There were a few new potholes as I headed up the hill, but everything else looked the same. I pulled into the cul-de-sac where the employee housing duplexes sat, then parked along the curb, my mind preoccupied with Reed’s comments.
Had I chosen the wrong helicopter? Had it been a mistake to go for occupancy and the security of dual engines? Were we capable of luring that kind of clientele here while the expansion was built, or had I just doomed us to failure? I hadn’t even been home for two hours and Reed was already in my head.
I slung one of my duffels over my shoulder, then lifted the grocery bag, fumbling with the car, house, and hangar keys as I walked up the path to the door. Everything depended on this first season. Maria and Theo had uprooted their entire lives for this—for me, for the opportunity to do what we loved while working for ourselves.
And as much as I wanted to beat the shit out of Reed some days, he’d called. He’d asked for help, and I’d answered. Why? Because as much as I hated this place, I was also wildly in love with it, and the thought of it slipping into some corporate sleezeball’s hands if the expansion failed and Dad ended up selling wasn’t something I could stomach.
I keyed open the door and didn’t bother looking at the layout as I walked through the living room and toward the kitchen. The units had been built when I was a kid, and they were all identical. An open-concept, shared space made up the rectangle of the living room, dining room, and kitchen. Every kitchen had the same model refrigerator and stove, and a washer and dryer was in a storage-style mudroom toward the back. Every unit had two identical staircases inside that framed the space, leading to separate, lockable hallways that led to separate two-bedroom units.
It seemed like a waste of space to give me a four bedroom, but I wasn’t complaining. I’d never been big on having people in my space, which was probably why I’d never made a relationship work the way Theo and Maria had.
Or maybe it was just that I’d never met someone who I wanted to be around twenty-four seven.
I yanked open the fridge and grimaced, shoving the bacon and eggs Maria had picked up for me onto an empty shelf. Whoever had been here last hadn’t cleaned out the fridge. Guess I knew what I’d be doing after my run. The place was colorfully decorated with throw pillows on the couch and poster-sized framed pictures on the wall of far-off locations like the Serengeti, which was odd, considering we were a ski resort, but I guess everyone got sick of snow at some point.
Climbing the staircase on the left, I took the bedroom and didn’t bother to unpack more than my running gear. Everything else could wait. The pressure I was all too acquainted with was in my chest, my head, begging to be released with every doubt that Reed had shoved into my brain.
Ten minutes later, I was laced up and could finally breathe. The trails were the same. The air burned my lungs with a familiar ache. The sun hit my skin with nostalgic intensity. My feet followed the rocky paths as though they’d never left them, as if I’d been running here yesterday and not ten years ago. I turned onto the dirt road that switch-backed up the mountain to the top of the lift and ran harder, pushing myself further. Only when my body screamed for mercy—and oxygen—did I turn around and jog back down, stripping off my shirt and tucking it at the back of my gym shorts. The fifty-degree air felt fantastic on my sweat-soaked skin.
It would take me at least a month to acclimate to the altitude, and longer to rebuild the endurance I’d gained while stationed at Fort Drum in New York.
By the time I got back to the house, all I could think about was food, and I fumbled in the kitchen for the cookware all the units were issued with, starting the bacon.
It was only ten thirty. How had my life changed so drastically in three freaking hours?
Because you said yes.
The sound of sizzling bacon filled the space as I cooked, turning the bacon with a fork.
The Bell was the right choice. It had the greatest capacity. Even if we grew to taking multiple groups to multiple runs, it was the way to go. It was the safer way to go. Then stop second-guessing yourself just because of Reed.
The front door opened and my head shot up. What the hell?
A blond woman walked in, answering a phone that was jammed between her ear and shoulder, juggling a purple backpack and another black bag, her attention on something behind her as she looked over her shoulder.
“Hey, Ava,” she said, tugging her keys from the door. “What’s up?”
My jaw slackened.
She had the kind of profile that belonged in photographs—high cheekbones, pert little nose, and a mouth that made my breath catch as it curved into a smile. That smile was fucking gorgeous, lighting up her entire face as she pivoted, and somehow I knew her eyes were Colorado blue. A nagging sense of déjà vu chewed at the edge of my mind, like a half-recalled memory from a drunken night.
But what was she doing in my house? Had Reed sent her? I opened my mouth to ask just as a miniature version of the woman appeared, scooting past her mother. The little girl saw me within a heartbeat, her little eyes flying wide.
I blinked.
She screamed.
2
Callie
* * *
Sutton’s shriek jolted my heart, and I dropped everything in my arms to sweep her behind my back. Her backpack, my phone, my keys, even my camera bag crashed to the tile floor of my little entryway as I jerked my head up to face whatever threat she’d spotted.
A clatter in the kitchen had my gaze flying across the house.
What the actual hell?
A man stood at the stove behind the kitchen island.
A very tall, very ripped, very…shirtless…man.
And that smell—
Wait, was he cooking? Bacon? In my kitchen?
I swallowed around the boulder of terror in my throat and retreated a step, keeping one arm locked around Sutton’s torso as I maneuvered us back through the open door.
He threw his hands up, showing his palms, and the expression of complete, abject shock had me pausing at the threshold as recognition tickled my brain. Sutton had stopped screaming, freeing up a little space for logic in my mind as adrenaline surged through every vein.
The dark hair. The strong chin. That face.
Oh crap, I knew who this man was.
I owed him everything.
“Callie!” Ava yelled up through the speaker of my phone.
“Stay here,” I told Sutton, keeping her outside on the porch while I scrambled for the phone and keys I’d abandoned to the floor. “Ava?” I asked, keeping my eyes on my intruder as I lifted my phone to my ear.
“Oh, thank goodness!” My friend sighed. “I was trying to get ahold of you because—”
“Let me guess,” I interrupted. “You called to tell me there was a good chance I’d find Weston Madigan in my house.” Because that’s exactly who was cooking in my kitchen. Weston-freaking-Madigan, the middle brother of the family who owned this entire resort.
Weston’s eyes flared, then narrowed slightly, and his mouth dropped along with his hands.
“Oh God. He’s already there, isn’t he?” Ava asked. “I’m in the car right now. I was hoping I’d be able to get there before you got back from Sutton’s parent-teacher conference. It was today, right?”
“Yep, and yep. Just got here. He’s standing in my kitchen.” Shirtless. Oh man, did I need to get out on a date if that was where my head immediately went when there was a strange man in my house. Not that he was a stranger, not really.