by Chiah Wilder
Ryan unzipped his jacket, then zipped it up again. “She still cries for him even though it’s been”—he looked up at the ceiling while pulling the zipper back down on his coat— “uh … five years?”
“Seven years since the old man croaked. If you keep drinking, you’re gonna be joining him in a few more years.”
Ryan cleared his throat. “I gotta go. Maybe we can go out for a drink sometime.” He pulled off his coat. “Or dinner,” he hastily added.
“Yeah,” Smokey said before picking up his fork again.
He watched as Ryan swayed down the aisle to join Tonya. Memories of his childhood that Smokey vigilantly sheltered in the darkest corners of his mind threatened to creep out, but he willed them to stay put. He shoved a bite of food into his mouth and chewed slowly, his appetite no longer there. Smokey wadded up the napkin and put it on his plate, then motioned Maddie for the check.
“No pie tonight? How ’bout a slice of coconut cake? One just came out of the oven,” Maddie said, a hand on her hip.
“No, thanks.”
She glanced down at the half-full plate. “You lost your appetite or something?” she said as she picked up the dish.
“Yeah—something like that.”
The waitress handed him the check. “I know I’ll be seeing you again real soon. Ruthie really appreciates you bringing in your crew during the week for lunch.”
Smokey nodded, then pulled out his wallet and took out a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks, Maddie,” he said, handing her the tip.
She shook her head. “That’s too much.”
“Take it—you work hard and deserve it.”
“You and the others spoil me,” she said, hesitating before shoving the bill into her pocket.
“Shit, Maddie, wages never match the cost of living.” Smokey slid off the stool.
“Isn’t that the truth.” She stacked his empty coffee cup and water glass on top of the plate. “Thanks, sweetie.”
Smokey nodded then headed toward the register. When he came up to the booth that his mother and brother were sitting in, his mom immediately looked down at the menu and Ryan bent over, pretending to look for something on the floor. Smokey walked by without a word, anger pricking his skin and disappointment clawing at his belly.
The cold wind wrapped around him, stinging his cheeks and nostrils. Still falling, the snow was now deeper and denser than when he’d first gone into Ruthie’s. It blanketed the diner’s parking lot and the rooftops of Pinewood Springs, making the town glow in its blinding whiteness.
Smokey cleaned off the car, then slipped inside and cranked up the defroster. He turned out of the lot and the streetlights, storefronts, and houses slowly began to disappear behind a white curtain as he made his way to the clubhouse—his refuge.
3
The minute Ashley stepped out of the shower, the ceiling tiles came thundering down and chips of white ceramic flew everywhere. She rushed out of the bathroom, cussing up a storm while the tiles continued to rain down.
“This is ridiculous!” she yelled, watching from the doorway. Dripping wet hair, goosebumps racing across her skin, and chattering teeth were not a good way to start off the morning, especially since she had to be at her new job in less than an hour.
Ashley stomped into the bedroom, slipped on a pair of clogs, and walked back into the bathroom. Shards of porcelain crunched beneath the soles of her shoes as she gathered up essential toiletries and hurried toward the second bathroom. Keeping a cautious eye at that ceiling, she finished getting ready.
A half hour later, Ashley stood before a full-length mirror in the master bedroom scrutinizing her black top tucked into a dark plum skater skirt. The formfitting top was low-key sexy, and normally she wouldn’t have had second thoughts, but Zach had warned her about his friend being a womanizer and didn’t want to give this guy the wrong impression. Ashley groaned as she pulled the top over her head and tossed it on the bed alongside an ivory lace blouse and a black fitted shirt; then she walked over to the closet and stared. Grabbing a long-sleeved black top with lace cuffs, she hurriedly pulled it on and tucked it into her skirt.
After applying a sheer pink lipstick, Ashley glanced at herself again in the mirror: Skirt just above the knee—check; top not emphasizing my boobs and wide belt drawing attention away from them—double check; black tights instead of bare legs—check, and low-heeled boots—check. She exhaled slowly. Okay then. All’s good. Ashley shrugged on a black wool coat, slung a large tote bag over a delicate shoulder, and walked out of the room.
