Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel

by Tracy March

  But no clues were required for Bryce to identify the man in the picture—a tall fifty-seven-year-old dressed in an open-collared shirt and jacket, in decent shape, yet fighting a middle-age paunch. His salt-and-pepper hair was parted on the side and slicked back. The smile on his face narrowed his eyes, but didn’t seem to reach them. With his straight nose and strong jaw, the man was nearly handsome. Bryce really couldn’t say, because all he saw was his father.

  Adam Evanston.

  The man who’d built the lodge, wreaked havoc, and left the place high and dry. The man who, according to Holly and by all accounts, blazed a trail of wretchedness from the second he came to Thistle Bend. Now that Bryce had the means, he intended to right his father’s wrongs, even though he’d never met the man.

  Bryce’s mom had always been open about his father’s identity. Whether or not it had been emotionally healthy for Bryce, he’d followed news about his father for years, never imagining that they’d end up in a similar business—but with completely different philosophies. Bryce enjoyed putting his customers and employees first and had seen how that benefited his business in turn. Thankful for the opportunities his mom and James had given him, he gave back—hosting a free summer adventure camp in Costa Rica for at-risk teenage boys like he had been.

  But his father was a taker. Bryce was determined to make good on all the bad he’d wrought on the people of Thistle Bend. To prove that, despite his DNA, he was not his father’s son. Wanting no association with the man, Bryce’s mom had given him her last name. No one in Thistle Bend needed to know about his connection to Adam Evanston, and he hoped no one would figure it out. But if a keen-eyed person looked too closely at photographs, they might become suspicious. That’s why he’d removed the picture from the suite before Holly could see it. Because when he looked at his father, he saw himself.

  Would the similarities be obvious to others? Bryce couldn’t say. No doubt Holly had seen Adam Evanston when he’d lived in Thistle Bend, and she probably remembered what he looked like. There was nothing Bryce could do to change that. But he could try to keep her from seeing a picture of his father while he was in close proximity. He didn’t want the connection to be made between them, but it went deeper than that—Bryce didn’t want to be associated with the man at all.

  He had known how badly his father and the lodge had affected the people of Thistle Bend, at least in theory. But he’d been totally blindsided by the rumor that Holly had shared after they discovered the hidden suite.

  A woman disappeared from the lodge shortly before it closed five years ago.

  He stood next to his tool bag, dazed by the idea that, if it was true, his father might’ve been responsible for her disappearance in addition to all the other despicable things he’d done. His stomach pitched. Whoever boarded up the suite had to have guessed it would be years before it was discovered—if ever. When George had shown him the property, he’d told Bryce that there had been talk about razing the building several times over the last five years. If that had happened, everything sealed up in the suite would’ve been tossed among the rubble.

  No evidence.

  All things considered, there was no telling what he and Holly might find in the suite. But were they disrupting a crime scene? Maybe he’d been prescient when yesterday he had called her his accomplice.

  Should I have involved her in this?

  Bryce shuddered, suddenly feeling chilled. What had been a simple walk-through designed to get Holly to warm up to the lodge had turned into something much more complicated. He liked that she was shrewd enough to notice the odd number of suites on that wing of the fourth floor compared to the others, and that she’d been curious enough to investigate.

  They’d found the suite, yet he hadn’t imagined it would lead him down a dark path. Holly had seen it with him the first time, and she might be suspicious considering the years-old rumor she’d shared, but he hadn’t had to invite her back there today.

  Or had he?

  Smart, levelheaded, and connected to Thistle Bend, she was the perfect person to have on his side—if she actually was on his side. Maybe he just wanted her by his side, and closer whenever he could get her there.

  “How about you set up these lights while I work on getting us some sunlight in here?” He pulled an extra flashlight from his backpack, clicked it on, and handed it to Holly. “Let’s start in the living area then move into the bedroom.” That would give him a chance to skim the bedroom and check for more pictures while Holly focused elsewhere.

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Bryce hoisted his tool bag up from the floor and pointed his flashlight at the hardwood where it had landed. “Look, no hole.”

  “This suite is in way better shape than the rest of the place.” Holly pressed the toe of her hiking boot against the floorboards.

  But it’s definitely more dangerous, by far.

  Bryce headed over to the huge sliding glass door that led to the balcony, its one-time gleam smothered by a hazy film. The plywood had been nailed on the outside, so he unlocked the door, grabbed the handle, and hoped the thing wasn’t somehow sealed or just plain stuck. He didn’t mind busting out plywood if he had to, but he wasn’t keen on kicking through glass.

  One hard tug, and the door didn’t budge. Another more forceful one yielded the same result. Before he jumped to the conclusion of stuck or sealed, he ran the beam of his flashlight along the door’s track, finding a locking pin at the base of the slider. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, one step closer to opening this place up to the daylight. The creepiness had started to weigh on him.

  Another tug at the door and it stubbornly jerked along the track. Bryce sucked in a deep breath of the fresh, thin air that seeped in past the warped edges of the plywood. He set his flashlight on the floor, pressed his palms against the massive sheet of wood that covered the door, and pushed. The board gave with the heavy pressure of his hands, creaking against loose, rusty nails. He grabbed his tool bag and pulled out some gloves and the maul—no sense in taking it easy. He could pry the plywood off the plate-glass windows with a hammer, but the only way to go at this sheet was full force.

