by Lori Ryan
“What’s up?” Maggie asked, pasting on a smile that she hoped said she had plenty of energy left to tackle whatever the problem was. She didn’t.
Denise propped a wide hip against the counter and crossed her arms across her expansive chest. “You might need to check on your new worker.”
Oh God, Maggie had completely forgotten she’d put Denise and her staff in charge of Ben.
She hadn’t meant to be a bitch, but he’d acted as if he knew everything about the lodge when in fact, he knew nothing. To put him in his place and help him learn the industry, Maggie had thought it best to have him shadow every department. Sure, she’d started him in housekeeping, which wasn’t the most generous of moves on her part, but really, what was the worst that could have happened? She knew what the worst was.
“What’s happened?” Maggie asked, trying to hide a grin.
“He nearly threw up.” She thrust out two fingers. “Twice.”
Maggie’s eyes went wide. She’d wanted to teach him a lesson, not make him sick. “Why?”
“He had to clean hair out of the drain in one of the rooms.” Denise chuckled, shaking her head. “That guy is a total pussy.” Denise’s mouth was ex-military, too. “Apparently Pretty Boy has an aversion to moldy clumps of hair.”
Maggie gagged and held up her hand. “Please, spare me.”
“The guy looks wiped,” Denise said. “I felt kind of sorry for him so I let Rhonda help him with his last three rooms.”
Maggie pressed her back against the wall, a trick she’d learned could reduce the aching, at least temporarily, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Do you think he learned his lesson?”
“What lesson is that? Not to cross Maggie Lawrence?” Denise chuckled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s ready to grovel.”
“I don’t want him to grovel.”
Denise rolled her eyes. “Of course, you don’t,” she said sarcastically.
“I want him to understand we’re not just a business on paper,” Maggie said. “He needs to know we’re more than figures in a column, more than profits and loss. We’re a team.” Maggie also planned to prove him wrong about the facts and figures too, but the cleaning lesson had seemed the better one to start with. The funnier one, anyway.
“A team that cleans toilets and unclogs drains?” Denise raised a brow.
She smiled. “If need be, yes.”
Denise pushed off the counter. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you, Maggie.”
“What’s that?” Maggie blew at a curly tendril stuck to her lashes.
“You don’t mind rolling up your sleeves and doing the dirty work.” Denise nodded toward the employee entrance. “But it looks like someone does.”
Maggie followed her gaze and sucked in a breath, biting her cheek to keep from laughing.
Standing just this side of the door stood Ben. Or a version of the former Ben. His wide eyes and pale complexion had her contemplating placing a bucket at his feet. She’d hate to make him scrub puke out of the carpet after the day he’d had.
Maggie scanned down his body. His shirt was untucked and wrinkled, covered in something she’d rather not know about. His sleeves were rolled up nearly to his shoulders as his arms dangled limply by his side. He looked…defeated.
“Oh, my gosh, he looks awful.” Maggie swallowed a laugh.
Ben spotted her and his face went from pasty white to fury red in an instant, masking his gorgeous face.
“I stand corrected,” Denise smirked.
Ben prowled toward them, his usually light brown eyes now dark with anger as he moved slowly, Maggie in his sights.
Maggie stood frozen to the spot, but Denise continued. “Looks like Pretty Boy was willing to roll up his sleeves and get dirty, after all.”
Ben stopped at the counter, hands held out as if he were about to grab the counter and tell Maggie what he thought of her strategy.
“Uh, uh, Pretty Boy,” Denise scolded, “don’t touch these counters until you’ve washed your hands. We’ve discussed housekeeping protocol.”
Ben thrust his hands in Denise’s face. “I’ve scoured them, trust me,” he snarled through gritted teeth. He narrowed his eyes and glared at Denise. “And for the last time, my name is Ben, not Pretty Boy.”
Denise didn’t seem at all worried that Ben was the owner’s son. “Whatever you say, Pretty Boy.”
Ben lunged.
“It’s best to ignore her,” Maggie warned, tugging on Ben’s hand. Studying them, she noticed they were raw and red. “These look pretty bad. Did you pour chlorine directly on your skin?”
Ben jerked his hands away. “No.”
“Come on. I’ve got some salve in the office.” she said, pulling him around the counter toward the offices.
“See you, Pretty Boy,” Denise said with a wave.
Ben growled, but Maggie maneuvered between the two, pushing Ben on the shoulders to move him down the hall and out of Denise’s reach. She had to work to keep from running her hands over the muscles of his shoulders and biceps. Nope, she refused to give in to lust. Right now, Ben Sumner was the enemy. Well, maybe not enemy, but he certainly wasn’t an ally. Unfortunately, he was damned sexy, despite his grungy appearance.
Ben looked back. “She’s evil. Pure evil.”
“Who?”
“General Denise, the Dictator,” Ben said.
Maggie laughed.
“That’s what she made me call her, Maggie, the General. Who does that?”
Maggie shook her head and smirked. “Yeah, Denise can be hard core, but she’s efficient and reliable. Two things any good manager wants in an employee.” Maggie unlocked the door to the lodge offices and flipped on the lights. “Sit,” she pointed to a side chair beside her desk.
