But it’s not healthy to be our ages and celibate.”

  “You got that right,” interrupted a smoky voice that made Emma’s skin tingle.

  Her neck practically snapped in two as she whipped her head around toward the kitchen door, where Wyatt stood with a grin on his face. Heat unrelated to the ovens scorched her cheeks. First the dancing, and now this?

  Andy, unaware of her discomfort, raised his hand to give Wyatt a high five. “If you want to head out any night, I’ll show you the best ladies’ nights in town.”

  If Andy was ready to troll for random women, then she must’ve read too much into his earlier compliment. Her shoulders relaxed, finally. She loved her friendship with Andy and would regret if anything changed it.

  Relief then made room for concern, because Andy’s probation required abstinence. Of course, he could hunt for women while sober. Being Wyatt’s wingman would give him ample prey. No doubt there were plenty of women who’d throw themselves at Wyatt, unashamed, just as “Alexa” had done.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Thanks, man, but I’ve got to stick to a strict training schedule. No drinks or other distractions.”

  He’d stared straight at Emma when he said that last part. His stare did funny things to her belly, prompting a mishmash of sensations. Sensations she didn’t want to remember. And images she didn’t want him to remember.

  The gorgeous antique bar and crystal chandelier of Aspen’s J-Bar rushed forward. She’d chosen the upscale hangout because she’d been dressed to the nines. She’d never expected to see Wyatt Lawson there, but once she’d spotted him sitting in one of the leather highbacks at the bar, she’d tapped into her courage and bought him a tequila shot to celebrate his win. Within ninety minutes and two more shots, he’d coaxed her to his room.

  She’d had her fun that night and then walked away before he could make up excuses for ditching her. Emma might not have much, but she did have pride, and that meant she’d never end up losing her heart to a man dead set on fame. A man who was sure to leave.

  Resolved to treat Wyatt like—and only like—an esteemed guest of the inn, she changed the subject. “Andy, can you please take care of those items we discussed?”

  Once Andy exited the kitchen, she asked, “What can I do for you this time, Mr. Lawson?”

  “That’s the second “Mr. Lawson” of the day.” Wyatt leaned his hip against the doorframe. “My dad’s been dead for some years now.”

  “I’m sorry.” He seemed young to have already lost a parent, but she’d effectively lost hers even younger, so maybe it didn’t matter much.

  “Thanks, but how ’bout you call me Wyatt?”

  “Mr. Lawson” had afforded her the distance from “Dallas” that she needed to ensure she didn’t slip up, but how could she refuse this request without appearing a total prig? “Wyatt, then. What can I do for you?”

  “What are my choices?” His slow smile caused her spine to stiffen as she steeled herself against the empty flirtation. He held up his hands in surrender, somehow sensing her discomfort, which embarrassed her. “Just kidding. It’s going to be a long month around here if you don’t relax a little. I don’t bite . . . unless I’m asked.”

  Just like that, she recalled his bite in vivid detail. Her nipples tightened at the memory of his teeth grazing them, and of his tongue soothing them afterward. The vision appeared so quickly she couldn’t suppress her wide-eyed involuntary response.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, quickly. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m not used to someone so . . . proper. I’m harmless, though.”

  Hardly. Emma cleared her throat, suddenly feeling old and stodgy and self-conscious. “It’s fine. But I assume you came in here for a reason.”

  “I’m going on a run. In about an hour, could you whip up one of those peanut butter protein shakes I’d put on my list?”

  “Sure, but your schedule said lunch should be served at one o’clock today. If you’re going out now and want a shake afterward, shall I just serve the others lunch without you?”

  “Go ahead. I’m off schedule today, but I had a big breakfast and a snack on the road, so I’ll be okay.” Then Wyatt tipped his head and eyed the bag of almonds on the counter. “Did you know almonds are part of the peach family?”

  “More trivia?”

  “Fun facts with Wyatt Lawson.” Grinning, he held his arms out from his side. “It’s my plan B, in case this comeback doesn’t work out so well.”

  Emma covered a smile. He joked, but she sensed some truth, or at least some insecurity, behind the bravado. “Good luck with that, then.”

  “Yeah.” He paused before asking, “Anyhow, where’s the high school stadium?”

  “About two miles south of here on Miner’s Pass Road. Why?”

  “I’d like to add some stair-climbing to help me adjust to the altitude.”

  “Oh. Sounds hard.” Emma withdrew a notepad and began writing out directions to the high school. She held the paper toward him. “Here you go. Good luck.”

  He sauntered toward her and, when he withdrew the page, their fingers touched. A gentle touch, yet her body felt as if something had shoved her—hard. The look on Wyatt’s face said he’d done it purposely. For some reason, he seemed determined to keep her off-balance. Did he recognize her? Was this a game for him? Should she confess?

  “Thanks, Emma. See you later.”

  When he left the kitchen, she exhaled and leaned against the island for support. Two hours down, seven hundred eighteen to go.

  Chapter Three

  Wyatt looked over the railing toward the dimly lit parlor before descending the stairs. Apparently Emma had awakened even earlier than the ass crack of dawn and turned on some lights for him and his yoga instructor. Outside, faint stars and a see-through moon lit the last traces of night.