  “This is gonna be noisy.” He shoved his hands into his gloves and grabbed the maul just as Holly switched on the work light. Despite its wattage, it only made the place a brighter shade of dim, motivating Bryce even more. He gripped the maul with both hands, set his feet in a sturdy stance, and took a mighty swing. The maul cracked a hole in the grayish plywood, and the top corner of the sheet pulled away from the outside wall, nails protruding along its edges. A sliver of sunlight streamed in, but not nearly enough.

  “Whoa,” Holly said from behind him, sounding impressed.

  He leaned down and crushed another hole in the bottom corner, and half of the sheet came loose. A couple more good swings and he had the door exposed.

  Feeling less boxed in, he called to Holly, “Come see,” because the view was something to behold. He pushed the big board aside and shucked his gloves.

  Holly joined him on the balcony that overlooked shimmering Turquoise Lake in the near distance, with a panorama of gray, russet, and green mountains in the background. The sky blazed neon blue with patches of white clouds lazily blowing toward the south.

  The floor and railings of the balcony appeared to be in decent shape, but he linked his arm with Holly’s just in case. They carefully stepped over to the railing—where Bryce grabbed it, gave it a good shake, and found it surprisingly secure. “Seems okay, but I wouldn’t recommend leaning against it.”

  He wasn’t sure Holly heard him, she seemed so dazzled by what she saw. “The view’s even more spectacular from up here.”

  Pride swelled in Bryce’s chest. Hers was the type of reaction he couldn’t wait to get from everyone who worked on renovating the lodge and those who visited after it reopened. Seeing the awe in her eyes gave him the motivation to keep pushing forward, despite so many people’s bleak perception of the lodge.

  Despi
te what we might find in the suite.

  Bryce moved behind her, gently anchoring her against him with his arm around her waist, his hand splayed across her tight, flat torso. Her spine and shoulders were tense, but after a few quiet moments staring at the view, she relaxed. His body responded to her warmth, to the intoxicating tinge of her perfume, to the pressure of her curves against him. He couldn’t hold her there much longer without his attraction becoming apparent.

  Bowing his head, he brushed a kiss along the side of her neck, and murmured into her ear, “Thank you for coming back here with me today.”

  Holly tipped her head to the side, and rested it against his chest for a few seconds, his heartbeat picking up speed. She turned and faced him. “You’re not easy to say no to,” she said, giving him a hint of shy grin.

  Bryce lifted the bill of her cap, took it off of her head, and hung it on the handle of the sliding glass door. A lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail fell next to her face. He tucked it behind her ear, smoothed his hand to the nape of her neck, and pulled her to him, eager to kiss her again. A jolt of desire shot through him as his lips met hers—soft and sweet and yielding. He splayed his hand at the small of her back, pressing her closer, longing to feel her against him. She met each sweep of his tongue with a languid wisp of her own, vanquishing his thoughts of plywood and rusty nails…of anything except her.

  He traced his fingers down the satiny skin of her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt, nudging it off her shoulder. Trailing kisses along the path his fingers had just taken, he caught a glimpse of her lacy, light blue bra, unexpected beneath the tomboy outfit she was wearing.

  So damn sexy.

  His cock fought against the restraint of his jeans as she arched her back and her breath hitched. He hooked his finger beneath the delicate bra strap, longing to see more of her.

  “You make this incredible view even more amazing,” he said huskily.

  “Mmm.” She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “And you make getting work done nearly impossible.”

  Bryce gently grasped her shoulders and set his sultry gaze on hers. “Work now, play later?”

  Holly bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  God, he had to have her.

  Play now would’ve been preferable, yet he’d take her promise of later any day—even more motivation to get the work done. He lifted her hat from the door handle and put it on her head. “You’re hard to say no to.” He winked.

  She gave him a small, satisfied smile as she pulled her ponytail through the opening in the back of her cap. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “All right, boss,” he said, willing his body to settle down. “I need some room out here. Want to give me a hand tossing this plywood over the rail?”

  “Sure.” She stepped over to the plywood propped against the far railing and grabbed an edge.

  “Whoa.” Bryce held up his hand, palm out. “Wait a second, before you get a nasty splinter, or a puncture wound from a rusty nail—tetanus shots aren’t on the agenda.” He ducked back into the suite, dug in his backpack, and pulled out the pair of women’s work gloves he’d bought for Holly. Returning to the balcony, he handed them to her. “Put these on first.”

  Smiling, she took them from him. “Thank you. I didn’t even think to bring gloves.” She tore off the label, put them on, and curled her fingers a few times. “Perfect fit.”

  Bryce had felt the same when he’d held her closely against him. He leveled his gaze on hers. “I agree,” he said, his tone laden with innuendo.

  Her lips twitched up at the corners. “About that plywood we’re going to toss?”

  He put on his gloves and they wrangled the board over the rail, sending it soaring down to the deck three floors below. One of the corners broke off, but the rest of the sheet stayed intact, nails down.

