by Inara Scott
She knew the risks inherent in her trip. She could quote the death toll from the mountain with uncanny precision. When he met her three years ago she’d been scared she was never coming back. Which left him with the nagging question—why did she climb? Why was she so determined to summit Annapurna?
Ross toggled the mouse, lighting up his sleeping computer. Whatever her reasons, Kelsey’s goal was unmistakably dangerous. And much as he wanted to imagine he could call her and have some kind of purely physical fling with her, Ross feared that such an idea was impossible. He knew Brit—and probably others in his family—wanted to believe that he was some kind of ladies’ man, but the truth was, a guy didn’t marry his high school sweetheart and stay married for ten difficult years because he was a player.
No, Ross had realized somewhere over the past few years that he was far being from a playboy. In fact, he was shamefully monogamous.
Which meant one thing—he couldn’t call her. Not today, or tonight, or ever again.
To distract himself from his increasingly circular thoughts, he began flipping through the pictures of Stagefeather’s land. The property was heartbreakingly beautiful, a stark landscape of brown, rolling hills slowly giving way to deep evergreen trees and sharp outcroppings of rock. A stream rolled over boulders and down waterfalls. The land was a jewel. It wasn’t hard to see why Herriot was determined to claim it for the resort.
For the next hour, Ross forced himself to focus on his work. He reviewed the tax records Herriot had sent. He contemplated ways to work around Herriot, alternative arrangements for the resort, landscaping plans that didn’t include Herriot’s land. But all the while he found himself becoming more and more convinced that Herriot was right. They needed Stagefeather’s land. And Stagefeather needed to sell.
Feeling only slightly sick, he dialed the old man’s number.
…
By Tuesday afternoon, Kelsey had absolutely stopped waiting by the phone. Because that would have been pathetic. She was not a wait by the phone for four days kind of girl. She was a lift weights until you wanted to cry kind of girl. A run until your thighs ached and your lungs screamed kind of girl.
A hold a baby and feel nauseous sort of girl.
“How’s Oscar?” Marie called from the bathroom. “You aren’t going to pass out and drop him, are you?”
“Jesus, Marie, don’t you ever close the door?” Kelsey called back. “I’m fine.” Unexpectedly, she realized this was true. Though far from comfortable, holding Oscar no longer filled her with the same level of dread as it had in the past. The bald-headed baby regarded her suspiciously, his old man’s brow wrinkled as it slowly dawned on him that the person in whose arms he reclined was not the familiar figure he had come to expect.
“Don’t even think about crying,” Kelsey scolded, careful not to breathe his baby scent too deeply. “Or pooping. I’m not going anywhere near your diaper, regardless of what Marie says.”
Being with Marie and Oscar was a welcome break from the increasingly intense final preparations for the trip. She’d spent most of her morning arguing with suppliers and confirming hotel reservations. After a three-hour bike ride, she’d gone back home to try the last of the sports bras, tanks, and pants Artisan wanted her to model during her photo shoot with her dad. Even that task, which should have been fun, seemed like a trial.
The first time Kelsey had modeled for one of her sponsors, it had been a heady experience. What girl didn’t love the idea of being a living clothes hanger? And how much better to be a clothes hanger for a company that actually promoted women’s sports, and would shoot pictures of her being active and strong. She liked being a role model and certainly didn’t object to being thought attractive enough to be on the cover of a clothing catalog. But today she took no joy in the clothing she’d been sent. Today, all she could think about was the phone that hadn’t rung.
And her father’s words, ringing in her ears.
Just the summit, but that was a big one…
It was nothing new. She’d been living with his disapproval and disappointment for the past three years. Still, it hurt.
At least he’s alive. You did that much.
Oscar gave an experimental cry of distress and Kelsey flipped him onto her shoulder as she walked, congratulating herself when the motion felt less like rotating a crying football and more like gently shifting the weight of a baby. She’d called Marie at five, hoping to be distracted from her increasingly dark thoughts, and Marie had said, in no uncertain terms, that her father was a jerk and Ross an ass, and she needed to come over right away and bring a pint of ice cream because Oscar had an ear infection and had been crying most of the day and the only remedy for jerks, asses, and crying babies was clearly Rocky Road.