  The sun would rise soon enough to usher in a new day. A day that—if his guess was accurate—had gifted at least ten inches of fresh powder.

  His stomach fluttered in anticipation of his first official backcountry training run. Although he’d grown up on Vermont’s groomed terrain parks under the watchful eye of many trainers, when making the switch to freeriding, he’d decided to follow the footsteps of other freeriders and forego a coach.

  He couldn’t risk his new peers dubbing him the pampered former star. The guy who couldn’t hack it on his own. To be accepted—and more importantly, to win—he needed to project
the same physical and mental strength as the other guys.

  When he rounded the corner, he noticed that Ryder hadn’t come out of his room yet. He then watched Emma heft a large glass pitcher of fruit-infused water onto a side table. She and his teacher, a hot blonde in suitably skimpy attire, had already pushed aside a few chairs and a coffee table to make room for the session.

  Calm, controlled, efficient Emma. A few years ago he might’ve been put off by that. Now he found her maturity rather anchoring, considering everything else in his life was in flux.

  Unlike the blonde, Emma had hidden herself beneath another loose-fitting outfit. The woman didn’t advertise her wares, but when she laughed with the yoga chick about something or other, her freshly scrubbed face and green eyes became animated and appealing as hell.

  “’Morning,” he said, startling them. “You’re awfully bright-eyed for five forty-five.”

  Emma immediately schooled her features to that damn polite librarian face she wore around him. “Good morning, Wyatt. This is Amanda, from YogAmbrosia. She’s a great instructor, so you’re a lucky guy.”

  Amanda pressed her palms together and bowed. “Namaste.”

  Oh, brother. Wyatt liked yoga fine. It suited a specific set of purposes: it enhanced his flexibility and balance, and helped him relax. That said, he had no interest in the goofy culture surrounding the practice. Colorado wasn’t Nepal, for crying out loud.

  “Hey, Amanda. Thanks for waking up so early.”

  “I’m excited to work with you, Wyatt. Em says you’ve got a strict schedule, so are we waiting for the cameras, or do we just begin?” Amanda asked.

  “No cameras this morning. They’ll film us some other day.” Wyatt noticed Emma’s brow quirk upward even as she turned her face away. “But let’s give my brother another minute or two to show up. He moves a little slowly.”

  Wyatt shot Ryder a quick text and then filled a glass with the grapefruit mint water Emma had made. Slightly tart, but refreshing. He smiled at her. “This is good.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” She quickly looked away again, toward her friend. Neither rude nor friendly. Definitely not fawning over him like most women he’d known. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  “Oh? I thought you’d join us,” Amanda said. “In fact, I’m surprised you just didn’t do the instruction yourself.”

  Beneath that sack of clothing lived a limber body? Sudden images of her legs stretched in various positions—preferably on top of or beneath him—set him back a step.

  “I haven’t taught in years. Besides, I’ve got to get breakfast started.”

  Before Emma could escape—and honestly, that’s the vibe he got from her every time he came near—Ryder arrived, looking wooden and miserable. “I’m not s-stretching.”

  “Come on, Ryder. It’s good for you,” Wyatt said quietly.

  “I don’t want to,” Ryder insisted.

  “Just do what you can, like we talked about in Vermont. This will help support your other therapy, and I like your company.” He settled a hand on Ryder’s shoulder only to have it shrugged off.

  “I’m not up to it. Besides, it w-won’t help you.”

  Wyatt cast a quick glance at the ladies. “Tell him yoga can help us both.”

  “Stretching won’t save your ass from a r-rock or tree or cliff dive.” Ryder’s thick voice showcased the anger lurking behind his passive expression. He glanced out the window at the pristine blanket of snow. “This whole plan seems stupid, now. It’s safer to s-stick to what you know.”

  The last thing Wyatt needed or wanted this morning was to be told he was stupid by the very person for whom he’d undertaken this challenge in the first place. Wyatt had no idea why Ryder had dug his heels in suddenly, but his criticism caused two years of helplessness, remorse, and exhaustion to explode from Wyatt’s chest. “I’ll tell you what’s stupid—your bad attitude. That sure as shit isn’t going to help me or my confidence, brother.”

  “Good, ’cause your plan sucks, and you know it,” Ryder said, thumping his cane against the floor.

  Wyatt stepped toward Ryder, fury pouring through his veins like boiling oil, and barked, “For weeks you’ve been on board with this, so what’s changed? I need you to stay on point with me, dammit.”

  “You need, you need—” Ryder waved a disgusted hand. “I’m tired. I’m not your p-pet or project.”

  “Ryder,” Emma’s gentle voice interrupted. “If you’re too tired to take instruction today, I could really use some company in the kitchen.”

  She flashed Ryder a friendly smile, the warm kind Wyatt had seen her bestow on Andy. The fact she didn’t appear to like Wyatt much had really started to bug him.

  Ryder’s sunglasses hid his expression. Wyatt’s gaze remained fixed on Ryder, but his brother ignored him. “Okay.”

