Something Like Love

by Sara Richardson

  “I’m all set here.” He flicked the lamp on and off, as though making sure it worked. “Let’s talk in my office.”

  In the office. Not a casual conversation in the hall…

  “Okay,” she squeaked, and followed him across the lobby sitting room into his office. Moose trotted behind her, rubbing against her legs like he wanted another scratch.

  Right outside the door, she stopped.

  Bryce’s wife, Avery, was lying on his couch, eyes closed, fanning herself with the latest issue of Backpacker magazine. Her brand-new baby bump poked out the front of a cute fitted red shirt. Even pregnant, the woman had the best sense of style Paige had ever seen.

  “Hey, baby, Paige is here.” Bryce sat on the arm of the couch, resting his hand on Avery’s belly. It would’ve been the warmest, cutest scene if Paige hadn’t felt so cold. Avery had been called to the meeting, too. And yes, they were friends but Avery was also Bryce’s wife, and kind of her boss, too, though no one at the ranch thought of her that way. She was too sweet.

  “Hey, Paige,” Avery said in that groggy voice she’d grown accustomed to hearing over the last five months.

  Bryce slid down next to his wife, kissing her on the cheek and then resting his hand high on her thigh.

  Normally, Paige would’ve made some joke about it, about how they couldn’t seem to be in the same room without touching, but this was not a normal day, not a normal meeting, and, for the first time ever, she felt like she didn’t fit there.

  Moose gave her hand a big ol’ sympathetic lick.

  Somehow, Avery seemed to sense her trepidation, too. She sat up straighter, smoothing her long, blond hair down over her shoulders while beaming what was probably supposed to be a reassuring smile at Paige.

  “Why don’t you sit?” She gestured to the chair across from the couch. “I’ll make us some lattes.” She raised her sculpted brows at Bryce in a secret message.

  In response, he reached up and scratched his head.

  What the hell were they doing? Baseball signals? Knowing them, probably. The Walker Mountain Ranch baseball team had been the town champions two years running.

  “I don’t want a latte.” Paige had never been good at decoding signals, at politely stepping around issues. “I want to know why I’m here. In your office.” She shot Bryce her own coded look. He knew her. He knew she didn’t beat around the bush. If you have something to say, get on with it.

  He acknowledged her with a sigh, obviously getting her meaning.

  “Paige…you should sit,” Avery insisted, her tone softened into a careful gentleness.

  The ache in her stomach twisted into a nauseating whirlpool. No, make that cesspool, churning over and over. She’d heard that tone before. It was the tone a mother would use with a wayward child.

  An itch crawled over her skin. Summoning the same courage she always relied on with her own father, she perched on the very edge of the squeaky leather cushion. What had she done wrong? Were they going to fire her? Her mind cataloged back over the last several months. There’d been the time she’d forgotten to log her trip miles, but that was weeks ago…

  Seemingly bored with the whole scene, Moose flopped to lie down right on her feet. Because the whole world revolved around him. Shaking her head, Paige leaned over to scratch his belly. But she couldn’t miss the pained look Bryce exchanged with his wife. Their carefully guarded expressions communicated things she couldn’t understand.

  Her eyes heated. The three of them had always been on the same side, ever since Avery had come to the Walker Mountain Ranch, ever since she’d joined the softball team. Paige had been the maid of honor in their wedding, for crying out loud.

  Bryce’s sharp inhale cut off her thoughts. With a glance and a nod, he seemed to offer the floor to Avery.

  “Paige, honey…we’ve, um, well…” She folded her hands in her lap. “We’ve gotten some complaints about you. On your guide evaluations.”

  “Complaints.” The fear that swirled in her stomach quieted. That was it? Complaints? Shoot, people might complain about her after the trip, but she never heard any complaints when they stood on top of a mountain or made it through a class four rapid. Sure, her methods might be unconventional but she always delivered. She shot Avery her own smile. “Maybe this is a good time to talk about the customers you keep assigning me. Seriously? Why does Shooter always get to take the fun groups while I’m stuck with people like the Funklemans?”

