by Tracy March
She gave him a thumbs-up. “Takes more than a sign to scare me away.”
Bryce had been nearly certain that Holly had a little daredevil in her, and he was thrilled to learn he was right. He handed her the camping lantern. “Then you’re gonna need this. No electricity until it comes time for inspections.” He slid his pack off his back, unzipped it, and took out a heavy-duty flashlight. “The sun will help us out a little. Otherwise, it’s you and me, a flashlight, and a camping lantern.”
“Got it.” She flipped on the lantern, held it in front of her, and took a step into the dark hallway.
“At the risk of you thinking this is the lamest come-on ever, it’s probably a good idea for you to hold on to me in case you step on a rotten floorboard.”
She faced him with an impish smirk on her face. “Totally lame. Because if you step on a rotten floorboard, you’ll take me down with you.”
Bryce shook his head. “You’re a tough one, H. G. Birdsong.” He tossed his pack onto his back, and switched on the flashlight. “You killed me on my pick-up line and my dismount.”
“A nine-point-three wasn’t bad, but I have to give your line a flat four.”
“A four?” He slapped his palm against his heart. “I’m concerned about your safety.”
She bunched her lips, reminding him how much he wanted to kiss her. “That’s why you got a four.” Amusement danced in her eyes. “Otherwise, it’d be a big…fat…zero.”
“So there’s a little room for improvement,” he teased. He held out his arm and she took it, curling her fingers with gentle pressure just below his biceps. Bryce flexed for the win, confident she’d give that gun a ten.
He led her into the darkened corridor, where the pungent scent of a long-abandoned building hung thick in the thin air. They passed a wall-mounted employee time clock whose hands were stuck near eleven and four.
“Time’s been standing still in this place for nearly five years.” Bryce aimed the flashlight beam at a set of double doors. “Those go to housekeeping and laundry, but I want to show you the best parts first.”
“Good call. Housekeeping and laundry aren’t high on my must-see list.” Her tone remained light and playful—a positive sign, considering the creepy factor crept higher with every step they took.
Bryce half expected a bat to come swooping down from the ceiling or for something to collapse beneath the weight of his flashlight beam. “You have a must-see list?” he asked, encouraged that she was interested enough to have established priorities.
Her grip tightened on his arm as they stepped on a sunken floorboard. It sank lower and creaked beneath their feet. Bryce tensed, locking his arm just in case of catastrophe, and tugged Holly forward.
She didn’t even flinch. “Number one must-see,” she said, “the lobby and front desk area. Followed closely by number two, the restaurant and bar. But that one’s closely tied with number three, some of the guest rooms.”
“You’ve got a thing for numbers, don’t you?”
Holly released his arm and held up her hand, fingers splayed, palm glowing in the lantern light. “High five.” She gave him a wry smile, white teeth gleaming.
That deserved an eye roll, which he gave her, along with a reluctant high five.
She linked her arm in his, appearing satisfied. Bryce’s testosterone spiked as he ticked off all the ways he’d like to satisfy her, a quick-contact high five nowhere among them. After several more steps they reached the end of the corridor and a large, heavy door, which he swung open.
“Welcome to a two-for-one on your must-see list,” he said, the musty smell less pervasive as they walked into the expansive main atrium of the lodge. Hazy light filtered in at odd angles from spots where plywood coverings had fallen away from windows. Most of the muted brightness came from the tops of four floor-to-gables pitched-glass walls situated in the center of each side of the lodge. In the corners were three tiers of balconies, along which guest rooms were located.
“Whoa,” Holly said, clutching his arm tightly. “This is…”
“Not at all what it’s going to look like when it’s done.”
“I had no idea they’d practically gutted the place,” Holly said.
“Amazing, right? Ripped stuff out of here all the way down to the light fixtures. George said that lots of the furnishings and finishes were removed right after it closed. If the floors were carpeted, they would’ve probably taken that, too.” Bryce refused to let the wreckage overwhelm him. What had been there before probably wouldn’t have suited his vision for the place anyway. “Other damage is courtesy of losers who broke into the place over the years.”
Holly scrunched her face. “That kind of thing is really rare around here.”
“George said the same thing. Guess a boarded-up, haunted-looking lodge is too much temptation for some jokers to leave alone. Anyway…” Bryce moved the flashlight beam along the rear wall, across dusty glass and plywood-covered doors with graffiti painted on them. “That’s going to be the main entrance and front desk, so guests will see the most stunning view first thing.” Despite the destruction, the space was impressive from all angles. He got amped just thinking about how it would feel the first time he walked in here when this scene was all a memory and the place was completed. “All this will be the lobby and gathering areas.” He swept the beam over a vast section then focused on a pile of crumbling rubble in the center, a collection of empty beer cans scattered on the floor around it. “That’ll be a massive stone fireplace with the chimney rising up through the roof. I’m thinking see-through from all four sides with a raised hearth and firebox taller than you are.” He nudged Holly.
“That would be sweet.”
Bryce led her farther into the space, running the flashlight beam across the now-covered wall that would yield the multimillion-dollar view. “This area will become an open-concept restaurant and bar—and a kick-ass place for events, especially with the huge decks outside.”