  What the hell? Wyatt didn’t know whether to tell Emma to butt out, or to be impressed with her for jumping in. Before he could decide, she slid him a sideways glance and cocked her brow, signaling that he should let it go. She then returned her attention to Ryder.

  “Thanks so much.” Emma’s voice sounded sincere as she moved away from Amanda and Wyatt and gestured toward the kitchen. “I’m thinking spinach omelets, but I haven’t had a chance to make fresh juice. Maybe you can help me pull it all together . . . if that’s something you’d like to do.”

  Wyatt stood, dumbfounded, watching his brother and Emma stride off to the kitchen together—to cook, of all things. Bet she’d dance with Ryder in the pantry if he tried.

  “Ahem.” Amanda cleared her throat. “We should get started, or we’ll never finish on time.”

  He shook his head, as if that could clear his pointless thoughts about Emma or the doubts Ryder’s outburst had unearthed. Drawing a cleansing breath, Wyatt grinned at Amanda. Hopefully forty-five minutes with her would restore his peace of mind and get him prepared for the major day ahead.

  Unfortunately, when he descended into downward dog, Amanda placed her hands on his hips and “adjusted” his position, dashing all hopes of concentration and peace of mind. Naturally, she acted as if that contact had been purely for his benefit. However, by the end of the session, she’d managed to make more than a dozen such corrections, none of which his male instructor back home ever seemed to think necessary. At another time and place, he might’ve enjoyed the hottie’s hands all over him, but today they were more annoying than a swarm of mosquitoes.

  Although the session had loosened Wyatt’s muscles, tension still clouded his thoughts. Basically, an epic fail in terms of one of his primary goals.

  Ryder’s attitude sat at the top of the list of things bugging him, followed by concern about his first training run. And what was up with Emma and her weird attitude toward him? One would think she’d trip all over herself to keep him happy, given what a good review could do for her inn. Instead, she remained timid and almost . . . almost . . . wary. Spooked by his halfhearted flirtations.

  “Same time tomorrow?” Amanda asked while rolling up the mats.

  “Unfortunately, yes. Sorry for the early hour.” He crossed his arms and kept from doing anything she might misconstrue as an invitation to touch him again.

  Apparently she didn’t need an invitation. She tipped her head and rested her fingers on his forearm. “It’s no trouble, really. I’m an early riser.”

  Luckily, he heard dishes being laid out in the dining room, which gave him an excuse to walk away. “Well, sounds like it’s time to eat. Have a good day.”

  “You, too. Tell Emma I said ’bye.” She wiggled her fingers at him and sashayed out the door.

  He smacked his palm against his forehead and then stormed toward the dining room to figure out what the hell had gotten into Ryder. He found Emma instead, carefully setting out napkins and silverware.

  “Where’s my brother?” Wyatt snapped a bit more harshly than intended.

  Emma barely looked up. “In the kitchen.”

  Wyatt started toward the door
, but Emma spoke again. “He’s relaxed now and feeling productive. Before you start in on him, consider that maybe these days he needs more time to adapt to change than you do.”

  Wyatt glanced over his shoulder, but Emma continued working, having said her peace in that quiet but firm way that she seemed to do everything. It unnerved him even though he respected it. He couldn’t decide whether she was truly stoic or if, like a glacier, bottomless layers lay waiting to be explored beneath her icy surface.

  Jumbled thoughts tossed around his brain, so he kept quiet and proceeded to the kitchen without responding. Emma didn’t understand his mission regarding his brother’s recovery and their future.

  In Vermont, Ryder had expressed interest in this project. Wyatt didn’t need Emma to misread his brother’s temper tantrums this month. He also didn’t need Ryder to start casting doubts like darts. His pulse raced, but when he burst into the kitchen, he stopped and watched.

  His brother stood in front of a cutting board loaded with apples, peeled carrots, fresh ginger, and grapefruits. With utter concentration, he grouped the items together into handful-size clusters beside the industrial juicer to his left.

  “You know, you’re a guest here, not an employee.” Wyatt joked while sauntering over to his brother’s side.

  “You think I can’t do it?” Ryder pulled his shoulders back.

  “No, but this isn’t why we’re here.” Wyatt watched him study the equipment, as if he’d forgotten Emma’s instructions. Hell, the thing did look as complicated as one of those fancy cappuccino makers.

  “I can’t concentrate with you s-staring at me.” Ryder’s rubber-gloved palm slapped the counter just as Emma walked in.

  Without skipping a beat, she came over, ignored Wyatt, and patted Ryder’s arm. “I know; it’s super confusing, huh? Let’s go through the steps again, this time you do each step as I talk you through it.”

  The contrast between her warmth and physical contact with Ryder and her disinterest in him only provided more proof of her apparent disapproval.

  With the patience and heart of a saint, Emma leaned in and reminded Ryder of the various steps and switches. Wyatt found himself somewhat captivated by her calm voice, her deliberate movements. Ryder nodded, listening intently, seeming oblivious to their body contact. He then placed a batch of fruit in the top thingy, pressed it down, and yelled, “Oh, sh-shit,” as pulp landed on the floor by his foot.