“It does with me. Lacy may be harder to convince.”
“I know.”
“And Kristi.”
“I know.” Sam snorted. “And Mom.”
Bob winced. “Your mother’s damn happy to have you back, Sam.”
“Yeah,” he said, turning his head to look out the window at the pockets of deep blue sky visible between the pines. He’d felt it from his mom since he’d returned. The reluctance to be too excited to see him. The wary pleasure at having him home. “But she’s also holding back, waiting for me to go again.”
“And are you?”
Guilt reared up and gnawed at the edges of his heart. “I don’t know yet. Wish I did. But I promised you I’d stay at least until these plans are complete and the way I’m adding things I might never be finished.”
“All true,” his father said. “You might ask yourself sometime why it is you keep thinking of more things to do. More things that will give you an excuse to stay here longer.”
He hadn’t thought of it like that but now that he was, Sam could see that maybe subconsciously he had been working toward coming home for good. Funny that he hadn’t noticed that the more involved his plans became the further out he pushed the idea of leaving again.
“Anyway,” his father said, “while you’re doing all this thinking, you’ll have to talk to Lacy about using her photos in the advertising you’re planning.”
“I will,” he said.
“She’s really good, isn’t she?”
“She always was,” Sam acknowledged and knew he was talking about much more than her talent for photography.
Seven
“You want to use my photos?”
Sam grinned at Lacy an hour later and told himself it was good to actually surprise her. He enjoyed how her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.
“I do. And not just on the website, I’d like to use them in print advertising, as well.”
“Why—”
He tipped his head. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how good a photographer you are.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that without sounding conceited.”
“Well, while you’re quiet, here’s something else to think about.” He planted both palms on the edge of the desk and leaned in until he was eye to eye with her. “I’ll want some of your photos made into postcards that we can sell in the lobby of the lodge.”
“Postcards.”
“Hey, some people actually enjoy real mail,” he told her and straightened up. “We can have a lawyer draw up terms—all nice and legal, but I’m thinking a seventy-thirty split, your favor, on the cards and any prints we sell. As for the advertising, we’ll call that a royalty deal and you’ll get a cut every time we use one of your photos.”
She blinked at him and damned if he didn’t enjoy having her off balance. “Royalty.”
Sam leaned over, tipped her chin up with his fingers and bent to plant a hard, quick kiss on her mouth. While she was flustered from that, he straightened up and announced, “Why don’t you think it over? I’m heading out to meet with the architect. Be back later.”
He left her staring after him. His own heart was thundering in his chest and every square inch of his body was coiled tight as an overwound spring. Just being around her made him want everything he’d once walked away from.
Sam shrugged into his jacket as he left the hotel and headed out into a yard that boasted green splotches of grass where the snow was melting under a steady sun. He took a deep breath, glanced around at the people and realized that it had taken him two years of being away to discover that his place was here.
His life was here.
And he wanted Lacy in his life again. Smiling to himself, Sam decided he was going to romance the hell out of her until he got just what he wanted. That slope he needed for the lodge expansion was going to have to wait, he told himself as he headed for his car. Because if Lacy found out he wanted the property she owned, she would never believe he wanted her for herself.
* * *
Lacy’s nose wrinkled at the rich, dark scent of the latte Kristi carried as the two of them walked along Historic Twenty-Fifth Street in downtown Ogden. The street was narrow with cars parked in front of brick and stone buildings that had been standing for more than a hundred years. Twenty-Fifth Street had begun life as the welcome mat for train travelers, then it morphed into a wild blend of bars and brothels.
But in the 1950s, it had been reborn as a destination for shopping and dining, and today, it retained all of the old-world charm while it boasted eclectic shops and restaurants that drew tourists from all over. And depending on the time of year, Historic Twenty-Fifth hosted farmer’s markets, art festivals, Pioneer Days, Witchstock and even a Christmas village.
Lacy loved it, and usually, strolling along the street and peeking into storefronts cheered her up. But today, she was forcing herself into this trip with Kristi.
“Since when do you say no to coffee?” her friend asked after another sip of her latte.
“Since my stomach’s not so sure it approves of food anymore.” She swallowed hard, took a deep breath and hoped the fresh air would settle her stomach.
“Well, that sucks,” her friend said, shrugging deeper into her jacket as a cold wind shot down the street as if determined to remind everyone that winter wasn’t over yet. “Something you ate?”
“Hopefully,” Lacy murmured. She didn’t want to think about other causes of her less than happy stomach. It had been two weeks since her night with Sam and she couldn’t help but think that her sudden bouts of queasiness had more to do with a nine-month flu than anything else. Still, she didn’t want to share any of this with Kristi yet, so more loudly, she said, “It’s probably the cold pizza I had for dinner last night.”
“That’d do it for me,” Kristi acknowledged with a grimace. “You do know how to use a microwave, right? Now that we’ve struggled out of the caves there is no need to settle for cold pepperoni.”