  Neither one of them smiled back. Bryce glared right into her eyes. “Thing is, customers say you’re too harsh. You don’t listen.” His raised his head so he was looking down on her. “Then there was that whole fiasco with the Funklemans.”

  Heat pierced her, remnants of her mother’s Irish temper flaring. “Fiasco? Fiasco?” She shot to her feet, pushing Moose aside.

  The dog grunted like he was as annoyed as she was.

  “I got them up that mountain and back down before the lightning hit. I’d hardly call that a fiasco!” She’d had a feeling Hal would rather follow her up that mountain than sit there by himself. And she was right. He thought he was bear bait. Little did he know, black bears almost always spooked when they even heard a human anywhere in the vicinity.

  Bryce swiped at his face, a frustrated gesture she’d seen him make a number of times, but it had never been directed at her.

  She sank back to the couch. He wasn’t messing around, giving her a flippant reprimand. He was mad.

  “Sure, you got them up the mountain. But Mr. Funkleman had plenty to say about how you got him up there.”

  “I did my job. I’m good at my job.” She worked harder than anyone to prove herself…

  “You are, Paige.” Avery leaned over and patted her knee. “You’re great. We know that. We appreciate your skills.” She nodded in Bryce’s direction as if encouraging him to agree.

  He didn’t. “We need people to like you, too. We need ’em to tell their friends about their great experience. They’re getting hung up on your personality.”

  The comment stung. He’d never had a problem with her personality before. He’d always accepted her, despite her personality. But he of all people had to know why she took her job so seriously, why she was so careful. He’d been a guide once, too.

  “I do what I have to do to keep people safe.” Because she could never live with herself if something happened to someone out there. That was why she never left without being overly prepared. She carried more weight in emergency supplies than she did in personal items. She kept an eye on the weather. She forced people like Hal to do what she said, even if it meant she had to yell at them.

  Bryce and Avery looked at each other, that same coded language firing back and forth between them.

  “The thing is…” Avery paused. “We’re still trying to establish our brand. Poor customer service won’t help.”

  She stared at her hands. They were weathered for someone her age, chipped nails, cracked, dry skin. In some ways, they matched her personality, hardened by the landscape of her life.

  “We can’t grow with bad word of mouth.” Bryce’s gaze drilled into hers until she felt herself start to shrink.

  Oh, god. They were going to fire her. What about the program she’d been begging Bryce to start? The therapy program with the horses? Ever since she’d watched MS slowly kill Gramma Lou, she’d wanted to help people with physical challenges experience the peace and solitude of mountains. Bryce kept telling her they’d talk about it as soon as they were more established…

  In a swift blink, she saw her dream start to disintegrate. If Bryce fired her, she’d never find another job around here. Everyone would know. She’d never have the chance to start the program.

  Moose sat next to the couch and rested his head in her lap as if he felt her pain. She tousled the dog’s soft fur, searching for comfort.

  “You can’t let me go. Please,” she begged. “I’ll do anything. More customer service training. I’ll change. I know I can—”

 
“Oh, sweetie.” Avery’s laugh sympathized. “We’re not letting you go. We just wanted to have a chat about it.”

  She snapped up her head and gaped at Avery. They weren’t firing her? Her hands clasped together in her lap. “O…kay…”

  “We’ve got an important group coming in.” Bryce took over again. “This’ll be highly visible, and I need everything to be perfect. Including my guides.”

  “Of course. No problem.” This was the perfect opportunity for her to prove herself, to show them she could handle any client.

  Avery and Bryce looked at each other. “Um…” Avery’s nose twitched. “The thing is…you kind of already know this guy.”

  “Really?” That was a good thing, right? It’d make it easier. But if that was the case, then why did Avery look so worried?

  “Yeah,” Bryce said. “You remember my buddy Ben? Ben Noble?”

  Blood surged to her face, then drained too fast, a hot flash that ended in a wintry cold. Ben fuc—bleeping—Noble. He was the big client? He was the customer she had to take on a rafting trip? She stopped petting Moose, instead fisting her hands at her sides.

