One Hot Summer

by Melissa Cutler

  Seriously? Wow. All Remedy had been told when she interviewed for the job was that Mr. Briscoe’s daughter—who’d previously managed the resort’s special events—had stepped down from the family business in favor of opening her own wedding dress business and, as a result, the hotel’s event staff had been reorganized. Alex had been promoted to Chief Visionary Officer of the special events department and Remedy was hired as the events manager.

  The confirmation that Emily was, indeed, trying to sabotage Remedy’s job didn’t pack the same punch as when Remedy’s mother had confessed that Remedy’s father hadn’t been her first husband, but it still gave Remedy that same off-kilter feeling.

  Ignoring it, Remedy narrowed her eyes at Emily. “I’ve lasted two weeks so far, if you must know. And I plan to last a lot longer than that, no matter how difficult you try to make it for me.” In truth, she planned to plant her feet at Briscoe Ranch Resort for a good long while—but only until she’d succeeded in building her reputation back up from the ashes so she could return to Los Angeles triumphant, but that was a plan she had no intention of sharing with her bosses or coworkers. “This Firefighters’ Charity Ball next month is my first event for the resort, so I need us to work together on this. Please.”

  Emily’s face was stony. “Then what I need is Baked Alaska. Screw the fire marshal. He’s even more uptight than you are.”

  “Emily, Baked Alaska is a crazy idea,” Remedy said.

  Alex wedged himself between them, draped his arms across both women’s shoulders, and met Remedy’s gaze. “Well, you’re in luck, then, because the first rule of wedding planning here at Briscoe Ranch Resort is that there’s no such thing as brilliance without a little madness.”

  The man had a point. With a sigh of concession, Remedy angled her view around him to Emily. “A hundred firemen wearing tuxes isn’t exciting enough for you all on its own?”

  Emily’s expression softened. “I’d like to see what those tux-wearing firemen look like in the glowing firelight of dozens of Baked Alaskas that are all sweeping into the room simultaneously as a dramatic finale to the exquisite four-course meal I’ve created for them.”

  Time to let Emily win this round, if only because it might pave the way to a peaceful truce. “I guess I’ll have to see about renting some cats and trees, then. Just … please don’t set the ballroom on fire.”

  Emily held up two fingers. “Chef’s honor. And I’ll tell you what—you can wield one of the torches that we use to light the desserts on fire.”

  That did sound like fun. Remedy offered her a broad grin. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

  Chapter Two

  “Of course I’m fine, Mom. You have to stop worrying. It’s not like I’m in the middle of nowhere, scraping by in some shanty with an outhouse. The cottage I’m renting has indoor plumbing and air-conditioning.”

  Remedy smacked the side of the barely functional air-conditioning unit mounted in a living room window on the off-chance it might awaken the wheel-running hamsters she envisioned slacking off inside it. No luck. She stuck her face in the fridge and grabbed a water bottle, lingering there until the cooling fan kicked on.

  Her mom sighed. “I can’t help it. I’m an empty nester now.”

  Remedy was nearly thirty, but her mom was right. This was the first time the two of them had lived apart. Even in college, Remedy had lived at her childhood home and commuted. “Mom. Half the time we lived together you were off on location. So just think about this as my turn to be off on location. It’s temporary.”

  “Got it. Temporary. I can handle that. I just wish I was there with you right now.”

  The thought of her mom sweeping into the sleepy town of Dulcet, Texas, and making concerned faces at Remedy’s run-down cottage and the dark circles under her eyes made her wince. “I wish you were, too. But the show must go on, right? You and I are so lucky to have jobs we love that keep us busy, so you’ll have to trust me when I tell you I’m okay. My job at the resort is stressful, but every new job is at first, so I’m dealing with it.”

  “Tenacity, it’s one of my family’s signature traits.”

  It was one of Remedy’s dad’s family’s traits, too, but Remedy knew better than to bring him up. Since their divorce when Remedy was twelve, her parents had taken their acting abilities to a new level by each pretending the other didn’t exist.

  “You hang in there, baby. And if you need anything at all, just call me.”

