So here he was in a mountain resort, looking at towering pine trees. The weather app on his phone had predicted snow this weekend—which he was sort of looking forward to. Growing up in Colorado, he’d loved the snow as a kid. But after moving to San Diego on a college basketball scholarship, he had never left. When he blew out his ACL his junior year in college, he’d spent hours in physical therapy, and he became quite fascinated by the medical industry. That, and he had a lot of time to read.
Which led to the bizarre idea that he should write his own book about an injured basketball player who became caught up in an illegal money-laundering scheme with an attractive thirty-something pharmacist. He had no idea what to do with the 350-page book he’d written, so he did some googling. A week later he had signed with an agent, and after months of quite painful revisions and him questioning what Jolene saw in the story in the first place, the book sold to a major publisher. A year later the book was released to decent reviews. His second book sold more. His third book sat on the New York Times list for fifteen weeks, where it was soon joined by the paperback versions of books one and two.
Mason pulled out his phone—the one on which he’d deleted all social media apps, as promised to his agent. She deserved a phone call tonight even though it was after 10:00 p.m. in New York. Mason knew that Jolene slept less than he did.
“Mason?” Jolene answered on the second ring. “Is this good news or bad news? Please tell me you’ve written at least fifty pages.”
No matter what Mason called to talk to his agent about, it felt that she always did more talking than he did. And she very well knew that not even a robot could have written fifty pages between now and when they’d last talked the day before. “Twelve pages.”
Jolene gasped.
Mason wasn’t sure if it was a good gasp or a bad gasp.
Then she said, “That’s wonderful. Too early to tell me the plot?”
“Much too early.” They both knew he was a pantser. The plot would develop in the first hundred pages, with a lot of rewriting, then be established by the next two hundred pages. Sort of a backwards way to outline, he guessed.
“Well,” Jolene said. “I’m pleased... was there anything you did differently today?”
“I went to the library.” He could almost see Jolene’s dark brows raise.
“Huh. I didn’t know there was a library in Pine Valley.”
“There is.” And a sassy librarian. “I showed up around five with my legal pad, and... started to write.”
“Hmm. By hand?”
“Yep. I didn’t bring my laptop because I wasn’t planning on a breakthrough.”
Jolene went silent for a few moments, then she said, “Mason, can you go to the library tomorrow?”
Mason chuckled. “I have no doubt that you are now googling the library hours for Pine Valley.”
“Nine to seven,” Jolene said, laughter in her voice. “Oh, wow. The website is very sophisticated.”
“Pine Valley is a resort town, not a backwoods trailer park.”
“Yeah, but there’s a bio of the librarian listed here,” she said. “The director, Olivia Harmon, has a master’s in library science.”
Olivia Harmon. That must be her. He thought of the woman’s dark curls, which she’d pulled back into a clip, and how her dark brown eyes had seemed to burrow right through him. Her blue V-neck sweater and black slacks had been unassuming but had caught his attention nonetheless. Or maybe it was the five rings she wore—none of which were on her ring finger. Or the jangling of her bracelets. He’d assumed that a librarian would wear quieter jewelry.
“She’s pretty,” Jolene said in a slow voice.
There was a picture of Olivia Harmon on the website? Mason put Jolene on speaker and pulled up the library website on his phone. He clicked on the Contact Menu, and yep. There she was. Dark, curly hair, small silver hoop earrings, brown eyes. She had a freckle on the right side of her mouth. He hadn’t noticed that earlier. Even in the picture, she seemed to be smirking at something or ready to tell everyone that the library was closed.
“Mason?” Jolene’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’ve met Olivia Harmon, haven’t you?”
“Briefly.”
“And... is she perhaps the reason behind this sudden twelve pages?”
“No,” Mason could confidently say. “I met her as I was leaving the library tonight—after the twelve pages.”
The relief was evident in Jolene’s voice when she said, “All right. Just know that this manuscript is your priority, you understand. I don’t want to pull the mother card here.”