Ben glanced around the open room. “This is a desk, not an office,” he said. His tone wasn’t condescending, just observant.
Maggie glanced around the large open area. Nothing separated the desks—no walls, no partitions. She’d never noticed that fact until now. Well, she supposed she’d noticed it, she just hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought. “It’s the office, not my office.”
“How do you get anything done in here with no privacy?”
Maggie studied the six desks placed haphazardly through the room. Hers sat closest to the door, with Valerie’s near hers. Four others reserved for other department heads sat in the back.
Before the remodel, there’d only been room for two desks in the office of the bed and breakfast. They’d all shared the space. This larger area was a luxury, but they’d been so busy with the build-out, they hadn’t had time to do much more than stick desks in the room.
Maggie’s eyes stopped on the last desk. The large oak table had been hand crafted by John Sumner and still held piles of his papers. She noticed his computer monitor, flickering wildly from the screen saver. Why hadn’t anyone turned off John’s computer? Tears burned her eyes and she glanced away.
“Of course, Bon Jovi made it on the walls.” Ben laughed.
Maggie glanced up.
Ben nodded toward the framed photos Valerie had taken at live concerts that littered her desk and the wall next to it.
Despite the haphazard placement of furniture, Valerie had made sure her band pics went up first.
Tacked to the wall behind them was a Bon Jovi calendar, each month displaying a new song along with its lyrics and photos of the band. John had given the calendar to Valerie just last month for Christmas.
“Born To Be My Baby.” Ben read the song title.
Maggie smiled. “Your dad always said it was his love song to Valerie.”
Ben laughed. “He used to tease my mom that she only married him because his name was John.”
Maggie smiled, but the tears she’d fought to keep at bay quickly overtook the laughter and trickled down her cheeks. She glanced down and saw Ben had wrapped his fingers around hers.
Maggie tugged from his hold and swiped at her face as she walked toward the s
mall kitchenette. She wouldn’t let herself break down, not in front of Ben. She reached above the sink and grabbed the first aid kit, clutching it to her chest, while willing her emotions to settle. After taking in a calming breath, she turned and bumped into a wall. A hard wall.
A hard wall named Ben Sumner.
She gasped and moved to step back, but bumped into the counter.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Ben said quietly. “I just thought the counter here with the sink would be a better place to doctor up my wounds.” His lips quirked and he shrugged.
He looked innocent, adorable, like the younger Ben she once knew, but she wondered if this new Ben did anything unintentionally. He seemed to have a strategy and a plan playing out in his head at all times. Why did she always feel like he was thinking of ways to move her around, like a pawn on his chess board?
“Sure.” Maggie side-stepped him and placed the kit on the counter. She fumbled through the contents, finally pulling out the salve. “Let me see your hands.” She drew in a deep, steadying breath and nearly choked on the smell that had taken over the small space.
“What?” Ben asked.
She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we should do this after you shower.”
“That bad?”
Maggie laughed and nodded.
He took the ointment from her hands and began to doctor his blisters. “It’s your fault you know.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for them to work you this hard. It’s just—”
“I get it. I was being an ass.” He smirked.
“Kind of.”
He let out a breath and looked at her. “Look, Maggie. I don’t want to fight, but you have to understand, I have valid concerns.”
She didn’t understand. He wouldn’t look at the numbers with anything but a mental sledgehammer poised to knock down all their hard work. “Ben, this lodge is about so much more than numbers on a spreadsheet. I know you don’t think I can do this, but I can. I’m smarter now, I’m—”
“I never said you weren’t smart. I’ve never said that, or thought it.” His lips flattened in a grimace as if she’d offended him. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Numbers are all I know, Maggie.”
In that moment, she felt a pang of regret for the young boy she’d once known, his head always buried in a computer. Had he ever noticed the world around him? Or had he been so consumed with the business of making a business he’d forgotten to live?
“Tell you what, Pretty Boy.” Ben narrowed his eyes at her, but Maggie laughed and pressed on. “Why don’t we both go get cleaned up and I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour. We can walk around the property and I’ll show you the business plan. It’s not always about the numbers, Benjamin Sumner.”
Benjamin Sumner? What had made her say his full name?
“I know it’s not, Margaret Anne Lawrence.”
She hadn’t been called Margaret Anne since she was five. And how had he remembered her full name?
“Touché,” she said. In a monumental display of stupidity, Maggie slipped her hands around his shoulders to push him out the door. She paused. They were so broad and strong, she wanted to squeeze every muscle. She hurried to turn him toward the door. “Go,” she said, pushing on his back. “Shower and change. We’ll meet back here and I’ll show you the build-out plans we’ve scheduled for the lodge over the next year.”
Ben glanced over his shoulder. “Then you’ll take me out on a date?” He smirked.
Wow, that half-smile had her insides fluttering like a school girl. “Date?” She laughed nervously. “I said I’d show you the property. I meant the cabins and wedding barn.”
“Then dinner afterward, maybe?”
She didn’t know what his angle was, but, as if on cue, her stomach growled. “Maybe.”
