After Hours with Her Ex

by Maureen Child

  “Great.” Heather gave her an absent pat on the arm and whispered, “I’ve got another live one I think. Talk to you later.” Then she swept in on an older man studying the photo of a lone skier, whipping down Snow Vista’s peak.

  Lacy’s heart gave a little lurch as it always did when she saw that shot. It was Sam, of course, taken a few years ago just before the season opened and the two of them had had the slopes to themselves. In the photo, the snow was pristine but for the twin slashes in Sam’s wake. Trees were bent in the wind, snow drifting from heavy branches. She could almost hear his laughter, echoing in her memory. But, she thought as a stranger lifted the photo off its display board, that was then—this was now.

  “I remember that day.”

  Sam’s voice came from right behind her and Lacy was jolted out of her thoughts. She turned to look at him, but he was watching the photograph the older man carried.

  “Jack was in Germany and it was just you and me on the slopes.”

  “I remember.” She stared up at him and saw the dreaminess in his green eyes. Caught up in the past, she followed him down Memory Lane.

  “Do you also remember how that day ended?” He ran one hand down the length of her arm, giving her a chill that was filled with the promise of heat.

  “Of course I do.”

  As if she could ever forget. They’d made love in the ski-lift cabin as snow fell and wiped away the tracks they’d left on the mountain. She remembered feeling as though they were the only two people in the world, caught up in the still silence of the falling snow and the wonder of Sam loving her.

  It had all been so easy back then. She loved Sam. Sam loved her. And the future had spread out in front of them with a shining glory. Then two years later, Jack was dead, Sam was gone and Lacy was alone.

  Now he was watching her with warmth in his eyes and a half smile on his lips, and Lacy felt her heart take a tumble she wasn’t prepared to accept. Love was so close she could almost touch it. Fear was there, too, though. So she pushed memories into the back of her mind.

  “What are you doing at a craft fair?” she blurted out.

  He shrugged. “Kristi told Tony where the two of you would be, so we decided to come down and meet up. Thought maybe we could join you for lunch.”

  Just the thought of lunch made her stomach churn enough that even her popped corn wasn’t going to help. She swallowed hard and breathed deeply through her nose. Honestly, she was praying this was something simple. Like the plague.

  “Hey.” He took her arm in a firm grip. “Are you okay? You just went as pale as the snow in your pictures.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, willing herself to believe it. “Just an upset stomach, I think.”

  He stared at her, his gaze delving into hers as if he could pry all her secrets loose. Lacy met his gaze, refusing to look away and give him even more reason to speculate. “You’re sure that’s the problem?”

  He was thinking baby, just as she was. But since she didn’t have the answer to his question, she sidestepped it. “I’m sure. Just not very hungry is all.”

  “Okay...” He didn’t look convinced, but at least he was willing to stop staring at her as if she were a bomb about to explode. Glancing back at the prints being displayed in the booth, he said, “Your photography’s changed as much as you have.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He shifted his gaze back to her, then reached out and helped himself to some of her popcorn. “You’ve grown. So have your photos. There’s more depth. More—” he looked directly into her eyes “—layers.”

  Lacy flushed a little under the praise and was more touched than she was comfortable admitting. Over the past two years, she had changed. She’d been forced to grow up, to realize that though she had loved Sam, she could survive without him. She could have a life she loved, was proud of, without him. And though the empty space in her heart had remained, she’d become someone she was proud of. Knowing that he saw, recognized and even liked those changes was disconcerting. To cover up the rush of mixed feelings, she asked, “Is that a backhanded compliment?”

  “No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Nothing backhanded about it. Just an observation that you’re a hell of a woman.”

  He was looking at her as if he was really seeing her—all of her—and she read admiration in his eyes. That was a surprise, and damned if she didn’t like it. A little too much. He was getting to her in a big way. What she was beginning to feel for Sam Wyatt now was so much more than she’d once felt and that worried her. When he left before, she’d survived it, but she didn’t know if she could do that again.

  “Well, I should look for Kristi—”

  “Oh, she left with Tony,” Sam told her with a half smile that made him look so approachable, so like the Sam she used to know that it threw her for a second. The then and now blended together and became a wild mix of throwing Lacy for a loop. When his words finally clicked in, though, she said, “Wait. She left?”

  “He offered to buy her a calzone at La Ferrovia.”

  “Ah.” Lacy nodded, understanding why her best friend had ditched her for her boyfriend. “He does know her weak spots. But who can blame her? Those calzones are legendary.”

  “Yeah,” he said, and started walking alongside her as she turned to move down the crowded aisle. “When I was in Italy, I tried to find one as good as their spinach-cheese calzone and couldn’t do it.”

  “Italy, huh?” Her heart tugged a little, thinking about the time he was away from her. What he’d done, seen. And yes, fine, who he’d been with. She shouldn’t care. He’d left her, after all. But it was hard to simply shut down your own feelings just because someone else had tossed them in your face.

  “It was beautiful,” he said, but he didn’t look pleased with whatever memories were rising. “Jack always loved Italy.”

  “Did you?”

