Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel (6 page)

Holly looked a little stunned, clearly having hoped for a happier ending to the story. “That’s so sad—really tragic.”

“It is. But at least we saved one of them.” He still regretted the loss of the three guys, a loss made more personal as he’d gotten to know James and learned more about the adventures the men had shared. “James and I stayed in touch and he invited me down to Los Halcón every few months.” Bryce mustered a small smile, remembering James—wiry and fit, with a glint in his blue eyes and the sun glaring on his bald head. Always ready with wise advice or a witty retort. “He had a tough time with it all—especially the survivor’s guilt. You’d think the avalanche experience might’ve made him more cautious, but it didn’t. Staying active helped occupy his mind. He was always up for some kind of adventure, and I was always game—white-water rafting, rock climbing, rappelling. He killed it at the highest levels. Amazing for a seventy-year-old guy.”

Holly set her wineglass beside her on the deck. “But he left you the lodge in Costa Rica, so he ended up dying, too?” She gave him a pained look, as if she hated to ask.

“Sadly, yes.” Bryce clenched his jaw, struggling against a swell of emotion. “But not in an adventure accident—although he had his fair share of those. He had a heart attack in his sleep.” He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Dude just didn’t wake up.”

Holly squeezed his hand, and he laced his fingers between hers, comforted by her touch.

“He became kind of a father figure for me.” Bryce’s thoughts skidded to a stop, but it was too late. That last, revealing sentence was already out of his mouth.

“Did you lose your dad at a young age?” Holly asked, innocently enough.

And there it was, an inevitable question about his past and his family life that he would rather have avoided. He chugged the last two swallows of his wine and set down his glass. “Single mom. Absent dad. Never even knew him.” Short, simple, and not the least bit sweet. Hopefully she’d get the hint that he had said all he wanted to about the subject.

“I’ll bet your mom is awesome, though.” She nodded. “The single moms I know are superhuman. It’s incredible how they do it all alone with even one child. Do you have brothers and sisters?”

Bryce longed to kiss Holly right now, just for making this easier for him. For not prodding or pushing him somewhere he had no desire to go.

“No. It was just me and my mom. And she’s always been awesome. Superhuman, like you said. The poor woman had to be with all the hell I put her through. But she believed in me—and she scraped and sacrificed to find a way to get me straight.”

“I can’t imagine you being a troublemaker.” Holly smirked playfully and pressed her ankle against his.

Bryce released her hand. Reaching up, he skimmed his fingers along her satiny-smooth jawline and beneath her chin, turning her face toward his. He set his gaze on hers—tender and questioning—and the moment just felt right. Cupping her face in his hands, he pulled her closer, her silky hair threaded between his fingers, their mouths mere inches apart. Bryce barely touched his lips to hers. “Got a knack for stirring it up wherever I go,” he whispered. Then his lips were on hers, easing into their first incredible kiss.

Soft.

Sweet.

Simmering.

Holly smoothed her fingers over his scruffy cheek, ending with a light graze of her fingernails. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and cradled her head as he brushed his tongue over her lips. His racing heart hitched as she opened her mouth to him, her velvety tongue matching his rhythm, wine-tinged and willing. The light scent of her perfume seduced him with sensuous cedar, citrus, and fresh spice. Each stroke of her tongue had heat rising beneath his collar and pressure building below his belt. If this kept going…

Bryce gently pulled back, a little buzzed from the wine and drunk from their kiss. He trailed his fingertips up her neck, and along her cheek, pressing them against her shimmery lips. “You’re the one who’s going to be trouble,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly.

A glint of mischief lit her eyes and she grinned. “Count on it.”

Holly hadn’t slept much after all of yesterday’s excitement. From finding out that Bryce had more than just business in mind when he’d asked her to the lodge, to discovering the secret suite, there’d been plenty to keep her awake. But thinking about
that kiss
was what really had her sleepless.

Swoony.

Scruffy.

And straight-up sexy.

With Max, she’d gone from one-too-many-drinks kissing straight to the bedroom, so she’d never given herself the chance savor the sweetness of a single kiss. This was more her style and speed. But lying awake thinking about it last night had her moving kind of slowly this morning.