Holly scanned the space, nodding. “There’s definitely a lot of potential here.”
And not just for the lodge.
He gave her a sidelong look, tinged with a little heat. “I agree.”
She looked away and cleared her throat. “Maybe we should go see the guest rooms.”
He laughed, tipping his head back and gazing up into the exposed-beam ceiling high above.
“What?” she asked.
“Talk about lame come-ons.”
Her jaw dropped and she yanked her hand away from his arm. “That was totally not a come-on. I said that seeing the guest rooms was number three on my list—closely tied for number two, if you need a reminder.”
Detecting the smile in her voice, he reached down to the handle of the camping lantern she held, cupped his hand over hers with a gentle grip, and brought it nearer to her face. “The light’s a little fuzzy, but I think you’re blushing.”
She pressed her lips together tightly. “It takes way more than your wishful thinking to make me blush,” she teased, and pulled the lantern down.
Bryce kept his hand firmly on hers. “Sounds like a challenge.”
She shook her head. “I think you’ve got enough to keep you busy right here.”
He squeezed her hand and, as he drew away, skimmed his fingertips lightly along the satiny skin on the inside of her wrist. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said in his sexiest drawl. “I’m one hell of a multitasker.”
Chapter 5
Holly had been there before. Swept up in a whirlwind of attraction that she was aching to act on—with a man she knew nothing about. The strong grip of Bryce’s hand and the feathery touch of his fingertips had rekindled a fire in her that had burned out long ago. She gazed at Bryce with a look that dared him to start proving his multitasking talents…now.
Remember what happened with Max…
And that was the problem. Holly did remember what had happened with Max, and it had been amazing—at least for the few months it lasted. But the resulting heartbreak
had been devastating. She’d been certain that she and Max had a future together, but geography and family roots had been obstacles too large for them to overcome.
But Bryce was here.
For the moment.
Before Holly made another stupid mistake with her heart, she had to find out more about him—where he came from, what he was all about, and why he’d chosen the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge. She had to take her time, but he was ridiculously hard to resist.
He gave her a crooked grin that left her tingling. “About those guest rooms.”
“Right.”
He pointed the flashlight beam at the tiers of balconies in the far front corner. “Some of the nicer ones are on that wing. Or maybe I should say they’re just bigger since they’re mostly empty and all torn up like the rest of the place.”
Holly liked the humor and positivity in his tone, despite the enormity of the project he was taking on. She’d known the exterior of the lodge needed a lot of work, but she’d had no idea that the interior was such a miserable mess.
“That makes it easier to do things your way,” she said. “Sort of a clean palate.”
Eager to connect with him again, she linked her arm in his and he led her across the huge space, boards wavering and creaking beneath their feet. Holly was half creeped-out by the place, and half dying to help redesign it—although the only cred she had were her own tastes. That left zero room for her to hate the lodge like she had before she’d come there today. She’d have to do some heavy thinking about that later, but for now she planned to watch her step, take it all in, and enjoy being with Bryce.
As they reached the far side of the lodge, they came upon a large stairway that was positioned out of sight behind a wall.
“There are stairs like this on all four sides, which lead up to the rooms,” Bryce said. “I’m thinking of taking down the walls and opening up the space.”
They took the stairs gingerly, stopping on the second floor, where the doors to three rooms stood ajar along the balcony hallway.
Holly took inventory, her pulse picking up pace, and not from climbing the stairs. She was as up for an adventure as anyone but…all these dark, abandoned rooms? The other three corners of the atrium were murky mirror images—balconies, railings missing spindles, and mostly open doors.
Bryce gave a rotten spindle a halfhearted kick and it fell, clattering on the floor below, the noise echoing. “These spindles will have to go. Even if they weren’t falling apart, I’m not into that look. What would you think about horizontal cables instead?”
“Much more updated.” She nudged his side, coming up against solid muscle. “And much less likely to rot.”
“You’ve got a point there.” He lighted the way for them to go into the middle room.
Stepping into the gloom, Holly almost regretted mentioning number three on her must-see list, but he probably would’ve shown her the eerie guest rooms anyway. “Wow. ‘Mostly empty’ was an understatement.”
All that was left in the spacious room was one drawer from a now-missing bureau, a shattered mirror hanging askew on the wall, and a platform base that had once held a mattress.
“You going to stick with platform beds?” she asked.
Bryce gave her a sidelong glance. “Not your style?” His tone—one part flirty and seven parts sultry—had Holly at a momentary loss for words as heat swirled through her.
“I…Um.” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Never tried one before, so I couldn’t say.”
“Do you think I could make them work, décor-wise?”
Holly fully expected to be worn out from the temperature fluctuations Bryce caused. He could flip the switch to hot at any moment and dial it down to basics like décor a second later.
“If you did a cool headboard,” she said. “Maybe something high and cushiony, upholstered in leather or suede.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” And there was that crooked grin that left her a little off balance. She was dying to go ahead and kiss him, just to see if he lived up to all the hype in her head.
“The fireplace is nice.”
