by Liz Isaacson
Patsy gaped at him, and Cy realized she might not be as religious as he was. “But anyway,” he said. “I was standing there, watching you drive away, and I just thought….” He shrugged again. “And I did go back into the lodge, I’ll have you know. I ate dessert and took a good ribbing from my brothers.” He ducked his head, glad he’d stuffed the cowboy hat from the back seat on his head before going up to the front door.
“I do still want to go out with you,” he said. “I’m sorry I threw you to the wolves. That was not my intent.” He hadn’t even known he’d done it. He’d simply needed a few minutes alone to clear his head. He hadn’t asked anyone out in a very long time, and he hadn’t even wanted to. Not since Mikaela, who he could barely recall when faced with Patsy Foxhill.
“I’m sorry I said I wouldn’t go,” she said. “I’m just…flustered today.” She turned back to the window. “Frustrated.”
“You work a lot,” he remarked. “You run a tight ship at that lodge, and that is not easy. Trust me, I know. It takes a huge mental toll on a person that they carry around all the time.”
“Mm,” Patsy said, neither confirming nor denying what he’d said.
Cy didn’t know what else to say, and he started a prayer in his mind. Gotta help me out here, Lord. I don’t know why I’m here.
“I do think you should at least consider coming to work for me,” he said. “You can come see the building, and I’ll give you a tour, go over the job, all of it. I pay really well, and you wouldn’t have to do anything much different than you do now.”
Patsy scoffed, but it didn’t carry nearly the attitude of some of the other things she’d said. “I believe you were the one who said motorcycles and horses weren’t even on the same planet.”
“And you said they co-exist just fine,” he threw back at her.
A couple of seconds passed and then Patsy started to giggle. It grew into a laugh, and Cy basked in the warm happiness of it. He ended up laughing with her, and that sure did heal something inside him he hadn’t known had been knocked loose. He had the strong urge to reach over and take her hand in his.
Before he could, she gasped and said, “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” and launched herself out of the truck.
“Patsy—what?” He searched the orchard on her side of the truck, where she’d been focused.
It didn’t take long to spot the horses grazing openly, and Patsy waving her arms, trying to get them back where they belonged.
With utmost clarity, Cy knew why he’d been prompted to make the forty-minute drive down the canyon to Patsy’s father’s house. He expected to see her siblings and maybe those older teenage girls he’d seen in the house to come spilling out the front and back doors to help her.
No one came.
Cy didn’t even take time to turn off his truck.
He went to help, thanking the Lord for the opportunity to show Patsy he wasn’t, in fact, a beast.
By the time they had the four horses her father owned back in the stable where they belonged, the door fixed, and the situation diffused, Cy was covered in mud and chilled to the bone. Patsy had run inside to get her coat at one point, and still no one had come out to help the two of them wrangle the horses.
He remembered the first time he’d met her, and how frustrated she’d been with her family then. He could see why, though he worked not to judge them. After all, he didn’t like it when people passed judgment on him because of the type of pants he wore, his method of transportation, or the length of his hair.
“Thank you, Cy,” Patsy said, finally looking at him. She too had taken on plenty of mud during the scuffle. “Those horses are like toddlers.”
Cy thought that fit really well for horses, and he smiled. “Well, at least now I know why I came.”
She nodded and started a slow walk back to his truck. They reached it, and she said, “I’m headed home, I guess.” She threw another look to the house, but this time, the overbearing sister wasn’t standing in the window. “Thanks again.”
“Sure,” he said easily. “And about that dinner….”
Patsy smiled and shook her head. “I suppose we can still go to dinner.”
“Great,” Cy said. “I have your number, and I’ll call you to set something up.”
“Sounds good.” She didn’t move, and the moment turned awkward. Cy had always known what to do with women. As a teenager, he’d had the most girlfriends, because he was the one willing to anger their father.
He felt a bit rusty though, as if Mikaela had left him out in the rain to freeze up every time he felt a spark of attraction for someone. Eventually, he stutter-stepped toward Patsy and took her into a very awkward embrace, patting her lamely on the back.
