On the Edge (Blue Spruce Lodge Book 1)

by Dani Collins

  She shook her head. “If you want to call me when you happen to be in town next—”

  He let out a bark of laughter and turned to cover the potatoes with water. “That really would set us up for failure. No,” he said firmly, setting the pot on the stovetop with a punctuating clunk. “I was really disappointed when you stopped answering my texts. I thought we had something, Pandora.”

  “We might have, but…” She waved a helpless hand over the bundle in her arm.

  “Not the way I thought things would go, either. I never once pictured myself playing Joseph to some rock god’s baby.”

  “Oh, don’t give him that much credit. Your garage band probably had more talent,” she muttered.

  “But Nick is so far from being a deal-breaker.”

  “No, he is the deal. Your brother had a baby so you feel like you—”

  “That is not why I want to keep seeing you.” He sounded so firm on that, but she couldn’t let herself believe him. “I came to Tahoe last night because I wanted to see you.”

  “Yesterday. Now you want us to move in together and play picket-fence family? Brock, this is crazy talk.”

  He pinched his mouth into a tight line. With a curt move, he said, “Let’s table it for now. I don’t want to ruin a really good day. But I’m staying here.” He pointed at the floor, voice so firm she felt it like a force that cemented his presence in the tiny apartment. “Because I want to be sure you and Nick are okay. I need to know that. It’s not about promising doctors or having nowhere else to go. Got it?”

  *

  Glory was frustrated, trying to figure out how to end the book, but things were a constant madhouse at the lodge and the rest of her time was filled with Rolf.

  He continued to take her apart and leave her dismantled. She had almost told him three times about the book. She had even come ‘this close’ to telling Ilke as the blonde had gazed on Glory’s shrine to her mother.

  “I’ve read all of these. More than once,” Ilke bemoaned. “It really is a tragedy she’s gone.”

  For that sincere comment, Glory had very nearly handed over her unfinished manuscript. Ilke had gone away mollified by a signed copy of one of her favorite titles from the stockpile Glory’s mother had autographed in the months before her death.

  Glory was feeling caught in such a catch twenty-two. On the one hand, she was bursting with pride and excitement. The moment she thought of telling anyone, however, such angst and insecurity came over her, her entire being clammed up.

  She couldn’t sit on the secret forever, though. Not when her father had given Devon the okay to bring in a fresh crew to work on the staff quarters. They looked like a basketball team, all six-foot-something, muscled and lanky. The young men nudged and jostled, talking trash while knocking together forms for the foundation against a soundtrack of hip-hop and rap.

  Glory was out there counting safety vests and conferring with Devon to make sure they had enough first aid tickets and insurance for everyone on site when a crappy hatchback pulled into the parking lot. It was so rusty, she couldn’t say for sure it was blue. The windows were open, the radio blasting a reggae beat. It skidded into the spot next to Glory’s car, kicking up dust and making her own piece of shit look like a Cadillac by comparison.

  Eden got out and slammed the door. She lifted her gaze to take in the lodge, the mountains, then turned her head to where Glory and Devon stood next to the hive of activity. She lifted a hand in greeting.

  Glory finished up with Devon and met Eden halfway. As she got closer, she noticed her lack of makeup. Dark shadows of sleeplessness made her eyes look deeply inset. The corners of her mouth were weighted.

  Glory’s heart stopped. “What’s wrong?” Please not Suzanne.

  “Nothing. I just needed a drive. Thought I’d come see what all the buzz is about.” She sounded tired.

  Glory let out a breath, but had a feeling it was a stay of execution at best. “We get a dozen people a day coming up here, looking for the ten-cent tour. I should charge at least that, right? Might be able to keep the lights on with that alone.”

  Eden dug into her pocket and only came up with a bobby pin that had a ceramic daisy on it. “Not even mine. Belongs to Zuzu.” Her phone rang, dragging her hand to her back pocket. She glanced at the screen, then clicked to ignore and returned the phone to her pocket. “Fucking asshole.”

  “Ah. Man trouble.” Glory walked with her around to the front parking lot.

