New Year's Resolution: Romance!: Say Yes / No More Bad Girls / Just a Fling. Leslie Kelly
Tossing back the rest of his brandy, Chase decided he had to know everything. “So what happened?”
“He was racing with a friend. Those two were always egging each other on.” Her finger traced the rim of the snifter, going around and around and around. “It was nearing dark and they should have headed back much earlier. They took a short cut... He hit a rock and ended up slamming into a tree. The impact caused a massive head injury.”
“He wasn’t wearing a helmet?”
“As you said, reckless.” She addressed the brandy instead of Chase. “Today, when I took that call...I was reminded of when the ski patrol phoned me.”
Chase couldn’t stand the inches of distance between them. Reaching out, he drew her close. She went stiff for a moment before relaxing against him, her cheek to his chest. Her warmth and her willingness did little to assuage the ache in his heart. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry you took that call today.”
Her arms came around him, their light weight propped on his shoulders. She lifted her chin. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—”
His mouth came down on hers, stifling anything else she might have said. Chase told himself it was a kiss of comfort, like the hug, but that was only so much baloney. Not when he traced his tongue over the seam of her lips. Not when his heart exulted when she opened for him. The taste of brandy combined with the light scent of roses evaporated his good sense. He hauled her closer, into his lap, as his mouth ate at hers.
Greedy. He was greedy for her.
She made a noise deep in her throat. A moan? He cupped her cheek in one palm to change the angle of her head. His thumb brushed over her soft, heated skin and he felt wetness. No. God, no.
Breaking the kiss, he stared at her. There were tears on her face. As he watched, another rolled over the rim of her eye, caught for a moment in her bottom lashes, then trailed toward her chin.
Oh, God, he thought again, as knowledge hit him like a snowplow knocking over a mailbox. As much as he might want her well, it wasn’t in his power, was it?
Although she wasn’t “sick,” she was definitely hurt. And how could he possibly fix that? Chase was helpless when it came to healing Ashley’s heart.
THE NEXT MORNING, Ashley woke to learn it was J. R. R. Tolkien Day. Most of the Bradley guests who’d been skiing or snowboarding the day before were in various states of pain. David was milking his sprained ankle, begging more of Mrs. Erwin’s cinnamon rolls to be served to him by his wife. “Everyone knows they’re the best medicine.” Others hobbled about, too, complaining of sore muscles or bruises in uncomfortable places.
She knew The Hobbit movie and The Lord of the Rings trilogy were playing in a nonstop loop in the media room, so she suggested over breakfast that relaxing while watching them for a few hours might be just the thing. But at the other end of the long dining table, Chase had a different idea. His suggestion: a short drive that would take them to an even shorter trek through the snow to natural hot springs. There, they could soak their aches away. It seemed the guests had been aware of the possibility because they all had bathing suits with them...except Ashley.
“I’ll stay here, then,” she told Chase as breakfast wound down.
“Good,” he said, his voice curt and his expression remote.
She tried not to take offense. He had things on his mind. A houseful of people to please. That she’d shared something so personal last night didn’t mean he had to be her BFF today. Still, it stung a little, and she felt the back of her neck go hot as he walked away from her. It seemed the man regretted knowing so much about her.
The rest of the day, she puttered about. First she changed the water in all the flower arrangements in the public portions of the house, pinching off any tired blossoms or leaves. Then she joined Fanny Erwin in the kitchen, watching as the caterer wound twine around pieces of beef that she’d stuffed with a concoction that smelled garlicky and delicious.
“How are you getting along?” the older woman asked, glancing at Ashley over her shoulder.
“Do you think I’m stupid to take on the job?” The question burst out.
Fanny shot her another quick look. “Now, why would I think that?”
“You know.” She waved a hand. “This whole group is out of my league.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Has anyone made you feel less...or less than welcome?”
“No,” Ashley muttered. Except Chase didn’t seem as...warm to her as he’d been in the days before. Last night, after she’d shared that second kiss with him, he’d practically bolted from the kitchen. He’d said something about checking on the guests upstairs, and she’d thought she’d understood—hosting was his first priority, after all—but now she just didn’t know.
“Well, they’d better not,” Fanny said hotly, returning to her food preparation. “Money doesn’t make one person better than another.”
Ashley didn’t try to hide her smile. Here was the thing about being born and bred in the mountains—especially for people like Fanny and the Walkers, who’d been in the area for generations—they considered themselves the richest in the world for the privilege of having a legacy tied to this amazing landscape. The part-timers, to their mind, held the shorter end of the stick.
The innate arrogance of the mountain people meant they were never intimidated by the wealth and fame of those they came in contact with—whether as florists, caterers, restaurant workers, cleaning people, whatever. Ashley’s own cousin, Poppy Walker, was engaged to a famous Hollywood movie star and the only thing that awed their family—the women in the family anyway—was his matinee idol good looks.
Ashley wasn’t sure she’d stay among the peaks and pines forever, but they would forever be part of her.
By late afternoon, everyone was back in the house. It was buzzing with new energy, because they’d been informed the evening meal would be Middle-earth-inspired. To make it more fun, they were instructed to come in costume. Dozens of pieces hung in the playroom for the guests to choose from.
Once again, Ashley was impressed with Chase’s mother’s novel ideas for entertainment. The grown men and women seemed as eager as eight-year-olds to dress up.
Before they retired to their rooms for their transformations, most hung around the bar with drinks in hand. The majority of the time Chase was surrounded by a bevy of people, but when she saw him wander toward the windows, she approached. “How was your day?” she asked him, trying to sound friendly.
He glanced over. “Fine.”
She waited, thinking he’d take up the conversational ball. When he didn’t, a wave of humiliated heat washed over her skin. Why had she told him about Stu? When he hadn’t known, Chase had been warm and attentive. He’d made her feel like a desirable woman. They’d shared a couple of amazing kisses, and she’d been sure he felt that same sizzle from them that she did.
A sizzle that had made her feel alive.
Now she was only embarrassed.
“Well, I’ll talk to you later,” she mumbled. Turning to go, she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Ashley.”
She looked back. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?” His gaze studied her face. “Better?”
“I am,” she said.
“Good.” His hand fell away. His expression revealed nothing more.
On her way up to her room to change, Ashley brought with her a glass of wine. She nursed it