Unexpectedly Hers (Sterling Canyon Book 3)

by Jamie Beck

  Mari closed her eyes and sighed. “If Ryder is serious about quitting, then that has to be in the film. It’s a turning point in this story, Wyatt. Surely you see that. Don’t assign a good versus bad value to what happened. It’s simply an honest look at his injury’s impact on both of your careers and your relationship. That’s important stuff.”

  “No, it’s exploiting personal conversations. I don’t see how that makes this film better. I thought we would focus on my career and comeback. Not on my family.”

  “Like I’ve explained to you from the outset, this kind of bio-documentary has to be three-dimensional in order to be interesting. Fans can watch short YouTube clips of you on the slopes if all they want to see is the actual snowboarding. The movie must be personal and give fans the sense that they are getting to know the real you. Show them what it’s like to live your unique life. That means you need to let me, and them, in. Show us who you are—the good and the ugly, what you really want, who matters to you, and why. All of it, Wyatt.”

  “My outburst in front of those disabled kids makes me look bad.” Wyatt raked his hand through his hair, knowing his anger should be directed at himself instead of Mari.

  “It makes you human. People make mistakes, especially when confronted with unwelcome news. We’ll offset that with footage tonight of you and the boy who’s coming. And of you and Ryder making up. This is the kind of human drama that people relate to. It’s all good. You have to trust me or this won’t work.”

  Mari looked sincere. Her two prior documentaries hadn’t been overly sensationalized. But he’d been burned before, and it could happen again, even though he couldn’t argue with most of what she’d said. No matter what, he’d promised to keep Emma out of the film, so he wouldn’t go back on his word.

  Why even consider it, really? Fans didn’t expect him to be getting involved with a woman while training. Hell, he hadn’t expected it. It wasn’t the smart move. Yet, he couldn’t help himself. He wouldn’t give her up until he had to leave town, either.

  “Fine. Go get Jim or Buddy if you want to record me and Ryder, because I need to fix things with him right now.”

  “Thank you.” She touched his arm before jogging up the stairs to grab the crew.

  Wyatt scrubbed his hands over his face and then went to knock on Ryder’s door. “Ryder, please come out so we can talk. I know you don’t want to be part of this project anymore, but if you could please let Mari record this last thing, I’d appreciate it.”

  He waited, listening for the sound of Ryder’s cane. When he heard movement, he backed up a few steps.

  Ryder opened his door. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Wyatt replied. “Can we talk in the front parlor or dining room? It’ll be the last time I ask you to be on camera.”

  “Sure.” Ryder followed Wyatt to the parlor, where they sat opposite each other and waited for the crew.

  His brother sat, spine erect, hands on top of his cane, apparently bracing for another argument. How had they gotten here when all Wyatt wanted was the brotherly rapport they used to share? “I know the sunglasses help you, but can we have this conversation eye to eye?”

  Ryder paused, then reached up to remove his glasses, revealing the blue eyes Wyatt had known his whole life. It had been so long since he’d looked into them, Wyatt’s breath caught. Although the color hadn’t changed, they somehow looked different. Less mischievous. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Out of nowhere, his nose tingled and his own eyes misted. He’d forgotten how much he missed seeing his brother’s eyes. How did Ryder handle living behind those shades in order to cope? Did he miss the vivid colors of the world? Another thing stolen from him, thanks to the accident.

  Emma had been right about so much. Wyatt couldn’t possibly comprehend the hundreds of ways that Ryder’s life had been altered. The countless losses he reexperienced on a daily basis. And Wyatt had thought making him confront the sport that had robbed him of so much would be a good thing? He hung his head in his hands, tugging at his hair with his fingers.

  Mari and Jim arrived before Ryder said anything else. It only took them a minute or two to set up because the tripods had been in place for weeks.

  “The videography would be better if Jim worked one of the cameras by hand, but you two might be more open if we’re not present, so let’s go with the two cameras on the tripods and hope for the best.” Mari gestured for Jim to follow her into the dining room to do whatever it was they did behind Wyatt’s back.

