Accidentally Hers (Sterling Canyon #1)

by Jamie Beck

  Then again, as a business owner, Grey carried liability insurance and was prepared to deal with lawsuits by injured skiers despite all the waivers and assumption-of-risk notices his clients signed. The OS should be equally prepared to face the consequences of its negligence, assuming the bartender was negligent.

  All Grey knew for sure was that he had a lot of questions and no answers. Best thing to do was say as little as possible until he had all the facts.

  He studied her—that prideful streak on full display, from her tipped chin to the fists on her hips. Of course, she had as much right to protect her future as he did his, the realization of which dulled the sharp edge of his anger.

  All along she’d reminded him of the boundaries between them, but he’d kept hoping for more. Not very fair to hold it against her when she’d only been honest, but his mixed-up feelings sucked. He wasn’t sure what to do about any of it, but knew he had to get away from her to figure it out.

  “Well, I’d better get going.” He stood to leave. When Avery grabbed hold of his wrist, he felt the heat travel all the way down . . . there. Clearly, even when she made him angry, throwing her to the ground and kissing her seemed like a good idea.

  “Wait. Are you going to talk to your lawyer?” Although her subterfuge today had hurt, her hopeful eyes tugged at his heart, weakening his resolve to maintain objectivity.

  “I’ve repeatedly asked you to stay out of the middle, Avery.” Grey placed his hand over hers, allowing himself to savor the satiny texture of her skin. “Please.”

  “I can’t!” She yanked her hand away from his. Tiny lines etched around her eyes and mouth revealed her frustration. “Just because you refuse to discuss it doesn’t mean I’m not still in the middle.”

  “What do you want from me?” Grey’s arms reached upward then slapped against his sides.

  “I want you to acknowledge my point. I want you to promise you’re going to look into what I’ve told you.” She fell back against the bench, deflated, tapping her toe against the ground. “I want you to act like a friend.”

  “Well, which is it then, Avery? Friend or patient?” Grey stared at her, thinking about all the times she’d suddenly withdrawn from their flirtations just when he thought he’d made progress. “Or is it that when you need something from me, I’m your friend. Otherwise, I’m just a patient.”

  “That’s not fair, Grey.” She frowned. Her voice grew soft. “You are my patient. It’s complicated.”

  Complicated.

  “Exactly!” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t want you to suffer for something you didn’t do, but I’m in a tight spot. I can’t afford to make my decisions based on how they affect you, Avery. I’ve got to follow my lawyer’s advice, not yours, especially when our needs don’t necessarily align. What happens if I don’t sue the OS? Will your anger compromise our work together?”

  Her misty eyes made him feel like a prize ass. But he didn’t have much income right now, and his dwindling bank balance put him at risk of missing a business loan payment in the near future. He had to secure his finances, no matter what.

  “If you don’t trust me, maybe you should be working with a different PT.” Avery’s voice faltered just a bit before she regained control of her emotions.

  If her words hadn’t carved him up like a field skinner blade, he might’ve admired her moxie.

  Maybe she was right. This was probably exactly why things like her stupid code of ethics existed.

  From the outset he’d let his interest in Bambi persuade him he could have it all—a full physical recovery, a legal victory that didn’t hurt her, and some kind of relationship. Obviously his beliefs had been nothing more than wishful thinking.

  Damned fool.

  He let the silence stretch for a minute, hoping she couldn’t hear his thundering heartbeat. “I’m going to leave now, before either of us says something we regret.”

  She stayed on the bench, fingers gripping the edge of the seat, as he turned and walked away.

  Chapter Ten

  Grey massaged his thigh and knee, dismayed by the fact he still felt discomfort—sometimes pain—despite all the work he’d been doing. The other day’s confrontation with Avery hadn’t helped matters either. The indignant look in her eyes had haunted him all night as he’d alternatively battled feelings of disappointment and hope.

  Shaman rounded the block as they returned to Backtrax. He glanced at his watch, sighing. Time to meet with Kelsey to discuss social media. For months he’d been trying to gently discourage her interest. Now Trip was forcing him to ask for her help.

