by Jennie Marts
“That does sound cool. Tell me about your business.”
“Like I said, it’s all computer related. But it’s fun stuff. At least to us. We’re working on a new project now—a new game. That’s the main thing we do—we design and create video games.”
She groaned.
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong? You don’t like video games?”
“It’s not that. Honestly, I’ve never even played one. But I feel like they are the bane of my existence.”
“Why?”
“You met my son earlier? The sulky twelve-year-old?”
He nodded.
“He didn’t used to be like that. He used to be a sweet loving boy that wanted to hang out with me. Heck, he even liked to talk to me. Now, I barely recognize him. And I barely see him. He’s always in his room, on his computer or that dang gaming system. That’s all he wants to do. Ever. Play those stupid games.”
He winced.
“Sorry. No offense.”
“None taken. I understand. They are quite addicting.” He shrugged. “It’s good for our business, but evidently not so good for moms of teenage boys.”
“I just don’t get the appeal.”
“Have you ever tried to play one?”
“No. I run this place practically by myself. I don’t have time to spend on the computer, shooting aliens or stealing cars or whatever it is that happens in those games.” This conversation had taken a wrong turn. She needed to change the subject and quit insulting his livelihood. “So, you said you were working on a new game. What’s it about?”
“No aliens or car theft, I’m afraid. Most of our games are adventure-based. Our most popular series is called Masters of Misfortune and features the Fortune family. Victor, Gemma, and Theodore Fortune are siblings that travel through time, searching for ancient artifacts and amassing wealth. Each one is set in a different place and time period. Players have to complete missions or solve puzzles or fight off enemies to get to the ultimate goal. For instance, in one of our games, you traverse through a dangerous jungle in order to find a hidden treasure in a lost Mayan city. It’s obviously more complicated than that, but that’s the general idea.”
“That actually sounds kind of fun.”
“It is, I hope. Or at least, millions of gamers seem to think so.”
Millions? She swallowed. Maybe she should have charged these guys more.
“What’s the adventure of the new game?”
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Dang, but he had great lips. “This one is finding a buried treasure, too, but it’s set back in the Old West. The Fortunes head back in time to the Wild West and search for a map that leads to a lost silver mine. One of the coolest things about what we do is that before we come up with a game, we always take a trip to wherever we’re setting it. So, for our last game, we spent a week in the jungles of Peru, and a few weeks traveling around Europe touring ancient catacombs and mausoleums. Our second game was a pirate adventure. That one was a little harder to research. We couldn’t exactly book passage on a pirate ship.”
“No, I guess not.”
“But we did find a guy down in Jamaica who let us spend a few days on his schooner. I’m not going to tell you that I got horribly seasick, but let’s just say, that was an experience I don’t need to have again.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. Have you ever been on a big ship?”
She thought of the small row boat that her dad used to take out on the lake. “No. But I’ve been on a small boat. And I’ve rafted the Arkansas River. We’re pretty land-locked here in Colorado. I’ve actually only seen the ocean once.”
“Once? Really?”
“Really. Being a single mom and helping my dad with the ranch hasn’t allowed me a lot of time for world travel.”
“No, I guess not. I live in California, so I see the ocean every day. But I don’t often get to see mountains like these.” He stopped on the steps of the lodge and gestured to the scenery around them. “You don’t need to travel when you get to live in a place like this.”
She appreciated his sincerity. She loved the mountains. They were part of her soul—they were home.
“That’s why we like to visit the places we’re trying to create. So we can really get a sense of how they feel and smell and taste.” His gaze fell to her lips when he said the word “taste,” and a surge of heat swirled in her stomach.
She licked her lips, imagining for just a moment what his lips would taste like against hers. Then she caught herself. This was business, nothing more.
“Well, this place can feel dusty and gritty and can alternately smell like horses, pine trees, and cow manure. I don’t know how you’d translate that into a video game.”
“Thank goodness they haven’t invented smell-o-vision,” he said with a grimace.
She laughed. He still made her smile.
“It’s the little nuances that help us bring the games to life. We really want an authentic western feel to this one, so Brandon suggested we come out here to research the idea, even though none of us have ever been to Colorado or have any experience with horses or cows.”
“How about a bat?”
He chuckled. “Or a bat.”
“I had no idea you’d never been to Colorado. I feel awful that you were welcomed by a critter flying around your room.”
“Don’t. Now that it’s over, I think it’s pretty cool. I can’t wait to tell the guys about it. Although I may embellish my efforts a bit.”
She grinned. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“I think I’ll use it, too. We can have the Fortunes get off the stagecoach and their first mission will be to fight off the rabid bat that’s inhabiting their room at the saloon.”
Her grin widened. “I like it.” She led him through the lobby of the lodge, imagining how it looked through his eyes.
The dining room was off to the right. They served meals family-style at round oak tables with barrel-backed chairs, and a mason jar filled with fresh wild flowers sat in the center of each one. The flowers seemed cheery to her, but maybe the room seemed antiquated and dull to him.
