She had him reeling.
“I don’t know what espadrilles are.”
She feigned mock surprise. “Look at that! Something Jasper Bergen doesn’t know. They’re shoes—just in case you actually cared.”
He held her gaze. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” Her tone was sharp, but the slight quiver of her bottom lip told him she wasn’t as indestructible as she tried to appear.
“Elle, I—”
She waved him off. “No, don’t say anything. This man feast experiment extension—whatever the hell you want to call it—was a mistake. Don’t waste some I’m too wrapped up in work to be with anyone explanation on me. You made yourself crystal clear this morning. I’m not a moron.”
He schooled his features. “I know you’re not.”
She held his gaze, and they were locked in another staring contest.
“This again?” he asked.
She leaned forward and widened her eyes.
She infuriated him.
She challenged him.
Nobody in his orbit dared behave like this with him.
It made him want her all the more.
A tight smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth when a chime sounded, and the pilot’s voice filled the cabin.
“Mr. Bergen, Miss Reynolds, we’ve been cleared to land. I’ve also been notified by the tower that you’ve got a visitor meeting the plane. Go ahead and buckle up. We’ll be wheels down in the next ten minutes.”
Elle broke their connection and closed her laptop, and Jasper released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“The person meeting the jet is probably just the driver to take us to Fell’s Peak.”
Elle nodded indifferently as she finished packing her papers, then fastened her seatbelt.
He glanced out the window and found Fell’s Peak in the fading light. After their late takeoff and losing two hours flying to the East Coast, it was almost seven o’clock. His family owned a luxury duplex unit on the resort’s grounds. He’d take one half, and she could have the other. And they could have their own space where he didn’t have to worry about impromptu staring contests.
Or impromptu salsa lessons.
Or an impromptu night, cuddled in next to her, comforting a young boy just as his parents used to do for him.
He shook off the sentimental bullshit and buckled his seatbelt.
It was too late to visit the resort’s administrative offices tonight. He’d spend the rest of the evening going over the resort’s maintenance records and the bids for the new ski lift, order dinner in, and go to bed—alone.
A routine he was well accustomed to following, which now, after the last two nights with Eleanor Reynolds, seemed like a foreign concept.
It had only been a handful of days.
She couldn’t have worked her way into his life in that brief amount of time.
Unfortunately, or fortunately—he wasn’t sure which—it didn’t matter.
Her sharp retorts and glaring eyes told him her defenses were up and on high alert.
He’d destroyed what had grown between them with his callous demeanor this morning. He had to do it. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so damned much.
The jet touched down, and he caught Elle gazing out the window. Her hardened expression had softened, and the hint of a smile pulled at the corners of her lips.
After reading her piece, there was no doubt she loved Fell’s Peak and the Bergen Mountain Sports shop in town. In the article, she’d painted the picture of herself as a girl, going with her mother to pick out her first pair of skis. The piece recounted Elle and her mother, riding the lift, enjoying hot cocoa on the mountain, and chasing each other down the rolling slopes of Fell’s Peak.
Then it hit him. There was nothing about her father.
The jet came to a stop in front of the small terminal, and the co-pilot opened the aircraft’s door. Jasper exchanged a few words with the woman, while Elle got her suitcase and shoulder bag and climbed down the stairs to the tarmac.
His gut twisted. Why the hell did it hurt so much to see her walk away?
He knew the answer but pushed it aside.
He grabbed his things, thanked the pilot, then got off the plane.
“Elle!” he called.
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
He caught up to her. “We might as well ride to Fell’s Peak together.”
She glared at him. “Great idea! We do so well traveling in cars together. Like two peas in a pod!” She shook her head. “I’ll call for the Fell’s Peak shuttle.”
They entered the small terminal, and Jasper scanned the crowd for his driver.
Elle glanced around and started down the hall.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She slung her bag over her shoulder. “The bathroom, if that’s all right with you? I’m pretty sure using the restroom facilities is allowed per my contract with Bergen Enterprises.”
He nodded. He deserved everything she could dish out. And Christ, could she dish it. But he wasn’t about to leave for Fell’s Peak without making damn sure she was in a car—any fucking car she picked—and headed to the resort.
The one-runway airport was fairly busy during the ski season, and groups of people lingered in the terminal, waiting for their flight. An older woman caught his eye and surprised him when she waved.
He glanced around. Was she waving to him?
The crowd parted, and the woman moved toward him slowly, using a walker.
Did he know her? Was she part of the Fell’s Peak staff?
As she closed the distance between them, he saw the color of her eyes and the breath caught in his throat.
“You look just like your picture on the Bergen Enterprises webpage,” she said, stopping in front of him.
“I’m sorry to sound rude, but do we know each other?” he asked. He had to be sure.
“Not formally. I’m Eleanor’s—”
“Mom?” came Elle’s surprised voice from behind him.
“Sweetheart!” the woman said, her lapis blue eyes shining with tears.
Elle went to her mother. “Do you want to sit, Mom?”
The woman shook her head. “No, no. I’m fine.”
Elle glanced between him and her mother. “What are you doing here?”