  He took more of the popcorn and munched on it. “It was nice. Parts of it were amazing. But seeing something great when you’re on your own isn’t all that satisfying, as it turns out.” He shrugged. “There’s no one to turn to and say, isn’t that something? Still, it was good to be there. See it the way Jack did. But I never did find a calzone as good as La Ferrovia’s.”

  An answer that wasn’t an answer, Lacy thought, and wondered why he was bothering to be so ambiguous. She would have thought that he’d love seeing the top skiing spots in Europe. The fact that he clearly hadn’t, made her wonder. And she hated that she cared.

  “But you’re happy to make do now with my popcorn,” she said.

  “And the company,” he added, dipping one hand into the bag again. “This stuff is great, by the way.”

  “Chelsea Haven makes it, sells it at all the craft fairs and at one of the shops on Twenty-Fifth.” She took another handful and added, “I got plain today because, you know. Stomach trouble.”

  His eyebrows lifted, but she ignored it.

  “She’s got lots of great flavors, too. Nacho, spicy and—my personal favorite—churro.”

  He laughed a little. “You’re a connoisseur of corn?”

  “I try,” she said with a shrug, and stopped at the next booth. Wooden shelves and a display table held colorful, carefully wrapped bars of handmade soaps. From bright blue to a cool green, the soaps were labeled with their scents and the list of organic ingredients. Lacy picked up two pale blue bars and held on to them until she could pay for all of her purchases at once at the exit.

  Sam studied the display for a long moment before he picked up a square of green soap, sniffed and asked, “Who makes all of this stuff?”

  “A small company in Logan. I love it.”

  She sniffed at the bar of soap, smiled, then held it up for him to take a whiff.

  “It’s you,” he said, giving her a soft smile. “The scent that’s alwa
ys clinging to your skin.” He thought about it a moment, then said, “Lilac.”

  “Good nose,” she told him, and started walking again.

  “Some things a man’s not likely to forget.” He bent his head to hers, lowered his voice and whispered, “Like the scent of the woman he’s inside of. That kind of thing is imprinted onto your memory.”

  She quivered from head to toe and, judging by his smile, he approved of her reaction. Her body was tingling, her brain was just a little fuzzed out and breathing seemed like such a chore. When she looked into his eyes and saw the heat there, Lacy felt her heart take another tumble, and this time she didn’t try to deny it. To stop it.

  When it came to Sam, there was no stopping how her body, her soul, reacted. Her brain was something else, though. She could still give herself a poke and remind herself of the danger of taking another plunge with Sam Wyatt. And yet, despite the danger, she knew there was nothing else she’d rather do. Which meant she was in very big trouble.

  Then he straightened, scanned the crowd surrounding them and muttered, “I feel sort of outnumbered around here. Can’t be more than a handful of men in the whole building.”

  “Gonna leave?” she asked, shooting him a quick look.

  He met her gaze squarely. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  And suddenly, she knew he was talking about more than just the craft fair.

  * * *

  Sam stayed with her for another hour as they cruised through a craft fair that normally he wouldn’t have been caught dead in. But being with Lacy on neutral ground made up for the fact that he felt a little out of place in what was generally considered female territory.

  But while they walked and Lacy shopped, his mind turned over ideas. He carried her purchases in a cloth bag she’d brought with her for that purpose, and together they stepped out of the train station. Sam paused to look up, to the end of Historic Twenty-Fifth and beyond to the snow-covered mountain range in the distance. Trees were budding, the air was warmer and the sun shone down, as if designed to highlight the place in a golden glow.

  “I missed this,” he said, more to himself than Lacy. “I don’t think I even knew how much I missed it until I was home again.” The wind kicked up as if reminding everyone that spring was around the corner but winter hadn’t really left just yet.

  “Are you?” she asked, and Sam turned his head to look down at her. That long, silky braid of blond hair fell across one shoulder and loosened tendrils flew around her face, catching on her eyelashes as she watched him. “Are you home?”

  Reaching out, Sam gently stroked the hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He’d wondered this himself for days. He hadn’t been able to give his father a direct answer because he was still too torn. Leave? Walk away from the memories this mountain held and spend the rest of his life running from his own past? Or stand and face it all, reclaim the life—and the woman—he’d left behind?

  And wasn’t it just perfect now to realize that the woman he wanted owned the property he wanted? If he tried romancing her now, she’d never believe he wanted her for herself. Seemed as though fate was really enjoying itself at his expense.

  He’d have to find a way around it, Sam told himself. Because he was done trying to hide from the past. It was time to set it all right. Starting now.

  “Yeah, Lacy. I’m home. For good this time.”

  Eight

  “I want to open a gift shop,” Sam said, and watched as surprise had Lacy goggling at him. He’d been doing a lot of thinking since the two of them had walked through the arts-and-crafts fair the day before. Though he hadn’t been tempted into buying anything himself, Sam was astute enough to realize that other people were. He figured that tourists would be just as anxious to shop for items made by local artisans.

  He smiled at Lacy’s confusion, then said, “Yeah, I know. Not exactly what you’d expect me to say. But I can see possibilities in everything.”

  “Is that right?”

