Unexpectedly Hers (Sterling Canyon #3)

by Jamie Beck

  The hollowness in his voice carved a hole in her heart. She touched his leg but then withdrew her hand, embarrassed to have shown such familiarity. Yet despite the danger to herself, she longed to do it again. He snapped his gaze to hers. For a moment, neither said anything, but her own breath fell shallow as tension-filled air pumped into her lungs.

  “They say any publicity is good publicity.” She smiled, hoping her teasing would break the trance. The side-eye he shot her implied he wasn’t ready to joke. “Seriously, Wyatt. Please hire Trip to show you the ropes. I don’t want to see something terrible happen to you.”

  He arched one brow. “I’d have guessed you’d come in here to tell me to pack it in and give up.”

  “Why would you think that?” She straightened her spine.

  “Aside from the fact that you’ve spent the past twenty-four hours avoiding me at all costs, you pretty much agreed with my brother this morning. I know you don’t respect what I’m doing.”

  “That’s not true.” Emma’s cheeks grew hot. She supposed she had given him that impression, but she couldn’t tell him why. “I respect your talent, Wyatt. I respect that you want to make something of your life. And I’m not avoiding you . . . I’m busy doing my job.”

  “Whatever.” He waved one hand and stared out the window. “So this Trip guy, you trust him?”

  “He’s been big-mountain skiing for more than a decade, all over North America.”

  “Guess it can’t hurt to talk to him.”

  “I’ll see if he’ll come over here tonight.” She stood to go, but Wyatt grasped her wrist.

  She stifled the gasp that arose from recalling that other time he’d held her wrists in his vise-like grip. Emma imagined him yanking her onto the bed and into his arms. The thought shot heat and yearning through her heart and between her legs, and she knew she wouldn’t have resisted . . . at least, not right away.

  “Thanks for giving a shit.” His thumb brushed against the inside of her wrist and he stared at her for a few quiet seconds before he glanced at the tray. “Leave that, too, please. I’m a little hungry now that I’m more settled.”

  “Salmon tacos and avocado slaw for dinner in two hours.” She eased out of his hold, although she could’ve just as easily slunk back down beside him. “Get some rest.”

  Hurrying out of the room before she said or did something truly stupid, she inhaled slowly through her nose and held the breath before releasing it.

  How pathetic. Each time he came near, recollections of their night together overpowered her. He, however, remained blissfully unaffected. Unaware of their past. While that fact suited her present needs, it hurt to know she’d been so completely unmemorable. That nothing about the real her had stuck with him.

  In her book, “Dallas” saw through the glam to the soul of his heroine, Ella.

  Wouldn’t Wyatt be shocked if she told him the truth? She smiled, imagining herself decked out in Alexa’s sex-kitten boots and dress, with her hair wild and free. Picturing Wyatt’s surprise—his eyes widening, perhaps a dawning recognition. Envisioning his heated gaze, the one that had haunted many of her dreams since that night.

  Another flare of heat fired in her veins and made her breasts tingle and tighten. Something was seriously wrong with her that she wanted to arouse a man to whom she meant nothing. To whom she’d never be more than a temporary sex partner. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  “Em, you okay?” Andy called from the top step. “You look like you might faint.”

  Get it together. “I’m fine. Need to make a call, actually.”

  She scampered past him, down the steps to her mother’s office, and closed the door.

  Sitting at the desk, she pressed her forehead to the desktop and then gently banged it three times. Cripes. Alexa daydreams like that would be her undoing.

  Chapter Five

  Wyatt watched Emma light the candles on the dining table where he’d been meeting with Trip for the past fifteen minutes. The soft light flickered, reflecting in her pretty green eyes—eyes that refused to acknowledge his presence.

  Her understated prettiness had snuck up on him today. Not a shock, considering she did nothing to draw attention to herself. But the more he saw her, the more he noticed how she glowed from within. He’d heard that sentimental gibberish before but had never seen it for himself. It had always sounded odd, but witnessing it affected him. Moved him somehow, even when Emma irritated him—like now, when she was ignoring him.

  He watched her until she disappeared into the kitchen, then resumed his conversation with Trip.