When the garage door didn’t open, Ashley didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, scream, or pack it in and go back to bed and pull the covers over her head. She had absolutely no clue what to do since she’d never lived in a place that had an attached garage. Taking out her phone, she accessed Lyft and cursed for the umpteenth time that morning when the app told her a driver would be at her house in twenty minutes.
“I’m totally late,” she said aloud while shoving the phone into her purse.
Thirty minutes later, Ashley walked into a five-story building and pressed the button for the elevator, her right foot tapping on the glossy vinyl floor. So far, today is a damn disaster, but the bright side is that it can’t get much worse. She stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor.
The brass doors swished open, and Ashley quickly walked over to a large wooden door emblazoned with the name A+ Construction in gold lettering. Pulling the door open, the first thing she saw was a glass curtain wall that looked out over the town and jagged mountain peaks. The rest of the lobby was done in shades of brown, rust, and crimson. Several brown leather chairs dotted the area in front of a sleek brown and granite counter, and oil and watercolor paintings of the great outdoors decorated softly textured walls. Vases with Native American designs and several bronze and pewter sculptures of the Old West rested on pedestals around the room. In several corners, hand-woven baskets and planters held floral arrangements and greenery.
“May I help you?” a woman asked, a tinge of irritation in her voice.
Ashley looked over at the counter and smiled. “Hello,” she said, walking toward the receptionist. “I’m Ashley Callahan. I’ll be working here for the next few months.” She held out her hand.
The ginger-haired woman narrowed her eyes. “We don’t need you here.”
Taken aback, Ashley stared at the receptionist, wondering if she’d heard the woman correctly.
“I place the ads and things are going just fine.”
“If they were going so well, Mr. Harty wouldn’t have hired my firm. Can you please tell me where my office is?”
The woman shrugged and turned away. “I dunno.”
Ashley placed a hand on her hip as her body temperature quickly rose. “Then find someone who does,” she replied.
The receptionist leaned over and picked up the phone receiver and pushed a button. “Some lady’s here saying she works here now. I don’t know anything about that.” As she listened to the response, the woman kept scowling at Ashley.
What’s is her fucking problem? Man, I wish I was back in Denver. You owe me big time for this bullshit, Zach.
The receptionist hung up the phone and pointed to a row of brown leather chairs. “Sit down over there. Pearl will be here in a sec.”
A streak of defiance raced through Ashley, and she purposefully strode over to the floor-to-ceiling window and stared out at the falling snow.
“Ms. Callahan?”
Ashley turned around, and a woman in her fifties with styled short brown hair and a navy blue dress with gray pinstripes crossed the room to greet her. She took the woman’s offered hand and shook it.
“I’m Pearl Thomas—Mr. Harty’s assistant. I’ll show you to your office.”
“Thank you. I’m sorry I’m late, but I couldn’t get the garage door opened this morning and had to call a Lyft. I guess there aren’t too many in town because I had to wait a while before the driver came by.”
&n
bsp; Pearl smiled and the fine lines under her eyes deepened. “You’re from Denver, right?”
“I am. I guess it’ll take me a little time to get used to being in a small town. Are you from here?” she asked as she followed the woman down the hall.
“Not originally, but my husband and I have lived here for the past twenty-five years.” Pearl stopped in front of a doorjamb, then reached inside and switched on the lights. “This will be your office during your stay,” she said.
Ashley walked inside the room and smiled when she saw the picture window and the view of the snow-covered mountains. “The scenery is so beautiful that I may get distracted from working.”
Pearl smiled and ambled across the space. “The password to the computer and the phone extensions for the employees are in the desk’s middle drawer.”
Ashley nodded. “Thanks. What’s the receptionist’s name?” The bitch is what I should say.