“I’ll make a note.” They passed a gift store, its front window crowded with pretty pots of flowers, gardening gloves and a barbecue apron that proudly demanded Kiss The Cook, all lovely promises of spring. But the sky was overcast and the wind whistling down from Powder Mountain, looming over the end of the street, made the thought of spring seem like a fairy tale.
Unwell or not, it was good to be away from Snow Vista, wandering down Ogden’s main street where she had absolutely zero chance of running into Sam. The man hadn’t left the mountain since he got back. And for the past two weeks, she’d hardly spoken to him at all. After that wild bout of earth-shattering sex, Lacy had figured he’d be back wanting more—heaven knew she did. But he’d kept his distance and she knew she should be grateful. Instead, she was irritated.
“So you want to tell me what’s going on between you and Sam these days?”
Kristi’s question jolted Lacy and her steps faltered for a second. This woman had been her best friend for years. There was nothing they hadn’t shared with each other, from first kisses to loss of virginity and beyond. Yet, Lacy just didn’t feel comfortable talking about Sam right now. Especially with his little sister.
She gave a deliberate shrug. “Nothing. Why?”
“Please,” Kristi said with a snort. “I’m not speaking to him, either, but you’re not speaking to him really loudly.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.” Lacy paused outside the cupcake shop to stare wistfully at a rainbow confetti cupcake. Normally, she would have gone in and bought herself one. Or a dozen. Today, though, it didn’t seem like a good idea to feed her already-iffy stomach that much sugar. Just the pizza she’d eaten, she told herself. She’d be fine in a day or two.
“Sure it does. Mom says you were at the house a couple days ago, visiting Dad. And when Sam showed up you left
so fast there were sparks coming up from your boot heels.”
Lacy sighed. “Your mom’s great but she exaggerates.”
“I’ve seen those sparks, too, when you’re in full retreat.” Kristi gave her a friendly arm bump as they walked. “I know it’s probably hardest on you, Sam being back and everything. But I thought you were over him. You said you were over him.”
“I exaggerate, too,” Lacy mumbled and stopped at the corner, waiting for a green light to cross the street. Her gaze swept along the street.
One of the things she liked best about Ogden was that it protected its history. Relished it. The buildings were updated to be safe, but the heart and soul of them remained to give the downtown area a sense of the past even as it embraced the future.
At the end of the street stood the Ogden train station. Restored to its beautiful Spanish Colonial Revival style, it boasted a gorgeous clock tower in the center of the building. Inside, she knew, were polished wood, high-beamed ceilings and wall murals done by the same artist who did the Ellis Island murals in the 1930s.
Today there was an arts-and-crafts fair going on inside, and she and Kristi were headed there to check out the booths and see how Lacy’s photographs were selling.
“I knew you weren’t over him,” Kristi said with just a touch of a smug smile. “I told you. You still love him.”
“No. I won’t.” Lacy stopped, took a breath. “I mean I don’t.” She wanted to mean it, even as she felt herself weakening. What kind of an idiot, after all, would she be to deliberately set herself up to get run over again? The light turned green and both women crossed the street.
“Any decent self-help book would tell you that what you just said has flags flying all over it.” Still smug, Kristi gave Lacy a smile and took another drink of her latte. “You’re trying so hard, but it’s hopeless. You do love him—you just don’t want to love him. Or forgive him. And I so get that.” Shaking her head, Kristi added, “Tony keeps telling me that I’ve got to let it go. Accept that Sam did what he had to do just like we did. We all stayed and he had to go. Simple.”
“Doesn’t it just figure that a guy would defend another guy?”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Kristi admitted. “But in a way, he has a point.”
Lacy snorted. “Hard to believe that Sam had to leave.”
“Yeah,” Kristi said on a sigh, and crossed the street, matching her strides to Lacy’s. “That urge to bolt out of a hard situation was really more Jack than Sam. Jack never could stand any really deep emotional thing. If a woman cried around him, he’d vanish in a blink.”
“I remember,” Lacy said wistfully. Hadn’t they all teased Jack about his inability to handle any relationship that looked deeper than a puddle?
“I love both of my brothers,” Kristi told her, “but I always knew that Sam was the dependable one. Jack was fun—God, he was fun!” Her smile was wide for a split second, then faded. “But you never knew if he’d be home for dinner or if he’d be on his way to Austria for the skiing instead.”
Kristi was right. Sam had always been the responsible one. The one you could count on, Lacy thought. Which had made his leaving all that much harder to understand. To accept. As for forgiving, how did you forgive someone you had trusted above everyone else for breaking their word and your heart along with it?
“I kind of hate to admit it, but Tony may be right,” Kristi was saying. “I mean, I’m still mad at Sam, but when I see him with Dad, it makes it harder to stay mad, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.” That was part of her problem, Lacy thought. She so wanted to keep her sense of righteous anger burning bright, but every time she saw Sam with his father, she softened a little. When she watched him out on the slopes just yesterday, helping a little boy figure out how to make a parallel turn. When she saw him standing in the wind, talking future plans with the contractor. All of these images were fresh and new and starting to whittle away at the fury she had once been sure would be with her forever.