The aroma of fresh-ground coffee and just-out-the-oven cinnamon rolls had Holly perking up the moment she entered Calypso Coffee. Nestled in one of the original buildings along Larkspur Avenue and painted sage green with lavender trim, it was Holly’s favorite cozy coffee shop and bakery.

She got in line behind a middle-aged couple she didn’t recognize—likely tourists now that it was nearly summer and the wildflowers were in bloom. They confirmed it when the woman asked the man, “You think their cinnamon rolls are homemade?” The man wore a cap that read
I’d Rather Be Fishing.

“They are,” Holly said, unable to resist. Because if you ate one thing in Thistle Bend, it ought to be the cinnamon rolls at Calypso Coffee—and the ice cream at Get the Scoop, and the fried chicken at the Canary…“They’re the best cinnamon rolls in the Rockies.” There was no debate about it. The rolls were made from the Montgomery sisters’ special recipe. Milly and Merri had been unable to keep up with demand for their renowned pastries, so they’d graciously shared the recipe with Ginny, the owner of Calypso Coffee. “They’re magically delicious.” Because all of the sisters’ recipes had a pinch of magic in the mix.

The woman furrowed her brow and gazed at Holly as if she guessed Holly had been smoking something wacky.

Holly shrugged one shoulder and grinned. “Just sayin’.”

The couple ordered and stepped aside. They murmured to each other, lingering next to the display case, still perusing the array of fresh, irresistible baked goods inside.

Holly set her fringed purse on the counter. “Mornin’, Ginny.”

Ginny smiled. “Sun’s shining and coffee’s brewing.” Heavyset, sweet-faced, and calm, she was loved by everyone in town. Her wavy, strawberry-blond hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail—a perfect style for a woman who had to start baking at 4:30 a.m. “What can I whip up for you?”

“A double-espresso macchiato, a vanilla latte, and two magically delicious cinnamon rolls to go.” Holly gave the tourist couple a sidelong glance and a slight grin.

“That’ll get you going.” Ginny lowered her horn-rimmed reading glasses and set her gaze on Holly. “You look a little weary around the edges, but unusually bright-eyed before espresso.”

The tourist woman shot an I-told-you-so look at her husband, as if Ginny had confirmed her suspicion about Holly.

“Got a big day ahead,” Holly said. “With an interesting new client.”

Who I kissed yesterday.

Ginny’s pink lips curved up at the corners. “Ah, the glamorous life of a lawyer.”

The tourist couple’s eyes popped open wide and they stared at Holly.

She stifled a giggle.

Ginny shifted her gaze between Holly and the tourists, looking a little perplexed. “I’ll have your order up in a jiffy.”

Holly stepped aside just as the bells on the door jingled, announcing another customer. She glanced at the girl—about her own age and wholesomely pretty, with wavy brownish-blond hair.

Just like Bryce’s.

Holly’s heart leapt. “Ellie?”

The girl focused on Holly, a sweet smile of recognition stretching across her face. “Holly! Oh my gosh, I’m so happy to see you.”

Holly hugged her friend. Ellie had moved to Phoenix with her fiancé a couple of years ago. Since then, they’d seen each other only on video chats, but they’d fallen out of touch. “I didn’t know you were coming to town. And your hair has gotten so long, it took me a second to recognize you.” The smooth waves nearly reached Ellie’s elbows.

Her lips turned down at the corners. “I’m not just visiting. I’m back to stay.”

“Sweet. I’ve missed you so much.”

Holly and Ellie had been friends since elementary school. They’d spent lots of time together, especially during the year before Ellie moved, when she had rented a space in the local artists’ gallery below Holly’s office. Judging by Ellie’s expression, she wasn’t as thrilled as Holly about her return to Thistle Bend.

“Sorry I haven’t been in touch.” Ellie lifted her shoulders and let them drop, her blue eyes glistening. “Things didn’t work out with me and Noah.”

“I’m so sorry,” Holly said sincerely. But she couldn’t say she regretted that Ellie was no longer with self-centered Noah. Ellie deserved better.

“Thanks.” Ellie looked so forlorn that Holly hugged her again. “It’s probably for the best,” Ellie said, sounding as if she was trying to convince herself.