“All the suites and junior suites have them. The sales specs classified these middle rooms on the second and third floors as junior suites because of the added fireplace, the extra space…” He aimed the beam at the back wall where the large windows and a sliding glass door were boarded over. “And—although you can’t see it right now—they have triangular balconies since they’re on the corners of the building.”
“Nice.” Holly glanced into the bathroom, noting nothing remarkable except the missing toilet. “They took the toilets too?”
Bryce peeked inside and shook his head. “Go figure. I’m surprised there isn’t one somewhere along the trail out back—say, about halfway up to the ridge.”
Holly cracked up. “That would be a sight.”
“And a smell.”
“Eww.”
“Just sayin’.”
“No one would actually use it.”
He leveled a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me gaze on her. “Ever been on a weekend mountain biking bender with a bunch of brash guys?” He nodded. “Someone would use it. They’d sit there and read the newspaper while they did their business.”
Holly squeezed her eyes closed. “Too much information. I’m trying to unsee the image you just seared into my brain. Show me something else—quick.”
He laughed, low and easy. “Let’s head up and look at a suite.”
Holly took hold of his arm. They climbed the stairs and stepped onto the fourth-floor balcony. The view into the atrium was a little dizzying, with the brighter light near the upper-level exposed glass giving way to the gloom. Deepening darkness made the ground floor appear even farther below, and the rickety railing offered her little sense of safety. She turned her head and gazed down the exposed hallway, then glanced back across the atrium at the other three fourth-floor balconies.
“That’s strange,” she said.
“What?”
“This section only has one suite. The others on the fourth level have two. Is this one the honeymoon suite or something?” She followed Bryce’s gaze as he checked it out, shifting from balcony to balcony and then down the hallway where they stood.
He scrunched his face. “Maybe? But the property description says sixteen deluxe rooms, eight junior suites in the center of the second- and third-floor wings, and eight one-bedroom suites on the fourth floor.”
Holly poked him between his pecs. “Who’s got a thing for numbers now?”
“Busted,” he said, but the puzzle seemed to have him preoccupied. “Maybe it was a typo.”
“One way to find out.” She gestured toward the door behind them that stood open several inches.
Bryce led with the flashlight and she followed. The one-bedroom suite was in much the same condition as the room downstairs, with random items left behind. A blanket in the bedroom. A lampshade in the living area. And the bathroom had a toilet.
He shone the beam into the rooms a second time. “This suite doesn’t take up the entire top corner of the building. It’s no different than the others I’ve seen.”
“So there’s a suite missing?”
Bryce raked his fingers through his hair and it fell back into its sexy, disheveled style, skimming the collar of his green acid-washed shirt. “Something’s not adding up.” He clutched her hand, led her out of the room and along the rest of the hallway, where another door should’ve been. Yet there was nothing but the same rough-hewn paneling that appeared to be standard issue for all of the hallways.
Holly held the lantern low as she walked, her gaze following the base of the paneling. It curved slightly outward for a short distance then straightened until it reached the corner where it didn’t quite meet the wall. Behind it was a similar sheet of paneling.
“Look.” She pointed toward the corner. “There are two layers of paneling on this wall.”
Bryce aimed the flashlight and examined the corner as
she knocked on several sections of the wood, her raps sounding hollow above the slight outward curve in the paneling.
Holly’s heart hammered. Now things were getting really creepy. “Someone covered up the door.”
But why?
Striding back down the hallway, Bryce knocked as he went, stopping next to the door of the room they’d just left. He skimmed his fingers along the side of its frame. “Come here.”
She joined him and he grasped her hand, guiding her fingers along a narrow seam between the door frame and the second layer of paneling that had been added.
“Same thing here,” he said. “The missing suite is behind this flimsy sheet of wood. The property description makes sense now…but nothing else does.”
Holly’s stomach clenched. The lodge had plenty of bad mojo. She worried that the secret suite would only add to it. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to find out what’s going on behind this paneling?” She tapped on the wood.
His eyes widened, an I-think-you-know-the-answer look on his scruffy face. “Oh, say—seventeen. I’m getting ready to buy this place.”
No sense in asking when he wanted to find out, considering he’d already started prying at the edges of the paneling, trying to get enough leverage to tear it away.
“That’s definitely not gonna work,” he said. “Too many nails.” He walked down to the slight bow in the paneling, steadied himself, pulled a mixed-martial-arts move, and kicked a gaping hole in the wood.
Holly flinched as splinters flew and pieces of paneling crumbled to the floor. Dust rose in the already hazy air. She stared at Bryce, impressed that he’d kicked just hard enough to bust through the paneling and not jam his ankle on the closed door behind it. She nodded. “Cowboy boots. Multipurpose footwear.”
“Damn right.” He grinned proudly.
She set the lantern on the floor nearby, and Bryce positioned the flashlight next to it, propped up with a fragment of wood, beam aimed at the hole. Together they pulled away pieces of the paneling—basically thin particleboard with a wallpaper-like, rough-hewn veneer—and tossed them aside. The dust tickled Holly’s nose and she struggled not to sneeze.
