by Jamie Beck
Emma laughed, putting Ryder at ease. “That’s my fault. I forgot to set the garbage can under the pulp tube. But look, there’s a bit of juice in the pitcher.”
After cleaning the mess on the floor, she grabbed a nearby garbage can and set it beneath the plastic pulp tube. “Now keep going. We need all of that, and we need it fast.” Sparing Wyatt a brief glance, she said, “Wyatt, Mari and the crew were getting seated when I came in here. You probably should join them. We’ll be out in two minutes.”
Just like that, she’d dismissed him with a bored smile. Ryder didn’t even look up. He kept scooping food into the processor and, wearing a satisfied grin, watching it turn into liquid. Unaccustomed to being ignored, Wyatt bit his tongue and left the kitchen, but he wasn’t done with Ryder, or Emma.
Wyatt tossed his napkin on the table and laid one hand over his stomach, unable to decide whether the omelet, the fruit salad with mint, or that damn juice had been the best part of the meal.
Emma appeared for the third time, checking on their needs and stacking dirty dishes. Ryder’s gaze followed her as she moved around the table. Did his brother have a crush now? Could his sudden change in attitude be the result of pent-up sexual frustration? And hell, would Emma be the right woman to change that for Ryder? For some unknown reason, Wyatt’s mind recoiled at the thought.
“Wyatt,” Mari said, thankfully interrupting his thoughts. “When we get to the mountain, Jim will stay below with me and operate the drone camera. Buddy will hike partway up with you and get on-the-ground action shots, too. Sound good?”
“Sure.” Wyatt said. “I need thirty minutes to digest and change, then we can head out and start the ascent.”
Ryder pushed his dish away and abruptly stood. “I’m staying here.”
He took his cane and plate and followed Emma into the kitchen, leaving Wyatt and the others behind.
“I thought Ryder would join us on the mountain. I’d been counting on his input,” Mari said.
Me too.
“He woke up with a bug up his ass. Let me go talk to him.” Wyatt nodded before chasing after his brother.
Inside the kitchen, Ryder stood near Emma, arms wound tightly around his waist.
“What’s going on with you today?” Wyatt demanded. “I let the yoga thing slide, but Mari needs you to come to the mountain and do some taping while I’m hiking up the ridge. And I’d like to know you’re watching. I need feedback from someone who knows snowboarding.”
“I’m not ready.” Ryder swayed from side to side, looking off to a corner of the room.
“Do you need another fifteen minutes, half hour, what?” Wyatt asked.
“No, I’m not ready to go to the mountain today. It doesn’t feel safe.” Ryder scuffed his cane against the floor.
“You’ll be plenty safe in the van. Just talk to Mari so she can understand what’s happening, and then watch the films as they feed in so you can tell me what I’m doing wrong.”
“No!” Ryder exploded, his finger jabbing Wyatt’s chest. Ever since the accident, anger seemed to be the one emotion that could break through the surface of Ryder’s otherwise impassive demeanor. “It’s not safe for you.”
“Oh, and slopestyle was safe? I think you know better than most that that’s not true.” Wyatt regretted the words the minute he’d said them, especially when he heard Emma’s shallow gasp.
“How’d you let this happen to your brother?” his mother had yelped when they’d arrived at the hospital to find Ryder hooked up to a zillion tubes and machines. “You were supposed to protect him.” Shame oozed through Wyatt now as a result of his snarky retort. But even if he’d mishandled this situation, he needed Ryder to cooperate, for both of their sakes. “Ryder, please. I’m counting on your support. Let’s get dressed and go, as planned.”
Ryder snatched his cane and thumped away, leaving Wyatt and Emma in his dust.
Disbelief and animosity consumed him. With Ryder gone, Wyatt turned his wrath on Emma. “What did you two talk about in here all morning? Why’s he suddenly so obstinate? And why’d you interfere anyway, ’cause it’s pretty clear to me that you didn’t need his help? Shouldn’t you be focused on being my innkeeper instead of my ballbuster?”
