Boom

by Stacy Gail

  “Actually, your father is all for my working alongside you to get Whiteout Mountain up on its feet and successfully launched into the world. What does that tell you?”

  “It tells me he’s smart enough to pick his battles. I’m not going to talk about Dad, or Brody, or anyone else,” he went on when she opened her mouth. “Right now there are only two things on my mind—making sure the opening of Whiteout Mountain doesn’t wipe me out financially, and making sure Mia Flowers is given everything she needs.”

  Chapter Five

  Mia had never wasted a ton of time thinking what it might be like inside a Presidential suite—or, in this case, chalet—but she had to admit it was the freaking bomb.

  As soon as Brody returned from whatever errand he’d run, he wasted no time in giving her a tour of the place where she was now stranded. At three-thousand square feet, the wood and glass contemporary log and stone “cabin” was more a residential mini-mansion than part of a resort. The great room was her absolute favorite room in the place. It was dominated by a two-story high, soaring prow-like wall of windows overlooking nothing but blinding white, and Quinn assured her that the windows framed the best possible view of Whiteout Mountain itself.

  A towering rock see-through fireplace separated the great room from the dining area, where another, smaller prow-shaped array of windows also looked out onto the winter whiteness. Her sharp home-staging eye would have taken out the banquet-style dining table that had an entire side to the back of the window and an end right up to the heat of the fireplace, and replaced it with a round table to optimize the focal points without losing seat numbers.

  That was the only flaw she found as Quinn showed her every inch of the chalet. It was gorgeous, from the sinfully sybaritic master bath with an attached sauna, to the current mess that was Quinn’s temporary bedroom, the master bedroom, complete with another fireplace, a large flat screen TV and a mini bar.

  The opulence didn’t stop there. A wooden deck jutted out beyond the prow-shaped windows, edged with racks to hold skis, making it literally a ski-in, ski-out residence. Up the open-slat stairway was a communal loft area filled with overstuffed furniture upholstered in thick woolen Native American fabric and a gaming center, another enormous bedroom with a fireplace and en-suite bath, a glass-enclosed hot tub alcove that also faced the mountain, and a soundproof theatre room with plush reclining chairs and another mini bar, this one with a microwave and a basket of microwavable popcorn waiting to be used.

  “Okay, I’ll admit it,” Mia announced as she and Quinn descended the stairs into the great room, where she migrated to the warmth of the fire. “You were right again. This chalet kicks some serious booty. It might be the closest thing I’ve ever seen to heaven on earth.”

  “And you’re not even seeing this country at its best.”

  “You mean that dinky little polar vortex out there? Pfft.” Airily she waved a hand. “That’s nothing.”

  “Nothing, huh?” Shaking his head, he came to stand with her, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re really something, you know that? You might not be seeing my mountain at its best, but I get the feeling I’m seeing you at yours.”

  Warmth that had nothing to do with the fire swept over her. “Uh… I’m sorry?”

  “Earlier today, when you found out you were going to be here a while… I have to admit, I expected a grand mal shit fit from you.” Throughout the tour, he’d taken her hand whenever they’d moved to the next room, as if he feared she might somehow get lost along the way. As they stood there he did it again, and it finally dawned on her that this was simply how Quinn Kingfisher was—a touchy-feely kind of guy who had held her hand even when they’d been in the car and she’d been upset. Jackson had never been into holding hands, or having arms wound around each other as they walked. Being demonstrative simply wasn’t his way. But it was obviously Quinn’s. “I saw it in you, Red. You wanted to scream at me or cry or pitch a fit. But you sucked it up, and you thanked me instead.”

  “It’s not your fault I’m here.”

  “You sucked it up, and then you thanked me,” he repeated, and suddenly he seemed a whole lot closer than he had been a second ago. “You immediately set aside how you were feeling and instead thought of the people around you. You thought of me.”