  Once they were gone, he absently stared at the floor for a moment, unsure of where to start. Finally, he opened with, “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” Ryder fidgeted with his cane.

  “No, you’ve been trying to get me to listen, but I’ve been determined to do it all my way. No surprise to you, I’m sure.” He paused, his heart aching, beating at half speed. “I’d convinced myself you’d be happier in this environment. That you’d remember what we loved about it and would find a new way to be involved. That you’d be psyched not to give it all up. I never meant to make you feel like a footnote in my life, Ryder. I just wanted you back in my life. I thought it would break through this barrier between us.” Wyatt slouched back into the chair, unsure of what else to say.

  “There’s no barrier.” Ryder leaned forward, eyes squinting even though dusk left only lavender-tinted haze streaming through the windows.

  “I feel a distance. We used to be together night and day—on the slopes, out on the town. Joking, teasing, all of it.” Wyatt rested his elbows on his knees, closing the distance between them. “When you were in that hospital, hooked up to machines, fighting for your life, I wanted to jump inside your body and fight for you. I couldn’t stand the thought that you might not make it, or to see you suffer. The relief I felt when you slowly started coming back—I can’t even tell you what that meant. But it’s like we got 80 percent of the way, then it just plateaued. There’s this gap now. I’d thought this project would bring us all the way around.”

  Ryder sighed and tapped his cane, his brows drawn thoughtfully. “You want it like it was, but I’m different now. I can’t handle loud bars, snowboarding—it’s not going to happen. I don’t j-joke around and find things funny like before because it takes so much effort just to get through the day. Things are different, but that’s got nothing to do with you, even if you think it does. You think I blame you, but I don’t. I don’t blame you, so quit hovering and expecting me to love what you love. I never loved it as much as you did. Never.”

  “I know. That’s why I feel responsible for what happened in the first place.”

  “That’s d-dumb. I could’ve quit at any time. And it could just as easily have been you who got hurt. Everyone out there on those jumps could be me. I just got lucky.” Ryder smirked and his twisted humor lodged another lump in Wyatt’s throat. “I know you need to win to feel in control. But every time you go out and make me watch, I think you might get hurt. I can’t stop you from doing this, but I can’t be part of it, either. I need to get out. And don’t make me the reason you stick with it. I get d-disability money, and I can get paid to talk about TBI. I’m not saying I don’t need any help or support, but I don’t need you to risk your life to give it.”

  A little voice whispered for Wyatt to heed his brother’s warnings and walk away. But he had never quit anything, and he wouldn’t start now. Not with his reputation in the balance. With his family’s financial security at stake. “I love you. I’d do anything for you. I’ve committed to this comeback, and I won’t quit. So, if you don’t want to be part of the journey, I accept that, but please stop getting in my head and trying to talk me out of it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Thanks.” Wyatt tapped his hand on his thighs. “One last thing. Emma thought it might be nice if we brought Mom here for Thanksgiving in a few days. What do you think?”

  Ryder’s brows rose. He tipped his head, like he might probe about Emma, but then his expression settled. “I’d
like it. I don’t think she should be alone.”

  Ryder’s empathy for their mom didn’t surprise Wyatt, although he’d never felt quite the same way. As a kid, the amount of shit she put up with from their dad had pissed him off. She’d never stood up to their father, or on behalf of Ryder and Wyatt. He didn’t love her less because of it, he just didn’t understand her at all. Then again, she never understood him, either.

  “Okay. Can you set it up with her? Have her fly into Montrose and we’ll figure out how to get her from there. I’ll pay for the ticket.” Wyatt rose from his chair, arms outstretched, going in for a bro’ hug.

  Ryder put his sunglasses on before slapping Wyatt’s back, but Wyatt jerked him tighter. This was a good-bye of sorts, and even if he pretended he was okay with it, he wasn’t quite ready. Emma was heading to the front desk at that point. Wyatt saw her smile and place her hand over her heart.

  “I’m glad to see this.” She approached them, carrying a Sharpie. “Looks like you’ve come to an understanding.”

  “Ryder’s off the hook, but I’m still going forward with my plans.” Wyatt hid all traces of disappointment from his voice.