Kelsey had complied. How could she not?
Marie emerged from the bathroom, still zipping her pants. “Looking good,” she said, with an approving nod. “Can you keep him for a little longer? I want to gorge myself for a few minutes before I get back in the saddle.”
Kelsey winced. “Tell me you washed your hands.”
“Of course I washed my hands.” Marie waggled her offending digits in front of Oscar face. “What do you take me for, some kind of amateur?”
“You didn’t close the door or dress yourself before leaving the bathroom,” Kelsey said drily. “Forgive me for questioning your hygiene.”
Marie swaggered over to the kitchen, the curve of her hips pronounced in a pair of snug capri jeans. She wore a flowered button-down shirt with a belt at the waist that emphasized her hourglass figure. Her hair provided evidence of the quality of the day, the normally orderly red ringlets divided between frizz and knots. “You were ready to see the truth. You’ve crossed over to the other side.” She grabbed a spoon from a drawer and lifted the lid of the ice cream container. Utensil poised above the chocolaty interior, she sighed happily.
“What side exactly?” Kelsey asked.
“You know, the side separating the girls from the women.” Marie dug out a heaping spoonful and paused to swallow it. “The side separating those who close the door, and those who know that life moves too fast for such formalities.”
“The side that walks around half-dressed and says damn the consequence?”
“Exactly. The side that does not wait around for assholes who said they would call, but don’t.”
Kelsey swung Oscar around so the baby faced Marie, and she didn’t have to look into her friend’s sympathetic eyes. “I’m not waiting. You know that.”
“I know that.” Marie paused, then said softly, “I’m sorry. You really liked him, didn’t you?”
Kelsey grimaced. “Saying I liked Ross Bencher would be like saying I liked heroin. And you and I both know I’m way too smart for that.”
Around a mouthful of ice cream, Marie said, “You are the only woman I know who would compare a divorced father of three to heroin.”
“Everyone has their own version of heroin,” Kelsey said. “Mine just happens to be responsible, dedicated to his family, and dead set on dating women who resemble Betty Crocker.”
“See, this is clearly one of those ‘to each her own’ sort of moments,” Marie said. “Because my version of heroin runs toward gentlemen with gobs of money and an extravagant lifestyle.”
Oscar squirmed on her shoulder and grabbed a handful of hair. “Ow.” Kelsey retrieved the strands from his tight grasp. She walked over to Marie and lowered the baby so he was even with her friend’s face. “Come on, give it up. You know you could never survive a life without babies.”
Marie waggled a full spoon in Kelsey’s direction. “After today, don’t be so sure.”
“What was so bad about the day?” Kelsey asked, restoring Oscar to the curve of her shoulder. The baby rewarded her with a bright-eyed look and a fresh grab at a long brown lock of hair. “He doesn’t seem particularly cranky right now.”
“That’s because you’re holding him. He’s been crying all day. I think he’s sick of me.”
Kelsey felt an inordinate surge of pride. “Really?”
“Really.” Marie gazed down at the melting chocolate in front of her. “And my mom called.”
“Oh.” Kelsey adjusted Oscar so she could lay a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Is she okay?”
“Just the usual drama. Frank’s a deadbeat, Jackie left her husband—again—Cora’s pregnant, and oh, would I mind sending her fifty bucks to help her get through until payday?”
When they met in college, Kelsey had been convinced her relationship with her father was as dysfunctional as it got. But that was until she met Marie.
Marie was the oldest child of an enormous, complicated family that included step-siblings by at least three different fathers (Kelsey never could quite get them all straight), various aunts and uncles who wandered in and out of the family house, and a mother who was perpetually in love, out of love, and broke and looking for help paying the bills. Marie had spent most of her life dangling a baby on her hip, so it was only natural that when she needed money, she turned to nannying. Given her propensity for ordering people around, it was also unsurprising that she eventually decided to open her own business.
