by Donna Alward
“Don’t even.” She smiled and filled their coffee cups.
“This is Amy Wilson. She’s helping us out for a few weeks while Rosa’s in the hospital.”
Marianne was gracious and offered a warm smile. “Nice to meet you. Jack’s got quite an operation going out at Aspen Valley. Really turned that place around when he bought it.”
Amy wondered what she meant by “turning it around,” but merely smiled. “It’s in a beautiful spot. I just got here yesterday, so I’m still learning the ropes.”
“We’d better get you fueled up, then.” She rattled off the breakfast specials. Amy knew she should keep to fruit and oatmeal, but she couldn’t resist the idea of pancakes with scrambled eggs and bacon. She’d just call this brunch and not eat again later....
When Marianne was gone, Amy looked at Jack. “Okay, so this place might be more resortish, but it’s looking a lot like Cadence Creek from where I’m sitting.”
Jack added sugar and cream to his coffee, something she realized he hadn’t done this morning. “Is that a problem?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Not really, I guess.”
“There’s a core population of locals, but it’s mostly tourists.”
“And yet...everyone knows everyone else, right?”
“I suppose.” He put down his spoon. “You prefer more anonymity.”
“Of course. It’s exactly what I don’t like about home. Everyone sticking their noses in my business.”
“But no one knows you here. You don’t have, I don’t know, context.”
She shrugged. It wasn’t just that; it was trading one place she didn’t like for an identical one. It was okay that he didn’t really get it. He didn’t need to. “No worries, Jack. You like it here and that’s all that matters. You’re the one who lives here.”
“Maybe I was hoping you’d like it here, too.”
She took a drink of coffee. It was hot and rich, just the way she liked it. “Why should it matter?”
His face flattened and he looked out the window. There was a slight pause before he answered. “I guess if you’re going to spend a few weeks here, it might be nice if you enjoyed yourself, too, that’s all.”
“I’m here to work.”
“Dammit, I know that.”
She sat back a bit. “Why are you so snappy all of a sudden?”
Marianne came back with their plates and saved Jack from answering right away. Once she was gone he added salt and pepper to his eggs and then offered her the shakers.
She took them, her stomach turning nervously. This was supposed to be simple. Her helping him, getting away for a few weeks. No funny business. But it was a mess. First with the kiss last night, and then with the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about him. And knowing deep down that she wanted this time in her life to be different. She wanted to prove to herself that for once she wasn’t chasing some guy. That she could see a bigger picture.
That she’d grown up.
Except Jack wasn’t making it easy at all. And she didn’t want to admit that she was a little bit scared or that she was worried about what would happen to her mother if she were left all alone. Would she withdraw further into her shell? Maybe Amy could spend some time over the next few months really trying to get Mary out more. Involved in something....
“I’m sorry I was short with you,” he said quietly.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea,” she replied, her appetite waning. Still, she diligently drizzled syrup onto her pancakes and cut into them with automatic motions.
“You don’t want to stay?” His gaze snapped up to hers.
“Relax. I wouldn’t leave you in the lurch like that. And it’s not that I want to go. It’s that...” She put down her fork, the bite untasted. “It’s just that this isn’t as simple as I made it out to be. You’re confusing things.” She gave him a wry smile. “It would be much easier if you were, I don’t know, fifty, with grey hair and a potbelly.”
His gaze tethered her. “There’s this thing, right?”
“Right. But... Oh, hell. It’s complicated. This thing, as you call it, is not why I came here.”
“I know that. You wanted to get away. To get out from under the microscope. To see something different.” He frowned. “Is that it? It’s not different?”
She forced herself to think before answering, so she picked up a strip of bacon and took a bite. She didn’t reply until she’d swallowed and had a chance to consider what she was going to say. How much to tell him. How transparent she wanted to be.
“We’re at breakfast on my first full day. People know you. And I can’t help but wonder if the fact that I’m here with you is a topic of conversation.”
“Who cares?”
She sighed. “I don’t want to be that girl, Jack. That I got hired because you and I are...whatever it is we aren’t.”
“You care far too much about what other people think about you. What does it matter? All that matters is what you think about yourself.”
“Easy for you to say. Do you know that when I went into the bathroom at the wedding, the women laughed when they realized who I was? As if it were expected. I could picture the eye rolls. All because Cadence Creek is so small that mistakes are made in full view of the population.”
Jack speared a piece of egg. “Take that bathroom and multiply it by a thousand. A million. Try finding your romantic failures splashed over international papers.”
Fast on and off the hill. “That was years ago. Do people really remember?”
He shrugged and kept methodically eating his meal. “Some do. A lot did in the first few years after it happened. If I wasn’t known as the guy who’d crashed his Olympic dreams away, I was the guy who’d had an affair with his coach’s wife.” His face looked sour. “My point is, it wasn’t easy for me. I’ve been there. And in the end it doesn’t pay to give a good damn what other people think.”
If he weren’t careful, he was going to stab right through the plate rather than into his slice of ham. Was his charming exterior his way of showing he didn’t care? Because clearly he did. It was in what he didn’t say as much as what he did.