  Of course, Grey couldn’t argue with Trip’s logic. Kelsey’s site looked professional, active, and proved she was an accomplished local businesswoman. Grey could probably learn a thing or two from Boomerang. Shit. He had to stop calling her that before it slipped out and hurt her feelings.

  Shaman barked and copped a squat just as Grey’s phone rang. His lawyer’s name flashed on its screen as he fished for the plastic bag in his pocket.

  “Hey, Warren.”

  “Grey. I got your message about the events precipitating Andy Randall’s accident. Sounds like we might have grounds for a third-party Dram shop claim against the Outpost Saloon.”

  “Dram shop?”

  “That’s what we call the statute that establishes liability in cases where a person suffers injury from a drunk driver after said driver has been served by a negligent bartender. Colorado’s statutory cap on those claims is one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, but these cases aren’t easy to win. If we find solid evidence, I’ll send a claims notice to its insurer and see if it offers a settlement.”

  “Anything is better than what I’ve got now, which is nothing.”

  “It’s tough to be patient with the pace of the legal process, but hang in there. I’ll make sure you’re compensated fairly. However, you should consider the backlash you might suffer if you file a claim against another local business owner in this small town. I’m not suggesting you refrain. Just giving you forewarning. Do you know Mark and Cindy Suttner?”

  “Not personally.” Grey didn’t want to kick up a lot of dust in the community but, on the other hand, the majority of his business came from tourists. Over time, he and Trip would work to repair any short-term blowback from the locals. “Frankly, I can’t let anyone’s opinion factor into my decision. I need money to protect my business.”

  “I agree. In the end, you should pursue all avenues of recovery.”

  “So you’ll follow up and keep me posted?”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Grey pocketed his phone. When Shaman sniffed his calves, Grey tickled him under his jaw. Then, after bagging the dog poop and tossing it in the nearby trash can, he walked home.

  He arrived at the office five minutes late for his meeting with Kelsey. Kelsey, however, seemed more than content to have been amused by Trip, who’d seated himself on the corner of Grey’s desk.

  “Morning, Kelsey.” He noticed her plunging neckline and high heels. The woman was curvy enough without needing to call extra attention to her chest. He tried to keep his eyes up. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem.” She glanced at Trip and grinned, flipping her long, blond hair back. “I had ample entertainment.”

  Trip tipped his cowboy hat at her and grinned. “Glad to be of service.”

  “I thought you were going to investigate some intermediate rock-climbing areas we could use for touring groups,” Grey said to him while unleashing Shaman.

  “I am.” Trip pointed to his bag of gear and rock-climbing shoes. “Just waiting for Jon to pick me up.”

  “Could you take some photos for me?” Grey walked into the small office bathroom to wash his hands, then returned. “When you get back, let’s go over the mountain safety lecture we’re giving tomorrow at the high school.”

  �
��Sure.” Trip turned and smiled at Kelsey before rising off the edge of the desk. “Something tells me you’re gonna need a lotta luck convincing Grey to embrace technology.”

  “Don’t underestimate me.” Kelsey gently swayed, her hands clasped together in front of her hips. “I’m nothing if not persistent.”

  No one would argue that claim. Grey noticed Trip swallow a smart-ass remark before turning away from her and grinning at Grey. “You two have fun, now.”

  “Bye!” Kelsey called out just as Trip escaped through the office door. Then she turned her full attention on Grey. “So, did you look at my site?”

  “Briefly.” Grey crossed to his desk and punched in his password, praying he could get through this meeting without a lot of discomfort. “I’ve been a bit preoccupied, but what I saw looked nice.”

  “Thanks. I try to strike a balance between professional and personal. Selling real estate requires both.” Kelsey pulled a chair right next to him, overwhelming him with a sweet-smelling perfume. She reached into her mammoth bag to retrieve a thick manual. It landed on his desk with a thwack. Patting its cover, she said, “I used this to get started. And if you don’t have your own photos, you can use Photobucket or other sites to buy images.”