“Sabrina Flint. She handles the front desk. If you need anything clerical, your assistant is Georgia, but you won’t be able to meet her since she’s called in sick. I’ll bring her by when she returns to work.”
“That sounds good. I didn’t think I’d have an assistant, so I’m happy about Georgia,” she said as she put her tote down on the desk.
“Mr. Harty wants to meet you. He’s with a client at the moment, but when he’s finished, I’ll come down and get you.” Pearl looked around the room. “If you need anything or have any questions, please let me know.”
“I will. Thank you, Pearl.”
Ashley closed the door behind Pearl as the woman exited the office. Happiness surged through her since she’d pictured her workspace as a cubicle in a dusty office. She never imagined she’d have her own office, an assistant, and a killer view. It was almost too good to be true.
As Ashley settled in, the sound of her phone ringing drew her attention. Digging in her purse, she gripped the phone, checked the number, and then answered.
“Have you met the owner?” Zach’s jovial voice irked her.
“Not yet, but I have a bone to pick with you,” she said, sinking down into the desk chair.
“Already?” There was a soft chuckle.
“I could’ve been seriously injured this morning in the shower. After I got out, the damn tiles in the ceiling came crashing down. Then, the garage door didn’t work, so I had to take a Lyft. The company’s house is pretty much a fixer-upper, and believe me, I’m being polite about it.”
“They have Lyft in Pinewood Springs? I’ll be damned.”
The muscles in her face tightened, and she resisted the urge to fling the phone against the wall. “So your curiosity about a ride-sharing platform takes precedence over a potential lawsuit?”
“Lawsuit?” Zach asked.
“Yeah, the one I would’ve filed if I’d gotten hurt this morning. When was the last time you were at that house?”
“It’s been a while. Are you okay?”
Ashley pressed her lips together. The threat of suing does it every time. “I barely escaped the tile downpour.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll send over a handyman to repair the damages. The garage door too.”
“Since you’re willing to do repairs, the windows in the master bedroom and family room have cracks around the frames, and the house feels like a wind tunnel. It’s been snowing since Saturday, and I’m freezing to death in that igloo.”
Zach laughed. “Okay—we can change out the windows.”
“Or I can stay at the Palace Hotel—it looks nice.”
“It should—it’s a five-star hotel. You have expensive taste, Ashley. It’ll be cheaper for me to send someone over to repair the place.”
“You can’t blame me for trying. I love historic—” A small knock on the door interrupted Ashley’s train of thought. “Come in,” she said.
Pearl stuck her head through the doorway. “Mr. Harty’s ready to see you.”
“Thanks.” Ashley held up her hand in a wait-a-second gesture and put the phone back against her ear. “Zach, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you after work.”
Pearl led her into a lavish office and gestured to a pair of brown leather chairs in front of a massive desk. “Please sit down, Mr. Harty will be with you in a minute.” The woman smiled, then scampered out of the room.
The back of Daniel Harty’s chair faced her while he had a phone to his ear. Ashley sat down and crossed her legs, and as she looked around the room, she noticed there weren’t any framed family pictures adorning the desk, walls, or tops of file cabinets. The room was decorated tastefully but devoid of anything remotely personal.
“Just make sure you know what the hell you want before I give you a bid on the job,” Mr. Harty said.
Why does that voice sound so familiar? Ashley clasped her hands together in her lap. She was a sucker for a man with a deep voice, dark hair, and darker eyes. Throw a little danger in there and I’m hopeless. A smile whispered across her lips but then disappeared when she realized that her new client and boss had ended his call.
For a couple of minutes, Daniel Harty sat there looking out the window. Maybe he doesn’t know I’m here. She straightened up in the chair and cleared her voice. He swiveled around and faced her.
Holy Shit.
Her manicured nails dug into her skin. It’s the guy from the bar—the sexy, good-looking guy. Oh fuck, and I didn’t think my day could get any worse. Maybe he won’t recognize me. She crossed her fingers and held her breath.
