“I’m so sorry. I’ll be right there!” She hung up and I slid the phone into the back pocket of my jeans. At least I hadn’t cracked the screen when I’d dropped it. A new phone was the last thing I could afford right now.
“You know who I am.” His voice was really freaking deep and more than a little attractive. Not the time, Callie.
I nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. He wasn’t a threat, or someone who’d sneaked into my house to attack Sutton or me. This was just some kind of screwup that resulted in bacon and Weston Madigan in my kitchen. My stomach growled. “We met. A little over eleven years ago.” Even now, I could still feel the chill of my rain-soaked clothes as I hiked up the last fifty feet of road to the resort after my car had run out of gas.
He cocked his head to the side and his brows furrowed.
“You hired me,” I babbled. How long was it going to take Ava to get here and sort this out? “You probably don’t remember. I mean, it was a long time ago, and you were getting ready to leave.” I swallowed, glancing back over my shoulder to make sure Sutton was still on the porch. “In fact, I think you left the next day.”
“I hired you,” he repeated slowly.
“Yep. The only experience I had was a semester of Intro to Photography from NYU, but you hired me anyway, probably because I was pregnant, and crying, and my car—”
“Had run out of gas,” he finished, recognition lighting his eyes. “It was raining.”
“Exactly.” My keys bit into the palm of my hand. “And you took me to get gas, and when your dad didn’t show for my interview, you just…took a chance and hired me.”
His jaw locked and he nodded once.
“Anyway, I’m Callie Thorne.”
“Callie? I don’t remember that being your name.” He shook his head. “It was something uncommon.”
“Calliope,” I answered, heat rushing my cheeks. He remembered. “My friends call me Callie. And this”—I pointed to our surroundings—“is my house. Or at least it has been for the last five years.” I heard the unmistakable sound of an engine approaching and nearly sighed in relief. “And your bacon is burning.”
“My bac—” He looked down and grimaced, moving the pan to another burner and killing the gas. “Shit.” Then he seemed to notice he was shirtless and cursed again, ripping a shirt out from behind him like it was a magic trick and tugging it over his naked torso.
Too bad, because the view had been scrumptious.
Yeah, I needed to get out more.
“Ava!” Sutton called out in greeting, but I didn’t take my eyes off Weston, and within minutes, my friend was easing through the doorway to stand beside me.
“I’m so sorry about all this, Callie!” she started, a blush rising in her cheeks as she slid the long strands of her brown hair behind her ears. “Hi, Weston!” She strode across the floor and offered her hand, which he shook, keeping one eye on me.
Sutton squeezed her head between me and the doorframe, shoving her honey-blond hair out of her face and setting her wide blue eyes on Weston. My ten-year-old daughter’s curiosity was going to be the death of me one day. I knew it.
“I’m so sorry we have to meet this way. I’m Ava, the executive manager of the resort.” She tapped her name badge like she needed proof.
“Reed’s fiancée,” Weston added as their hands fell away.
“That’s me.” She looked back at me with a smile that bordered on begging. “Can I talk to you both for a second?”
Weston and I locked eyes and nodded simultaneously.
“Sutton, why don’t you head upstairs and start on that questionnaire your teacher gave you?” I asked, ushering her into the house.
She puckered her face at me and shot a longing look at Weston. “But I want to know what’s going on.” There was a definite whiny pitch to her tone, and I wasn’t having it.
“And I’ll tell you as soon as I know.” I lifted my brows at her.
Her sigh was downright melodramatic. “Fiiiine.” She hefted her nearly empty backpack to her shoulder and refrained from stomping up the steps. Barely. The look she shot over her shoulder told me she wasn’t happy about it.
There were moments where the upcoming preteen years scared the crap out of me.
Once she disappeared through the door and down the hall, I shut the front door and scooped up my camera bag. Then I prayed I hadn’t broken any of my equipment as I walked past our living room with its worn couch and colorful throw pillows, and the school project-scarred dining room table to the kitchen island, where Ava was already sitting on one of the four stools that made up our breakfast area.
Weston stood on the other side of the island, his arms folded across his chest. He was big. Really big. Like…probably almost a foot taller than my five-four frame, and I had no business noticing the way that T-shirt stretched across his muscles. None. Nope. Not noticing.
I blinked rapidly to stop noticing.
Then it hit me. Weston Madigan was home. He was here. In my house. In my kitchen. Except, none of it was really mine, was it? This house, this kitchen…it was all his. My chest drew tight.
“Are you kicking us out?” I took the stool to the right of Ava and set my camera bag on the counter as my stomach rolled and pitched like I was on a freaking boat, like the very ground beneath my feet had suddenly become unstable.
Ava’s jaw dropped for a second, and Weston’s eyebrows hit the ceiling.
“What?” Ava shook her head. “No. Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”
“Because I’m the resort photographer but he”—I motioned to Weston—“is the resort.”
“I’m not kicking you out.” Weston leveled his dark eyes on me and didn’t look away. Whoa, that gaze was intense—captivating—and something told me it was indicative of the man himself. “I just didn’t know you were here.” His focus slid to Ava.
“And that is my fault.” She grimaced, her nose crinkling. “Reed and I had a little mix-up this morning, and by the time I realized he’d grabbed the keys for the unit, he was driving in the zone of no service—you know, the one between the lodge and the turn at the lift?”
Weston and I both nodded. Cell phone reception was always hit or miss around here.
“I tried to call him, but anyway, he was supposed to give you the spare keys to the house. Like…the house, house. Our house. Well, it’s your house, but you get the idea,” she explained, lacing her fingers on the countertop. “Because I told him this was our only open unit, which to me meant we were out of housing because we’ve left the other side of Callie’s duplex empty since she and Sutton moved in, but…” She shrugged. “Here we are.”
My shoulders dipped in relief. This was all one huge misunderstanding. Weston would move back in with his family and I would keep the roof over Sutton’s head. Phew.
Weston sighed and took two steps backward, leaning against the edge of the sink. “Employee housing is full?”
“Exactly.” Ava nodded. “So, I brought you the keys.” She reached into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out a set of silver keys that dangled from a Madigan Mountain keychain. “Reed and I are in the primary bedroom right now since Dad is on vacation, but your old room is empty down the hall.” She smiled.