“I don’t think even my own mother, were she still alive, would tell me that I couldn’t talk to a pretty librarian.”
Jolene groaned. “I don’t know how many more favors I can call in. Your publisher isn’t exactly happy that your first print run of Cut still hasn’t sold out.”
Mason took her off speaker and put the phone to his ear. “I know, Jolene. Tonight was only about calling you with good news. I know the rest.”
“You’re right,” Jolene said in a brighter tone. “Congratulations, Mason. And let me know if you need anything at all. I’m here for you.”
“Thank you,” Mason said. The phrase might sound cliché for some, but he knew Jolene really would answer his call day or night. She’d even offered to come out to Pine Valley and brainstorm ideas.
Mason had quickly shot down that offer. He didn’t work that way. As a pantser, he could barely shuffle through his own ideas. Someone else’s brain power in the mix would derail his. After he hung up with Jolene he crossed the deck to one of the outdoor chairs. He sat on the cold wrought-iron and opened the browser on his phone. The bio about Olivia Harmon was only two paragraphs, but Mason read every word of it twice.
Not that he was being a creep or anything, and not that he’d ever ask a woman out in a small resort town when he was on a deadline upon which the rest of his career as a writer depended. Jolene was right. Today had been a good day, but he needed to keep his focus.
Besides, dating and being a full-time writer didn’t go hand in hand. When people knew he was a full-time writer, they imagined that he typed out his first one thousand words in the morning with a cup of coffee. Then the next two thousand were written while he lounged by a pool. Then that was followed by some late-afternoon writing at his dining table, after which he went to evening book signings, followed by drinking wine and smoking cigars with a couple of rabid fans at a nearby bar.
No. Being a full-time writer consisted of staring at walls, pacing floors, staring at the laptop screen, answering emails, avoiding phone calls, ignoring texts, then finally typing a sentence. Or maybe two.
Then the cycle would start all over again.
Eight-hour days were more like sixteen-hour days, and still at the end of each day Mason felt like he’d barely accomplished anything.
Maybe he should have been a librarian.
Livvy bit back a curse when her alarm went off Sunday morning at 5:00 a.m. It was pitch-dark outside, and when she’d gotten up in the middle of the night it had indeed been snowing. She pushed herself into a sitting position because she was in danger of falling back asleep.
Livvy regretted the loss of warmth about her shoulders immediately. She wanted to burrow back into her covers, but Slade would be here in thirty minutes. And if she cancelled on him, who knew when they’d next get together.
She closed her eyes, thinking of Slade. His easy laugh, his charming smile, his straight teeth, his green eyes, his doctorate degree.
Okay... She was getting out of bed.
Livvy threw off the covers in one motion, then swung her feet over the bed, where she’d strategically placed her slippers. She stepped into them, then grabbed her cozy robe from the end of the bed.
Her roommate, Mallory, had come home late last night—the girl was a serial-dater—so Livvy doubted Mallory would hear a thing as she got ready. But then Livvy paused. She didn’t want to shower before the
hike, because surely she’d want to take a two-hour bath after just to thaw out.
Livvy dressed in layers, then pulled on her warmest boots, wishing she had some of those Uggs. Her double layer of socks would have to do. She put on a sweater and a coat, then pulled her hair back into a low ponytail so that she could fit a beanie on her head. She’d wait to put on the hat later so that she didn’t look too much like a wimp when Slade picked her up. He never seemed to get cold.
She made her way through the darkness of the house that she rented with Mallory and peered out the front window. The snow had tapered off, but there were at least two to three inches built up. Slade’s Land Rover pulled up then. He was ten minutes early, but Livvy didn’t wait for him to text or call; she opened the front door, then waved at him. She locked the door and walked carefully along the walkway, through the snow. If she was home before Mallory woke up, Livvy would shovel, but she didn’t have time for it now.
