“Blue Planet 2, thank you very much. We can learn a lot from animals and their mating rituals, not to mention predators on both land and in the sea.” Mara threads a marshmallow onto a skewer. She brought the entire s’mores set up tonight. “Landon’s more of a shark type. You can’t fight genetics and deep-rooted instincts by force. You have to slowly reprogram him. Like training a dog. Reward the good behavior and try to ignore the bad behaviors like barking for attention.”
“Landon definitely does that. He’ll also hump any dog in the neighborhood if given the chance.” Sage stares into the fire, shaking her head. “I can’t believe I went out with him for longer than a minute.”
“He is extremely good looking. Like a missing link between Chris and Liam,” Mara says in support of Sage’s lack of asshole radar. “Does he have a twin? He could be the evil one and somewhere out there is a good version. Maybe with amnesia after they were separated at birth.”
“This isn’t a soap opera,” Zoe joins the conversation from her chair closest to the fire.
“Are you sure?” I ask, handing my skewer to Mara for a marshmallow. “I’m almost certain we’re living in a real-life version.”
“Doesn’t Landon have a brother?” Sage inquires nonchalantly, sipping her glass of wine.
“Yes. Older by two years. And from the sound of it, he’s a hot mess.” I fill them in on what Landon told me about his brother.
“Holy cats,” Mara swears. “Landon’s the good one? Yikes.”
“Appears that way. Too bad, because growing up, Aiden was the better-looking brother. Nicer and super smart.” I frown, still feeling sad that he turned out to be a mess.
“If I’ve learned anything from watching ocean documentaries, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Not as many as there once were, but enough to still provide lots of viable options.” Mara passes my skewer back to me, loaded up with three marshmallows. “Survival of the fittest and all that natural order jazz.”
“Thanks for the pep talk, Dr. Doolittle.” I adore my friends, but they’re nuts. None of us are normal or boring and I wouldn’t change a thing about any of them. “I know you’re all coupled off and probably busy with coupling activities, but the fundraiser party for the Aspen Coalition is next Sunday afternoon. I’ve added you all to the guest list. Free drinks and snacks from three to five.”
“Justin and I are going. His grandmother is on the board.” Zoe wraps her long cardigan tighter around herself.
“Lee and I will be there, too,” Sage confirms.
“Jesse’s working on a job down valley, but I can be your date,” Mara offers.
“Deal.” I’m happy to go with Mara.
“Maybe you should invite your social experiment,” Sage suggests. “I’d love to see if your advice has had any effect yet.”
“Doubtful. It’s been only been three days.” I remind myself to research the symptoms of Whooping Cough in case I need to fake an illness for the wedding weekend.
Twice a week I volunteer in the main office of the Aspen Coalition, a non-profit focused on tech innovations with social impact. I manage their social media and website content as an unpaid intern.
Waitressing and volunteering aren’t where I thought I’d be at twenty-seven. It’s a trade-off for living in Aspen. In L.A., I worked all the time, barely had enough energy leftover on the weekends to run errands and adult. Life became a never-ending treadmill. The faster I ran, the further behind I felt. I swear my old boss fed off of the stress and tears of her staff.
After ending up in the ER with a panic attack, I had enough and quit my job at a boutique communications agency. Then I made the most difficult call of my life to tell my parents I wanted to move home to spend the winter snowboarding.
That went as terrible as I imagined, but I came back anyway. I’m still not sure if I’m going to stay, but while I’m here, I want to make a difference even if it’s a tiny droplet of water falling in a constantly rushing river.
Today’s fundraiser is a kick-off event for our fourth quarter push for donations, which culminates with a fancy gala at the Hotel Jerome in December with celebrity ambassadors and national press coverage. Hosted on the rooftop of the new museum building downtown, this afternoon should be much more low key with mini burgers and local craft beers and spirits on the simple menu.