“Abby called. She said you and Jasper Bergen were on your way to Fell’s Peak. I was so excited. I threw a chicken in the Crock-Pot and went to the store and got your favorite ice cream.”
Elle squeezed her mother’s hand as the woman steadied herself with the walker. “Mom, you didn’t need to go to all that trouble. I was going to call you after I finished my work here.”
“Nonsense! You haven’t seen the house since I moved in. The craftsmen finished modifying everything for me.” Her mother paused. “I did want to ask you about Monty. I tried to call him to make sure I was using the right checkbook for the trust, but I wasn’t able to reach him.”
Elle glanced over her shoulder at him, then patted her mom’s hand. “It’s nothing to worry about. I have a new lawyer named Allen, who’s helping with all that. I’ll get you his information.”
Was she talking about Allen Parker? Elle and Allen did recognize each other when they’d bumped into the Parkers at the spa.
Elle’s mother reached out to him, and he took her shaky hand. “Where are my manners. I’m Lila Reynolds, Eleanor’s very proud mother. It’s so lovely to meet you. I hope you like chicken!”
His gaze bounced between Elle and her mother. He’d never seen Elle like this. He was used to the sharp-tongued, fearless version. This Elle had lost her hard edge and worry clouded her expression.
He pasted on a placating smile. “I’d hate to trouble you. I was going to order in and do some work. I’ve got business to attend to at Fell’s Peak tomorrow morning.”
The woman narrowed her gaze, her lapis blue eyes just as intense as her d
aughter’s. “There’s no substitute for a good, home-cooked meal. I insist you join us. Tell him, Eleanor.”
“My mom does know her way around a Crock-Pot,” Elle answered.
He held her gaze, then turned to Lila. “I’d be honored to join you for dinner.”
Christ! Did he just agree to spend the evening with them? Damn that Reynolds witchcraft!
“Then it’s settled!” Lila beamed. “Come on! I’m parked right outside.”
“Let me help you, Mom,” Elle said, shifting her shoulder tote, while also trying to pull her roller bag, and help her mother at the same time.
He put his hand on her shoulder, and she stilled. Had he not been watching her so closely, he would have missed the fraction she’d turned into him—neglected the barely perceptible amount she’d leaned into his touch as if she’d wanted him there, needed him there.
He lifted the strap off her shoulder and took her bag. “I’ll get our luggage so you can walk with your mom.”
“Thank you,” she replied, the raw honesty of her words cutting into his heart.
He took out his phone and shot off a text, informing the car service that he didn’t need to be picked up, and followed a few steps behind Elle and her mother. He’d had no idea Elle’s mom was…
What was she?
Was she sick or maybe recovering from an illness or surgery? The woman was by no means elderly, but she was weak and moved cautiously, relying on the walker to keep her upright.
And it wasn’t just Lila Reynolds’s condition that had him perplexed.
Elle’s whole demeanor changed the moment she saw her mother. Not that Elle wasn’t a nurturing person. He’d watched her last night as she comforted Bodhi. But this was different. This was a level of devotion he understood. A level of commitment he’d had no idea they had in common.
“Here’s the car,” Lila said as they approached a Mercedes SUV parked in a handicap spot.
Elle pulled a set of keys from her mother’s purse. “Why don’t you let me drive, Mom.”
“Go ahead, sweetheart! I’m still not used to driving such a fancy car.”
Jasper loaded their bags into the back of the Mercedes and listened to Elle and her mother discuss the car. It sounded as if Elle had purchased the vehicle for her. And then he remembered her question about a trust.
Was Elle supporting her mother?
Her words flashed through his mind.
There’s a lot you don’t know about me.
Elle was right. There was.
He went to get into the back seat when Lila stopped him.
“Jasper, take the front seat. I’m barely five foot three. You’ve got to be well over six feet tall. You’ll need all the leg room.”
Elle met his gaze. “Can you put her walker in the back with our bags?”
He softened his expression. “Sure.”
Lila sighed. “Eleanor, you don’t need to fawn all over me. I get around quite well on my own.”
“I know, but I’m here,” she answered, helping her mom into the back seat.
He closed the back hatch then slid into the passenger’s seat. Elle started the car, and the dashboard illuminated her face as she released a heavy breath.
He wanted to reach out and take her hand—do something to help shoulder the pain she carried.
“When was the last time you visited Fell’s Peak, Jasper?” Lila asked, breaking into his thoughts.
He shifted his focus from Elle to her mother. “It’s been a while. I’ve always loved Fell’s Peak. My mom grew up not far from here in Stowe.”
“So this area is in your blood. Eleanor and I fell in love with this place from the first moment we arrived, right, sweetheart?”
Elle backed the SUV out of the parking spot and nodded. “We sure did. I just wrote a whole article about it recently.”
Lila pressed her hand to her heart. “I saw that! My friend’s eight-year-old grandson set up some kind of alert on my computer that sends me messages anytime something about you pops up on the internet.”
“That’s terrifying,” Elle said through a laugh.
“Not at all. I’m so proud of you, Eleanor.”