  Ryder rubbed his temple. “I need to lie down before dinner.”

  Emma grabbed him into a quick hug. “Go rest. I’ll knock on your door when dinner’s ready.”

  She watched him shuffle off and then faced Wyatt, her brow knitted, eyes filled with concern. She laid her hands on his chest. “How do you feel?”

  Wyatt shrugged. “I’ve been better.”

  When Emma wound her arms around his neck and hugged him, he held her tight. She nestled her head against his shoulder. Her body and scent worked its magic, relaxing him almost instantly. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, stretching out the moment for as long as he could.

  “I’m proud of you.” She gave him an extra squeeze before easing away.

  Before he let go, he kissed her. “Thank you, for everything. Even though you never agree with me, you always make me feel better. How is that possible?”

  “It’s my special gift.” She grinned and handed him the Sharpie so he could sign Jeremy’s shirt.

  He tugged her back for another kiss, but she held him off, glancing around as if only now remembering where they were. “Not here! Everyone’s in the next room.”

  “Later, then,” he purred and swatted her ass, forgetting all about the fact that the cameras were still rolling.

  Three days later, Emma responded to the twentieth inquiry she’d received about the inn in the past ten days. Historically, her inn relied on repeat bookings for most of its business, so the flurry of new interest had perplexed her. This one, however, gave her the key to the mystery, because it referenced a tweet about her cooking. A tweet from @AirdogLawson.

  She scrolled through his Twitter account and noticed he’d been posting pictures of the inn and town, and praising her cooking. All these days he’d been trying to build up her business without once taking credit. It would thrill her mother, but not nearly as much as it melted Emma’s heart. He’d been determined to help her, and she hadn’t given him the respect of honesty about her true dreams.

  Shame sifted through her mind as she replied to the email. Unfortunately, Mari approached her, interrupting her musings.

  “Do you have a few minutes?” Mari asked. As always, her sleek blond hair framed her hard, chiseled face. Piercing eyes added weight to her air of authority.

  “What do you need?” Emma fixed her best innkeeper smile in place to ward off the command Mari projected over everything in her path.

  “I’d like to speak with you.” Mari gestured to the sofa. “Let’s sit.”

  Emma opted for the chair opposite the sofa. Although Mari might only be eight or ten years older than she, the woman’s confidence could make Emma feel like a child.

  “I’d like your help with Wyatt.” Mari folded her hands in her lap, spine erect, body pitched forward.

  “Help with what? He and Ryder settled things, haven’t they?”

  “Wyatt is determined to keep parts of his life private, preventing me from painting a full picture. I understand his trust issues with the media, but I’m trying to make a compelling and engaging documentary. Every influence on his life and each decision during this comeback are relevant and important, including you.”

  Emma’s pulse throbbed in her ears. “You overestimate my influence on Wyatt and Ryder.”

  Mari sat back, her eyes drifting upward as if searching for patience.

  “Let’s drop the pretense, Emma.” Mari fixed her intelligent gaze on her. “I know.”

  “Know what?” Emma weakly attempted to forestall the inevitable.

  “I know that you and Wyatt are involved in a relationship that extends beyond innkeeper and guest. Beyond friendship.”

  The word “how” nearly leapt off the tip of her tongue, but Emma restrained it by pressing her lips together.

  Mari didn’t wait for a confession. “I’m trained to observe people, settings, situations. Wyatt, in particular, has been less careful lately, openly wearing his feelings for you. I’ve also overheard Trip making overtures to Wyatt to settle here after competition and join him and his partner at Backtrax. Trip’s shrewd enough to realize Wyatt’s name would drive business in their direction, but the fact that Wyatt didn’t outright dismiss him suggests he has other reasons to consider returning to Sterling Canyon. As if that weren’t enough to convince me, I caught an exchange between you two on camera the other day right here in this room. So let’s not pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  Trapped, like a firefly in a jar, with no escape. Nonetheless, her heart floated inside her chest as if it’d been filled with helium. Wyatt might return to Sterling Canyon?

  Mari cleared her throat, bringing Emma back to reality.

