by Jane Porter
By the time they’d arrived on December twenty-third, the Sterling ranch house had already been prepped by staff for the holidays, with a fourteen-foot tree in the great room, and fresh green boughs wrapping the rough-hewn bannister railings. Gingerbread cookies had been baked and fires had crackled in all seven fireplaces. There had been a lot of eating and drinking and extravagant gift giving. Quinn had found Christmas with the Sterlings perfectly enjoyable—after all, it was his second holiday spent with them—but a Sterling Christmas was a far cry to his humble beginnings in Paradise Valley, Montana.
Last year, on Christmas Day, he drove to Marietta for an evening meal with his family—sister McKenna and her clan, brother Rory and his new bride. McKenna hosted a Douglas family dinner at her and Trey’s house, and it was the complete opposite of the Sterling Christmas—noisy and chaotic with babies crying and kids fighting and lots of good-natured ribbing and laughter. There was no staff to do the work, thus everyone pitched in, with cooking and kids and cleanup.
Quinn enjoyed playing bachelor uncle, even on his back in front of the living room fire with his nieces and nephews crawling all over him. He’d loved being with his family, and he adored the nieces and nephews, but it made him question the future. His future.
His phone rang as he waited for his rental car to be brought around. He glanced at the number. Alice.
Quinn tensed and then took a deep breath and answered the call. Even though they’d broken up over the summer, she still stayed in close touch, in hopes that they might get back together. “Hey,” he said, answering, the call.
“So you made it?” she asked.
“Just got here. Picking up my car now.”
“I wish I was there. I love Jackson Hole.”
“It is gorgeous,” he agreed, suppressing the ambivalence he felt every time they talked.
Alice had wanted to marry him. She still wanted to marry him. They’d dated for almost three years, and she’d taken the breakup hard, feeling as if she’d invested a huge chunk of her life into him and she was still trying to get him back. There would be no going back. He didn’t know how to explain it to her without hurting her more, and so he smashed his unease and tried to be supportive, hoping that eventually she’d meet someone new and be able to move on.
“Lots of snow?” she asked.
“It’s been snowing all day.”
“The powder would be amazing.” Alice sighed wistfully. “We haven’t had great snow in the Cascades yet, which reminds me why I’ve called. Dad is still interested in that resort. He knows they’re struggling financially and he’s considering making them an offer.”
“I don’t think they’re looking to sell.”
“But they would, for the right price.”
“Your dad lowballs everyone.”
“Come on, sweetie, that’s not fair. He’s just a tough negotiator, and it’s what makes him so successful.”
“Mmm.” Quinn wasn’t about to contradict her, because Alice had always been a daddy’s girl, but Leo Sterling was ruthless, and he’d made a fortune by taking advantage of those who were desperate. It wasn’t the way Quinn had been raised and it made him leery of the future. If he married Alice, he could walk out of professional sports and be set for life, not because of what he’d achieved, but because her father, Leo Sterling, had built a dazzling real estate empire of luxury properties across the world and was one of the wealthiest men on the West Coast. Quinn could leave baseball behind—and Alice was desperate for him to leave ball and get off the road—and then Quinn could become her father’s right hand, the son he never had. It was all that Alice wanted.
And nothing Quinn wanted.
He tried to share with Alice his reservations, but she couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t want to be part of her family’s company. His resistance to working with her family became an issue between them, and it made him question his commitment to her.
If he truly loved Alice, the shifting of his career shouldn’t be so hard. If he loved Alice, he should be happy to stay in Seattle and become vice president of Sterling Luxury Resorts. It would be a cushy job. All the hard work would have been done for him. All he needed to do was show up, dress the part, wine and dine clients, shake hands, sign a few autographs and be the good son-in-law, Seattle Mariner third baseman, Quinn Douglas, baseball hero.
There was nothing about the job description that appealed, though.
“The car is here,” he said, noting the black four-wheel-drive truck pulling up.