“Dad’s so pleased he’s back. He’s recovering from that heart attack scare faster I think, because Sam’s over every day and the two of them are continuously going over all of the plans for Snow Vista.” She took another gulp of coffee and Lacy envied it. “Mom’s a little cooler, almost as if, like you, she’s half expecting him to disappear again, but even she’s happy about Sam being home. I can see it in her eyes and on the bathroom scale since she’s still cooking the fatted calf for her prodigal nearly every night. Maybe,” Kristi said thoughtfully, “it would be easier to forgive and be glad he was here if I knew he was staying.”
Lacy’s ears perked up. Here was something important. Had he decided to stay after all? And if he did, what would that mean for her? For them?
“He hasn’t said anything to any of you?”
“No. Just sort of does his work, visits with the parents and avoids all mention of the future—outside of the plans he’s got cooking for the resort.” Kristi tossed her now-empty cup into a trash can. “So every day I wait to hear that he’s gone. He left so fast the last time—” She broke off and winced. “Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Lacy said as they walked up to the entrance of the train station. “He did leave, and yeah, I’m not convinced he’s staying, either.”
And she didn’t know if that made her life easier or harder. If he was going to leave again, she had to keep her distance for her own heart’s sake. She couldn’t let herself care again. And if he was staying...what? Could she love him? Could she ever really trust him not to leave her behind again?
What if she didn’t have the flu? What if she had gotten pregnant that one night with him? What then? Did she tell him or keep it to herself?
Feeling as if her head might explode, Lacy pushed it all to one side and walked into the train station, deliberately closing her mind to thoughts of Sam for the rest of the day. Instantly, she was slapped with the noise of hundreds of people, talking, laughing, shouting. There were young moms with babies in strollers and toddlers firmly in hand. There were a few men looking as if they’d rather be anywhere else, and then there were the grandmas, traveling in packs as they wandered the crowded station.
Lacy and Kristi paid their entrance fee and joined the herd of people streaming down the narrow aisles. There were so many booths it was hard to see everything at once, which meant that she and Kristi would be making several trips around the cavernous room.
“Oh, I love this.” Kristi had already stopped to pick up a hand-worked wooden salad bowl, sanded and polished to a warm honeyed gleam. While she dickered with the artisan, Lacy wandered on. She studied dry floral wreaths, hand-painted front-door hangers shouting WELCOME SPRING and then deliberately hurried past a booth packed with baby bibs, tiny T-shirts and beautifully handmade cradles.
She wouldn’t think about it. Not until she had to. And if there was a small part of her that loved the chance that she might be pregnant, she wasn’t going to indulge that tiny, wistful voice in the back of her mind.
Lacy dawdled over the jewelry exhibit and then the hand-tooled leather journals. She stopped at the Sweet and Salty booth and looked over the bags of snacks. Her stomach was still unhappy, so she bought a small bag of plain popcorn, hoping it would help. Nibbling as she went, her gaze swept over the area. There were paintings, blown-glass vases and wineglasses, kids’ toys and outdoor furniture made by real craftsmen. But she moved through the crowd with her destination in mind. The local art gallery had a booth at the fair every year and that’s where Lacy was headed. She sold her photographs through the gallery and she liked to keep track of what kind of photos sold best.
She loved her job at the lodge, enjoyed teaching kids how to ski, but taking photographs, capturing moments, was her real love. Lacy nibbled at the popcorn as she climbed the steps to the gallery’s display. The owner was busy dealing with a customer, so Lacy bus
ied herself, studying the shots that were displayed alongside beautiful oil paintings, watercolors and pastels.
Seeing her shots of the mountain, of sunrises and sunsets, of an iced-over lake, gave her the same thrill it always did. Here was her heart. Taking photographs, finding just the right way to tell a story in a picture—that was what fed her soul. And now, she reminded herself, Sam wanted to use her work to advertise the resort. She was flattered and touched and sliding down that slippery slope toward caring for him again.
The owner of the gallery, Heather Burke, handed Lacy’s black-and-white study of a snow-laden pine tree to a well-dressed woman carrying a gorgeous blueberry-colored leather bag.
Pride rippled through Lacy. People valued her work. Not just Sam and those at the lodge, but strangers, people who looked at her prints and saw art or beauty or memories. And that was a gift, she thought. Knowing that others appreciated the glimpses of nature that she froze in time.
Lacy smiled at Heather as the woman approached, a look of satisfaction on her face. “I loved that picture.”
“So did she,” Heather said with a wink. “Enough to pay three hundred for it.”
“Three hundred?” The amount was surprising, though Heather had always insisted that Lacy priced her shots too low. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.” Heather laughed delightedly. “And, I sold your shot of the little boy skating on the ice rink for two.”
“Wow.” Exciting, and even better, if she did turn out to be pregnant, at least she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about making enough money to take care of her child.
“I told you people are willing to pay for beautiful things, Lacy. And,” Heather added meaningfully, “now that spring and summer tourists are almost here, I’m going to need more of your photographs for the gallery. My stock’s getting low and we don’t want to miss any sales, right?”
“Right. I’ll get you more by next week.”
After Hours with Her Ex Page 10