“Ballbuster.” She repeated his word as if testing it on her tongue and finding it tart. Whether irked or concerned, he couldn’t tell. Either way, she met his gaze with a stern one of her own. “Between my Gram and the elderly people I volunteer to work with, I’ve spent lots of time with people in various stages of recovery and isolation. One thing most have in common is feeling marginalized; they lack purpose. I thought redirecting Ryder and letting him help me would make him feel like he was something more than your extra baggage.”
“I don’t treat him like baggage!” When Emma winced, Wyatt raked a hand through his hair and drew a breath. More calmly, he said, “He has an important role in all of this, and he was on board with everything until this morning. I need him to help manage Mari and the way she chooses to tell our story. And I need his damned support when I’m out there on the slopes. What I don’t need is you encouraging some kind of mutiny.”
Emma stared at him in silence. He couldn’t tell what she thought of him or his outburst, but she couldn’t possibly think any less of him. He almost wished she’d flip her lid on him. Instead, her face filled with compassion and pity. “I’m sure you don’t mean to make him miserable, but he’s obviously uncomfortable.”
“Because of Mari’s questions? Then I’ll talk to her and make sure she’s more patient with his slower speech. Problem solved. I don’t see what’s so damn hard.”
“Probably because you’re totally focused on what you need . . . what you want.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about, or what all’s at stake here, and not just for me, but for him, too.”
“I have some idea of the stakes, and he must, too. What if that’s the problem? What if he’s concerned you’ll end up like him if you keep pushing?” Emma dropped her gaze and then turned toward the sink, reaching for a sponge.
“I’ve been on a snowboard almost as long as I’ve been walking. Ryder knows I can handle myself. Besides, this isn’t slopestyle. The jumps are less acrobatic, the snow softer. No need to attempt 1440 triple corks and risk snapping my neck. Besides, if my safety is his main concern, then he shouldn’t plant doubts in my head.”
Emma carefully wiped her hands on a dishrag. With her hair pulled up, he couldn’t help but notice the regal line of her jaw and neck, her straight, proud spine. A contradiction: quiet and soft on the outside, but firm and certain at her core. Even as his anger swelled, her palpable sturdiness tethered him at a moment when everything else seemed to spin off its axis. At another time or place, he would act on his intense curiosity about her, but not here and not now.
“Maybe you don’t need the same level of acrobatics now, but you also aren’t going to be on stable, man-made runs. Five people died in Colorado last year from self-triggered avalanches in the backcountry. Many others are injured from bad falls from cliffs. Freeriding has as much danger as slopestyle.” Turning from him, she then muttered, “Unlike you, maybe Ryder doesn’t think medals and fame are worth risking one’s life.”
Disdain washed over her words like acid, indicating she agreed with Ryder.
Wyatt flattened his hands on the counter, hung his head, and leaned forward for a minute, thinking. He didn’t know why he’d had this conversation with Emma, but he didn’t like being on the losing end of the argument. He also didn’t like the way his brother had behaved during the past twenty-four hours. Most of all, he didn’t like the way all of this had messed with his head. He had to silence all the noise so he could focus or he would end up hurt.
“You don’t even know me, Emma, so don’t judge me, or pretend to know my motives. And don’t think for one second that you know my brother and his mood swings better than I do.” He straightened, resolved, if also a little dejected. “You and Ryder stay here while telli
ng yourselves that I’m an ego-driven idiot. Meanwhile, I’ll go it alone.”
Through his peripheral vision, he noticed Emma’s head snap up to look at him, but he marched away without waiting for her to speak.
Emma froze, uncertain of whether to chase after Wyatt or leave him be. She hadn’t meant to insult or undermine him. Now he sure didn’t seem to be in the settled frame of mind needed to concentrate, causing her to regret throwing those statistics in his face.
She shouldn’t have spoken out of turn, especially because she hadn’t been completely forthcoming. And the truth was that she would be nervous for Wyatt’s safety today . . . and every day for the next month. He might be a champ on the groomed competition courses he’d mastered before, but the backcountry’s beauty often obscured its grave danger. Did Wyatt know how to read the layers of snow? Her gut told her no.