  Grey shoved the manual away. “That won’t work for me, thanks.”

  “Why not?” She pushed it toward him again. “It’s a little intimidating at first. It just takes time to play around and get comfortable.”

  He stared at it then looked at her. “I can’t learn that way.”

  “Why not?”

  For better or worse, Grey preferred not to share his dyslexia with the world. People could be cruel, or try to take advantage of a perceived weakness. Kelsey didn’t seem the type to do either, but she also didn’t seem like the most discreet girl in town.

  “If I have to read my way into this, it’ll never get off the ground. Either someone can show me, or I’ll eventually pay someone to do it.”

  Kelsey sat back, her head tipped slightly, assessing him. “Okay. Well, I taught myself how to do a lot of the basics. So, I can show you how to rework some of your site and set you up on Tumblr, Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.”

  Boomerang really was relentless, in the nicest way, of course. What puzzled him most was why this attractive, friendly woman would waste her time pursuing him rather than accept any number of offers she must receive from other guys. Was she crazy or just plain clueless?

  “Why do you continue to be so thoughtful when I haven’t been exactly encouraging?” Grey held up a finger. “And don’t say you just want access to my wealthy clients. Be honest.”

  Kelsey swallowed before meeting his eyes. “It’s no secret I like you, Grey. You’re a nice guy, and that’s not so easy to find around here. I know you’ve been busy getting your business on track and dealing with your recovery. I thought this would give us an opportunity to get to know each other better.” Her hopeful, open smile nearly killed him.

  “That’s what I’ve been afraid you’d say.” Grey leaned forward, grabbed her hand, and looked her in the eyes. “Kelsey, you’re beautiful, kind, and obviously talented, but I don’t want to mislead you. All I can offer in exchange for your help is those real estate leads and friendship. Nothing more personal.”

  “How can you be so sure when you haven’t even given me a real chance?” Her lips pursed into a childlike pout.

  Grey glanced away, gauging how honestly he should respond. “Because I’m interested in someone else.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widened as she pulled back. “I’ve never seen you with anyone in town. I haven’t heard any gossip either.”

  “Well, she doesn’t know it yet. At least, I haven’t told her directly.” He grimaced. “It’s complicated. I don’t really have the time for a relationship right now, so I’m waiting to pursue it . . . her.”

  “Is it someone I know?” Kelsey’s expression turned curious. Shit. He did not want to tell her about Avery before he told Avery.

  Fortunately, he was saved by a call on the business line. “Hang on.” He held up a finger before picking up the receiver. “Backtrax.”

  “Is Grey Lowell available?”

  “Speaking.”

  “Mr. Lowell, this is Richard Donner. You’d left me a message about physical therapy.”

  Fucking bad timing. Grey closed his eyes, swiveling away from Kelsey. “Mr. Donner. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.”

  “In your message, you said you underwent ACL surgery in mid-March and have been in therapy since then?”

  “Yes. I’ve been in therapy two, sometimes three, times per week, but there may be some conflicts with my current therapist. Plus I’m not making as much progress as I’d expected, so I thought maybe I could come talk to you about your approach. See if it might be a better fit.”

  “Why don’t we set up an appointment for tomorrow afternoon at three?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks.”

  Grey hung up the phone and braced himself for Kelsey’s questions before spinning back around. Stunned outrage radiated from every pore on her face.

  “What the heck are you doing? Avery is the best PT for miles around.” She leaned forward, jutting out her chin. “You aren’t switching because of me, are you? Do I make you so uncomfortable you can’t even work with my friend?”

  “No, Kelsey. It’s got nothing to do with you.” Grey rubbed the area above his knee. “I thought Avery and I could work together and keep the situation with her brother separate. But it’s not working out so well. It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated again? Maybe you make things complicated.” She shoved at his good leg. “If you want your knee to be one hundred percent, you should stick with Avery. Seems pretty simple to me.”