The main room had a lofted ceiling, and a huge stone fireplace took over the back wall, the stonework rising all the way up. Plump leather couches and chairs surrounded the fireplace, grouped to encourage conversation.
Baskets of cinnamon pine cones sat on either side of the fireplace grate, their scent filling the room.
It was cozy, tempting a person to come in and sit a spell. She loved it. It was home to her. She’d grown up here, and memories of spending time with her father filled every room.
She usually showed off the lodge with a sense of pride, even bragging about the few celebrities who had hung their hats there. So why was she suddenly worried that some cute guy from California might judge it?
She snuck a glance at Adam.
He seemed to be looking around the room in wonder, a look of genuine delight on his face. He didn’t appear to be judging it at all.
“What do you think? Of the lodge, I mean.”
“I think it’s awesome.” He grinned at her, his expression similar to one of a kid in a candy store. “It’s so authentic. And it smells amazing—like cinnamon and leather. This place is really cool.”
A grin tugged at the corner of her lips. “Yeah, it is.”
“Did your dad really build all of this for your mom?”
Her smile fell. “Yeah, he did. But she didn’t appreciate it. They met when they were nineteen, and she was out here visiting her cousins for the summer. She was from the east coast and even though she thought she loved my dad, she didn’t really take to country life.” She shrugged. “Or family life. I guess she couldn’t handle being up here alone, so she took off and left us when I was still in grade school. After that, it was just me and my dad.”
“That must have been rough.”
“It was.” She shrugged. “But you can’t change your past. You can only try to make the future better.
And I’m sure my mother’s leaving has influenced the kind of mom that I am. I’m probably a little too overprotective, but I’m also really committed to being around for my son. Even though I think Cody sometimes wishes I wouldn’t.”
“I think all kids pull away a little as they hit the teenage years.”
“Yeah, probably. It’s still hard. He’s always looked up to me, and now he seems to think everything I say is dumb. He constantly reminds me that I have no idea what it’s like growing up these days. As if I was never a teenager myself. And he hasn’t even turned thirteen yet. I don’t know how we’re going to get through the next five years.”
“You’ll make it. Just the fact that you’re worried about it tells me that you’re a good mom.”
“Thank you. I needed to hear that.” Even if the guy barely knew her, it still helped to have someone, anyone, telling her she was doing a good job. She offered him a grateful smile.
They stopped at the reception desk, and she pulled a ring of keys from her pocket, selecting one to unlock a wooden box behind the counter. She took a key from the box then relocked it. “I’ll put you in Room Four. It’s on the main level, right down the hall from my living quarters.”
Why did she just tell him that? She mentally shook her head. She definitely needed to get out more.
“You live here? In the lodge?”
“Yeah. My dad had a small apartment built onto one side of the building when I moved home with Cody. It’s got its own kitchen and a couple of bedrooms. It makes it easier to take care of the guests since the lodge is the central building.”
She led him down the hall to his room, unlocked the door, and then handed him the key. “I’ll let you get settled. I wasn’t expecting anyone to stay in this room, so I’ll bring down some fresh towels and amenities when I get a chance.”
He dropped his bag on the bed. “This is great.”
She crossed the room and poked her head into the bathroom, then turned back to him with a grin. “All clear. No bats, snakes, or pesky varmints of any kind.”
He chuckled. “Good to know.”
“I’ll let you relax. Don’t forget, dinner’s at six. We’re serving fried chicken tonight, so you don’t want to miss that.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
…
Adam sank onto the bed after Skye left.
Nope, wouldn’t want to miss fried chicken night. Hopefully someone might bring out a banjo, and they could all have a sing-a-long after supper.
What had he gotten himself into?
At least the room in the lodge was nice and the bed seemed comfortable. Besides the queen-size bed, the room held a desk, a TV stand, and a brown overstuffed recliner tucked into the corner. The western touches were everywhere, from the Mason jar candles to the bedside lamp shaped like a bear.
If nothing else, he was getting plenty of material for the game. He’d have to take some notes later on some of his first impressions of the ranch, and give some thought as to how he could incorporate them into the game.
But his first impressions of Skye, he was keeping to himself. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that was so intriguing about her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her—the way her hair smelled, the light splattering of freckles across her pert nose, the heat of her breath against his cheek, the way she looked up at him, her brown eyes soft and her lips slightly parted.
And the fact that he’d been tempted to lean down and kiss her.
What the hell was that all about? He did not do things like that. He was a planner. An engineer. He did things in a certain order, things that made sense.
And kissing Skye Hawkins didn’t make any kind of sense at all.
Besides, she probably would have slapped him.
He didn’t even know her.
Yet, he had this odd sense that he did. At least, they’d connected. Connected in that way that sometimes happens when you meet someone and instantly like them, knowing that you could easily be friends.