“Holly,” Ginny called from behind the counter, grinning, “got a hot double-espresso with your name on it.”

“Look who’s back.” Holly led Ellie up to the counter and Ginny beamed.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, Ellie London,” Ginny said as she handed Holly two cups with a bakery box balanced on top. “Prettier than ever.” She came around the counter and hugged Ellie.

“I’ve got a breakfast rendezvous,” Holly said. “So I’d better run.”

Both Ginny and Ellie gave her knowing looks, as if her rendezvous was romantic.

Holly tipped her head toward the museum across the street. “With Lindsey.” She set her gaze on Ellie. “She’s the girl I told you about who came to get the museum up and running. You’re going to love her. Let’s all get together soon.”

“I’d like that,” Ellie said. Holly stepped over and nudged the exit door with her hip. “Thanks, Ginny,” she said as the door opened and the bells hanging from the handle jingled. “So happy to see you, Ellie.”

The sun warmed her face as she stepped onto the sidewalk, happy that the weather forecast was the same for the rest of the day—with the ever-present chance of an afternoon shower or passing storm. Holly caught herself smiling. She was oddly excited to return to the lodge with Bryce this afternoon to sift through the contents of the secret suite.

This morning, she’d try to concentrate on work, but only after she chatted with Lindsey, who had no idea that Holly had spent the afternoon with Bryce yesterday, much less gone to the lodge. Holly jaywalked across Larkspur Avenue, where little traffic passed at 8 a.m. Thistle Bend wouldn’t be wide awake until at least nine. But thanks to a bribe with a latte, cinnamon rolls, and the promise of information no one else was privy to, Lindsey had agreed to meet Holly at the museum early.

No sooner had Holly caught her reflection in one of the museum’s huge plate-glass windows, Lindsey opened the door.

“This better be good,” Lindsey teased, and faked a yawn. She let Holly in, closed the door behind her, and locked it.

Holly shifted the bakery box to balance on her cup alone and handed Lindsey the vanilla latte. “If you didn’t let Carden keep you up so late, you wouldn’t be tired.” Holly winked.

Lindsey raised her cup to Holly and gazed at the ceiling, a love-struck look on her pretty face. “Worth every sleepless moment.”

Holly could relate for a change. Kissing Bryce had been worth every sleepless moment she’d spent last night.

Hadn’t it?

Thinking about how sexy it had been wasn’t the only contributor to her insomnia. The question of whether she should’ve kissed him at all had weighed heavily on her mind, too. He was all about the lodge, which still had her a little skittish. And he had a huge commitment in Costa Rica—another lodge in which he was emotionally and financially invested—meaning he wasn’t likely to be moving to Thistle Bend full time, if at all. If a little fooling around was all she was after, kissing him wouldn’t pose a problem. But she was looking for that one special guy to spend every day with—like Lindsey had found with Carden. Despite all the reasons to be cautious, Holly knew her own heart, and it already had a hankering for Bryce.

Lindsey leveled her gaze on Holly. “You look a little tired yourself.”

“And you look adorable,” Holly said, not yet ready to explain why she’d slept so little last night. “That’s not just a dressing-room outfit.” She had coined that phrase to describe an ensemble that seemed like a good idea in the dressing room, but turned out to be a dud in real life. When she and Lindsey had been shopping at the Gypsy Wagon recently, they’d agreed that the black jeans, breezy blue tunic, and patchwork-fabric vest Lindsey wore were an auto-buy. She had paired them with short black boots with burnished silver buckles and wore the whole outfit as well as any supermodel.

“Thanks to my wardrobe consultant and caffeine compadre. What more could I ask for in a friend?” Lindsey led her through the museum’s dimly lit main hall, past shelves of items that had been on display in the gas station/hardware store that had occupied the building years ago, and alongside the model town where the little train sat waiting for someone to drop a quarter in the box and send it chugging around the tracks, whistle hooting. They hung a left in the next large exhibit room, ducked into a hallway, and made their way to Lindsey’s tiny office.