  “More trouble than man, and not in a good way.” Eden sighed, then paused to take in the arched doorway of the front entrance.

  The yellow glass was dated, yes, but once cleaned up and repaired, it had a quaint and reassuring glow to it. Glory had become rather fond of it.

  “Coffee?” Glory offered as they entered the lobby and the aroma of espresso hung in the air.

  “Kind of a conscientious objector, given my current vocation. Fuck, people are horrible. No offense.”

  Glory laughed big at that one. “I didn’t drink coffee for three years after my first foray into that line of work. I hate dealing with the public. Which is why, of course, I would want to run a lodge, where customer expectations go far beyond a desire for non-fat milk.”

  “I knew this was where the bad-decisions club meets.”

  “Probably should meet more often in a better location, but I’ll let the rest of the joke write itself.”

  Eden grinned, already distracted by the refurbished lobby.

  “It’s so weird to see it coming back to life like this.” She wandered through open archway where broken French doors had once bracketed the fireplace, then went through the lounge onto the deck where she gazed across the pond.

  “Did you come here as a kid, when it was operating as a ski lodge?”

  “I did. We had school trips out here, learning to ski as part of gym class. Weird, huh? And…” She made a face as she leaned her elbows on the rail, looking up, up, up, then across to the corner where Glory’s room was situated. “We came up here to party in high school. I became a woman in room three-ten.”

  “I hope you mean you got your period because that’s my room.”

  “Sure.” Eden scratched the tip of her nose and turned back to the pond. She was trying so hard to act nonchalant and lighthearted, but Glory could feel the pain coming off of her in waves.

  Folding her arms on the rail, so they were elbow to elbow, both facing the backdrop of nature that recovered itself no matter what mankind threw at it, Glory gathered her courage.

  “I like your mom. A lot. I haven’t been able to bring myself to ask what’s going on with her health because—”

  “Your mom. I know. I saw it on your website.” Eden dropped the mask and let all her agony and helplessness dig into her features, ruthless and unforgiving as it was. Her voice cracked. “That’s why I’m here. I don’t know what to do.”

  Glory nodded slowly, feeling the tears way in the backs of her eyes where they sat in a giant well, always there. Always and forever. They weren’t helpful, those hapless, endless tears. Just there.

  “I don’t know either,” she said heavily. “And I’m sorry, but I’m not the hugging type, full of platitudes and wisdom. I’m the pour a big glass of wine and wallow in self-pity type.”

  “Please can we do that?” Eden sounded like her niece.

  “Hell, yes, we can. Red or white?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Chapter Twenty

  They snuck around like teenagers, stealing into her father’s room to liberate a few bottles of Cab Sauv from the ‘good’ box at the back of his closet and spiriting them up the back stairs to Glory’s room.

  “This is worth three hundred dollars. Act like you can tell, okay?” Glory popped the cork and poured a tiny splash of the rich, ruby liquid. Cherry, anise, and vanilla filled her nostrils as she swirled, then a stab of black pepper nipped her tongue before bathing her palate in earthy flavors of oak and chocolate, finishing with a taste of berry jam and a fragrant hin
t of violets.

  “Oh, my gawd,” Eden groaned without sarcasm when she took her first sip. She sank into the chair and Glory made herself comfortable against the headboard on the bed. “Did you actually pay for this? Why are you wasting it on me?”

  “It was Mom’s. She used to drink it when she made the New York Times list.”

  “What was that like? Having a famous mom?”

  They started to talk. They talked about everything. Treatment and options and what made them good daughters and where they fell short and felt shitty about themselves. They talked about their fathers and mortality and how mad they were at the god neither of them fully believed in. They teared up with powerlessness and tried to be philosophical and grateful and concluded that life was a fucking joke, handing out raw deals no matter how hard you tried.

  “At least you’ve done something with your life, before coming here. Back here. This is me branching out from my sheltered existence,” Glory said with a wave of her glass around the room.