A four-piece bluegrass band sets up on the side opposite the view of Ajax Mountain. The exposed roof trusses create wavy shadows over both the indoor and outdoor spaces separated by tall glass walls that have been opened on this warm late summer day. Given the casual nature of the party, only a few tall bar tables are scattered around, encouraging people to mingle and move around.
My job tonight is to take pictures and post them on our social media. I might even do a couple of short live videos as well as a short interview with Wilhouby Parker, our director. Anything to create buzz about the Coalition and the event.
Guests begin arriving shortly before three. On cue, our catering staff appears with trays of drinks and finger foods. I recognize Anika from the other night and wave.
She smiles back and weaves her way over to me. “I didn’t know you worked the catering circuit, too.”
“I don’t. I’m here as part of the Coalition staff.”
“Oh, sorry. I saw your black dress and assumed you were one of us. In that case, do you want a mountain julep? Locally distilled bourbon, ginger-spiked simple syrup, and a sprig of alpine mint.” She swings her tray in front of me.
“Is alpine mint a real thing?” I take a copper mug and bite into the candied ginger garnish.
“No, but don’t tell the fancy people.” With a jerk of her head, she indicates the growing crowd. “They like to feel like they’re having something special that only money and being in Aspen can buy.”
“So true.” We share a laugh.
Her smile falters as she stares over my shoulder. “Of course, he showed up.”
I twist my neck and spot Landon’s blond head above the crowd. With his height and broad shoulders, he’s hard to miss.
“Who’s the rugged mountain man who walked in with him?” Anika whispers excitedly, pointing at the guy standing next to Landon.
“I don’t recognize him. New rugby player? He’s tall enough to be part of the club.” Almost the same height as Landon, he has thick, shaggy hair bleached lighter blond on the ends by the sun. With his back to me, I can’t see more than his hair and shoulders.
“He kind of looks familiar,” she continues to whisper from behind her cupped hand. “Maybe if he turns around we’ll recognize his face. Let’s move closer and find out.”
Before I realize what she’s doing, she takes my hand, leading me through the sparse crowd.
Not wanting to be spotted by Landon yet, I drag my feet to slow her down. “This is close enough.”
I now have a good profile view of the mystery man. Long, strong nose. High cheekbones. Tan skin that’s lighter around his eyes from wearing sunglasses, not tanning booth goggles I hope. And a full, bushy beard that looks to be as unkempt as his hair.
“Wow, he’s a mountain I’d like to climb and plant my flag on his peak,” Anika purrs beside me.
“Down, girl. If he’s with Landon, he’s probably bad news like his friend.” She’s right—there’s something familiar about his face.
I’m outright staring at him when he turns his head to face me full on. Our eyes lock for a second before I quickly look away.
“Definitely stay away from him,” I whisper, walking in the opposite direction. My heart slams against my ribs and my breath comes out choppy.
“Why?” Anika catches up with me. “He could be gorgeous under the man fur. Nothing a pair of sharp scissors, a razor, and some shaving cream can’t fix.”
“If you think Landon is a bad egg, meet the older Roberts brother, Aiden. He makes our mutual friend seem like a saint.”
This revelation apparently piques her interest. Instead of running for the hills, she stops following me and
straightens her shoulders.
“I love a good bad boy.” A knowing smile twists her mouth. “I think I’ll work that side of the room. See if anyone needs anything.”
Apparently, Anika has a type. Tall, blond, and a terrible idea. Like a moth to a flame that will most certainly burn her, she can’t resist the pull. There’s no point in me telling her Aiden is broke and probably a gambling addict with weird sexual predilections. Nothing I can say will deter her if she already has a thing for bad boys and didn’t learn her lesson after Landon.
My eyes track her through the crowd until she stops in front of the Roberts brothers. Landon glances up and smiles when he sees me. I give him a small wave and then turn in the opposite direction.
This is a work function for me and I need to make sure I’m not neglecting my official duties, whatever those might be.
Inviting Landon wasn’t my smartest idea. I had no idea he’d bring Aiden to the event.