Good grief, what a quandary. And beyond the Lawson brothers’ troubles, she had to sneak in time today to call her publisher’s marketing team and discuss the book launch. Thank God her mom’s office gave her privacy so she could avoid the tripods Mari had set up all around the first floor. If she got careless about paying attention to them, those cameras could be her undoing. Unlike Ryder, she had the option of staying out of the spotlight.
Poor Ryder. She guessed he felt responsible for Wyatt’s comeback plans. The guy’s fear and discomfort appeared patently obvious to her. How could Wyatt not see that Ryder didn’t want to be part of the process?
Wyatt might need his brother for strength, purpose, and confidence, but that was quite a burden to foist on someone who already had enough to handle on his own. What a mess the Lawson brothers were, she thought as she prepared the snacks Wyatt had requested for his backpack.
When she got to the lobby, she found Andy staring out the window at the snow that continued to fall. All the fresh powder, plus reduced visibility, would only make Wyatt’s maiden runs more challenging today.
His problem, not hers, she reminded herself. She had her own goals, for Pete’s sake. Goals that left no time to get sidetracked by Wyatt, although having him under the same roof had made sleeping near impossible last night. She’d gotten used to daydreaming about Dallas—but the live, walking, talking Wyatt had pushed her over the edge.
“Those aren’t self-cleaning windows, you know.” Emma poked Andy in the back.
He tugged at her ponytail.
“Some days I can’t deal with the way I’ve screwed up my life. I’d give anything to be out on the mountain today with students, or friends.” He squirted Windex on the window. “Not that I don’t appreciate you helping me out when the ski school fired me after my arrest, Em.”
She’d wanted to lend her support, and not just because she could imagine needing it in return one day if her secret were ever exposed.
“I know.” Emma laid her hand on his shoulder. “Things will turn around for you once your probation ends next summer.”
“We both know the end of my probation won’t make everyone in town forget how I plowed into Grey when I got behind the wheel after happy hour.”
“Grey forgave you. The town will follow his lead. Be patient.” She hoped she was right. Then again, many “good Christian people” like her own mother could be quick to cast judgment, and slow to forgive. It’d already been almost nine months, and some people still looked down their noses at Andy. If her link to Steep and Deep got out, she’d end up like Hester Prynne.
Wyatt clomped down the stairs, decked out in his snowboard apparel. While they’d been talking, the film crew had collected in the lobby. A black helmet hid Wyatt’s gorgeous curls. The blue, white, and black design of his Burton jacket looked almost like ocean waves splashing across his chest and shoulders. His backpack hung on one shoulder. He carried his board under one arm, and what looked like orthopedic braces in the other.
“What’s that stuff?” Emma quietly asked, nodding at the odd gear in Wyatt’s hand.
“Spinal protection pads and impact shorts.” Andy narrowed his gaze. “Guess he’s still debating whether to put those on. Uncomfortable stuff, so I get why he’d put it off until necessary.”
Emma’s brain had stuttered on the words “spinal protection.” How silly she’d been to lecture him about danger as if he hadn’t already known. Seeing that gear drove home Ryder’s concerns.
Of all the people on the planet, why had it been Wyatt who’d rented the inn this month? Not that she wouldn’t care about other people’s health and safety, but why did it have to be Wyatt?
The sinking feeling that karma had come ’round to kick her butt for writing erotica was weighing her down. Payback for being excited about having been a little naughty. For wanting something more than her quiet, sometimes lonely, life in Sterling Canyon.
Contrary to everything she’d been taught, she’d unleashed the little devil in her soul. Now she wondered who would pay the price for her deceit?
“What’s wrong, Em?” Andy slung his arm around her shoulders. “You look upset.”
“Nothing. It’s just dawning on me how dangerous Wyatt’s job is.”
Andy shrugged. “Trip and Grey go out in the backcountry all the time. Granted, they don’t have to push the jumps and tricks like Wyatt will need to, but that guy knows what he’s doing. Chillax.”
Emma rolled her eyes and elbowed Andy’s ribs. Chillax?