  “Are you guys going to be able to make a go of this? Because it was all Mom could do to keep a fucking coffee shop open. The town needs an industry like this so bad, but no one else was willing to touch this place. Except the Bascos, but they only wanted to develop it for real estate. Like that was ever going to work. Who wants to live out here just because?”

  “Me, apparently,” Glory muttered, rising to open the second bottle. “This is such a bad idea. I’m going to wind up with bed spins, if not worse. You’re staying the night, right? You can’t drive.”

  “Sure, but how much are the rooms?”

  “Don’t be silly. Sleep there.” She pointed at her bed.

  “No, I can pay. I was just curious.”

  “All the beds are reserved for crew right now, but I’ll be across the hall with Rolf, so…” She twisted the corkscrew in, thinking he was probably looking for her since it was coming up to dinner hour. She should check her phone.

  “Shut the front door!” Eden seemed impressed as Glory came toward her with the fresh bottle. “You sleep with that man-of-war? Since when? What’s he like, anyway? Does he even smile?”

  “Once. When Murphy peed on Trigg’s leg. More of a smirk. I think he said, ‘Good dog,’ but it was in German, so I’m not sure.” She topped up both glasses and settled back onto her bed. “When? A few weeks ago. Couldn’t tell you how or why.” She tilted her head back to eye the ceiling. “I’m really drunk. I can’t believe I’m telling you this.”

  “We’re soul sisters.”

  “You have a real sister. Why aren’t you getting drunk with her?”

  “Angel and devil. I love her, but she’s so fucking superior. So good with her perfect husband and perfect life. Dex is not that fucking perfect, between you and me.” She rolled her eyes, made a face. “I’m drunk, too, or I wouldn’t be starting rumors about my sister’s husband. I just get really sick and tired of her making all the right decisions and never forgiving me for leaving town because I could. She chose to get married out of high school and move with Dex to Butte. She chose to get pregnant before finishing massage school. But she resents me for, you know, doing what you said. Having a life. Apparently, I should have settled, the way she did.”

  “I’m writing a book.” Glory didn’t know it was coming out until it did.

  Eden lifted her brows at the switch of topic. “Cool.”

  “No. It’s not. It’s maybe fraud or misrepresentation or something. My dad needs the money for this place, but I’ve maxed out Mom’s backlist. She needs a new release to energize things. So I wrote a book. Most of a book. Is that wrong? To publish it under her name? I don’t know what to do. I was going to rewrite this other thing she had, where it was at least her own idea, but I couldn’t get excited about it. So I wrote something from scratch. My own story. And now I don’t know what to do.” She took a big gulp that paid no respect to the quality of the wine. “I’m super drunk. I shouldn’t have told you that. I haven’t told anyone. It’s like a crime or something, right? I’m gonna go throw up now.”

  “No, Glory. It’s fine. Totally in the vault.” Eden squinted at her. “But why would you do that? I mean, if it’s your work… I’ll give the money from a painting to my mom if she needs it, but I’m always going to sign my own name to it.”

  “No one is going to buy a book written by Gloria Cormer. They want a Kathleen.”

  “And you get nothing? That sounds like a dumb thing to do. And it’s a slippery slope, isn’t it? What happens next year? Another book? Do you just keep doing that to keep this place going? Can you?”

  Eden wasn’t saying anything Glory hadn’t thought in the dead of night, when her brain wasn’t occupied by other things, like how good Rolf’s naked thighs felt against her own.

  As if she’d conjured him, she heard the squeak in the hall floorboards right before he came in the way he always did, without a knock, just the door swinging inward as though this was his room, then him gathering up all the air with the swirling force of his personality.

  He came up short as he saw she had a visitor. He casually leaned his forearm into the doorjamb. “Hello.” His alert gaze hit Eden, Glory’s bare feet, their wineglasses, the bottles.

  “Eden is here,” Glory said. “We’re having a pajama party.”

  “With really expensive pajamas,” Eden said, tilting her glass. “Burgundy silk.”

  Glory held out her glass to him. He came across to sample it.

  “Nice,” he concluded, sipping again.