  “Of course I did, Boom.” She looked up into his indigo eyes, and saw there was a storm there that she didn’t understand. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “You don’t even know how rare that is, do you?” His fingers tightened on hers. “You’re the one going through a first-rate shitty time in a place you never expected to be. But you pushed your own issues into the backseat, and made sure that I wasn’t stressing out. You’re a genuinely good woman, Mia Flowers.” He lifted his free hand to curl it around her nape, and brought their faces alarmingly close. “But I’m beginning to think it might be a dangerous kind of good.”

  Heaven help her, she couldn’t look away from his dark eyes even if she wanted to. And she didn’t. “How can being good be dangerous?”

  “It’s dangerous for you. You’re the kind of good that the assholes of the world will zero in on and take advantage of, and they won’t stop until they’ve sucked you dry. You’re the kind of good that gives and gives and gives. The assholes of the world see that, so they’ll take and take and take. And they won’t even thank you for all that you do. They’ll just walk away when they’ve gotten what they wanted, oblivious to the damage they’ve done. Believe me, I know.”

  While she was sure he was talking about Jackson, she got the strangest feeling that maybe he was also thinking of someone else. “Quinn—”

  “The assholes of the world don’t see your sacrifices, Mia. But I do, because I’m not an asshole, and I’m not oblivious to what you’re going through. I saw it when you stifled your frustration of not being able to get the hell out of here. You did it because you were trying to shelter me, to make my road smoother, but you don’t have to hide what you’re going through. It’s okay to feel whatever it is you need to feel when you’re with me.”

  She bit her lip, remembering all too well how he’d freaked out when he thought she was crying. “There’s no point in being pissed off about the weather. It’s not like there’s anything you can do about it.”

  “Yeah, I know there’s nothing I can do about the weather, Red, but I can do something about making sure you know you’re safe with me, no matter what you’re feeling. And you’ve got my word right now that I’ll never take you and your goodness for granted. I’m grateful you’re so damn good, and I appreciate how you tried to smooth my way. But you don’t have to do that with me. One way or another, we’ll get through this together.” And with that, he pulled her up to meet the descent of his mouth.

  Wait, wait, wait…!

  It was a quick kiss, no more than a couple of heartbeats. But in that seemingly innocuous time span, everything she knew got turned on its head.

  In a world that seemed frozen over, his lips were deliciously warm. They caressed hers with unapologetic sensuality before their pressure deepened and molded to hers. Or perhaps hers molded to his, seeking out that addictive warmth. She only knew for certain that her world was filled with an intoxicating flood of giddiness and light and irresistible heat—

  He lifted his head, and when she opened her eyes—when had she closed them?—he was already watching her as if she was the only thing in the room worth looking at. A grin that was made of cocky masculine satisfaction appeared before he reached up to untangle her fingers that had somehow managed to fist around his gorgeous hair.

  “Now you know I wasn’t lying about the big girls pulling my hair, but it’s all good with me, Red. I like it when you do that.”

  Oh, my God.

  “Don’t forget to make your calls.” He kissed her forehead before heading out of the room, and his swagger made her want to throw something at him.

  Like, for instance, herself.

  “Wait. What was that name again? I’m Googling.” />
  “Honey Pot, Montana. And more specifically, Whiteout Mountain Ski Resort and Spa, scheduled to open the first day of winter.”

  “Honey Pot. Holy shit, there’s an actual place called Honey Pot.” The comforting voice of Deb Shanley, Mia’s aunt, came through with surprising clarity. When Mia’s mother had vanished from her life when she was ten, Deb had stepped in to fill the void. When her father virtually forgot her existence and moved to Florida with a new wife and family when she was eighteen, Deb had become her whole world. “Okay, I’ve found you on the map. Honey Pot’s two miles northwest of Whitefish, Montana, which is sixteen miles from Glacier Park International airport. How weird that the back of beyond has an international airport.”

  “Apparently this is some kind of outdoor sportsman’s paradise. Since I’ve never been out of Chicago, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Yeah, you’re like me, sweets. Your idea of outdoor sports is walking the entirety of Magnificent Mile, hunting for good deals. Ooh.”