  “I’d like to get out there tomorrow, but Avery ordered me to take at least a day to rest the knee.” Wyatt settled his elbows on the dining table. The avalanche had rocked him, but Trip’s expertise was helping to restore his confidence. “I should probably listen.”

  Trip leaned all six feet three inches of his powerful body back in his chair and crossed his ankles. “Avery’s conservative. She’s got her fiancé—my partner—chompin’ at the bit, too. Of course, I did bully him into going out-of-bounds for a quick run a couple of weeks ago.” Trip winked above a broad smile, then held a finger up to his lips. “But you need to be tip-top for competition, so listen to Avery. She and I butt heads, but she knows what she’s doing.”

  Wyatt imagined Trip butted heads with lots of folks. His big personality even eclipsed the size of his body, which meant he’d be the kind of guy people loved or hated. Wyatt liked his irreverence.

  “Once I’m set, where do you recommend going?” Wyatt’s gaze roamed the map that Trip had laid across the dining table.

  Trip tipped back his Stetson and leaned forward again. “Day after tomorrow, we’ll head up over here. Nice chutes and obstacles, but not as steep of a pitch. I’ll teach you some quick tips for reading the terrain and testing the snow conditions to get a better sense for avalanche danger. We can focus around there as sort of a warm-up for the next week or so, and then shift over here,” Trip’s finger traversed the map, “to the backside of The Cirque. This here’s about as good as you’re gonna get around these parts. Steep, big cliffs, treed areas. Good practice for the qualifiers in January. If you can handle these, you can handle any gnarly conditions in competition.”

  The sound of Emma’s muffled laughter from the other room made Wyatt look toward the kitchen door. He hadn’t seen or heard her hearty laugh since he’d arrived, and now wondered how her face might light up even more when amused. When he considered that Andy was probably in there seeing that side of her, envy ripped through him. He scowled then, remembering why he was here at this inn, which had nothing to do with Emma.

  Feeling the weight of Trip’s curiosity, he glanced back at the man. “You’re cool with being filmed, right?”

  Trip’s speculative gaze shifted to something mischievous.

  “Just so long as you don’t get jealous when I steal the show,” Trip chuckled. “Is the director here?”

  “Mari’s always nearby, like a shadow. She’s got these spy cameras all around, too. The only camera-free zones are Emma’s kitchen, the office, and the guest rooms.” Wyatt gestured to the small camera in the corner of the dining room. “She’s paranoid she’s going to ‘miss’ something, though it looks like that one’s not running now.”

  “A woman?” Trip flicked his wrist and grinned. “Putty in my hands by day two.”

  “I thought you were engaged.”

  “I am. Happily so. But that status only seems to make me more attractive to other women. Go figure.” Trip shifted in his seat. “Point is, we’ll get Mari to lighten up.”

  “The key is to make her tell this story in a positive light. I need that. My family needs that, especially after today’s screwup. I don’t want this film to turn into sensationalist crap.”

  A sincere expression replaced Trip’s playful demeanor. “Wyatt, you can count on me to make you look good.”

  “Thanks.” Wyatt had to credit Emma for her good idea to involve Trip in his training. Comp
etent, reserved, calm-in-the-eye-of-the-storm Emma.

  She breezed into the dining room for the third time since he’d been sitting there, this time to dig around the buffet cabinet for some platters. As usual, she did her work efficiently without sparing Wyatt a glance. Whatever he’d thought had softened between them earlier this afternoon in his room must’ve been wishful thinking on his part, despite the fact he could still feel her pulse beating beneath his thumb from when he’d grabbed her thin wrist.

  His heightened curiosity about her changed nothing—she still regarded him with no more affection than she did any chair in this room.

  He racked his brain trying to think of what he’d done or said since arriving that had turned her off. Sure, he’d teased her and sneaked up on her in the pantry, which she hadn’t liked much. But given that her attitude had been clear from the moment he’d first stepped into the lobby, he suspected his reputation had preceded him. She’d written him off as an immature, selfish skirt chaser—one she apparently thought didn’t care much for his brother’s well-being. Besides, a woman like her probably preferred an intellectual guy. A gentle one, too, which Wyatt definitely was not.

