by Hart, Taylor
He saw her on the steps immediately. Today she wore a red tank top with her red locks braided back, only slight wisps of hairs flowing out. Different yoga pants, not that he should be paying attention to that. He knew she meant serious business because she wore work boots, the kind that protect your toes. Before his anger could get the best of him, he was thrown off balance by the muscles in her arms.
She looked up and gave him a look. The kind of look that reminded him of a runner ready to go into a full sprint at any moment.
Another round of pounding started.
“Wait!” He held his hands up. “Stop that!”
Katie stayed in her pose. She had a female Thor kind of thing going. “Finally got up, lazy bones?”
His hands checked his pockets for his phone. Nothing. He scanned the hall. No clocks. “What time is it?”
With a half smile, Katie pounded another nail. “It’s roughly seven-thirty.” She gestured to the window, which still showed a thick blanket of snow coming down. “I figured you professional athletes would have to get up way early to get all your workouts done. Ya know, all those important, busy things you do.”
Okay. Roman knew she’d kind of had a chip on her shoulder about football players since they’d met, but he hadn’t realized it was this bad. He could not let her get away with this. “If excelling in a brutal sport so proficiently that you become one of the top players in America—even one of the top in the world—means you're lazy?” He held up his hands in surrender. “Then I guess you’ve caught me.”
She glared at him for a second then went back to the banging. “If you don’t want to hear banging, then go stay at another bed and breakfast because I was given direct instructions to rehab this place before we open for clients again this spring. That’s t-minus sixty days, and every day I’m going to be pushing harder and harder.”
Damn. Even though her attitude pissed him off, Katie was beautiful when she was angry. Flushed, eyes bright, every part of her tensed and engaged.
“Well?” She completely gave her attention to him and demanded an answer.
He didn’t know what to say. So he settled for shaking his head. “I’m not paying you some crazy overtime morning rate, am I?”
At this, she rolled her eyes and went back to hammering. “You’re paying me twenty bucks an hour for thirty hours a week.” She pounded another nail. Her eyes flipped up at him. “Just so you know, your uncle always threw in a ten dollar lunch allowance, and he always counted my lunch as a working hour.”
“I don’t think so.” He didn’t really care. He just wanted to argue.
The next steps she took, flying up the steps, made him stumble back down the hallway to keep himself centered. She was in his face, shaking her finger. “Just so you know, while I’m so sorry to inconvenience the great Roman Young’s football schedule, I am a single mother. I get up at five, run on my treadmill, do two loads of laundry, make lunch, clean up, make sure Josh’s homework is done, get him off to school, and then I come here. I made sure,” she was visibly trembling as she finally caught her breath before continuing, “that your uncle’s bedroom was rehabbed before he died and you got here. That the hot tub was installed. That a down blanket was on the king sleep number bed. That top of the line jet sprayers were in that bathroom.” Her face turned sad. “And then I would go visit him in that god forsaken care center in Ogden twice a week.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Which I never let him pay me for.” She shook her head. “Your uncle was a kind, good man. You should be grateful you had him. And…I’m trying to get this all done like he wanted.”
He’d woken and sobered up. Fast. “Yes, he was.” He suddenly felt sheepish. She’d done all that. All that for…him. His uncle had wanted that for him. Shame coursed through him. Shame and anger and pain that his uncle hadn’t told him. But the thing that really stood out from this lecture was one fact. “You’re not married?”
She held up her hand with the ring on it. “No, idiot, I’m married.”
“Then why did you call yourself a single mom?” he shot back.
Her face paled, and she backed away, going down the steps.
He followed. “What?”
“It’s a long, clichéd, boring story.” Quickly, she tugged her winter gear into place and replaced her boots.
He was confused. The bulldog worker that had been terrorizing him suddenly wanted to leave. “What’s going on?”
Her face was still pale. She pushed her pink pom pom hat into place and tugged one her boots and gloves. “I—I just have to go.”