  Curled up against the mountain of pillows on her bed, Mia tucked a plush throw around her icy feet. “What?”

  “I like Whiteout Mountain’s website. Very pretty, very easy to navigate. Do you know who their web designer is?”

  “I don’t even know where I am, Deb.”

  “Look at all the amenities they’ve got going on up there. You know, if you’re going to get kidnapped, you might as well be taken to a place that offers complimentary wifi, a hot tub in every room and ninety-minute deep-tissue massages—by appointment only, of course.”

  Mia perked. A massage didn’t sound half-bad. “I haven’t been kidnapped. I’ve been diverted by the airline, snowed in by Mother Nature, and saved by Quinn Kingfisher.”

  “Same difference, but at least you’re surrounded by luxury in all that rugged winter wilderness. Let’s see what happens when I hit ‘About,’” Deb went on, clearly indicating a tab on the website she was perusing. “Hm. Okay, here’s what it says about your kidnapper.”

  “Savior.”

  “Whatever. ‘Whiteout Mountain Ski Resort and Spa is the latest endeavor of the legendary Kingfisher family.’ Hey hon, did you know they were legendary?”

  “Nope. Keep reading.”

  “Right. ‘Leaders in Montana’s adult gaming world with two five-star resort-casinos located in the heart of the northern Rockies, the Kingfisher name has become synonymous with luxury and hospitality. Whiteout Mountain Ski Resort and Spa is their first non-gaming hotel, catering to both the extreme athlete and the recreational skier or snowboarder, as well as families that span all age groups. No matter the time of season, Whiteout Mountain is the ultimate in first-class mountain getaways.’ Wow. I want to go there and I’ve never skied before in my life.”

  “From what little I’ve seen—which I’ll admit is just the Presidential Chalet, at this point—they really mean it when they say luxury. The master bath has a sauna that could fit half a dozen people in it. Every bedroom has a fireplace, a Jacuzzi-style bath built for two and feather-topped mattresses. I’m probably never going to want to leave.”

  “I’d be fine with that. I might lose you, but at least you wouldn’t be going back to that jackass.”

  Mia sighed and rested her forehead on her raised knees. “Not this again.”

  “You need to be cherished for the wonderful person you are, not walked all over and unappreciated,” her aunt charged ahead, clearly intent on ignoring Mia. “I don’t care if Jackson was dynamite in bed. I don’t care if he had the world’s most perfect smile and said all the right things to all the right people. He put his own needs ahead of yours, and that goes to what type of character he is underneath the veneer smile and country club charm.”

  “Deb—”

  “Mia, don’t you think you deserve a man who puts you ahead of himself? I think you deserve that. Hell, I think every woman deserves that.”

  “I think I deserve to give a three-year relationship—the only long-term relationship I’ve ever had—every chance to make it, instead of wimping out at the first sign of trouble.”

  “You think the stuff Jackson’s posted online is the first sign? What about not calling since he left Chicago? What about not sending for you after seven months of getting settled in Seattle? What about missing your birthday last month, letting it slip by without even a word? What about two years ago, when he talked you into dropping out of law school to support his deadbeat ass?”

  Mia growled. “Do you really think I’m so weak-willed? He didn’t talk me out of anything. We sat down and made a very logical, businesslike decision together. We even put it in writing how he’d pay me back, like the legal minds we are.” She glanced over where her purse was while her pulse picked up the pace. Just a last resort, she reminded herself grimly. She wasn’t about to throw Jackson away like he was nothing, she had more loyalty than that. Those papers were just a last resort.

  “One night I’m having dinner with the two of you where I mentioned I was going to shop around for a fulltime stager. The next thing I know, you’re asking for the job. Don’t get me wrong, you’ve been a godsend, and thanks to you my sales have never been better. But if it hadn’t been for Jackson’s influence, you never would have given up on your dream of becoming a lawyer.”