He’d thought of Elle in so many different ways: infuriating, maddening, irresponsible, sexy, sensual. She exuded confidence and self-reliance. But he’d never thought of her as someone’s daughter. He’d never considered there was a vulnerable side to this powerhouse of a woman.
Fell’s Peak came into view, and Elle maneuvered the vehicle onto the quaint main street. They passed the Bergen Mountain Sports shop then turned down a side street. She slowed the car when they came to a sprawling ranch-style home a few blocks from the Fell’s Peak city center and parked in the attached garage. He got their bags from the back and followed Elle and her mother into the house.
The home had a cozy feel as the comforting scent of roast chicken lingered in the air. Stacks of books and framed photographs were scattered throughout the kitchen and living room. It reminded him of his grandparents’ home.
Jasper set their bags by the door, then walked over to the bookshelf. Jane Austen. Virginia Woolf. William Faulkner. Even a copy of Margery William’s Velveteen Rabbit sat on display. He removed the hardback of Woolf’s To the Longhouse from the shelf.
“That’s a first edition you’ve got there, Jasper. It’s from 1927,” Lila said, opening a drawer and taking out a stack of cloth napkins.
“It’s well preserved,” he replied, appreciating the binding and craftsmanship.
“Books are my passion. I was a librarian.”
“You are a librarian,” Elle corrected, removing the chicken from the Crock-Pot.
Her mother smiled. “I volunteer at the Fell’s Peak Public Library now.”
He carefully slid the book back onto the shelf and picked up a framed photo of two young girls.
“That’s a picture of me and my twin sister,” Lila said with a grin.
Jasper gazed at the image of the young girls with their arms wrapped around each other. “Abby’s mother?”
Lila nodded, and Jasper set the picture frame back on the shelf.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked.
“Could you get the salad out of the fridge?”
The three of them moved around the kitchen. Lila had set her walker to the side and navigated the space well without it. She still moved slowly, but in her home, she seemed self-sufficient.
With the table set, they sat down, and Lila poured three glasses of wine.
“A toast to my daughter and her friend, Jasper. It’s such a lovely surprise to have you both here.”
Jasper clinked his glass with Lila’s then turned to Elle. They tapped their glasses together, and he held her gaze, trying to read her, trying to understand her.
“So, Jasper, which book of Eleanor’s is your favorite?” Lila asked as they started in on the meal.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Elle press her lips together, holding back a grin.
“I haven’t read any of your daughter’s books yet.”
Lila cocked her head to the side. “You must have seen the movie they made of her novel?”
Elle took a bite of salad, her cheeks growing pink.
She was laughing at him, albeit, trying to hide it. But damn, if it didn’t send a rush of warmth through his body to finally see the worry she’d carried since her mother met them at the airport dial down a notch.
“I don’t have a lot of free time.”
Lila turned to Elle. “Then, he doesn’t know.”
Jasper’s gaze slid to Elle. “Know what?”
Lila took a sip of wine. “The story of how Eleanor started writing.”
“Mom, Jasper’s not interested in that.” Elle’s eyes went wide as she flashed him a knock it off look.
Now it was his turn to bite back a grin. “Actually, I’d be very interested in hearing that story.”
Lila sat back. “It all started about ten years ago before we knew I had Multiple
Sclerosis.”
He nodded solemnly. That explained the walker.
“We weren’t sure what was going on with my health. I was tired and growing weaker. I stopped skiing and hiking and then travel became too taxing.”
Elle’s eyes grew glassy, and she took a long sip of Chardonnay.
“That’s when Eleanor became my personal storyteller. Tell him, honey.”
Elle took another sip of wine. “There’s not much to it. It started when I did a semester abroad in Costa Rica. I’d write to my mom about my experiences.”
Lila waved her off. “It was more than that! Eleanor would weave together her experiences with the history, the geography, and the culture. It was as if I was right there with her, ziplining across the jungle or meeting a village elder.”
Jasper leaned in. “That’s how I felt reading the article that went viral about her first experience with Bergen Mountain Sports and Fell’s Peak.”
Elle’s lips parted, but she didn’t say a word.
Lila nodded. “That’s Eleanor’s magic. Everywhere she goes, she sends me pictures and postcards. I’ve got them all over the house.”
Jasper glanced around the room. Postcards from New Zealand, Italy, Switzerland, South Africa, and Morocco were tacked to a large corkboard, and all the framed pictures were of Elle or shots of exotic places.
Lila patted Elle’s hand. “I’d take Eleanor’s letters with me everywhere I went. I’d share them with my friends who started telling their friends about them. Soon, strangers were coming up to me in the grocery store, asking to hear them. I was at a coffee shop when a friend of a friend came up to me. He was a literary agent and had heard about Eleanor’s letters.”
“That’s quite a story,” he replied, mentally kicking himself for being so damned rigid in his opposition to her working for Bergen Enterprises.
“It is,” Lila continued. “Not only do Eleanor’s books help people find the hidden gems in the places they visit, they also stress one vital thing.”
“And what’s that?”
Lila smiled. “Living. Living for now. Living for today. Taking the plunge. You never know what life will throw at you.” she added, blinking back tears.
Man Feast (Bergen Brothers Book 2) Page 14