Holly could’ve asked Lindsey to meet her anywhere—certainly someplace less cramped. But most places in Thistle Bend had eyes on the ceilings and ears on the walls. The museum was the perfect place for a couple of reasons. One: She’d swear that the same man she’d seen in the sepia-toned, late-1800s photograph in the suite at the lodge was also pictured somewhere in the museum. If Lindsey didn’t recognize him, then they could go on a little scavenger hunt and find the guy. Two: No one was at the museum at this hour, and Holly felt safe talking in the confined space of Lindsey’s office—neat and cheery despite its size, with a high, rectangular window that let in lots of natural light. Lindsey took her seat behind her desk, and Holly sat in the folding chair next to it.

“Still no money in the budget for a proper chair?” Holly joked. “If I come in here one more time and see this, I’m going to donate one.”

“Why wait until then?”

“You’ve got me there.”

Lindsey lifted the lid off her latte, let the steam rise, and blew into the cup before she took a sip. “Mmm. I’d take one of the suede beauties from your office, but it would never fit in here.”

Holly put the bakery box on the desk between them and opened it. The scent of sweet cinnamon and fresh-baked bread quickly filled the office as she dug in her purse for the napkins and plastic forks. Handing a set to Holly, she said, “Dig in. Forks optional—fingers are fine.”

Lindsey wasted no time finding the end of the bread and peeling it away from her roll—exactly the way Holly preferred to eat hers, because the center was always the most delicious part. Moist, gooey goodness—with plenty of pecan pieces. Best to save that for last. Holly didn’t bother to lift the lid off her espresso macchiato. She took a steaming sip and swallowed, wincing in its wake.

“Carden felt so bad about what happened at your grandpa’s farm the other day.” Lindsey said. “He didn’t mean to bring up the lodge. Poor guy had no idea. I mean, who would’ve guessed Bryce was buying that place?”

“Blindsided me all right. But please give Carden a hug and tell him not to worry about it. My grandpa would’ve found out at some point. I’d rather it have been when I was around.”

“Carden tried to explain to me what happened with your family and the lodge…and how you lost your grandma—which is awful, and I’m sorry.”

Holly’s heart hitched. “Thanks.” That’s all she could manage without getting choked up. All the business with the lodge had stirred her emotions, making her miss her grandma even more. She pinched off a bite of her cinnamon roll and chewed it slowly, soothed by the sugary cinnamon.

“But I’m not sure I understood how everything happened, exactly. A year isn’t nearly enough time to play catch-up on all the history of Thistle Bend.” Lindsey made a sweeping gesture toward the museum’s exhibit halls. “Especially the recent past.” She gave Holly a rueful look. “Can you help me out with the story?”

Holly had known this was coming, and she couldn’t blame Lindsey for being curious. She was trying to be a good friend. No matter how painful it was to tell the story, or how complicated it might sound, Holly wanted Lindsey to understand where she was coming from when it came to her feelings about the lodge, and how they related to her situation with Bryce. If she wanted to develop a deeper friendship with Lindsey—and she did—she had to open up more.

Bryce’s arrival had been quite a catalyst, pushing Holly to step outside of herself and share even more with Lindsey. First, there’d been the Max story. Now the one about her grandma.

Holly fortified herself with a slug of espresso. “My grandpa was the president of Thistle Bend Bank when a man named Adam Evanston came to town. Evanston courted the town council, who approved his plans for the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge, with the stipulation that he would do business with the local bank and contractors. So Evanston went to the bank and applied for a loan to build the lodge. There was a huge debate about it since the loan would be one of the largest and riskiest that the bank had ever made. Lots of people were concerned—everyone from bank officials to customers. The bank’s board was evenly split over the decision.” Holly shook her head ruefully. “So the tie-breaking vote came down to my grandpa.”

“Uh-oh.” Lindsey chewed a bite of cinnamon roll very slowly.

“Needless to say, there were people in his office all the time, trying to influence him. They even showed up at the farm, and approached him and my grandma when they were in town for dinner or at the grocery store—wherever they were.”

Lindsey scrunched her face.

“One person wanted the jobs the lodge would bring, another didn’t want the land developed. Someone argued that the council had been bribed, and another claimed that the tourists and taxes would help the town’s economy. There didn’t seem to be anyone in the middle, and it was a bitter divide.”