  “I’m still going to become a lawyer, because I haven’t given up on that dream, or any dream close to my heart. I never walk away from what I want without putting up one hell of a fight. That’s who I am, Deb, and that’s why I need to get to Seattle. I’m loyal. I don’t give up on people, and I don’t turn my back on years of being together with the man who was the first love of my life.”

  “Sweetheart,” her aunt said gently, “two things about what you just said. He’s the one who’s turned his back on you, and deep down you know it, because you just used the past tense in talking about how Jackson was the first love of your life.”

  A dull, hurtful wrenching in her stomach had Mia swallowing hard. Damn, when the woman was right, she was right. “Then for my own peace of mind, I need to know I’ve done all I can to salvage our relationship. And if it’s unsalvageable, I need to close that chapter in my life completely, so that I can move without thinking what if.”

  “Honey,” her aunt sighed. “That’s something you can do right now, just by deciding it in your own mind. Let Jackson go by not giving him another thought. He doesn’t deserve your devotion.”

  “I deserve answers, Deb, one way or another. I’m making this journey for me, not him.”

  “What you deserve is to have a gorgeous knight in shining armor come along, see what a treasure you are, and take you away to his beautiful castle.”

  Mia frowned. “Did knights have castles? I thought they just defended them.”

  “You know what I mean. All that sappy medieval romantic shit—you deserve it.”

  “Apparently Fate disagrees with you, since I’ve been given a hellacious polar vortex instead of a beautiful castle.”

  “A Presidential Chalet isn’t anything to sneeze at, sweets. What does this Kingfisher dude look like anyway?”

  A gorgeous knight sprang to Mia’s mind, and she had to bite her lip to keep from blurting it out loud. “I think you’d approve.” A sudden beep sounded in her ear, prompting her to glance at her phone. “Crap, I’m down to ten percent on my battery, Deb. Do me a favor and call Daria to let her know what’s happening, okay? I’ll call you guys later to let you know when I’m continuing on to Seattle.”

  “Feel free to enjoy the mountain resort life,” came the quick response. “No need to hurry off to Seattle the moment the weather cle—”

  Her aunt’s voice cut off, and another glance at her phone showed Mia nothing but a blank black screen.

  Crap.

  With a sigh, she crawled off the bed to rummage around in her purse for her power cord.

  Then she rummaged around in her carry-on.

  Then she dumped her entire purse out on the bed to paw through the contents.

  Where the hell
was the damn power cord?

  The memory of inviting other passengers to use the cord came back with crystal clarity.

  But not the memory of packing it back up.

  Arrrgh.

  She stared at her dead phone, then at the iPad in its leather case, now also without a cord, and mulled the problem over. Her cord might be miles away, but that didn’t mean the situation was hopeless. This was a resort, after all. True, it was still a couple weeks away from its grand opening, but there could still conceivably be some sort of gift shop stocked with basic items that travelers commonly forgot to pack. Or, at the very least, Quinn might have a power cord that she could borrow.

  To find out, she’d have to talk to him.

  A groan escaped her, and she collapsed onto the edge of the bed. She didn’t want to talk to Quinn. She didn’t want to even acknowledge his existence after that kiss. Life in the chalet was going to be insanely awkward now, filled with a never-ending parade of uncomfortable moments as the memory of that kiss sat between them like an elephant in the room.

  What the hell had he been thinking, kissing a total stranger like that? A stranger who wasn’t available, no less. She’d been upfront about Jackson, so Quinn was way out of line for kissing her when another man had put a ring on her finger.

  Except that Jackson had never put a ring on her finger, technically speaking. That was something he’d promised to do just as soon as he could afford it. But he had proposed, and she had said yes, so a damn metaphorical ring was there. Quinn shouldn’t have kissed her.

  And she shouldn’t have enjoyed it.

  She had, though.

  She groaned again and pressed her fingers to her mouth. She’d thoroughly enjoyed Quinn’s kiss, and all the words preceding it, because those words had hit close to a tender place in her soul she hadn’t even known was there. When he’d said he appreciated her sacrifices, it was as though every cell in her body bloomed. She’d never known a handful of words could make her feel so… good.