He cleared his throat and said, “Okay, bye.” He got in his truck, muttering to himself about the throat-clearing and the ridiculous good-bye. He flipped the rubber band on his wrist, which sent a sting of pain up his arm.
Focus.
He should’ve done that before he’d practically lunged at her and hugged her like she had a contagious disease he didn’t want to catch.
“Uncle Cy, what’s a five-letter word that means a ‘word with duty or pride’?” Hunter looked up from his crossword puzzle, his expression open and innocent.
Cy stirred his coffee, his mind whirring. “Let’s see,” he said. “Do you have any other letters?”
“Not yet.” Hunter looked back at his puzzle. “I’ve had this clue before, but I can’t remember.”
“Civic,” Cy said. “Try that.”
Hunter put the letters in and looked at another clue. “I think that’s it. Thanks.” He continued to scratch his pencil over the puzzle, and Cy marveled at the twelve-year-old. Cy had never wanted to sit at a table and do puzzles when he was Hunter’s age. He always wanted to be outside, doing something. Hiking, fishing, riding a dirt bike, building something, literally doing anything but being trapped inside.
“Knock, knock,” Wes said as he came through the front door of Colton’s house. “Merry Christmas.” He carried a red sack slung over his shoulder, and he wore the biggest smile Cy had ever seen.
He thought he’d seen Wes happy before, but it was nothing like the man now. He seemed so free now that he wasn’t the CEO, and he sent out beams of joy as he hugged Colton and then Ames. He went around the couch and embraced their parents, then Grams, and then he came over to Hunter and Cy.
“Guess what I brought for you, Hunt?”
Hunter put down his pencil and stood up. “Merry Christmas, Uncle Wes.” He hugged him tight, clapping him on the back, and Cy realized how tall Hunter had become. “What’s in the bag?”
“Oh, your dad is going to hate it.” Wes sounded absolutely gleeful about that, and Cy chuckled.
“They’re only going to be gone for a week,” Cy said. “Better be something Hunt can use up in that amount of time.” He stood up and gave Wes a healthy hug too, casting his eyes over to his mother, who now held the newest member of the Hammond family.
Well, Cy supposed Elise was the newest member of the family, but baby Michael was definitely the cutest. Because both Bree and Wes had dark features, so did their son, and Cy watched his mother slide her fingers through his downy soft hair, a blissful smile on her face.
He looked away, his thoughts moving to Patsy for a reason he couldn’t name. He hadn’t called her last night after leaving the orchard, and he wondered what her holiday plans were. Surely there wasn’t work to do at the lodge on Christmas Day, but he knew Whiskey Mountain Lodge never slept.
Even if there were no guests, there would be work to do. Colton had said the Whittaker family had activities every day, all day, during their stay at the lodge, and while Cy had enjoyed being with his family the past few Christmases, he didn’t want two weeks with everyone under the same roof.
“No way!” Hunter yelled, and Cy clued back into the happenings in the kitchen. “Uncle Wes, this is the best fishing pole there is. The best.”
“I know,”
Wes said, grinning. “Well, I didn’t know, but I do now, and now, it’s yours.”
“I wish we could go fishing right now,” he said, admiring the pole. “Do you think they do ice fishing here?”
“Only for those who want to die,” Colton said, joining them in the kitchen. “You got him a fishing pole?”
“The best fishing pole there is,” Wes said, glancing at Colton.
“Why will Gray hate that?” Cy asked, looking between Colt and Wes.
“Because he doesn’t have it,” Wes said with a wolfish grin.
“Or maybe because he’d like to be the one to buy his son the best fishing pole on the planet.” Colton cocked his eyebrows at Wes, whose smile stayed right on his face.
“Either way.” Wes shrugged and started digging in his Santa sack again.
“Are we opening gifts then?” Ames asked. “I didn’t realize. My stuff’s in the bedroom.” He went back upstairs, and Cy figured he better get his gifts out too. He’d put his in the pantry, and he got up and took out the candy he’d bought for everyone. Gray wouldn’t like the giant bag of gummy bears Cy had bought for Hunter either, but he believed in his nephew’s ability to consume them all before his father came home.