Then a smirk moved across his face and her stomach dropped at the same time she unclasped her hands. And if that wasn’t enough, he shot her a wink. He recognizes me, and he’s got the damn gall to wink. The asshole’s enjoying this. How the hell am I going to work for him?
He glanced down at a file on his desk and then looked back up, his captivating black gaze holding her prisoner.
“So Marie isn’t your name.” It was a statement, not a question.
She shook her head no, then scowled at him.
He laughed. “Mine is still Smokey—Daniel for business, but Smokey’s what I go by. What else did you lie about Ms.”—he glanced down at the file again—“Callahan? Oh yeah … you’re not a tourist and you’re probably not staying at any of the hotels.” For a quick second, darkness replaced smugness, but then his smartass smirk was back, and Ashley wondered if she’d imagined it.
“Oh please, don’t act like you’re shocked. I was alone in a bar trying to enjoy one of my favorite hometown bands. I wasn’t there to meet anyone, so why would I tell you—a perfect stranger—the truth? Women can never be too trusting or careful in a situation like that.”
“What did you think I was going to do with your first name?” His eyes twinkled.
The jerk’s having a good time at my expense. I’d love to smack that smugness right off his too-handsome face.
“You’re purposely trying not to understand. Anyway, this new development makes our working situation a bit awkward,” she said.
“I don’t agree. It’s interesting, maybe a little fun, but not awkward.” Again that damn smirk resurfaced.
“I’m sure Zach told you I was an all-business type of person, so let’s get this straight—you and I will have nothing more than a professional relationship. I’m here because you hired the firm to work out a three-month marketing campaign, and that’s it.”
“The Ashley Callahan I pictured after I spoke with Zach certainly isn’t the one sitting in front of me, and I’m damn relieved.” He stared at her for a moment, then wiggled his brows at her.
She sighed audibly and glowered at him. The jerk’s having the time of his life about this. This just sucks. The universe has dealt me a shitty hand for sure.
“Don’t have anything to say, Ashley? You weren’t at a loss for words the other night.”
Anger streaked through her like ribbons of fire. “If we’re going to work together, we have to agree to act like two professional adults. The other night was just that—the other night. It’s in the pas
t and shouldn’t be a factor in our business relationship going forward.” Ashley rose to her feet. “If you want to discuss your marketing campaign and bounce off some ideas, I’m all ears; otherwise, I’m going to go back to my office.”
They stared at each for what seemed like forever, and then she whirled around and walked toward the door.
“And stop checking out my butt,” she said before opening the door and slipping out into the corridor.
His guffaw rankled every nerve in her body; she clenched her hands into fists and stalked to her office.
Ashley closed the door, walked over to the window, and stared out at the swirling snow. “How am I going to do this?” she muttered under her breath. It was bad enough that she’d spent most of Sunday daydreaming about the hot guy she’d met at Blue’s Belly on Saturday night, and she’d even regretted her decision in dissing him. And now we’ll be working together. A groan escaped from her lips and she pressed her forehead against the cool glass. “What a fucking mess.” She inhaled deeply and slowly exhaled, her warm breath fogging the pane.
At that moment, Ashley saw movement in the parking lot below the window. She peered through the falling snow, but all she saw was something black, like an eraser smudge against the pristine whiteness.
Something—or someone—moved behind the huge oak tree standing in the corner of the lot.
It’s an animal or … Squinting her eyes, she pushed against the glass.
A strange feeling twisted in the pit of Ashley’s stomach as she stared at the tree. Seconds turned into minutes, and she began to think that she’d imagined the whole thing. A shaky breath of relief expelled from her lungs as she took a step away from the window.
And just then, she flinched and gasped.
A figure stepped out from behind the tree; dressed in a long black coat, the person appeared to be staring right at her.
Ashley jumped away and ran over to the cord and yanked it down hard. The shade slammed down, and she stood there panting, her heart pumping against her throat.