Except he didn’t want to be friends with Skye. Well, not just friends.
Not unless their friendship allowed him to toss her onto the bed and strip her out of those tight-fitting jeans. Something he could not stop thinking about doing.
This woman was making him crazy.
He needed to focus on something else. Like how much his damn feet were killing him. And how much he wanted to get these stupid boots off.
Leaning down, he grabbed the heel of one boot and tried to pull his foot free.
The damn thing was stuck.
Shit. Now he’d have to wear these asinine boots the whole time he was here.
He pulled again, letting out a curse as a knock sounded at the door.
His heart raced. Damn, he had it bad for this girl. She’d only been gone for ten minutes, and he was already hoping it was her.
He wondered if it would be bad form to ask her to help him get these damn boots off.
“Come on in,” he called.
A key jiggled in the lock, and the door swung open. But instead of Skye’s smiling face, it was her broody preteen son who appeared. His arms were laden with fresh white towels and a stack of amenities.
“I brought you some towels,” the kid mumbled. “Where do you want ’em?”
“You can put them on the bed.” Adam suddenly had an idea. He nodded at his boot-encased foot. “Got any tips on how to get these off?”
A smirk crossed the boy’s face. “Not by yanking on them. There should be a boot jack in the closet.” He dropped the towels on the bed, crossed to the closet, and opened the door. Bending down, he grabbed a triangle-shaped device and handed it to Adam. “Here. Put your heel in the U-shaped part, then step on the back and pull your foot free. The jack holds the boot.”
Adam dropped the device to the floor and followed the kid’s instructions. In seconds, he was able to pull his foot out. He quickly did the other boot, then dropped down into the recliner and rubbed his sore arches.
“Thanks. It’s Cody, right?”
The boy nodded.
“Thanks, Cody. I owe you, man.”
“No problem. Where’d you get those boots anyway?”
“From some snake oil salesman in California,” he muttered. The boy offered him an odd look, and Adam shrugged. “Some guy who saw a sucker walk into his store. He told me they were what everyone wore here in Colorado.”
The kid looked down at the gray snakeskin-covered boots, then at his own square-toed leather ones. “I’ve never seen anyone wear anything like that.”
Adam laughed. “Yeah, me neither. And now I’m stuck. I paid a hundred bucks for those stupid things, but I’d pay two hundred for a pair like yours, ones that were comfortable and didn’t hurt like hell to walk in.”
The boy cocked an eyebrow at him. “Two hundred bucks?”
Adam nodded.
“What size do you wear?”
“An eleven.”
The boy stared at him for a few seconds, as if sizing him up, then crossed the room to the door. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then disappeared, leaving the door open a slight crack.
Chapter Four
Adam could hear the boy’s boot heels hurrying down the hallway. He leaned back in the seat, stretching his legs out in front of him and flexing his toes.
Dropping his head back against the chair, he closed his eyes.
The door banged open a few minutes later, and Adam jolted at the sound. Blinking his eyes, he shook his head, trying to get his bearings. He must have actually fallen asleep.
This day had worn him out.
The kid barged in and dropped a large tan shoebox on the bed. The name “Justin” was printed on the side. Cody popped off the top and dug through the layer of tissue paper, then pulled a brown leather boot out.
The boot had a flat heel and the same square-toed design as the ones that Cody wore. The kid held the boot out. “These should feel much better.”
Adam reached out to take the boo
t, but the boy pulled it back.
“You said something about two hundred dollars.”
Adam chuckled. “Yes, I did.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and freed two hundred dollar bills, then pitched them on the bed.
Cody tossed him the boot and pocketed the bills.
He ran his hand over the smooth leather. He could already tell these boots were going to be better. They even smelled different. Like real leather.
He pulled up his sock then stuffed his foot down into the boot, expecting the same harsh fit, but his foot slid easily into the boot. He sighed in relief.
He held out his hand for the other one. Cody passed it to him, and he put it on, then stood and walked back and forth across the room.
The boots fit perfectly. He offered Cody a thankful grin. “Thanks, kid. These are awesome. Well worth the price.”
“You should just get rid of those other ones. Unless you like people making fun of you.”
Adam laughed. This kid had some jokes. “I’ll do that. Thanks again. I owe you one.”
“No problem.” He pointed to the sticker that cut diagonally across Adam’s bag. “Why do you have that sticker?”
He’d ripped the side of his bag as he was trying to walk out the door that morning. Too late to change bags, he’d grabbed a Masters of Misfortune sticker from a stack of marketing material on his counter and slapped it across the tear. He figured it would hold long enough to keep the rip from getting bigger as the bag traveled through the airport.
“It’s covering a hole in my bag. You familiar with the game?”
The kid let out a sarcastic laugh. “Uh, yeah. Everybody is.”
“You play?”
“All the time. It’s like my favorite game.”
“Which version?”
He tilted his head to the side. “Um, all of them really. But I guess I probably like the pirate one the best.”