“So what shall I tell Dad? That you’ll report back?”
“Alice, I’m here for me. I’m looking for investment opportunities for me.”
“You’re getting into property, too?”
“I’m looking for investments that make sense to me. This one is close to home—”
“It’s five hours from your family, across the Tetons. I wouldn’t call it convenient.”
“I have a house four hours from here, and I like driving.”
“Dad says they are in deep. They’re not going to survive this year. You don’t want to take on something like that. You could lose your shirt.”
“I’m not looking to buy them. I’m looking to invest in them. Huge difference.”
“Dad wants them. Don’t undermine him.”
“Peter Pace, the owner of Little Teton, is an old friend. I’m not going to stand by and let him go bankrupt if I can help.”
“You played minor league ball with him. You barely knew him.”
“We were roommates in single A ball. I knew him quite well.”
“But that was years ago. Don’t throw your money away. Dad says—”
“Your dad is smart. He is. But his way isn’t always the right way, Alice. We both know that. Goodbye.”
Quinn hung up before she could reply and ground his teeth together. This was the part he couldn’t stomach. Alice might be beautiful and smart and well connected, but she didn’t understand that he came from a very different family, with different values. And maybe his parents had died when he was a teenager, but he was old enough to have internalized those values. People mattered. Kindness mattered. Integrity mattered.
Alice had a good side, and he admired her immensely for being ambitious and hardworking, but he wasn’t ever going to be able to peel her away from Seattle, and he had family in Montana and it was his dream to one day return to Montana full time. When he broached the subject to Alice in early July, she recoiled, rejecting the idea of ever living in Montana permanently, and he suddenly had clarity on their relationship.
He could love someone, but it didn’t make the relationship right.
He could want the best for someone, but it didn’t mean that person was his person.
And so instead of proposing, during the July All-Star Break, he broke up with her. It had been five months since he ended the relationship but she was still hanging on, determined to get him back.
He had no plans to get back together with her. Ever. She was a great woman. She just wasn’t his woman.
*
Charity had been worried that forecast of snow would make the drive over the Teton Pass treacherous, but her seven-year-old Subaru handled the roads beautifully, and yes, the snow fell steadily, but there was no wind and her windshield wipers did a great job of scraping the window clean, keeping her view clear.
She’d armed herself with a thermos of coffee and mentally prepared herself for a long drive, but even with a stop for gas, she’d made it in less than four and a half hours, delighted to arrive at the privately owned Little Teton Resort before dark.
Parking her car out front in the area marked for reception, Charity headed into the lodge to check-in. The split-log lodge, built in the late 1960s, was more practical than luxurious, but the soaring ceiling featured sturdy beams, a fragrant Christmas tree in the corner, dark green garland swags over the various doorways, and an enormous wreath with a jaunty red bow over the stacked stone fireplace. The building’s design was more utilitari
an than some of the fancier lodges over the mountain in Jackson Hole, but the decorations were cheerful and inviting.
Check-in at the front desk was easy. She gave them Trisha’s name and ID Trish had given her, and the friendly reception clerk handed over a key, a map of the property, and a welcome packet for the Little Teton fam.
“There’s a welcome reception tonight for all the travel agents. The reception will be in this building upstairs in the Fireside Room.” The clerk opened the map and drew some Xs here and there, showing Charity where the Fireside Room was, and then where to park, and how to find her room as Charity wouldn’t be in the main lodge, but in Aspen Lodge, one of the adjacent buildings.
The clerk leaned forward and whispered, “You’re in my favorite building. It has the best coffee and chocolate in all of Little Teton Village. They have morning bakery items too, but they sell out quickly, so if you like a great chocolate croissant, go early.” She glanced around and then dropped her voice even lower. “And maybe best of all, Seattle sportswriter Douglas Quincy is in the Aspen Building, too, on the ground floor, and he’s gorgeous. As well as single. I know, because I asked.”
“Thank you, but no,” Charity answered with a rueful shake of her head. “I’m not looking for love. I’ve sworn off men until the new year.”