Suspicion stirred inside of him. “What happened to your husband?” An overwhelming urge to know assaulted him. He stepped in front of the side door so she couldn’t leave. He didn’t know why he sounded so fierce. Why thinking about her, wearing a ring and not living with her husband, made his venture into marriage and divorce seem real again.
She blinked a few times and then glared at him, defiance in her eyes. “None of your business.”
All the angst and worry from his own marriage bubbled up. “He cheated on you?”
The look on her face went quickly from defiance to complete anger. She slapped him. Hard.
Then she covered her face and seemed dazed. “Don’t EVER say that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I have to go.” She pushed past him, almost completely getting stuck in the soft layer of snow by the stairs. But she recovered and moved to one of the snowmobiles.
It wasn’t that Roman minded a good slap now and then. He didn’t mind it if he deserved it. But he didn’t think he had deserved it. He was on her side. Before he knew what he was doing, he had on his winter clothes and had grabbed the keys for the other snow mobile. He took off after her, centering his sunglasses on his face to prevent snow from getting in his eyes. The weather hadn’t lightened up a bit.
He followed her and finally caught up when she slowed in front of a rocky field. When he was a little closer, he saw the lone stone-twisted metal arch that simply said Cemetery. He came to a stop behind her snowmobile. She’d pulled to the side of the cemetery and was trudging through the snow, some parts coming up to her hip.
Even though it was probably completely inappropriate, and even though he didn’t know why he was doing it, he trudged after her.
She looked up when he was two steps away, as if she hadn’t heard him park. “Why are you here?”
He frowned and looked at the grave she’d cleaned off. “I don’t know.”
Her breaths were loud, and then they gradually evened out. They both just stood there. The snow fell in waves around them, making him feel like they were almost the last two people on earth. “What happened?”
She didn’t answer for a couple of minutes, but he waited. “Another cliché story—car accident.” She shrugged, and tears fell down her cheeks. “He’ll be gone a year tomorrow.” She looked hollow and sad and tired.
Roman wanted to reach out to her, pull her into him, shield her from this pain. But, of course, he didn’t. That would be insane. He hardly knew her. “A local boy?”
She closed her eyes for a second and then flipped them open. “How come you make it sound so…so…trite?”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” And he hadn’t. “I’m sorry. I just wondered if you grew up together.” Honestly, he didn’t know what to say. All he knew was that he felt like if he quit talking, it would be worse.
“Yes, we grew up here. We used to own the farm on the way into town. It was sold three months after he died.” She shrugged. “I couldn’t keep up the payments.”
It was all slipping into place. “So that’s why you know how to fix everything?”
She nodded and bit into the side of her lip. “Your uncle came to me at Josh’s funeral and asked me to take over his place. He was still living there, but he’d quit taking guests. Mrs. K just cooked for him. He could still get around okay, and you know he didn’t need the money from the business. At the time I told him I couldn’t do it, but all he did was hand me a key and tell me that the Lor
d would provide. Then a check started showing up every month for 30 hours a week at 20 dollars an hour.”
A slow tear leaked out, and she swiped at it angrily. “You know, that’s how small towns are. They fill needs where they can. And your uncle was one of those people who just helped people, with nothing in it for himself.”
Out of nowhere, Roman felt his own tears threaten and then spill. His uncle always spoke about how the scriptures said your left hand should not know what the right hand was doing. He was selfless. He served, not to gain a spot in the media, but to be the best man he could be.
A stab of remorse fell through Roman. He wanted to be that man. He wanted to be a man that someone cried over when he was dead. Really cried and not because they wouldn’t win at football. No. He wanted to do something real. Something that changed people’s lives.
“So after I lost the farm, I used my savings to rent a small house in town. I took the key for the place and got to work. He’d been put in the care center in Ogden by this time, but he’d left the list of what he wanted done. I would go chat with him about how it was turning out. I took pictures to show him. Obviously, the list just kept growing.” She shrugged and grinned at him. “I like to make new lists.”