Slade got out of the car, and Livvy smiled. He looked like he’d stepped out of an L.L.Bean catalog, with his beanie matching his down coat. The ends of his light-brown hair showed at the edges of his beanie, and his green eyes were lively. He wore heavy boots that probably outweighed Livvy’s by twenty pounds.
“Hi, Liv,” Slade said, opening the passenger door for her.
Such a gentleman, although she was half hoping he’d kiss her. A quick peck would do. Or even on the cheek? Nothing.
“Good morning,” she said brightly. She slid into the leather seat. He’d turned on the seat warmers, so it was nice and toasty.
Without further ado, Slade shut her door and walked around to his side. It was okay that he hadn’t kissed her as a greeting. They weren’t at that point in their relationship yet. Although she was often confused about where they were in their relationship, she wasn’t about to have the talk. Besides, it was the twenty-first century, and she could be the one instigating the kissing. She sort of saw Slade kissing her as a sign of his interest in her.
Now she was being ridiculous. They’d been dating for months. And he kept asking her out. Slade climbed into the car and grinned at her. “Ready? It’s going to be so cool hiking through the first snowfall of the season.”
So... cool... pun intended? “Can’t wait,” Livvy said. Maybe he’d kiss her at the top of the ski resort while snowflakes twirled around them, and Slade would tell her that they needed to see each other more often and they should probably meet each other’s parents. He’d invite her for Thanksgiving with his family, and she’d charm them all by telling them of her work at the library. She’d be viewed as the sweetest small-town woman, who would make a perfect doctor’s wife.
“Liv? We’re here.”
She blinked and looked over at Slade. But he’d already opened his door and was grabbing stuff from the back. From the looks of it, he’d brought a CamelBak and some ski poles.
She opened her door and slid out. “Ski poles?”
He smiled, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just to give us more speed going up and more traction coming down in case it doesn’t stop snowing.”
Speaking of snow—there was way more than three inches of snow in the Alpine Lodge parking lot, where Slade had stopped. She slid on her beanie, pulled on her gloves, then accepted the ski poles from Slade.
The sun hadn’t even come up, and Slade was all smiles. It wasn’t that Livvy hated early mornings. In theory, she wasn’t opposed to getting up extra early for something fun, but snow at 5:30 a.m. was a bit much. Even when it was accompanied by Mr. Dreamy Doc.
They set off, Livvy keeping up across the parking lot, past the lodge, and up the first slope. It was invigorating, really, and Livvy was barely breaking a sweat. In fact, she was plenty warm from the waist up. Her legs were cold, but not freezing, and her feet only sort of achy.
She ignored all that and focused on the gorgeous pines and the dusting of snow upon them, making everything look like a winter wonderland. They passed a row of cabins. Likely they had heaters and fireplaces, thick fleece blankets, and mugs just waiting for hot chocolate.
Livvy tore her gaze from the cozy cabins to focus on the slope they were climbing. “Wow, it’s really gorgeous,” she said as the first episode of breathlessness hit. She gulped in the cold air.
“Yeah, amazing, isn’t it?” Slade said. He went quiet again.
On the last hike, Livvy had learned that Slade didn’t like to talk much on the hikes. It was more of a Zen time for him, and she totally got that. But it was so quiet out here, and that was something remarkable to be noticed by a librarian.
They passed by another cabin, and a thin line of smoke was coming out of the chimney. Livvy couldn’t help the flash of envy she felt. Someone had a fire in their fireplace and was probably sipping cocoa or coffee and looking out their giant window, watching the snow float down. Their toes and feet and legs were warm.
Appreciate nature, Livvy, she thought to herself. It’s not that cold. She was shivering. And she couldn’t feel her feet. Did she still have a nose?
Then she nearly fell to the ground. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” she squealed. Pain gripped her left calf.
Slade whipped around. “What’s wrong?”
“My... leg,” she gasped. “A charley horse.” She couldn’t walk, couldn’t move.
“Flex your foot,” Slade said, hurrying back to her because he’d gotten about ten paces in front of her when she’d started to lag.
Slade grabbed her arm so that she could balance on her good leg.