  “I appreciate your concern, but I think this might be best for everyone.”

  Kelsey shook her head, sighing, then bent over to heft her bag over her shoulder. “I don’t understand you at all, Grey Lowell.” She glanced at the manual on his desk. “I’ll leave that for you and Trip. You need to upgrade your site and work on social media to build a clientele. Looks like I’m not the person to help you, though. I wouldn’t want to add any more complications to your life.”

  Grey heaved a sigh. “Understood. Thanks for trying, anyway.”

  He walked her to the door and watched her get into her car. Her frustrated and confused expression would’ve been humorous if his mood weren’t so heavy.

  Back at his desk, he flipped through the manual, trying to read several pages. Predictably, neither the techniques of tracking with his finger or using a blank sheet of paper to block out text seemed to ease the eyestrain. The letters jumbled up too easily. He slammed the book against the desk, knowing his reading frustration wasn’t really what had him upset.

  Starting over with another therapist seemed daunting. Even that, however, was a lie. The truth was, he couldn’t imagine not seeing and working with Bambi each week. But given their last conversation, he’d run out of options.

  Avery pulled behind the Weenuche Inn. Emma’s great-grandparents had named the eight-room bed-and-breakfast after the Ute tribe native to the area. The authentic woven baskets and clay pots they’d originally displayed still decorated the main lobby and dining areas of the hundred-year-old brick building.

  Avery knocked on the back door before waltzing into the kitchen. “Emma?”

  Emma emerged from the walk-in pantry carrying a large sack of rice, her fiery red hair piled atop her head under a hairnet. “Hey, didn’t expect to see you. I assume you’re not here to help me prepare dinner.”

  “Uh, no.” Avery smiled when Emma swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and uttered phew. “Hey, no need to emphasize how happy you are to avoid that potential disaster.”

  “Sorry, couldn’t help it.” Emma grinned then dropped the bag
on the counter and grabbed a measuring cup. “So what brings you here at this hour?”

  “Well,” Avery began, taking a seat on the top rung of the stepstool beside the counter. “I was wondering about your off-season plans for the place.”

  As the words left her mouth, she couldn’t help but draw a parallel to her passive-aggressive approach with Grey yesterday.

  “What do you mean?” Emma poured six cups of chicken stock into a pot, more focused on her meal prep than on Avery.

  “Do you still use the slow summer weekdays to spruce up the place, make repairs, and such?”

  “Sure. We need to repaint a few guest rooms, address one bathroom’s plumbing, and . . . well, the list is long.”

  “Did you already line someone up to do it all?” Avery held her breath, hoping Emma hadn’t already signed any contracts. Okay, okay. So she did meddle a little. But only to help the people she loved. Her interference very rarely hurt anyone, and never with intention.

  “Not yet.” Emma frowned. “We’re a bit behind schedule this spring.”

  Maybe Grey had a small point, though. She should be more direct. “Can I ask you to consider a favor?”

  “Sure.” Emma laid out a cutting board and knife then returned to the pantry.

  “Could you offer Andy the chance to do some of that work?” Avery called after her. When Emma came out of the pantry looking surprised, Avery hastened to add, “He’s handy. He can do basic plumbing, although he’s not licensed. And he’s got four years’ experience as a house painter.”

  “Isn’t he working for Rob?” Emma frowned with concentration while she peeled and chopped the onion she’d retrieved.

  “No. Rob’s wife blackballed him since the accident.” Avery sighed, setting her hands on either side of the stepstool. A stab of guilt needled her for spilling her brother’s secrets. “He’s having trouble finding work because of the likelihood of him going to jail this summer.”

  Emma paled. “That’s awful. How’s Andy taking it?”

  “Probably not as well as he’s pretending.” Avery walked over to stand beside Emma, who looked almost as unhappy as Avery felt. “I wouldn’t put you in an awkward position if I didn’t think he’d do a good job. And I know the opportunity would help him both financially and emotionally.”