  Gentleness hadn’t factored into his life much, so he had no real road map for it. His response to the poverty and sometimes-violent years of his youth was to toughen up, unapologetically go after what he wanted, control what he could, and always try to win. It had worked well for him, although not so much for his brother.

  “Smells good, Em. Reminds me of the old days, when I’d sneak out of the guest rooms before sunrise.” Trip cast Emma a baiting look. “Your cookin’ makes me all kinds of nostalgic.”

  “I’d say I miss those days, but that’d be a lie,” she volleyed with a smile.

  “Bet your guests miss them . . . a lot.”

  “Funny, haven’t heard a sniffle or complaint, unlike when you were around. All those poor victims.” She shook her head, proving Wyatt’s theory about her opinion of casual sex. “You’re lucky Kelsey is okay with your past.”

  “Darlin’, she’s more than okay with it.” A glint crossed Trip’s green eyes. “She benefits from my expertise.”

  Emma groaned. “Judging from how many women you needed for practice, you were a really slow learner.”

  Wyatt laughed at the comeback, a little surprised she had it in her. Sarcasm went against her nurturer vibe. Trip chuckled, too, proving that his bragging was all in jest. Perhaps that’s why Emma liked him despite his behavior.

  Wyatt’s gaze followed Emma until she disappeared into the kitchen, at which point Trip snapped his fingers. “You got a little crush on Emma?”

  “No!” Wyatt scowled, knowing he’d answered way too defensively.

  “Every time she comes in the room, your attention cuts out.” Trip grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Emma Duffy,” he quietly mused. “This oughta be interesting.”

  “Trust me, there’s nothing happening there. I’ve got to stay focused.” The fact that he’d been unable to maintain that focus whenever he caught sight of her fiery hair or Grade-A ass was a secret he’d rather not discuss.

  “Oh, well, then you’re all set, ’cause no man has ever lost his focus over a woman.” Trip raised a brow.

  Okay, so maybe not exactly a secret. Given Trip’s friendship with Emma, perhaps he could help Wyatt discover why she treated him so coolly. “Doesn’t matter, ’cause she doesn’t seem too interested in men.”

  Trip remained thoughtful for a few seconds then he leaned nearer to Wyatt, his playful expression gone. “Emma’s quiet, but tough. She’s a good girl, in every sense of the word. Not sure exactly why she doesn’t have a boyfriend. But know this—when she does, Grey and I will make damn sure she doesn’t get hurt.” Trip maintained a pleasant grin, but the steel in his words conveyed the unspoken message—don’t fuck with Emma’s heart.

  “What’s her story?” The words popped out of Wyatt’s mouth before he could help himself.

  “Her story?”

  “Yeah, like, were she and Andy ever a couple?”

  Trip’s brows rose before his face scrunched in dismay. “Doubtful. They’ve known each other their whole lives. Emma helped him out when he lost his job last winter, but as far as I know, they’re just friends—no benefits.”

  Wyatt nodded, but his expression must’ve tipped off his relief.

  Trip’s lips quirked into a knowing smile. “Deny it all you want, but fifty bucks says you don’t make it through the month without making a move. Fifty more says you fail.”

  “First you warn me off, then you dare me with a bet?”

  “Pay attention, Wyatt. To win the bets, you’ll have to keep your distance.”

  “The second bet sounds more like a challenge, like you want me to try,” Wyatt said. Of course, to Wyatt, most things sounded like a challenge. “Either way, it’s a shitty bet for me. Even if I win the second part, I lose the first.”

  “If you’re any kind of man, you’ll win what matters most. Now, much as I’d love to stay here and chitchat about romance, I’ve got to get home.”

  “Thanks for working with me.”

  “Hell, man, I get to hang out on the mountain with Wyatt fuckin’ Lawson. I should be thanking you.”

  “We’ll see how you feel next week.” Any kind of hero worship made Wyatt uncomfortable. Being held up so high only meant the inevitable fall hurt more. And since Ryder’s accident, he’d felt anything but heroic.