Annie turned on some festive music, and everyone gathered in the living room, where Colton had two large couches. They all fit just fine, and Cy liked watching everyone open their gifts, and expressing their gratitude, all while the scent of bacon filled the air.
“Okay,” Annie said. “Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.” She went into the kitchen, and Colton joined her. They worked so well together, and something pinched in Cy’s chest.
He wanted what Colton had found. He looked at Wes and Bree, sitting side-by-side on the couch, the tiny infant in the crook of Wes’s arm. Cy wanted that life too.
He wanted it all, and he always had. He’d gotten the motorcycle shop—almost. He’d thought he’d found the woman of his dreams, but he’d been wrong. And not just once, but twice. Once with Jen, and then with Mikaela. At least he hadn’t made it all the way to the altar with Mikaela.
His thoughts wandered to Patsy, and he was seriously considering calling her when Ames sat down beside him and said, “So, when are you and Patsy going out?” He wore such a look of teasing that Cy didn’t want to answer.
He lifted his chin and glared at his twin. “Nothing’s been decided.”
“Oh, I see.”
“You see what?”
Ames sobered a little bit. “Nothing.”
“Are you seeing anyone?” Cy challenged.
“No.” Ames looked away, his eyes landing on Bree, Wes, and Michael too. “I hate that you moved here too.” His voice had dropped in volume considerably.
Cy’s heartbeat bounced in his chest. “I know, Ames. I’m sorry. There wasn’t anything in Denver.”
Ames nodded, but his jaw muscle jumped, and Cy couldn’t admit he hadn’t looked very hard. The commercial land market in Denver was exceedingly expensive; it was the reason Cy had relocated to California the first time. Surely Ames understood that.
“You should just move up here too,” he said.
“Mom and Dad live in Ivory Peaks,” he said. “Hammonds back five generations hail from Colorado. With everyone else gone, I don’t know. I feel responsible to carry on that legacy.”
“Gray and Hunter can carry on that legacy,” Cy said. “You should be able to do what you want.”
“I’ve been on the force in Littleton for fifteen years. I can’t just leave now. It takes a long time to work up the ranks on a force.”
Since Ames didn’t need the money, all that was left to earn was status. Cy understood that, as he held the least in terms of status among the Hammond brothers. No college degree. No certifications. No graduations past high school.
He could only nod, and then he looked at Ames again. “Would I be too bold if I called Patsy this morning? Maybe she’d have some free time today.”
“And you’d do…what, exactly?” Ames asked.
Cy shrugged, his fingers moving to the rubber band on his wrist. He didn’t flip it though, just ran his fingertip along the edge of it. “I don’t know. Hang out?”
“You aren’t sixteen,” Ames said gently. “Or in California anymore. If you want to see her, you need a plan for a date.” He hit the T in the last word with the force Cy expected from a seasoned cop.
“Then be a good twin brother and help me come up with a plan for a date.”
Chapter Four
Patsy spent Christmas morning at the lodge, watching all the children open presents, play with their toys, and run around in their new pajamas. Celia and Sophia served a huge breakfast, and Patsy had eaten far too many of the pancake sausage rolls that Celia was famous for.
She’d left when Eli Whittaker had gone over the public address system to say they were starting morning movies in the basement. She was welcome to stay, she knew. But Sophia would be in the kitchen cleaning up for a while, and she liked hanging out with Vi and Rose, holding Andrew’s kids on her lap, and making afternoon cookies.
Patsy felt like she needed a break from all the peopling. She normally handled it just fine—thrived on it even—but the last few days at the lodge had been particularly stressful with the double wedding and the threat of snow.
As she climbed the front steps of the cabin in the corner of the yard behind the lodge, Patsy knew her exhaustion and short fuse had nothing to do with the weddings, the Whittakers, or the white stuff that had been predicted but hadn’t made an appearance yet.