“Why?”
“Penance for making bad decisions.” Charity scooped up the paperwork and room key. “But thanks for the tip on the chocolate. Fortunately, I have not given sweets up.”
Charity headed back outside to move her car. It was dark now and lights were coming on, reflecting brightly off the freshly fallen snow. She drew a deep breath, inhaling the crisp cold air, excited to be at the Little Teton for the next five days. It had been a long time since she’d done something just for fun.
Using her map, Charity found her way to the lot behind the two-story Aspen Lodge and parked in one of the many open spaces. As she turned her engine off, she frowned as she surveyed the virtually empty parking lot. It was too quiet. Indeed, when she’d turned down the small Main Street she thought the entire ski town looked quiet. Low numbers had been a problem for the resort and that was why the Pace family had poured money into Little Teton, trying to refresh the resort and ski runs, but the word didn’t seem to have gotten out yet.
Charity swung her backpack filled with books onto her shoulders and then lugged her big suitcase out of the trunk of her old Subaru, glad no one could see her mammoth suitcase. Winter clothes and snow boots took up a lot of room and then she also wanted to bring some cute clothes for the indoor activities. Just because she was single, didn’t mean she couldn’t still feel pretty.
One of the wheels on the suitcase no longer rolled, so she half carried, half dragged the case through the snow toward the lodge entrance. Yellow lamps made everything glow and she drew a deep breath, surprisingly excited to be here.
She’d never been to Jackson Hole, or any of the resorts on this side of the Grand Tetons. It wouldn’t be hard to appear enthusiastic for the fam trip because she really did want to learn about the resort and runs. Charity was determined to take great notes back so Tricia could sell Little Teton to her customers and everyone would be happy.
The backpack straps slid down her shoulders to her arms as she wrested the suitcase over a patch of ice.
“Let me help you,” a deep male voice said from behind her, reaching an arm past her to lift the large case. “You’ve got your hands full.”
“Thank you,” she answered breathlessly, pushing the straps of the backpack up and then a tendril of hair out of her eyes to get a better look at him because first impression was, well, impressive. Second impression was just as positive. He was tall and fit and ruggedly good-looking with shaggy, dark blond hair, scruff on his square jaw, and high hard cheekbones.
“That’s a big suitcase,” he said, opening the front door and holding it for her, before following with the bag.
“A girl has to have options,” she answered with a smile, glancing around the interior. The lobby of Aspen was small, but cozy, with two sets of hunter-green leather chairs, a fire crackling in the stacked stone hearth, and a collection of pine trees in the corner covered in tiny white lights. Huge glass jars filled with candy canes and peppermints decorated the mantel while a white wooden reindeer with a green wreath around its neck filled the low coffee table.
She nodded approvingly, backpack sliding off her shoulder once more. “I wasn’t sure what to expect but this is cute.”
“You’ll like the rooms. They’ve obviously spent a lot of money trying to make it appealing and I think they’ve succeeded.”
She gave up trying to keep the backpack on her shoulder and just let it slide to her feet. “Are you here for the travel agent trip?”
“I am, but I’m not a travel agent. I’m a writer.”
So this was the sportswriter. The desk clerk had called him gorgeous, and he was. “Tricia Thorpe,” she said shyly, extending her hand.
“Douglas Quincy,” he replied, his big hand engulfing hers, fingers closing around hers.
His palm was so warm, and the touch of his skin sent a little jolt of electricity shooting up her arm. Charity quickly retracted her hand, and rubbed it on the back of her coat, trying to erase the tingling sensation. She’d have to be careful around Douglas. He was exactly what she didn’t need, not at this point in her chaotic, confusing life. “Where’s home for you?” she asked.
“Seattle, Washington.”
“Oh, then you’re the one to ask about coffee. I’ve heard there is a great coffee place in this building. Have you seen it?”