  Remedy shouldered out the back door of the cottage and onto a small wooden deck that was little more than a platform for the steep staircase that dropped into a canyon that was thick with trees and underbrush. “Mom, you’re on location in Budapest. If I need anything, what can you do to help?”

  “I’m only here for a couple more weeks. Maybe I’ll come be your personal assistant the way you were mine for so many years.”

  Please, God, no. “That’s sweet, Mom, but this is something I need to do on my own.”

  “Okay, fine. At least tell me you got the champagne I sent.”

  Remedy eyed the stack of boxes on her kitchen table that had been waiting at her front door the day before. Her mom had sent two cases of champagne as a housewarming gift. Little had she known that Remedy’s father had, too. “I did. Thank you. How’d you know I’d need a shot of decadence right about now?”

  “I know my girl.”

  Loud, twangy guitar music and a diesel engine announced the passing of yet another band of rowdy locals along the two-lane road that cut too close to Remedy’s cottage. She stood on tiptoes and caught a glimpse of a hulking black truck stuffed with guys in ball caps barreling down the road. The local boys were out in force today. Maybe today wasn’t an ordinary Sunday but some kind of Texas holiday she hadn’t had the pleasure of experiencing yet.

  After wishing her mom good-bye and promising to call her again in a few days, Remedy followed the tug of fresh air and loped down the stairs into the canyon, eager for the shady promises of the trees. In moments, she was immersed in the woods. She followed a dusty, meandering trail through the trees toward the creek she’d discovered a few days earlier.

  One of her resolutions in moving to Texas was to take advantage of every opportunity to live like the locals, and she’d heard enough country western music to know that enjoying life’s simpler pleasures by sitting on a rock at a creek and dipping your toes in the water was pure country through and through. Besides, the grand city of Dulcet boasted a mere three blocks of downtown shops and eateries and, given that the next largest town was more than thirty minutes away, since she didn’t feel much like driving or hanging out at the resort sitting creek-side would have to suffice as entertainment on this, her only day off that week.

  Tall trees stretched over the trail, their branches shaggy with leaves and casting mottled shadows on the narrow trail. Remedy stuffed her phone in the back pocket of her jean shorts and marveled at the peace. If this had been the park nearest to Remedy’s old apartment in Los Angeles, it’d be littered with trash and she’d be bracing for a homeless person to pop out from the dense tangles of underbrush.

  After the weeks of stress and damage control that had accompanied her fall from grace in Hollywood, followed by weeks of even more stress and damage control at her new job at the resort, the heady scent of drying grass and live oaks was a balm for her battered spirit. As she strolled, she held her hand out so her fingers brushed the thickets of green that she passed—wildflowers perhaps, their blooms all but memories. This trail would be vivid with color in the spring, but the crisp heat of late June had baked the wilderness into a dull palette of greens and browns.

  When she reached the creek, an egret startled and lit off on fast wings. Remedy slipped her feet from her shoes and climbed onto the rock that seemed to have been placed at the water’s edge for just such a purpose. At the first touch of cool water on her skin, she released an exhalation she hadn’t known she’d been holding on to. This was exactly what she needed today. Braci
ng her hands on the rock behind her, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, smiling.

  Another diesel engine rumbled by in the distance, reminding her how close the road was. As far as illusions went, the one she was fighting to hold on to—that she was out in the boonies, alone with nothing but her thoughts and nature—was a flimsy one. Squeezing her eyes closed, she flexed her toes out wide and concentrated on the cool water tickling the skin between them. A gusty breeze carried off the last of her misgivings. The street might only be a few hundred yards away, but this place was still a zillion times more beautiful and peaceful than L.A.

  A man hollered from not too far away. Remedy’s eyes flew open. The holler was followed by splashing, as if a fellow hiker was wrestling a fish. Then a white disposable foam cooler floated into view. Next into view was a pair of young, shirtless good ol’ boys, sloshing through the creek in hot pursuit of the escapee.

  The cuter of the two paused long enough to tip the brim of his black ball cap. “Afternoon, ma’am.”