Yesterday at her father’s had taken a huge toll on Patsy, physically and mentally. Not even her brother had come out to help with the horses, and if Cy hadn’t been there, Patsy felt sure she’d still be wandering through the apple trees, clicking her tongue, and wondering if anyone would notice if she froze to death.
She frowned at herself as she went inside the cabin, where a rush of warm air greeted her. Winter in Wyoming was no joke, as Patsy knew. She’d lived here her whole life, except for a few years in college. Even then, she’d only gone to Utah, where the winters weren’t as bad, but they weren’t a picnic on the beach either.
Patsy would like a picnic on the beach right now, if only because it meant she’d be somewhere warm. She certainly wasn’t hungry.
A dog barked, and Patsy flinched. “Oh, Jonas,” she said to the black and white dog who came trotting out of the kitchen. “You scared me.” She bent down to give the mutt a pat. She’d completely forgotten that Sophia had picked up another foster dog. Ruff Rescue had called, and Sophia had a problem saying no, especially to a dog under thirty pounds, and Jonas was only twenty-four.
All of her fosters slept in her bed and usually went everywhere with her. Christmas at the lodge was crazy, and perhaps she’d intended to come back and get him. As if on cue, Patsy’s phone chimed and Sophia’s name sat at the top.
I forgot about Jonas! Can you let him out and bring him over?
I can keep him, Patsy sent back. Unless you want him there.
No, keep him, Sophia said. Thank you, Patsy.
“Yeah,” Patsy said to herself. “Come on, boy,” she said to the dog. “Let’s go out, and then I think we can lay in bed and watch a movie.” She returned to the front door and opened it for Jonas, who preceded her out of the cabin. She stood on the top step, her hands tucked in her pockets, while he sniffed around and finally found the right spot.
He came waddling back up the steps, and Patsy could admit he was one of the cuter foster dogs. Sometimes the pups took a shine to her, and she’d end up with them following her around all day, snoozing on her feet in the office, or trotting beside her as she went back and forth from the cabin to the lodge.
Sometimes the foster dogs had big personalities, and sometimes they wanted to sleep all day. Since there was always something going on at the lodge, they all got a lot of time around people, horses, and nature.
Ten minutes later, Patsy had shed her coat, made hot chocolate, and
put on her thickest, fluffiest pair of socks. “Come on,” she said to Jonas. “Let’s relax.” She didn’t get much time off, and while a pinprick of guilt moved through her for not going down the canyon to her father’s on Christmas Day, it didn’t stay long.
Betty would be there, as she always was. Her father wasn’t alone. Joe had taken his kids to his ex-wife’s house, and he’d said he wanted to go visit some friends in Dog Valley. Patsy hadn’t said anything. When her father had finally asked her about her plans, she’d just said, “Oh, there’s a lot going on at the lodge. Since it’s supposed to snow in the afternoon, I’m just going to stay there.”
She accentuated every refusal to do something or be somewhere with a smile, and no one had said anything else. No one knew how terribly lonely she was, though she was surrounded by people all the time. No one knew how hard it was for her to paint that smile onto her mouth, keep it there, and not crack.
Right now, she didn’t have to be strong. She didn’t have to hold the lodge together, manage bookings, deal with unhappy guests, or late employees. She didn’t have to speak to Graham and wonder if he found her incompetent. She didn’t have to sit in on a meeting with Wes Hammond and all the Whittaker brothers to discuss how they could improve the lodge.
In her mind, there was nothing to improve. The lodge operated at full capacity ninety-seven percent of the time. Last year, they’d only had eleven nights where a room went empty, and five of those had only had one empty room.
The brothers didn’t need money; they were on the quest to be the best they could be. Provide the best service. Give the best experience to families who came to the Tetons. Simply be the best.
Patsy had tried to emulate that for the first year she’d been at Whiskey Mountain Lodge. She’d dang near ended up in the hospital, one breath away from a mental and physical breakdown.
Again, she found herself attaching blame to a situation that wasn’t entirely true. Yes, she’d worked too hard that first year. She’d set unreasonable expectations for herself and everyone at the lodge. She hadn’t been happy.