She crossed to the group, carrying Wyatt’s lunch and snacks, hoping for a truce. “Give me your backpack, Wyatt. I’ve got your lunch here. There’s a cooler in the kitchen for the crew.”
“I’ll grab it,” Andy called out.
Wyatt handed her his backpack. His demeanor had cooled considerably since she’d last seen him in the kitchen. This persona must be his so-called game face.
“Where’s Ryder?” Mari asked, sounding annoyed.
“He’s not coming.” Wyatt didn’t look at anyone. Before Mari could comment or question, he ordered, “Let’s head out.”
Andy returned with the cooler and enthusiastically helped Wyatt carry those pads. Whatever he said to Wyatt caused him to smile, for which Emma felt both grateful and envious. Maybe Ryder couldn’t give his brother the confidence boost he needed, but Andy would send Wyatt off feeling optimistic.
Emma closed the front door behind them to keep out the cold. Ryder then appeared, sunglasses on and cane in hand, and approached her. Together they watched the team file into the van and drive off.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked, her heart squeezing with empathy.
“He’s doing this for me. For money to help me.”
Ah. Not so ego driven, then.
Ryder continued, “He thinks this will all make me happy, like before. But I never asked for this.”
Neither spoke as Andy came back inside and disappeared. Emma noted the strain around Ryder’s mouth. Wyatt was right about one thing: Emma didn’t know Ryder or his moods. And if he had been part of the planning for this whole project, maybe he did want to be involved. Maybe today’s attitude had more to do with jitters or being wiped out from a long trip than a true change of heart.
“Seeing as he has decided to do it, maybe the best thing you could do for him now is get behind his effort.” Emma set a hand on his shoulder.
Ryder’s forehead wrinkled, and then he pressed it against the glass. Turning his head, he plastered his cheek to the window and peered up at the sky. “All this snow. He’s not used to that. Slopestyle courses are p-perfectly groomed. Known.”
A muted keening colored Ryder’s typically uninflected voice. His distress seeped into Emma’s pores, filling her with unwanted anxiety.
“Let’s move away from the window and keep busy. Worrying won’t help anyone now.” She tugged at his sleeve. “More cooking? Or maybe something more active? Do you like to clean? Because I’m pretty sure Andy would love a little help vacuuming the guest rooms.”
Ryder shrugged. “Okay.”
“Also, I’m going to try to reschedule your therapy for earlier now that you’v
e decided to hang back. Avery—Andy’s sister and my friend—is an awesome physical therapist. I know you’ll get a lot out of working with her.”
Avery was widely known as the town’s taskmaster therapist, which meant Emma could count on her friend to keep Ryder’s mind occupied for part of the day.
Ryder silently followed Emma to the supply closet. Meanwhile, she did her best to shake off Ryder’s concerns about Wyatt’s lack of big-mountain experience. Her phone rang then, so she answered without looking at the screen. “Emma Duffy.”
Crap, her agent.
She risked a quick glance at Ryder, but he appeared preoccupied with his own thoughts. Thank God!
“Jill, can I call you back in five minutes? I’ve got my hands full at the moment.”
She stalled that call long enough to get Ryder set up with Andy, who’d taken to calling him “Stevie Wonder” because he always wore sunglasses. Ryder seemed amused, so Emma didn’t interfere. Maybe Ryder enjoyed being handled without kid gloves. Andy might be the perfect antidote for Ryder’s mood and Wyatt’s hovering.
Emma ducked into her mother’s back office and locked the door before returning Jill’s call.
“Hi, Jill. Sorry about that. Are you calling to discuss the marketing call later today?” Emma asked.
“No, although I can loop in to that later if you’d like. I’m calling because I read through the first half of your new manuscript. It looks good. You may need to sharpen her internal conflict a bit, but I like the playful tone and banter.”
“Great. I’ll go back over that while I’m finishing up the last chunk.” Emma heard Andy moving around the hallway just outside the door. She suppressed the urge to whisper. “Anything else?”
“No. You’ll get a good rundown of whatever marketing plans they’ve put in place. I heard from Kim in publicity that you got a couple of starred reviews from the trade journals, which is awesome, especially for a debut author.”