  “Um, hi.”

  “Wind took our cooler clean off my tailgate.” His light blue eyes sparkled with mischief. She kept her gaze on them rather than give in to temptation to check out his ripped, smooth chest or thoroughly soaked red board shorts. He had to be at least five years younger than she and exactly the type of guy she’d pledged to her friends that she’d steer clear of while in Texas. He probably had a Skoal ring outline on his back pocket, like she’d seen so many times in Dulcet already.

  Her girlfriends might have made her pledge a suits, not boots motto before she’d left L.A., but a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone. With an arch of her back, she pressed her lips into the beginning of a smile. “You can’t let that happen. Without a cooler, what’re you going to store your beer in?”

  His broad smile in response revealed two deep dimples and a mouth of gleaming white teeth. “Exactly. Looks like you and I understand each other.”

  His friend crowded near him, holding the cooler and bumping the blue-eyed charmer’s shoulder as he angled into Remedy’s line of sight. “You’re new to Ravel County.”

  This one was cute enough, too, with shaggy blond hair showing beneath a straw cowboy hat that made him seem more surfer than cowboy. He was as young as his friend and radiated a manic, yet harmless, puppy dog energy. She beamed at him. “That obvious?”

  Blue Eyes rubbed his chin and squinted at her. “I bet you work at Briscoe Ranch.”

  “Lucky guess.”

  He waved it off. “Naw. Not really. More’n half the people here call Ty Briscoe their employer.”

  “You boys do, too?” A flutter of anxiety had her holding her breath. She’d kept her distance from Briscoe Ranch employee get-togethers because she was in management. It was one thing to have an occasional drink with her employees and quite another to let her hair down around them. And blatant flirting? That would be all kinds of wrong.

  “No, ma’am,” they said in chorus.

  “Good answer.” She ran her fingers through her hair and let her gaze dip below Blue Eyes’ face. Mm-mmm-mm.

  “Now it’s settled,” the shaggy blond said, his attention straying to her legs. “You’ve got to come have a beer with us. The rest of the guys probably have the party all set up by now.”

  Tempting. But she’d set off on her creek adventure to find peace and quiet, not play the part of the Daisy Duke–wearing prize for a bunch of country boys, even if they were lookers. She patted the rock. “I’m good right here, but thanks anyway.”

  Blue Eyes sloshed toward her, the shimmer in his gaze now a slow burn. “No way. You’re new in town and we couldn’t call ourselves gentlemen if we didn’t introduce you around, help you get acquainted with Ravel County’s finest.”

  She tipped her ear toward her shoulder and gave them a sidelong glance full of flirty interest. “You mean, you two aren’t Ravel County’s finest?”

  They chuckled and puffed their chests out. Considering that she didn’t plan to take the flirtation a hair past this harmless exchange, that comment had been a bit overboard, but she couldn’t help herself. These boys were good-looking and sweet and, well, it’d been a while since she’d been objectified quite so deliciously.

  Before she knew what was happening, Blue Eyes grabbed her by the hand and pulled her into the creek. She squealed at the cold water licking at the tattered hems of her shorts and gaped up at him, not so much mad as surprised. “Really?”

  “Gall dang it, I’m sorry to accidentally get you all wet like that,” he said without the slightest bit of remorse. “Now you’ve got no choice but to let me make it up to you with a beer or two.” He set his hand on his chest over his heart. “I insist.”

  Well, Remedy. You wanted to learn how to fit in with the natives, and this is your chance. She didn’t have anything waiting for her back at the cottage other than leftover macaroni and cheese she’d ferreted from the resort’s kitchen the night before and a defunct air-conditioning unit. Peace and quiet be damned. The day was young and so was she.

  She left them hanging for a long breath, then, “Okay, you win. A beer.” She poked him in the chest. “But only because you owe me.”

  He held his hand out again. “Name’s Chet Bowman.”

  She eyeballed his hand suspiciously. “You’re not going to pull me underwater, right?”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “I’ll kick his ass if he does,” Shaggy Blond said with earnest gusto.