  “If you bring us food and your own glass, you can join us.”

  “I’ll bring food and water and suggest you pace yourselves.” He stole one more sip, nodding with appreciation, then returned the glass, holding her gaze in the way that turned her inside out. “But you look like you’re having fun, so I won’t intrude.”

  He didn’t even kiss her, but he left her shivering, mouth seeking the place his own had rested on the rim of her glass. She kept thinking about her dad warning her that romance novels weren’t real. In moments like this, though, when she felt all the feels, and he was so sexy he made her melt, she thought some of it was real. Maybe he wasn’t going to show up on a charger, shirtless and with the blood of her enemies on his hands, whisking her into his castle to fuck her blind, but maybe, when she really needed him, he would be there for her. And he did manage to screw her sightless without hardly trying.

  “Oh, baby,” Eden murmured as the door shut behind him. She licked her finger and pretended to press it on Glory. “Sssss.”

  *

  “I’m not an alcoholic,” Glory mumbled when she came into his room like a drunken bull into a china shop, knocking his small whiteboard off the wall by the door, snapping him awake. “Swear to God.”

  “This is the second time I’ve seen you have more than one.” He came up on an elbow as her shadow swayed toward him. “That doesn’t suggest to me you have a problem.” Except right now she was clearly pissed to the gills.

  “The family dinner.” She fought with her pullover and tried to open her jeans at the same time.

  “I drank way more than you that night, so it doesn’t count. Here. Sit before you fall.” He tugged her onto the edge of the mattress.

  She plopped down beside him. “The first day we met I was half-cut.”

  “You were?”

  “You thought that was my natural personality? No wonder you couldn’t stand me.” She stopped helping, melting heavily across his legs and letting him do all the work tugging sleeves and threading her top over her head. “I can’t have sex tonight. Not unless you want a dead starfish.”

  “I don’t know how I’ll resist that erotic image, but of course I respect your lack of consent. Leg up.” He grunted as he shoved her jeans down and off. “Sock. Other one.” She really was dead weight. He dragged her into place beside him and wrestled her under the covers. “Are you going to throw up?”

  “Probably. I wish you’d staged an intervention when you brought dinner. Thank you for
that, by the way.”

  “What was the occasion for this little party?”

  Her sigh held the weight of the world. “Suzanne has cancer. All of the treatment options they’re suggesting are palliative.”

  “And Eden came to you with that?” He didn’t think he approved of her anymore.

  “I really like Suzanne,” Glory said with a pang, snuggling deep into his chest. “I’m so sad for them, Rolf.” She sniffed.

  For them?

  He gathered her close, stroking his hands all over her as ripples of tension took her over. She began to shake with suppressed sobs. She wrapped her arm around him, the other bent in to his abdomen, buried her face against his chest and he felt her tears adhere her cheeks to his skin as she whimpered like a tortured animal.

  “I don’t want to cry about her anymore,” she choked at one point. “It hurts too much.”

  He had wanted this. Her heart open to him, but he ached every time she showed it to him. His throat hurt and his eyes were hot.

  “Last one.” He kissed the top of her head and petted the ripples of her hair. “Make it a good one.”

  She did. Crying and crying until his own heart threatened to break.

  When she finally quieted, she pressed a kiss to his chest, then his Adam’s apple. “Thank you,” she whispered, and her sigh held something like peace.

  They fell asleep cleaved together like two halves of a whole.

  *

  Trigg was supposed to be back today and Rolf wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he was glad. He and Nate were maxed out. There weren’t enough hours in the day and now the board had decided to fly in for a look-see. Of course, that meant some vandals had crept up here in the dead of night and pulled all their survey stakes.

  He’d missed lunch today, watching camera footage, but the guy had worn a hoodie, knew where the cameras were, had been on foot, and timed his trespass between security patrols. Rolf supposed he’d have to start paying guards to be out here every night, all night.

  He was so annoyed by that, and hungry, when Glory walked in with a foot-long sub in cling wrap, he almost turned into Trigg and flippantly asked her to marry him.