  The dog nudged her arm once, but then gave up and lay on her feet, again.

  “It’ll be huge publicity for us,” Avery gushed. “He’s bringing his whole campaign up here. They’re donating the acreage they own west of town to a new land trust.”

  Shit. Okay, yes, she was trying to cut back on the swearing, but shit. Shit, shit, shit on a stick.

  “He wants to do a rafting trip,” Bryce said. “All the way down the Fork. His land is just past Enderson Falls, so you can pull over and deliver him right to the signing ceremony.”

  Bryce went on about how important it was that this went off without a hitch, but all Paige could see, all she could hear, was the scene on the night she’d last seen Ben Noble.

  They’d been dancing at a fund-raiser gala that Avery had thrown for Bryce last year, and the man knew his way around a dance floor. Wearing that million-dollar smile, he’d twirled her and dipped her and charmed her all night with that damn smooth voice of his. Then he’d kissed her, brushing his lips against hers until her knees gave and she heard herself agree to go up to his room.

  It was a damn good thing that busty blonde had stopped him to throw her drink in his face before she’d made the biggest mistake of her life. It seemed Ben Noble enjoyed the dance but not the morning after, and she didn’t do one-night stands. Especially with a guy who’d turned it into an art form. She’d never put herself in that situation again. Not after what Jory had done to her when she was nineteen, convincing her to sleep with him then tossing her aside like a ruined pair of those Nikes he wore.

  She’d only been humiliated that way one other time in her entire life, and she’d sworn then she’d never let it happen again.

  “Paige?” Avery waved a hand in her face. “Are you okay with this?” she asked, wearing that furrowed frown, girl code for “I know things didn’t end well between you two”…Thank god she refrained from saying those words. Bryce had no clue she’d been anywhere near Ben Noble. He’d been too busy kissing Avery that night.

  “Because if you’re not—”

  “Of course I’m okay with it,” she said, mentally hiking up her big girl panties and snapping the elastic. This was her chance. If she did this, if she made Ben’s trip a success, Bryce couldn’t put her off about the therapy program. Not anymore. “It’ll be great.” She chiseled out a smile. “Ben is so…great.”

  Avery slanted her head and called her out with another look, but she fired up the smile again. “Seriously. I’m fine with it.”

  Bryce looked back and forth between them. “Why wouldn’t she be fine with it?” he demanded.

  “No reason,” Avery murmured, suddenly appearing very interested in a loose thread on her shirt.

  She was so believable.

  “It’ll be a chance to get us some publicity.” Bryce stood and folded his arms, ever and always the worried boss. “I need to know you’ll give them—Ben, his campaign guys, the press, everyone—a good experience.”

  “I will.” She was vaguely aware that her head nodded too fast but she couldn’t seem to slow it down. “I swear. I’ll be so sweet you won’t even recognize me.” It might require a roll of duct tape, but she’d do whatever it took. “You have nothing to worry about,” she assured him with a syrupy-sweet smile.

  Her, on the other hand? She had plenty to worry about.

  The biggest concern? How the hell would she spend a whole week being nice to Benjamin Noble?

  Chapter Four

  Okay. So this wasn’t exactly the best day to embark on a personality makeover.

  Paige shuffled her sandals down the crumbled concrete sidewalk in front of her family’s café, careful not to trample the leaning wild daisies that grew in the cracks, and tugged down the green moisture-wicking tank top she’d carefully selected from her closet…as if that could really prepare her for the obscene amount of sweat she’d produce during the next five hours.

  Why she’d promised to cover the lunch shift for her sister Penny, she couldn’t say. Maybe the guilt of avoiding her family for the last three weeks had gotten to her. Still, just the sight of the faded red brick façade and the green-and-white striped awning stretching over her head worked that familiar tension up her spine until her shoulders tightened like she’d just climbed up the north face of Maroon Peak. She passed by the sign her father had made himself—just one of the many things that made the place unique, which was putting it nicely.