  “You bet.” He eased down to sit on the corner of the desk in her office. “I already talked to you about using the photos you have of the lodge...”

  “Yes?”

  He grinned at her, enjoying having knocked her a little off balance, and said, “It struck me when we were at that craft and art fair. There’s a hell of a lot of talented people in the area.”

  “Sure,” she said, warily.

  “That’s why I’m thinking gift shop. Something separate from the lodge, but clearly connected, too. Maybe between the lodge and the new addition that’s going up.” He nodded as the image filled his mind and he could actually envision what it would look like. “I’d want to have some refrigerated snacks in there, too. For people who are hungry but don’t really want a full meal. Like prepackaged sandwiches, drinks, fruit, that kind of stuff...”

  “Okay, that’s a good idea, but—”

  “But more than a snack shop—I want to display local artists. Not just your stuff, which is great, but like the wood-carver at the fair, the glass artist I saw there. I’ll still want your postcards and we can sell framed prints, too.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “Knowing you, that won’t last long. But my point is, if we’re expanding Snow Vista, we could bring a lot of the local artists along with us for the ride. I think the tourists would love it and it would give the artists another outlet beyond the fairs to sell their stuff.”

  “I’m sure they’d love that,” she said slowly, cautiously.

  That was fine. He could deal with her suspicion. She’d see soon enough that he meant what he was saying. “We’ll have a lawyer draw up agreements, of course. Specific to each artisan and what they sell.”

  “Agreements.”

  He nodded. “I’m thinking a seventy-thirty split with everyone, same as you and I will have.”

  “That’s amazing,” she said, tipping her head to one side and looking up at him as if she’d never seen him before.

  “Okay, I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “I’ve never really involved myself in anything beyond the lodge or skiing itself.”

  “Yeah...”

  “Like I told you before. People change.” He shrugged and mentally brushed off whatever else might be running through Lacy’s mind. “Back to the financial aspect, I think what we’ll offer is fair. And we’ll do well by each other, the lodge and the artists.” His gaze met hers. “I want a range of different products in this shop. I want to showcase local talent, Lacy. Everyone from the artists to the chefs, to the woman who makes the blackberry preserves we use at the restaurant.”

  “Beth Howell.”

  “Right.” He grabbed a piece of paper off the desk and scribbled down the name. “You know her, right? Hell, you probably know all of the artists around here.”

  “Most, sure...”

  “That’s great—then as resort manager you can be point on this. Talk to them. See what they think. When it gets closer to opening time, we’ll set down the deals in legalese.”

  She blinked at him. “You want me to take charge of this?”

  “Is that a problem?” He smiled, knowing that he’d caught her off guard again.

  “No,” she said quickly with a shake of her head. “I’m just surprised is all.”

  “Why?” He came off the desk and stood in front of her before leaning down, bracing his hands on the arms of her chair. “You know your photos are great. Why would you be surprised that I’d want to showcase them, help you sell them?”

  She blew out a breath and fiddled nervously with the end of her blond braid. “I suppose, because of our past, I wonder why you’re being so...nice.”

  “I want you, Lacy. That one night with you wasn’t enough. Not by a long shot.”

  She sucked in air and a faint flush
swept up her cheeks, letting him know she felt the fire still burning between them.

  “I’m home to stay. That means we’re going to be part of each other’s lives again.”

  Shaking her head, she started to speak, but he cut her off. “It’s more than that, though. I want to dig in, make the kind of changes that are going to put Snow Vista on the map. And mostly, I want to convince you that I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

  “Why is that so important to you? Why do you care what I think?” Her voice was whisper soft and still it tore at him.

  “You don’t trust me,” he said, and saw the flash in her eyes that proved it. He hated that she was wary of him, but again, he could understand it. “I get that. But things are different now, Lacy. I told you I’ve seen how much you’ve changed. Well, I’ve changed, too.” He reached out and captured her nervous fingers in his. “I’m not the same man I was when I left here two years ago.”

  “And is that a good thing?” she asked quietly. “Or a bad thing?”

  Leave it to this new Lacy to lay it out there so bluntly. His mouth quirked. “I guess you’ll have to discover that for yourself.”

  “It shouldn’t matter to you what I think,” she said.

  “Yes, it should,” he argued, and briefly looked down at her fingers, caught in his. “You more than anyone. I had a lot of time to think while I was gone.”

  “Yeah,” she said shortly. “Me, too.”

  He nodded, acknowledging what she said even as he mentally kicked himself for putting her through so much pain. He hadn’t been able to see anything beyond his own misery two years ago. Yet now everything looked clear enough to see that he’d set this whole situation in motion. He had to dig his way out of the very mess he’d created.

  “My point is, I took some long, hard looks at my life. Choices made. Decisions. I didn’t like a lot of them. Didn’t much care for where those decisions had taken me. So now I’m home and I’m going to live with whatever it was that brought me back here.”

  She took a breath when he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles and he felt the soft whoosh of heat simmering into life between them. Her summer-blue eyes narrowed in caution. He understood why she was looking at him as if expecting him to turn and bolt for the door. But he was done looking for escape. He was here to stay now and she had to get used to it.