Best to avoid them if at all possible tonight.
I scan the crowd for my friends, hoping they’re here and can create a buffer. One good growl or scowl from Lee should ward off any unwanted attention. I don’t find my girls, but my eyes are drawn back to the group where I spotted Landon.
Once again, I find myself the focus of Aiden’s stare. The intensity surprises me and I glance behind myself to double-check he isn’t focused on the mountain view or another person at the party. When I return my attention to him, he smiles. At least I think he does because, with the thick beard, it’s hard to tell for sure.
Chapter 6
Aiden
In movies, there’s almost always a moment when the hero sees his archenemy or true love across a crowded room. Time slows, noise muffles, and his focus narrows into a pinpoint. Sometimes their eyes meet and they acknowledge each other. An arch of a brow, a dip of the chin signals acknowledgment or recognition. Perhaps they move on from the moment without speaking. Maybe their eyes continue seeking out the other, but they never speak a word. Whatever the case, their paths are altered by the encounter in ways they can’t fathom in the moment.
I feel like this happens in almost every Bond or Bourne movie I’ve ever watched. Never thought it was a real thing. Not until tonight. Not until I locked eyes with the beautiful brunette with the warm eyes and a killer smile.
Landon dragged me to this event with the excuse he needs my help. He didn’t give details other than my role for the evening will be to keep him from making an ass out of himself. I’m not sure I’m up for the challenge. Not even James Bond has the arsenal of weaponry needed to stop my brother from himself.
We’ve been at the museum for ten minutes and I have to assume he’s fine because I haven’t spoken to him since we arrived. Occasionally, I get a glimpse of the top or back of his head across the room, or his familiar laughter rises above the din of superficial conversations. There hasn’t been any screaming, fighting, crying, or other outbursts of emotions inappropriate to a fancy Aspen shindig, so all must be well.
I wander through the party, nodding hello to the few people who recognize me while eating tiny, but tasty foods, and sampling small glasses of craft beers.
The rooftop garden is stunning. The architects optimized the height of the building to fabricate the illusion we’re above it all, and at the right angle, downtown disappears from view completely. There’s only us and the dramatic backdrop of Ajax. I stroll over to the edge and stare at the grassy ski slope. Away from the crowd and din of voices, I can breathe easier.
After spending five months essentially alone in nature, I easily become overwhelmed by humanity these days. For months, having a conversation with more than a handful of people over the span of a week was rare. Even the times the trail crossed through a town, I rarely sought out social contact. When I flew home from Maine, the small Portland airport was too crowded with the tired, huddled masses. I can’t fathom living in the city. My neck itches at the thought of wearing a tie again.
Thankfully, Aspen is a casual town despite its reputation for being ritzy. I can get away with jeans and a fresh white shirt instead of wearing a suit.
I chuckle to myself. If young, ambitious Aiden could see me now, he’d probably head to the bar, order a double shot of bourbon, and tell the bartender to leave the bottle.
When I left this valley twelve years ago, I swore I’d never move back full time. Sure, I dreamed of buying my own multi-million-dollar house here … one I’d only use a few weeks of the year for skiing. Because I could. At eighteen, I had a fire under my ass and dollar signs in my eyes.
The rest of the world might know this area for its celebrity visitors and billionaire residents, but it’s still a tiny, mountain town. Too small for my ego and my brother’s to co-exist peacefully.
Now the prodigal son has returned. When I woke up a year ago and decided to turn my life upside down, shake the shit out of it, and walk away from everything I built in Silicon Valley, I didn’t plan to come back here and have the same job I had during summer breaks in college.
It was never one of my goals in life to be sleeping on my brother’s couch.
Or become his personal life guru.
More like a romance coach for the clueless.
Is that a thing? Can I design an app for that? It’s tempting. Landon isn’t the only guy I know over twenty-five who still hasn’t figured out how to talk to girls like they’re human beings and not just sexual conquests.