She wasn’t sure if she should ask, but it seemed rather important considering they kept doing this “are we or aren’t we?” dance. “Do you still love her, Jack?”
Stab, stab. “Of course not. I probably didn’t love her then, either. I just thought I did.”
Hmm. His sharp reply was a glimpse past the slick facade that was Jack Shepard. “You must have, for her to hurt you that way.”
He tore open a packet of jam. “It’s a long story. Let’s just put it this way—the whole thing soured me on thoughts of fairy-tale love for a long time. I mean...I can’t say love doesn’t exist, because I see it. In my parents, in Callum and Avery, in friends and employees. But it served to make me very, very cautious about putting myself out there.”
“Jack Shepard, the risk taker...afraid of love.”
“Damn right.” Finally he seemed to relax, spread the jam over his toast a little more gently. “Look, I’m perfectly okay with testing my boundaries and capabilities. I’m just not so good with trusting them to other people, know what I mean?”
“So I shouldn’t worry about this two-week thing turning into more than a work vacation.”
“God, no.”
It shouldn’t have, but his quick denial hurt.
He put down his knife. “Crap. I didn’t mean for it to sound that way, Amy.”
“No, clarity is good.” Her appetite was all but gone now. Which didn’t make sense because that was what she wanted to hear...wasn’t it?
He sighed heavily. “This is kind of a mess, isn’t it?”
When she didn’t answer, he touched her hand, prompting her to look up. She didn’t want that queer,
wonderful turning to happen in her tummy when he gazed into her eyes. Didn’t want the awareness of the shape of his lips, the light scent of his aftershave, the other little things that she noticed about him...including the scar beneath his ear.
“I’m not looking for anything past this trip, Amy. You should know that up front. But I think maybe we were fooling ourselves by thinking we could ignore chemistry. We’ve got it, you and me. Have had since that night on the dance floor. We can try to rationalize it all we want, but it’s going to get in our way.”
Holy. Mother. Mary. Did he expect her to know how to respond to that?
“The big question is,” he continued, “what do we do about it?”
“I, uh...”
“Look at me,” he commanded. When she did so, he looked her dead in the eyes. “You are not what they say you are. I can see that. You’re skittish as a new colt and blush like an innocent. And news flash—being here with me won’t make you what they say, either. The way I see it, we have a choice. We can put on the brakes and stop this right here and right now and stay out of each other’s way for the rest of your trip.”
Like that had worked so well up to this point.
“Or?”
“Or we enjoy the few weeks and take things as they come. Go in with our eyes wide open. If you’re looking for forever, Amy, say no right now. Because I’m not your guy. But if we can go into this knowing exactly what it’s not, there’s no reason why we shouldn’t enjoy each other’s company.”
“You’re suggesting a fling.”
“I’m suggesting we stay open to possibilities. As long as we’re both aware of what is and isn’t on the table.”
“Do you run all your negotiations like this?”
He finally smiled again. “Not even close. I’m much tougher with business deals.”
Which was why he wasn’t just a rancher, but a millionaire a few times over.
“I’m not interested in anything long-term, either,” she answered. “I have plans. I don’t intend to let a guy get in my way. It’s time I started thinking outside the world of Cadence Creek.”
“That’s not exactly an answer.”
She knew that. And she was still considering. Her heart was telling her this was a big mistake. But her head was saying that she could handle it. That she’d look back and regret it if she didn’t let herself at least consider the idea of spending a glorious few weeks enjoying the company of Jack Shepard. They had laid out the ground rules. No expectations. No demands.
“I don’t know. I kind of liked our plan last night.”
“We had a plan?”
She nodded. “On my timetable. I know where you stand, you know where I stand. If either of us changes our minds...no questions asked.”
His smile broadened. “Should we shake hands on it?”
“Sure.”
She held out her hand, and he took it, but before she could pull it back he turned it over and lifted it, touching his lips to the base of her palm.
Her body went into overdrive.
He let go of her hand. “Now eat. Your breakfast is getting cold and you’re going to need your energy for what I have planned this afternoon.”
Chapter Six
She hadn’t known what to expect when Jack said she’d need her energy for the afternoon. Still, snowshoeing hadn’t been remotely on her radar. In all her years in Alberta, she’d never been. She’d stuck to ice-skating at the local rink. Ridden on the back of a snowmobile a time or two. Once her high school friends had taken her skiing in Jasper, and she’d spent the morning taking a lesson and the afternoon sitting in the lodge with a paperback and a large hot chocolate with whip.
It wasn’t that she couldn’t do outdoor stuff. It was just that she didn’t choose to. Not very often.
So standing in the cold, bundled up in a parka, hat, thick mittens and heavy boots while Jack patiently did up the fastenings on a pair of snowshoes, made her feel just a bit like a fish out of water. She was way more an “I like the snow outside but I’m a ‘stay inside beside the roaring fire’” kind of person.
“Try that,” he suggested, standing up.