“But won’t that hurt?” she said in a pitiful tone.
“Not as much as the charley horse.”
So Livvy held onto Slade as she flexed her left foot. The stretch made the ache ease, although it hurt to flex.
“Better?” Slade asked, looking down, his green eyes focused on her.
She sighed. “Better.” Then she put weight on her foot, and the pain returned, not so strong but deep. She winced.
“We can go back,” Slade said. “Your body temperature probably dropped too fast.”
Well, she hadn’t expected him to offer to cut the hike short, but the man was a doctor. Saving lives, healing sick people, and all that. “I don’t want you to miss your hike,” she said. “Maybe I can hang out at the lodge.”
A line formed between his brows. “Well, I was going to take you home, then come back up. I can still get my hike in, just delay it a little. But if you want to sit in the lodge instead, then it will save me time.”
Time. Everything in their relationship was about time. His time. Never hers.
“I’ll sit at the lodge,” she said, too irritated to say what she wanted to say. Besides, her calf was still sore.
“If you’re sure?” Slade said.
Livvy didn’t miss the hope in his eyes. She forced a smile even though it probably looked half-frozen.
Slade didn’t seem to mind her frozen smile. “Great. I’ll be about an hour and a half.”
“Okay, see you then.” Livvy hoped her voice sounded strong and confident. She stood for a moment, watching him hike away from her. He paused several paces later and turned and waved, sheer gratitude in his expression.
Livvy smiled her frozen smile and waved back.
Then she moved her cold, numb feet toward the row of cabins that were on the way to the lodge. The sun was beginning to rise, and soon it would warm her, right? The snow turned gold white, and Livvy squinted against the glare. When she arrived at the cabin they’d passed earlier, the smoke was still rising from the chimney. If she cut around the back of it, there was a straighter shot to the lodge. So she trudged through the new snow and arrived at the property line of the cabin, which was surrounded by a low river-rock wall.
Sitting on the wall, she decided to rest for a few moments, at least until the pain in her calf subsided. She should probably flex her foot again, so gingerly she started to flex. Another cramp seized her calf. “Ow! Ow!”
She closed her eyes, gritting her teeth together, letting the pain pass.
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“Are you okay, ma’am?” a man said behind her.
Livvy screeched and nearly fell off the wall.
A strong hand grasped her arm, preventing her from falling into the snow. “Easy. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
That voice.
Livvy turned to look at the man. The lumberjack man. “You.”
He wore a dark-gray turtleneck that somehow made his eyes bluer. Same beard, same quirk of mouth like he was laughing at her, same broad shoulders, same boots... The jeans were darker, no holes this time.
“Me.” He was definitely holding back a laugh. “I can’t believe you’re sitting on my wall. It’s freezing out here.”
That phrase made Livvy shiver. “You’re telling me.”
He lifted his dark brows. “Do you live around here?”
“Not exactly,” she said. “I was on my way to the lodge when I got a charley horse.” Number two.
Lumberjack man sucked in a breath. “Ouch. I’m surprised you weren’t cursing up a storm.”
“I don’t curse.”
He chuckled. “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head.
“Okay. I guess I can see that about you,” he said.
“What do you mean by that?”
Her question seemed to catch him off guard, because his expression sobered. Then he tilted his head, studying her. If he kept looking at her like that, her face was going to thaw out.
“You’re too sweet,” he said. “Like, June Cleaver sweet.”
Livvy narrowed her eyes, and the man only quirked his brows again as if challenging her. She didn’t know if this was a compliment or insult, but it was way too weird to be seeing lumberjack man twice in the same weekend... She didn’t even know his name. Livvy moved off the wall, gingerly putting weight on her left foot. Yep, her calf felt like it had a deep bruise, but she could walk as far as the lodge, then figure out how to thaw out her body.
She took the first step, testing, and sucked in her breath.
“Do you want a rice bag?” lumberjack man asked.
Until We Kissed (Pine Valley Book 6) Page 2