  Remedy shook Chet’s hand. “Remedy Lane.” She braced on the off-chance he recognized it. There weren’t that many Remedys in the world and even fewer whose birth announcements had made it into the pages of People magazine. But all Chet did was beam, deepening those to-die-for dimples. “That’s a right pretty name.”

  Shaggy Blond took her hand next. “Dusty Wilmington.”

  “Nice to meet you both. Let me grab my shoes and we’ll get on with that beer you owe me.”

  Around the bend and down a ways from Remedy’s rock, the creek curved near the road. Along the shoulder sat a row of trucks and cars, including the hulking black truck she’d seen from her back deck. The black truck’s tailgate was down; sitting on top were a case of beer, a melting bag of ice, and two watermelons. Chet poured the ice in the cooler, then stacked beers on top. Dusty hoisted a watermelon onto his shoulder, then made a gallant attempt to lift the second. Remedy waved him off, then slid the watermelon off the tailgate and into her arms.

  Loaded down with the party goods, they slogged along a trail that followed the creek farther than Remedy had explored on her own. She was about to ask them how much farther they had to go when the scent of charcoal briquettes wafted through the air. They emerged from the trail onto a wide, sandy bank at the elbow junction of the creek and an expansive, slow-moving river.

  Remedy froze, taking it all in. On the river, at least a dozen people floated in inner tubes of every size and color. Shade covers, beach chairs, and barbecues dotted the sand on both sides of the riverbank, and a rolling beat of a country song drifted through the air from speakers sitting on a folding table.

  Dusty nudged her with his watermelon. “Welcome to summer in hill country, Bubba-style.”

  For the past two weeks, Remedy had been so busy moving in, ingratiating herself to Emily the chef, and chasing down runaway elephants that she’d barely taken a breath. This might not be a Southern California beach or the peace and quiet she craved, but it looked like all kinds of fun. She smiled at her two hosts. Bubba-style fun indeed. She could already see herself dragging one of those chairs to the water’s edge and decompressing from her tough workweek with a beer in her hand.

  “Chet, you’re a genius. Thank you for insisting I join you.”

  He touched the brim of his ball cap. “The pleasure’s all mine.” He reached his arms out. “Let me take that watermelon from you.”

  Dusty and other strapping young men scrambled their way, their arms waving. “The police are here! Quick, everybody run for
cover!” They jumped behind a wall of bushes. The music turned off and a madcap exit ensued.

  Remedy’s mouth dropped open. She gaped at Chet, hoping for answers, because why would running help if the police were on their way? Where would they go to escape and why would they need to? Were they doing something illegal? Instead of answering her questions, all Chet did was shove the watermelon back in her hands. “Here. You stall them. They wouldn’t arrest a pretty thing like you.”

  “What are you talking about? Arrest?”

  But Chet was already gone, along with the rest of the party attendees, leaving Remedy standing alone in the middle of the bank holding a damn watermelon, her face probably as red as one.

  She knew she’d been the butt of a practical joke when out of the trees emerged yet another Texas good ol’ boy, this one broader, taller, and a bit older than the rest. Beneath a dark cowboy hat he sported dark sunglasses and a smirk on his lips from which a toothpick balanced.

  As he swaggered out from the shadow of the trees, she took note of a black gun strapped to his belt and a barbed-wire tattoo encircling his upper arm just below where the sleeve of his red cotton T-shirt stretched around his muscles. Yeah, this was no police officer. If this was a Bubba-style summer party, as Dusty called it, then this, right here, was the Alpha Bubba.

  His gaze zeroed in on Remedy in an instant. The toothpick shifted to the corner of his mouth. His smirk twitched as though he was deliberating about smiling but decided against it.

  “Nice melon.”

  Snickers and laughs coming from the bushes prompted her to look down at the watermelon in her arms, but her focus landed on the cleavage revealed by her tank top, which had apparently been tugged down by the watermelon.

  Wait—did Alpha Bubba say melon or melons?

  Remedy opened and closed her mouth a couple times before finding her voice. “Chet and Dusty…” She hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

  “They put you up to this?”