  Trip lightly punched Wyatt’s shoulder before walking away. “Tell Em I said ’bye.”

  Wyatt sat alone in the blessed quiet, happy to have a few minutes without Mari, the crew, and Ryder hovering. ’Course it only took about thirty seconds for boredom to set in, so he went to the kitchen to thank Emma for hooking him up with Trip.

  “Homemade tortillas?” He pointed at the press and the fresh shells piled on a platter.

  “No preservatives.” She spoke without looking at him. Apparently the avocado she’d sliced open and was now dicing into a large bowl was far more interesting.

  Her deft fingers worked quickly, neatly emptying the avocados without the fleshy insides getting smashed. What kinds of magic could those fingers work on his body? The mere thought strung tension through his muscles, as if his body had braced for an onslaught of sensation.

  “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” She glanced at him, for a change. “Are you going to work with Trip?”

  “Yes. Thanks for the suggestion. He’s knowledgeable and funny.”

  “Funny? That’s one word for him, I suppose.” The dry delivery belied her little smile. Emma may not have a boyfriend, but she obviously had a tight group of friends and a lot of respect in the community. A kindhearted, trustworthy woman—something he hadn’t come across too often in his adult life. It made Emma appealing in yet another new way.

  He imagined she’d offer her man shelter from every kind of storm. Wyatt had never, ever known that kind of security. He experienced, then, a stark moment of deep yearning for her to unlock the doors and let him in. If only he could find the key.

  “Avery grounded me tomorrow,” he ventured. “Got any other suggestions for ways to keep occupied after yoga?”

  Emma paused, looking uncomfortable. “If she wants you to rest, I’m happy to get you a book from the library. Or maybe you have Netflix?”

  Okay, so she obviously had no interest in being his chaperone for the day. He wouldn’t push. He still had tomorrow, after all. “How about something Ryder and I can do together? Any particular sights we should see in town?”

  Sighing, Emma wiped her hands on a nearby dishrag. “Actually, I’m pretty sure Ryder’s coming with me tomorrow to Canyon Care Center.”

  “What?” What was going on with those two?

  “I volunteer there every Monday and Ryder’s thinking of joining me tomorrow. Standard stuff—bingo, manicures, cards. Anyway, that means you’ll have plenty of peace and quiet around here.”

  She’d made plans with Ry
der behind his back? Irritation and envy caused him to step closer. Close enough to see her pulse throbbing at the base of her neck. Did he frighten her, and if so, why? Or maybe her standoffishness was an act—a form of self-protection. Maybe his nearness affected her as completely and irrationally as hers affected him. Maybe he had a shot. Damn, Trip just might win one of those bets. “Do I seem like a guy who enjoys peace and quiet?”

  She licked her lips and backed up. He wanted to see her lick her lips again, because he could almost feel her tongue on his neck. The imagined moment pooled blood in his lower half. “Well, you don’t look like a guy who wants to hang out with old people.”

  “But Ryder does?” Wyatt set one hand on the counter and closed the gap she’d created. He liked the way she got hot and flustered when he drew near. Those fair cheeks of hers gave everything away every time they pinked up. He had a shot. His heart knocked a little harder in his chest.

  She suddenly turned pensive, looking toward the window above the sink. He could smell her light perfume despite the aroma of onion and cilantro coming from the bowl in front of her. “Ryder looks like someone who wants to feel needed. The elderly residents at the home can fulfill that longing.”

  In that moment, he recognized that she, too, longed to be needed—a need he could fulfill if she’d let him.

  “Everyone likes to feel needed, Emma.” He edged closer still, forcing her to meet his gaze. He dropped his voice to a low murmur, hoping it would sharpen her desire to match his. “Even someone like me.”

  A delicious tension wound its way through his limbs, and he suspected she’d been caught in its trap, too. Her head tipped back and her green eyes took on a fathomless quality, but before she could answer, Ryder thumped into the kitchen and broke the spell.

  “Mari’s out here.” He glanced at Wyatt. “Wants you to do a voice-over for the c-clip she’s putting up on YouTube tonight. Also wants to know if dinner will be on time.”