What Kelsey found amusing was that her friend claimed to harbor a fantasy that someday she’d be swept off her feet by a rich playboy who would take her away from her life of toil and set her up in a mansion where she would get endless manicures and never worry again about getting spit-up on her favorite blouse. Kelsey suspected that when Mr. Right did come along, he’d have a fondness for babies, a tolerance for chaos, and a personality strong enough to match her outspoken friend.
Marie slapped the top back on the ice cream and shoved it into the freezer. She held out her hands and made a cooing sound at Oscar. “Okay, I’m done whining. Give me back my little man now.”
Surprised to feel a trace of reluctance, Kelsey handed over the baby. As she did, Marie cocked her head. “I don’t mean to alarm you, but isn’t that a phone I hear ringing?”
Kelsey sucked in a breath. She completed the Oscar transfer, shot Marie a look of desperation, and ran for her purse. Staring at her phone in the moment before she answered the call she whispered, “Heroin.”
Marie nodded with a smile. “I figured.”
Kelsey took a deep breath. “What should I do?”
“I say answer. But then again, I come from a long line of addicts.”
Hesitating only a second longer, Kelsey dove for the answer button. “Hello?”
Her heart skipped when Ross’s deep voice commanded the other end of the line. “Kelsey, this is Ross.”
“I figured.” She paused, trying to decide how to play the moment. If she sounded mad, would she be admitting that she cared? If she acted offhand, would he know she was faking it?
Meaningless small talk seemed the best possible route. “How are you?” she asked. “Did you get the new office set up?”
Her heartbeat thumped in her ears like an approaching freight train. She swallowed hard. Behind her, Oscar started to fuss, and Marie smiled knowingly as she walked past Kelsey and ducked into a bedroom, closing the door behind her.
“I suppose. It’s pretty empty so far, but I like the space.” He paused, and she thought she heard some kind of interior struggle in his voice. “Hey, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Is there any chance you could meet me here at my office tomorrow? I’d like to speak to you in private.”
Of all the things Kelsey had expected to hear, “speak to you in private” was not one of them. “Not a good idea,” “for the best if we don’t meet again,” or maybe even “I can’t get you out of my mind” were closer to what she had been imagining. But “speak to you in private”? What did that even mean? Was that some kind of euphemism? Did “speak to you in private” mean “screw like bunnies”? Or was it actually code for, “You messed up my kids and now I’m pissed”? Had she broken something in the house she didn’t know about? Was he annoyed that she’d put new first aid kits in the bathrooms and his car?
She pressed her free hand over her eyes. Forget analyzing and guessing. He wanted something from her, and she had decided that he was a deadly substance to be avoided at all costs. Which meant this was the moment when she had to “just say no” to heroin.
Forcing steel into her voice she said, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I’ve been thinking a lot about it and—”
“Please? I swear, it’s not what you think.” He sounded unsure, perhaps even ashamed. “I actually have a…business proposition. Or a question. Or maybe both. I’m not really sure, actually.”
“Business?” She squared her shoulders. Apparently, a declaration of undying love was not forthcoming. “What kind of business?”
“It’s hard to explain over the phone. You’ve probably got plans tomorrow?”
Did he now sound hopeful that she couldn’t come? What kind of weird, sick joke was this? “Ross, you’re starting to piss me off,” she snapped. “Just tell me what this is about.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone. She pictured him pacing in an empty office, staring at the Denver cityscape. “It’s Stagefeather,” he finally admitted. “I talked to him today about selling his land. He wasn’t thrilled, but he wasn’t hostile, either. He wanted to know how I was going to build something that fit with the landscape when I was from New York and didn’t know jack about Colorado.”
“A reasonable question,” Kelsey murmured.
“Yeah, well, I sort of, um, told him that I had a consultant. A local consultant. Someone who could help guide the project.”