The fabric of his jacket made a crinkly noise and Amy looked up. Why on earth did his eyes seem bluer right now? Was it the navy of his jacket, or the piercing clarity of the sky behind them? She slid on her sunglasses, cutting down on the sun-on-snow glare. Jack grinned, the little sideways boyish smile that had the power to melt icicles. “You ready to go?” he asked.
He was already strapped in his snowshoes, and had moved around as easily as if he’d been wearing boots. Meanwhile her feet felt awkward and funny, strapped to the wedgelike contraptions.
“As ready as I’m going to be,” she answered. Please don’t let me fall like a newb, she thought to herself, pulling up her mittens and preparing to take her first step.
“It’s a little clunky until you find your stride,” Jack suggested. “Don’t try to go too fast at first.”
“Okay.” She pasted on a smile and put her right foot forward, then her left. It felt a bit like an exaggerated walk, with big clown shoes on. A few more steps and she was getting the hang of it. Until she suddenly found herself face-first in the snow, her legs and snowshoes splayed out behind her in a most undignified manner.
Jack’s easy laugh touched her ears. She sighed.
A snowshoe appeared beside her right hip, then another on her left, and Jack’s mittened hands gripped under her shoulders. “One...two...three...up we go.”
It wasn’t dignified or graceful, but a few seconds later she was back on her feet, brushing the snow off her coat and ski pants. “You sure you want to take me out there? It could be a very slow trip for you.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. And it’ll be worth it. Trust me.”
“Right,” she answered, skeptical.
“Come on. Don’t let the toes drop. That’s what catches and snubs you up.”
She concentrated on the movement of the step, adopting the slight spring to the stride that Jack seemed to affect so effortlessly. She wasn’t fast, but she managed to get a steady pace going, more intense than walking but definitely easier than a jog in the deep snow.
“You okay?” he asked, slowing until she drew up beside him on the path.
She took a deep breath, noticing that the fresh mountain air held an even more intense scent of pines and evergreens as they made their way into the woods. “I’m okay. It takes some getting used to.”
“Easier than walking in the snow and sinking to your thighs,” Jack said, staying beside her as they carried on.
“Do you do this often?” she asked, wondering if her legs were going to ache tonight and if she’d have time to check the business email before dinner. There’d only been a scant hour to work in the office before Jack had pulled her away for an afternoon of nature.
“Sometimes I take the horses if the snow’s not too deep. And when we have guests, we quite often include a day of snowshoeing or skating. In the summertime, we’ll do this as a hike or a trail ride. The view at the end is worth it.”
They kept going, sometimes talking, sometimes not, especially when he picked up the pace and Amy’s lungs were working overtime as she tried to keep up. Once Jack stopped, he motioned for quiet and reached into his pocket for a baggie. He placed a few pieces of peanut on a log, then dropped a few on the snow, and finally, kept some on the palm of his glove. “Just wait,” he said softly, nodding as a black-capped chickadee found the treat on the log. With his voice low, he added, “Look at that trunk. The nuthatches are out.”
She saw the light blue bird, its plumage standing out against the grey-brown of the bark. “It’s upside down! Weird.”
He chuckled. “They walk down the tree headfirst. Cool, right? Now hush. And watch.”
Pati
ently he stood, and after a few minutes the first chickadee perched on his hand, snatching a peanut before darting away.
Once the chickadee had escaped with a treat, the nuthatch found its courage. With a chirp it landed on Jack’s hand, cheekily snatched a peanut, chirped again and darted off while Amy laughed.
“Wait. He’ll be back. They’re pigs once they find out I’ve got a good supply. Here, come try it.”
“I’m sure they won’t come to me.”
“If you stand still and have food they will. Come here.”
She made her way to his side.
“Reach into my pocket for the baggie, and put some on your palm.”
She took off her mitten and reached into his pocket. It was toasty warm and her fingers closed over the plastic baggie. She withdrew it and put some bits on the palm of her mitten, then carefully tucked the bag back into his pocket.
“Hold it out and wait.”
The nuthatch came back, but perched on Jack’s hand with a squawk. It darted off but was back soon after, and hopped from Jack’s glove to her mitten.
“Oh, my word.”
It snapped up a chunk of peanut, gave a chirp and was gone.
“That’s so cool.”
A few more birds approached and pecked away at the nuts, growing braver by the moment. Once, when a chickadee was on her palm, a nuthatch flitted past and perched on her hat, waiting for his turn. The bird walked over her head, the tiny feet a peculiar sensation through the knitted fabric. All Amy could think was that she hoped the bird didn’t poop on her hat. When she said as much, Jack laughed abruptly, scattering their winged friends into the bushes.
“We should carry on. We’ve got a ways to go yet.”
He reached into his pocket and zipped up the bag of peanuts. “You ready?”
It had been a great chance for her to catch her breath, and she wondered if he’d planned it that way. “I’m good to go. Lead on.”
The stride was easier now that she was getting used to it, and twenty minutes later they emerged from the woods into a field, where snow-covered knolls and hills rolled into the distance. The sky was huge, blue with wispy white clouds streaking across it in the mellow afternoon light. In the distance the mountains formed a grey-and-white barrier, tall and proud sentinels guarding the foothills and undulating pastures.