  THE HIGH ALTITUDE CAFÉ.

  WHERE FUN AND MOUNTAINS MEAT.

  The hand-painted letters were scrawled in red outdoor paint over an outline of blue hand-drawn mountain peaks. Last year, when Dad had announced he’d decided to redo the sign, she’d naively suggested that maybe he should find a graphic designer to take a look, but because he was an expert in everything, he’d done it himself. Not that it mattered, much. The High Altitude Café wasn’t known for an artful appearance. Her family specialized in meat dishes: beef, bison, elk, burgers, steaks. Obviously. But she’d been a vegetarian since she was twelve and even just the greasy smell wafting around her was enough make her stomach queasy.

  It would be a long afternoon.

  Strategically breathing through her nose, she trudged up the concrete steps to do her penance for being the one Harper who’d “walked away” from the family business. If she’d completely walked away, though, she wouldn’t be walking through the door right now, would she? See? Not a total wayward child. She still helped out once in a while. That should count for something. It wouldn’t. She already knew that, but it never stopped her from trying.

  The bells above the door jangled a sick welcome. They’d dangled there for the last thirty years, ever since her father hung them on opening day. Actually, the whole restaurant hadn’t changed much in thirty years. To her it was a baffling place—’50s diner meets truck-stop steakhouse. From the black-and-white linoleum tile floors to the dark wood paneling that decorated the walls to the red vinyl-upholstered booths, the High Altitude Café was embattled in an identity crisis. The locals who flocked there every day said it added to the charm, but to her, it only added to the sense of chaos she felt every time she saw her family. Yet another reminder she didn’t fit in.

  Deep breath. Brave smile. She paused inside the door to assess the customer situation. Only a couple of the booths were occupied—the Larsens sat in their regular booth and Aspen’s elite firefighters sat a few tables away. Quiet now, but give it an hour and there wouldn’t be a free seat in the house. The café had been voted the locals’ favorite burger joint for fifteen years running.

  “Well, look who it is.” Her big brother, Pete Junior, appeared from the kitchen and whizzed past her with a full tray of food hoisted over his head. “Can’t believe you actually decided to grace us with your presence.”

  She would’ve punched his shoulder if it weren’t for the tray. “Hey, Petey.” Ten yea
rs older than her, Pete was her closest sibling. He’d been stuck with all of Mom’s Irish genes, fiery red hair, face freckled like a speckled egg. Even though all of the Harper siblings (except her, of course) worked at the café, Petey was really the one who kept things running. He did whatever needed to be done, usually with a smile and a wink. Case in point, today he was apparently the food runner/busboy.

  He swung the tray down to rest on an unoccupied table and started to gather the plates of steaming food.

  “Need help?” she called. And yes, she was procrastinating going back to the kitchen where Dad and Mom were no doubt stationed at their posts—Dad at the grill and Mom at the food line. When spending time with her family, she usually liked to warm up with Petey. He actually seemed to like her.

  He gave her a look that reminded her how many full trays of dishes and food she’d dropped over her illustrious waitressing career. “No thanks, toots. I got it.”

  “Fine,” she said through a sigh. Maybe she shouldn’t have come in, after all. They all knew she made a terrible waitress.

  “Ma’s been waiting for you.” His mouth stretched into a grim warning. “Said she read another article about those evil vegetarians. She’s worried you’re joining a cult or something.”

  “Why would I do that when I’ve already escaped from one?” she said snarkily, knowing Petey wouldn’t take any offense to the reference about the Harper Family Rules. Years ago, her parents had seriously typed it up on their word processor and posted a printout on their kitchen wall.

  Family always comes first.

  Never question thy father and mother (which she was pretty sure was a direct misquote from The Good Book).

  Always do whatever needs doing and do it with a smile.

  Always eat your meat.

  Legend had it that her father’d added that one with a ballpoint pen two weeks after they’d opened the restaurant.

  Unfortunately, she’d inherited Gramma Lou’s fierce spirit and had managed to break every single one of those rules during her first three years of life, as her mother loved to remind her.