Marriage on Her Mind. Cindi Myers
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Marriage on her Mind
Cindi Myers
To the people of Crested Butte, Colorado
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter One
More than once in the past few weeks, Casey Jernigan had wondered if she was losing her mind. What was a Chicago-born-and-bred woman like her doing packing everything she owned in the back of her RAV4 and heading halfway across the country to take a job in a small town she knew nothing about?
Sitting in her car at the city limits of Crested Butte, Colorado, on a clear April morning, Casey wavered between hysterical laughter and abject panic. Though spring was fast approaching in the Midwest, here snow still lay in drifts to the rooflines, and passing cars were adorned with ski racks and snowboards. As she watched, a snowplow rumbled by, colored lights flashing as it scraped the roadway bare.
But the thing that most made Casey doubt her sanity was the dragon.
It rose, thirty feet long and fifteen feet tall, silver and gleaming in the bright afternoon sun. Neck outstretched, wings unfurled, it lunged toward the man who cowered before it. Saint George—surely it was Saint George—cringed before the dragon’s onslaught, his shining armor, upraised sword and shield seeming a poor defense against the giant beast.
As defenseless as Casey suddenly felt in this remote place where she knew no one and no one knew her. At the time she’d accepted the position as the assistant director of marketing for the Crested Butte chamber of commerce, the chance to make a completely fresh start had been the primary attraction of the job. Not to mention there was something so romantic and exciting about living in a ski town in the mountains. She’d pictured handsome ski instructors and laughing children, building snowmen and cuddling before crackling fires with cups of hot chocolate.
Dragons—and this sick feeling of being far out of her element—had never figured into her dreams.
Sighing, she put the Toyota in gear and rolled slowly toward downtown Crested Butte. Elevation 8,885 feet, proclaimed the city-limits sign. Never mind the population. What was important here was the elevation. In the distance, Casey could see the mountains of Crested Butte Ski Resort, like meringue peaks on a giant pie.
She checked the directions on the computer printout on the seat beside her and searched the street signs for Elk Avenue. She’d been assured that the apartment she’d rented sight unseen was easy to find. “Right on the main drag,” her new boss at the chamber, Heather Allison, had said. “You’ll be able to walk to work.”
Elk Avenue proved to be a collection of colorful Victorian storefronts arrayed behind towering snowdrifts. The sidewalk snaked between the drifts like a carnival maze. Casey checked her directions again and guided the Toyota to a stop in front of a bright pink-and-turquoise building with the number 27 out front. Mad Max’s Snowboards and Bicycle Rental, proclaimed the sign over the door.
Mad Max? Snowboards? Where was the apartment building within walking distance of the office? The dizzy feeling of being out of place returned. Obviously, she’d written the address down wrong. But she might as well get out of the car and ask. Besides, after hours of driving she could stand to stretch her legs.
A string of sleigh bells on the back of the door to the shop jangled as Casey stepped over the threshold. A fat golden retriever stood and ambled over to her, tail wagging slowly. “Hello,” Casey said, scratching the dog behind the ear. “Is anybody else here?”
“That’s Molly. She’s the official greeter.” A smiling man with shaggy brown hair and broad shoulders emerged from a back room. He was dressed in faded jeans and a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt over a green sweater. His face was sunburned and alive with a smile that fairly bowled her over with its welcome. She stared at him for a moment—into eyes the brilliant blue of the Colorado sky. In the small part of her brain that wasn’t preoccupied with admiring him, a warning sounded Danger! Danger! Danger! The last thing she needed right now was to lose her head over some handsome guy. Even if he did look as though he could have posed for one of those charity calendars—Modern Day Mountain Man or something like that.
“Let me guess. You’re Casey Jernigan,” he said.
“How did you know my name?” she asked, trying not to show how nervous the idea made her.
“Saw the Illinois plates on your car,” he said. “And the ficus tree on the front seat gave you away. Not many people vacation with their houseplants.”
She laughed. It was either that or admit she was freaked out that he’d spotted her for a newcomer so easily. But then again, Crested Butte was a small town, with a year-round population of fifteen hundred that easily swelled to six thousand during ski season—or so the visitor’s guide she’d received from the chamber of commerce told her.
“I am Casey Jernigan,” she said, offering her hand.
“Max Overbridge.” He shook her hand with a firm, hearty grip.
“Nice to meet you, Max. And Molly.” She smiled at the dog. “I’ve rented an apartment somewhere around here and can’t find it. Maybe you can point me in the right direction.”
“That would be right over our heads,” Max said. “Park around back and I’ll help you with your things.”
“Overhead?” She shook her head. “No, I’ve rented an apartment. Not retail space.”
“That’s right. There are two of them upstairs. I live in one and rent out the other.”
“Y-you’re my landlord?” she stammered.
“And your neighbor.” He grinned. “See, you came to the right place after all.”
Right. She was going to be living in a bright-pink building, over a snowboard shop. With Adonis here for a neighbor. Well, she’d said she wanted different. This was about as different from her life in Chicago as she could imagine.
She followed him outside and around the side of the building to a set of stairs in the back. Molly trailed them to the top, where Max unlocked a door that opened onto a long hallway. “Your place is the apartment on the left. I’m right across the hall.” He unlocked the door to her apartment and held it open for her.
There were two rooms and a bathroom. The front room was a combination living/dining area with a galley kitchen to the side. She was surprised to see a round cast-iron stove squatting in the corner. “Original to the building,” Max said, opening the stove door. “Firewood’s in a shed out back. Help yourself. It’ll keep the place pretty toasty most days.”
She walked over to one of two large windows looking out onto a side street. Max came and stood behind her. “You’ve got a view of a C.B. landmark,” he said. He pointed toward a tall, rather plain wooden building. “The two-story outhouse.”
“A two-story outhouse?” Was he pulling her leg? Playing the new girl for a fool?
But his expression was perfectly serious. “If you