  “Wyatt’s entitled to some privacy. Maybe being behind the camera has made you forget how too much scrutiny can suffocate a person.” Emma gestured toward the equipment strewn about, while privately acknowledging her own mother’s scrutiny had been equally overwhelming. She should be an old pro when it came to evasion, but right now she felt as transparent as glass. “Would you want to shine a spotlight on a relationship that had no real future?”

  “Wyatt knew the deal when we entered into this project. Despite his misgivings, he agreed to be subjected to the scrutiny in order to further his own goals of attracting major sponsorship money. He and I have a symbiotic relationship. What’s good for him is also good for me. So I’m not the problem. If anything, you’re the problem. You don’t want to be part of this, and he’s trying to protect you.” Mari leaned forward, her expression as earnest as Emma had ever seen it. “If you care about him, help him reach his goals. Be part of this project and help make this film a success. Help him get what he needs for his ego and for his family.”

  Oh, well done. Mari had neatly trapped her in that jar again, except this one contained no air holes. How could Emma refuse to help Wyatt when he’d been trying to salvage her beleaguered inn?

  Emma’s gaze dropped. She couldn’t admit the entire truth behind her reluctance, so she latched onto the most obvious sliver. “Wyatt hasn’t mentioned Trip’s offer, so I doubt he’s giving it any real consideration. He probably didn’t turn it down outright to spare Trip’s feelings. And you know my ‘relationship’ with Wyatt won’t last beyond next week. He’s young, he’s got years of competition ahead of him. He’ll have a dozen girlfriends before he settles down. Mari, there’s no need to draw attention to me because I am not, nor will I ever be, a significant factor in his life.”

  Mari shook her head. “But you have been a factor during this part of his training. You’ve been an influence on his relationship with his brother. I suspect you’re behind his mother’s arrival in two days, too. Like it or not, you are a part of this story, Emma.” Mari sat back, eyes narrowing speculatively. “I can only guess that your reluctance to cooperate means you’ve got something to hide.”


  Panic flooded her mouth with a metallic taste. Emma locked her fingers together to settle the tremors and tried brushing aside Mari’s accusation with a laugh. “You have quite an imagination. No wonder you love filmmaking.”

  Mari heaved a sigh and then abruptly stood. “I’d hoped your feelings for Wyatt would persuade you to help. It seems I’ve been wrong about you. Maybe you’re just using him for your own purposes. Isn’t that ironic? He doesn’t trust me, who has his interests at heart, yet he fully trusts you, and you either care too little or are engaged in some kind of deception. Either way, I suppose it is a good thing that you’re not in this film and that he’ll be leaving soon.”

  Emma’s throat tightened, cutting off her air supply. Mari turned on her heel and left the room, leaving Emma to stew in a sea of unflattering accusations.

  Emma didn’t care too little for Wyatt. She cared entirely too much, which meant she’d be hurt no matter which path she chose.

  She could come clean. Go to Wyatt today and confess all—Aspen, Alexa, the book. Her conscience would be clear, but he would be hurt, angry, and ultimately, resentful. When he left, his memories of her would not be pleasant or welcome, and that thought clawed at her heart.

  If she stayed silent, their relationship would never be completely honest, but when it ended, which it must inevitably do, it would be with fondness. Emma couldn’t bear to see the light in his eyes go dark on her. Surely, after a lifetime of doing nearly everything right, she was entitled to this one small wrong. A lie of omission hurt no one but herself.

  Her mother’s warnings rattled around her brain. Unwelcome reminders of how she’d put herself in this position and only had herself to blame for any misery. How did someone arrive at this place? How had she arrived here? Then she suddenly wondered if her father had ever struggled with a similar conflict before he’d left? Had he been confused by his conflicting desires, or felt guilty as hell?

  A pleasant hum reverberated throughout Emma’s body, even as she groggily opened her eyes. Four forty-five in the morning. Last night she’d thanked Wyatt for his help with the inn by letting him call all the shots. Her body now lay heavy with lingering pleasure and exhaustion. She should get moving, but she only had another six nights to spoon with him.