“Maybe,” Ben repeated. He strolled toward the door, humming a tune that, if Maggie wasn’t mistaken, sounded a lot like a Bon Jovi song.
Chapter Nine
Ben followed Maggie as she walked down the trail toward the cabins. He tried not to be sucked in by her excitement for the project. He needed to stay focused on the facts, not how she felt about the place. It was hard to do when she practically bounced as she described the landscape he’d always taken for granted as a child.
He knew Maggie and his mom saw him as a stick in the mud. Someone determined to shit on their dreams. But that wasn’t what this was about. He’d do anything for his mom. And the best way for him to do that was to make sure she made the payment on her lodge and this land in time. If cutting and trimming their dreams let him do that, that’s what he’d do.
Ben looked up one of the trails on the mountain and laughed.
Maggie turned back to him, a questioning look on her face.
“Sorry. I just realized that’s the trail leading to the Kissing Cave.”
Her face flushed and she glanced up the trail. “And?”
He shrugged. She wouldn’t understand his humor. To Maggie Lawrence, the Kissing Cave was a place she’d gotten to carve her initials with other guys. Ben had always wanted to take her there, but she hadn’t known he existed. “Sorry, I was just thinking,” he shrugged again, “I don’t know. I was just wondering if it was still there, if people still went and carved their initials.”
Maggie nodded. “Carve your initials and kiss, and your love will last forever.” She looked up at the mountain again. “Or so the legend goes. It never worked for me, but your mom swore it worked for your dad and her.”
Ben looked up with a snort. “Let’s go.”
Maggie gave him a searching look, but turned, leading him through the woods to a small clearing.
“This,” Maggie pointed to an open area next to one of the cabins, “is where we’ll put a fountain and a Zen garden. Your mom has done all the research.” Maggie glanced back at him. “She’s really into all that stuff now.”
“Into what stuff?” Ben crouched and picked up a small handful of snow. It was unusually warm for January in Colorado and the patches were scarce, despite the snowfall they’d had just days before. He had to admit, he’d missed the wild mounds of snow in Colorado. Seattle was nothing but cloud cover and rain most days.
“Acupuncture, Thai Chi, yoga, all kinds of alternative Eastern medicine and philosophies.”
“Really?” Ben dropped the snow and dusted his hands, studying the area Maggie was motioning toward.
“Umm hmm,” Maggie hummed in response to his question.
He mentally crossed the Zen garden and fountain off the spreadsheet in his head. It was a foolish expenditure and one that could wait until after the loan was paid off. He could help his mom get everything she wanted, but it would have to happen over time.
“Why is she into all that stuff?” Ben asked.
“It started off with yoga. She took your dad to a class in town and he was hooked.”
“My dad?” What the hell had been happening around here while they’d all been gone?
“Umm hmm,” Maggie murmured again.
The noise vibrated through his body and certain parts of his anatomy stiffened. What the hell was wrong with him?
“My father took yoga.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, as though he was challenging her to repeat the claim. Or maybe he was challenging himself to accept the new image of his dad, an image that was slowly beginning to form the more time he spent at the Lodge.
“Yep.” She popped her “p” sound like she’d just pulled a lollipop from her mouth. Ben stopped, mentally shutting down every physical response his body had to the action.
Maggie glanced over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
“Yep,” Ben echoed her answer, bending over to pick up a rock as he began to disassemble binary code in his head. Anything to get his body to settle down.
“So anyway,” Maggie continued, seemingly oblivious to his internal struggle. “Your dad was really enjoying his classes, so your mom started thinking about expanding, mayb
e having a place to hold yoga classes at the lodge.”
“More expansion. I don’t think so.”
Maggie shook her head. “No, it was just a vision for her for now. She knows it needs to wait. She wants these cabins and the surrounding area to be Zen-like, balanced, relaxing.
Ben wasn’t sure what Zen looked like, but he loved the outdoors.
“She designed the cabin layout so there’d be space out here to let people reconnect with nature,” Maggie continued. “Your mom cleared some land so teachers can hold classes outdoors. And, of course, in the winter, we can use the wedding barn for classes early in the morning before any events take place. But, that’s the extent of it for now. She’ll build the Zen garden down the road.”
“What kind of classes?” Ben arched an eye. He liked the idea of dual uses of the space and wondered if they could charge people from town for coming to the classes. The guests at the lodge could come for free, of course. Or maybe not. Maybe they could charge a health and wellness fee on top of the usual room cost if guests wanted to attend classes.
“Yoga, Thai Chi, whatever,” she said.
Ben glanced around as they continued to walk.
The area was much the same as it always had been, filled with large Blue Spruce and Ponderosa Pines that kissed the sky. Strategically dotted in between were slabs of concrete framed with half built cabins connected by intricate stone and pebbled pathways. They’d done a beautiful job of weaving the new additions into the landscape instead of simply plowing down lots and throwing cabins into cleared space.
He had to admit, just walking through the area was relaxing.
“What the hell is that?” Ben looked at the creature headed toward them. It was only when it started to weave its way between Maggie’s legs that he connected the feline gesture and figured out he was looking at a cat.