“You’ll find the little café down that hall,” he said, pointing to the left. “Elevators and rooms are to the right, and the heated pool is out the door down that little hall.”
She flashed what she hoped was a confident smile. “Great. Well, I’d better get settled.”
“You’ll be at the welcome reception?”
Her pulse sped up, double time. “See you there.”
*
Quinn watched Tricia disappear down the hallway with her massive suitcase and knapsack, her long blonde ponytail swinging.
She was pretty, really pretty, with a wide, uncertain smile and blue eyes that held more than a hint of wariness in them. Her suitcase looked as if he it hadn’t been used in a long time, and her knapsack belonged to a day hiker rather than a world traveler. Quinn suspected she didn’t get out and travel as much as her customers. If that was true, he was glad she was here. He didn’t know why, but she struck him as someone in need of a break, and maybe some fun.
Quinn hadn’t come for fun. When Peter Pace had reached out to Quinn about potentially investing in Little Teton, Quinn’s immediate thought had been no. He didn’t ski due to a clause in his contract, but it hadn’t been a huge loss as he’d liked to ski as a boy, but it had never been a passion. Baseball had always been his thing, and he’d been lucky to turn it into a lucrative career.
But after thinking about Peter’s request a bit more, Quinn at least owed Peter the opportunity to show him what he’d done in Wyoming, which was why Quinn was here now, under the name Douglas Quincy. He wanted to see if there was a way he could help, but he wouldn’t know the answer to that until he’d been here for the week.
*
That evening, Charity spotted Douglas the moment she entered the meeting room off the main lodge’s lobby. He was the tallest person in the room, and incredibly easy on the eyes. He was also circled by a large group of women who seemed to find him utterly charming.
Charity smiled to herself and went to the beverage table to grab a bottle of water but then spotted the red and white wine and decided, a glass of red would be really lovely about now. She wasn’t exactly nervous being here, but she was out of her element.
As she sipped her wine, she glanced around the room. From the way it’d been set up, she gathered that there would be a presentation. Two rows of chairs faced a podium and screen at one end of the room, while table
s of food and drink were at this end.
She snagged some of the skewered meat sticks and cheese cubes before heading toward the chairs. If Tricia was here, she’d mingle with the other agents, but Charity didn’t have Tricia’s confidence. But then, Tricia did these familiarizations all the time as hotels and airlines used the free trips as a way to show off new airplane routes or properties, and Marietta Travel might be small, but Paradise Valley was filled with wealthy people who could afford to go where they wanted, whenever they wanted.
A shadow stretched over her. She glanced up to discover the sportswriter at her side, smiling. His smile was a thing of perfection—straight white teeth, great jaw, lovely mouth.
“Are you saving this row of seats?” he asked, gesturing to her row. “Or can you spare one for me?”
She tore her gaze from his mouth up to his eyes. Those were beautiful, too. He had not been shortchanged in the looks department. “I think I can spare a chair.”
He sat down next to her and extended long, muscular legs. His legs were so long, his all-weather boots were hidden beneath the seat in front of him. “The ladies I just met are all from the West Coast, three from California, one from Oregon and another from Vancouver. They’re very excited to be here.”
“It’s certainly a cute place,” she answered.
“They hit the Ice Shack for dinner and recommended the fondue there. Actually, they raved about the cheese and a chocolate fondue.”
She was amused by this conversation. Did big, muscular men like fondue? “I don’t think I’ve ever had fondue.”
“Never?”
She shook her head and sipped her wine. “Are you a fondue fan?” she asked innocently.
“I wouldn’t say I’m a fan, but it’s a fun thing to do on a ski trip. Do you ski?”
“I can get down the mountain but it’s not particularly pretty. More survival skiing than anything.”
She was rewarded with a laugh, and the deep, husky appreciative sound burrowed inside of Charity, warming her. He really was incredibly attractive, and it wasn’t just his looks—which were exceptional—but it was his smile and laugh and the way he just seemed so much larger than life. More real, more alive somehow.