After we left our parents’ house on Sunday, Landon seemed resolved to make the best of our mother’s meddling. Confident he could use her set-up to his advantage, he informed me he asked Mae out for a casual drink to test the level of her interest. Before he left to meet her, he cockily told me not to wait up for him as he’d probably not be coming home until morning.
Gotta give him some props for confidence, even if he has nothing to back it up. He was home by eleven-thirty and that’s with the half hour drive from Aspen back to the apartment.
His bad mood obvious, he woke me up stomping around the kitchen, opening and closing doors, getting ice out of the freezer, filling his glass from the faucet, and then dropping the entire damn thing on the floor.
He wasn’t amused by my amusement at his early return home. After giving him shit for a few minutes, I got more details out of him about the evening.
If I had to root for a team in this game, I’d have to pick Mae. I’m relieved she sees through him and isn’t going to fall for his fake charms and cheesy one-liners like she did when they were goofy teenagers.
Yet I’m still here tonight to help my brother. From his version, things didn’t go well. I’d love to hear Mae’s side because I’m sure he left out a bunch of shit in order to make himself come off better. That’s always been his style.
Guys like him need a pocket Cyrano de Bergerac to guide them through interacting with women. Like Siri with less snark and better relationship advice. Something other than me groaning and telling him not to voice the shit in his head.
We share the same DNA and were raised by the same parents. Blows my mind how it’s possible for two brothers to be so opposite in all but physical appearance. He’s always been an asshole. At twelve, I started calling him LS. Not for Landon Samuel, but for Little Shit. Even if he’s bigger than me from years of playing rugby, he’ll always be my little brother.
Landon isn’t the one who keeps catching my attention at this party. I couldn’t care less about my brother’s activities at the moment. The brunette with familiar eyes and a smile that brightens the room holds all of my attention.
Landon appears by my side, a cocktail in each hand.
I take one of the glasses and point at the mystery woman with my other hand. “Who’s that?”
Following my index finger, he smirks. “Mae or the blonde woman next to her?”
Shit.
“That’s Mae London? I didn’t recognize her.” Shitshitshit.
“She’s super hot, right? When was the last time you saw her?” Landon doesn’t ta
ke his eyes off of her.
“Twelve years ago? Maybe a few random sightings when I was home briefly, but I don’t think we’ve spoken a word to each other since she was hanging out with you when you were in high school. She’s stunning.” I’m sure my voice betrays the happy surprise I’m feeling at seeing Mae again.
And then it hits me: my current mission is to help Captain Dickhead impress her. I don’t know who I feel worse for: her or myself.
“Bro, don’t get any ideas.” He slaps me on the shoulder harder than necessary. “I called dibs on her.”
Closing my eyes, I try to remember my promise to help him out. “You can’t call dibs on a person. She has a say in who she dates and isn’t some sort of first come, first served donut truck.”
Trailing his index finger over his bottom lip, he stares at Mae’s body. “All you can eat sounds all right with me.”
I close my eyes again to keep from rolling them. “Right. You seem like the giving kind of guy.”
Confirming my suspicion, he laughs and slaps my shoulder again. “I’m the meal, dude.”
I should walk away now. Leave him to his self-destruction. Escape any close association with him.
“Lesson one, don’t be a selfish bastard. If you want a woman to go down on you, be prepared to reciprocate. Hell, do one better, be the one to initiate.” I track Mae’s movement through the crowd.
The black dress she’s wearing hugs her curves and strong thighs. I wonder if she still snowboards competitively. I’d ask Landon, but I doubt he pays attention to the details of other people’s lives enough to give me accurate information.
Instead of being a bystander to his inevitable crash and burn, I’m going to go through with my promise to make him a better man. Not for him, but for Mae. She deserves a decent guy and not dudebro Landon. If not her, then whoever he ends up with next.
God, I hope there’s a next after Mae. Then maybe I’ll have a shot with her.
Up to You (Love with Altitude Book 4) Page 5