He hesitated, roughly wiping his face. “I noticed.”
Her face lit up. “Did you use the hot tub?” She truly looked hopeful and happy that he would be pleased with it.
He couldn’t help grinning. “It was the perfect touch.”
“And you liked the sleep number bed? I got that at a super great sale.”
Touching his lower back, he marveled, “Back doesn’t hurt at all.”
Keeping her smile in place, she nodded. “Well, I’m glad to hear it.”
Roman let out a sigh, trying to absorb all this new information. “So it’s a good thing I didn’t show up when it was a real dump earlier?”
“Exactly.” She laughed. She looked around and then back at him. “So now you know more than you ever wanted to know about Katie Winters. I’m a Wolfe Creek resident. Single mom. Widow.”
He shook his finger at her. “You mean the great Katie Winters.”
Wistfully, she lifted an eyebrow. “I don’t know about that.”
Something shifted inside of him as he studied the vulnerability in her eyes. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on. Perplexed, he tried to clear his mind and think of something to say. “I don’t know, Katie Winters, I think I might want to know more.”
Their eyes held, locked for a few seconds, then she shifted back to the gravestone.
Gingerly, he stepped forward and read, “Joshua Winters, beloved husband and father.”
Katie touched the top of it. “I know beloved is cliché, but it’s true.”
Inexplicable pain surged through Roman. He wanted to take away all of Katie’s heartache, this thing that obviously kept her running, driven to keep the bills paid. His eyes were suddenly opened to her problems. Actual problems—not just how many grams of protein she took in a day.
He stared at the grave and then bent to trace the initials. “I don’t think beloved is cliché at all. I called my mother beloved.” His voice was quiet.
“Oh.” Her voice was soft, and she turned to look at him. “You did?”
He nodded. “It wasn’t fast…it was long. Four years. Lots of treatments. She was the best mom a boy could have.”
“Your father?” She asked.
He scoffed, “Left when I was two. Didn’t look back. I couldn’t care less about him. The only man I truly cared for, and who cared for me, was Jim.” More sadness pressed on his chest and moisture filled his eyes. “He paid for my mother’s medical expenses.” He wiped his eyes. “He loved me before I was a star, after I lost myself in my career, and even when I wasn’t sure who I was.” He closed his eyes.
Without warning, Katie took his gloved hand in hers and moved him down the rows of markers. She pointed. His uncle’s looked fresh, new. The message on it was ‘To all the people in this town—it’s been a fun ride. To R…I love you. Go Destroyers!’
A laugh jerked out of him before he could get a hold of his mixed emotions. He shook his head. “They were always his favorite team.” A river of tears traced down his cheeks and then anger bubbled. He clenched his fist. “Why didn’t he call me? Why did he tell that attorney NOT to call me for the funeral?”
It was silent, and then Katie answered. “I didn’t realize he had told the attorney not to call you. I just…it doesn’t matter what I thought.” She hesitated. “But you know how he was. He knew you had playoffs and the championship game. He knew you’d worked so hard to get your knee back in shape, and he knew you might get a shot. I’m sure he didn’t want to tell you and have you blow it.”
More tears spilled down his cheeks.
This time, her naked hand reached for his face and gently brushed away the tears.
Before he knew what he was doing, he slipped his own glove off and took her hand.
What happened next could only be called a mixing of time and breath and a little bit of magic. As Roman stared in her eyes, he knew what he felt for Katie Winters was something he’d never felt for anyone else in his entire life.
Chapter 5
He couldn’t have even guessed how long they’d both stood there, holding hands, staring into each other’s eyes. All he knew was that it was too soon when Katie carefully took back her hand and turned for the snowmobile. “I have to get back to work.”