  “We nailed it,” Holly quipped.

  Bryce shook his head. “You did not just say that.”

  She raised her chin, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Take a lesson, mister. That was a 9.7 right there. We lost a corner, but we stuck the landing.”

  Bryce needed a lesson all right. She might just be the elusive perfect ten she’d teased about—emphasis on elusive—and he was working overtime trying to entice her.

  He glanced over the rail, a playful smirk on his face. “Got it.”

  “Excellent.”

  He shook his head, playing along. “I’m going to pull the plywood off these windows, then do what I can for the ones in the bedroom.” He gestured toward the large bedroom window that bordered the balcony. “Since that window doesn’t open, the best I’ll probably be able to do is pry the wood away with a hammer and splinter it with the maul.”

  “We’ll make do. It’s already so much better than it was—now we have a clear view of things.”

  Bryce pressed his lips together tightly. “In one sense.” He gazed into the suite, realizing that removing the plywood was the easy part. Facing what was in there might be much harder. “I can’t keep asking George for the keys, so we have to get all the information we can today.” Conflicted over whether they’d be compromising a crime scene, he caught her gaze and asked, “You think I’m doing the right thing here, or should I have reported this to the police?” It struck him how much her opinion really mattered to him—how much she was beginning to matter to him.

  Holly furrowed her brow and blinked a couple of times, seeming to give his question serious thought. “It’s hard for me to say. I’m not as close to it all as you are.”

  He took her gloved hand in his. “Close enough to get burned if something goes wrong.” His stomach clenched. “If there’s any truth to the rumor you told me, something serious could’ve gone down here.”

  “If we come to that conclusion, then we’ll notify the police.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s check out these rooms and see what we find.”

  Chapter 9

  With her heart still beating in fast-forward from her close encounter with Bryce, Holly headed into the suite, confused by her own reactions. Why had she suggested that they get back to work when things had started to heat up between them?

  And felt so right…

  Clearly he wanted her, too. His response to her had been apparent—so sexy and virile that she’d nearly given in and kept going.

  Just like I did with Max.

  She knew better…But she wanted to be with Bryce, to get to know him, to feel the strength of his rugged body.

  And that’s the danger of it.

  He was everything she might want—masculine and magnetic, yet not overly into himself. Open and sensitive, but with a rough, irresistible edge. She suspected there was even more that would attract her to Bryce if she’d give herself a chance to dig deeper. Get closer. But he didn’t live in Thistle Bend full time, and she couldn’t imagine he was going to—not with a lodge in Costa Rica, too. If anything developed between them, the best she would get from him was part time.

  Even so, her body urged her to go with the connection they clearly had with each other, enjoy whatever came from it, and move on afterward if nothing real materialized. But her heart was still bruised from falling for Max so hard and so quickly. No way could she take a risk like that again. Holly had been hurt over their breakup way longer than they’d even been together. She knew what bad could come from going all in too soon.

  Best not to go in at all.

  But she’d blown that yesterday with her oh-so-sexy first kiss with Bryce. Any idea she’d had of resisting him in that moment had vanished with the feathery brush of his lips. She’d loved the feel of his mouth on hers, the scratch of his whiskers, the sweep of his tongue. It had been enough to keep her awake most of the night, and to entice her to come back to the lodge today. Then she’d stepped out on the balcony, into his arms, and been enticed with another sizzling kiss. Holly knew well enough where kisses like that one promised to lead, and she’d fought the urge to give in and go there.

  Heat rose in her face as she repl
ayed the sweet sensations in her mind, losing herself in the anticipation of being with him.

  The clutch of his hand at her back.

  The touch of his hands on her skin.

  The slip of his finger beneath her bra strap.

  Despite all the real concerns she should have, all she wanted was more. But could she allow herself to let go? Any involvement with him would likely be temporary, and he was buying the lodge. Holly already dreaded the talk she had to have with her grandpa about the lodge coming back into their lives. She couldn’t fathom telling him that, aside from its next owner being her client, she was also interested in him romantically.

  Outside on the balcony, Bryce worked to pry the plywood from the window, his flannel shirt pulling across his sturdy shoulders, a determined look on his scruffy face. Despite her sternest warnings, she tensed with desire for him. She swallowed hard, conflicted. How many guys like Bryce was she going to meet in Thistle Bend?

  Holly kneeled next to the end table adjacent to the couch, coming face-to-face with the sepia-toned portrait of the familiar-looking man she had yet to identify. She’d meant to ask Lindsey about him. But after Lindsey busted her over kissing Bryce, their conversation had become all about the pros and cons of getting involved with him.

  “How did you know we kissed?” Holly had asked, her heart hammering.

  Lindsey had given her a sly grin. “I didn’t until I asked, but you just confirmed it.”

  “Aww,” Holly had moaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

  “Surely you don’t mean Bryce, because I don’t see how you could stop yourself. Was it amazing?” Lindsey had gazed up into the ceiling, all dreamy-eyed. “It had to be.”

  Beyond amazing.

  Holly had wanted to say that she’d have to try it again to be certain, but the quip had stalled on her tongue. Even then she’d been discouraging herself from getting carried away over Bryce.