Kelsey’s stomach fell somewhere below her knees. She realized then that she had been maintaining a secret hope that he was eventually going to beg her to be with him, despite all the obvious and rational reasons for them to stay apart. “And do I happen to know this mysterious consultant?”
Another pregnant pause. “See, that’s why I wanted to talk to you in person. It sounds awful like this, I know. But it made perfect sense at the time. He just kept telling me that someone from New York could never appreciate what he saw in his land. He asked me if I had hiked out there, or camped or fished or hunted—or done anything that might give me an appreciation for what I’d be developing. And I had to admit that I hadn’t, and I probably should. So I told him that I knew someone who would help me.”
“I like this Stagefeather guy more and more all the time,” Kelsey said, savage now that she realized exactly how she was going to be used. “And I like you less and less.”
His voice dropped. “Kelsey, you know how much the kids need me right now. If I lose this deal, I’m not sure I can look them in the eyes. Besides, I think I can do some good here. Herriot’s going to come after Stagefeather no matter what I do. If I can get him a good deal for his land, some kind of settlement in his favor…” He trailed off. She pictured him rubbing his eyes with a tired hand, just the way he had on Friday when he got home from his meeting with Herriot. “All I’m asking is for you to spend a little time with me, maybe give me some ideas for places I should visit or things I should do. I told Stagefeather I was going to take the kids camping out there this weekend and he said I could stop by and talk to him afterward. I thought maybe you could recommend somewhere for us to go.”
Kelsey barked a laugh. “You? Camping? Have you ever been camping before?”
“No.”
“There’s just a lot of Forest Service roads out there—no trails to speak of. How are you going to hike? Do you have any idea how to navigate in the backcountry? Can you use a compass? Ever looked at a topographic map before?”
“No. And no.”
“You’re going to get lost,” she warned. “You’re going to get lost, and run out of water, and the kids are going to be hot and tired and miserable.”
“As long as we’re being optimistic, can you also foresee me throwing out my back as I’m trying to piggyback Julia up a mountain while carrying a tent and most of our worldly possessions? Do you think Stagefeather would judge me
if I brought an AeroBed camping?”
Kelsey closed her eyes. She laughed helplessly. “You’re a mess, Bencher.”
“I know. That’s why I need you.”
The words were too close to being exactly what she wanted to hear, and for a moment, something snugged tight and hard around her heart, and she had to stop to catch her breath.
“What do you want, exactly?” she asked.
“I suppose in the best case, I might convince you to come camping with us this weekend. Show us how it’s done. Take us on a hike. Explain how the hell you use a compass. Teach me what Stagefeather wants me to know.”
Heroin, Kelsey. Heroin.
“And in the worst case?”
He sighed. “You come over and we get out a map. You point out a few trails. We look at a website and you help me figure out what gear to buy.”
She shuddered. “You want me to point out things for you to buy? As in, you’d buy a brand-new tent, some hiking boots, and a camp stove and head out into the wilderness hoping for the best?”
“We won’t go far,” Ross said, his voice full of bluster and confidence. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
Kelsey wandered into the kitchen. She stared at the stainless steel sink, full of bottles and pacifiers, a half-drunk cup of coffee and dirty plate on the counter. Marie must have really had her hands full today if she hadn’t managed to clean up after herself. Absently, she opened the dishwasher and started to load the dirty dishes.
“We’ll be fine,” he continued. Then, just slightly nervous, he added, “Don’t you think?”
She slammed the dishwasher door shut. Now he’d managed to trigger all her protective instincts. Her sense of responsibility. Her inner safety freak. “You,” she said crisply, “are an idiot. Do you really think I could let you wander around out there with the kids and no earthly idea what the heck you’re doing?”
“Would it make it better or worse if I said, I really hope not?”
She let out a strangled growl. “Probably worse.”
“Then I won’t say that.”
“Good.”
There was silence on the line, and she focused on her breathing.