It might be too soon for him to expect her to acknowledge what had just happened between them. In fact, if truth be told, he had no idea what had just happened, but c’mon, something had. He caught up to her and tried not to feel like a teenager. “Why don’t we go get breakfast?”
She slipped onto the snowmobile, all business. “I have things that need to get done today.” She started the engine.
This abrupt attitude was more than he could handle. He reached across her and shut off the snowmobile. “I’m your boss, and I say what gets done today.” There. See? He could be bossy, too.
Titling her chin up, she gave him her signature defiant look. A somewhat sexydefiant look, but he wasn’t noticing that he told himself. Yes, it mattered that she wasn’t…attached…but for heaven’s sake, now wasn’t the time to start something. Guilt tugged inside of him for even thinking about it. He wouldn’t even be here longer than it took for the roads to clear and Mr. Burcher to get back here to do paperwork with him.
Pinching her lips together, she shrugged. “Fine.”
Her resignation was not what he expected. “What?”
“Command me, oh bossiness.”
He rolled his eyes. “I am not the bossy one! Pshaa, no way. Did you see yourself bossing me here and there yesterday?”
She threw her hands into the air, totally exasperated. “Quit talking, QB, and get on the snowmobile.” She gestured behind her. “We’ll come back for the other one later.”
Waiting a beat, he stared at her, confused that he could feel this mixture of anger and attraction to her.
After starting the snowmobile, she grinned at him. “I guess you can just buy breakfast instead of lunch.”
When he finally complied and got on behind her, she took off, taking their speed up fast.
This forced him to hold her tighter, and he could help inhaling her light lemony smell.
She laughed as she brought their speed down and turned onto Main Street.
The snow was still coming down in a blanket. But it had calmed down a bit. He couldn’t imagine that the weather would clear enough to get the plows through. Secretly, he didn’t mind spending another day with Katie.
They passed the hardware store, and he thought she would pull into the Leaping Lizard, but she took a sharp right turn and kicked up their speed a notch as she headed toward what looked to be a huge ski resort.
Roman studied the monstrous development that he hadn’t realized was nestled at the base of this mountain. Granted, there weren’t that many cars
in the giant parking lot, but he was sure there would be during the peak ski times. He’d never been a skier. Never lived in a place that afforded that opportunity and never really cared to take it up. His ex-wife had told him it would be good for his image, but he’d never understood why it would matter. She’d said it would make him look daring.
He wondered if Katie would take them to the resort. There looked to be a lot of shops and places to eat. Some appeared open and others looked empty, but she took a turn away from the resort side and went up a small road, a road that had an old sign hanging on a large tree over the road.
The Wolfe’s Haven.
She parked in front of a somewhat older looking home that had a bunch of snowmobiles in front of it, and the smell of coffee filled the air.
Roman’s stomach rumbled. As they walked up, he took note of the quaint wrap around deck that had tables covered in snow and chairs stacked on top of each other in rows.
The door chimed as they walked in. The place had the feel of an old mom and pop shop, with a soda fountain bar and back splash mirror. The whole place was faded reds and blacks with large posters of Elvis and Marilyn Monroe, James Dean and some others he didn’t recognize, but knew his mother would have recognized them. Country music played out of the juke box to the side of the door and Roman stared at the men sitting at the counter talking and holding newspapers. He imagined that the coffee never ran out here.
Katie smiled and said hello to some people. She stopped when a man with a kitchen towel wrapped around his waist appeared from behind the revolving door and came out with his hands full of plates. “Lou, this is Jim’s nephew.”
The man paused for a second. Roman surmised that he was probably around his own age—late twenties. Roman measured him the way he would any player on the field. The man was fit, six footish. Probably played ball in high school. He would be fast. He looked Italian and had a mustache and brown eyes. He glared at Roman for a second then nodded. “Be right with you guys.”
Katie led them through the restaurant that opened up to a huge glass window on the other side that faced up the mountain. He could see one of the lifts right next to the building, with an operator helping skiers go up.
