Here Comes Trouble (25 page)

Brett understood the unspoken challenge. “I didn’t change my mind. Not about Maksimov. And not about coming back to work with you. I never told you I would. You do know that.”

Dan snorted. “You’ve only done two things in your life. Play poker and work for my dad, then me. When you gave up poker, what the hell was I supposed to think you were gonna do, huh? Of course I thought you’d come over full time. Hell, I was all ready to propose a partnership. I know you want to design shit, with those degrees you have and all. I was willing to accommodate that.”

“I don’t want to design homes in the desert.”

“What, not good enough for the likes of you now?”

“You know better than that. It’s just not the challenge I want.”

“And what the hell is?”

Brett thought about telling him, about the property he’d found today, about the business idea that had sprung, almost fully formed and too stunningly perfect to be anything but exactly the right thing for him to do. Or at least try. But that business plan involved him…and Kirby. Probably not the best time to spring that tidbit on his oldest and dearest friend.

Then another thought occurred to him. Wouldn’t have ever crossed his mind before, but that was before he understood the reality Dan was facing. Personally and professionally. What if…

“Maybe I’m the one with a proposition for you?”

Dan let his feet slide off the table and thump to the floor as he shoved himself out of the chair and scuffed back to the kitchen for another beer. “I already told you. Not interested.”

“I’m not offering a handout, or a loan for that matter. I’m offering a new business venture opportunity.”

Dan screwed off the lid of the beer and turned around, facing him fully for the first time.

Brett had to work not to wince as he caught the full scope of the damage someone had done to Dan’s face.

“What kind of opportunity?” He lifted his beer in a warning gesture. “Patronize me and I’ll kick your sorry, over-educated ass. So you better have a straight plan in mind and not some elaborate scheme to dump some of your money in my bank account. I work for what I have. We might not all have freak talent like you do, but I’m damn proud of what I built, what my father did before me. That means something.”

He crossed back into the room and dropped heavily back into the chair, wincing a little as he propped his feet up once again. Giving up all pretenses of pretending his face hadn’t been beat all to hell, he rolled the cold bottle over his cheek and groaned a little. “Go on,” he said when Brett simply sat there and watched. “I’m not gonna keel over from a little thump to the head. You know it’s hard. Take a lot more than a fast fist to put me down.”

“You gonna tell me what really happened?”

“Well, obviously, I got in a little fight. It was nothing. Don’t worry about it.” He propped the beer on his stomach. “Go on. What’s this amazing new deal all about? Funny how you didn’t mention it this afternoon, but go on, I’m all ears.”

Dan was a little drunk, more than a little pissed off, and a whole lot hurt. So Brett tried to rein in his own temper. He also tried not to feel sad. Dan didn’t deserve his pity. What he deserved was a good friend who could find a way out of whatever mess he’d gotten himself into.

“Actually, all the pieces just started falling into place today. Before I ran into you,” he added. “It’s still in the idea stage, but I think it has real potential.”

Dan tried and failed to maintain his look of casual disinterest. His body was still slouched in the chair, feet and beer propped, but his eyes had lasered in quite directly on Brett’s now.

Brett wondered if he was more impaired by alcohol or the fight he’d gotten into. Dan wasn’t what anyone would call a hothead. He wasn’t a gambler, either, that Brett knew about anyway. Running a football pool with some of his employees was about the extent of it. Dan had never gotten into the casino life, leaving that to Brett. He worked long hours, rarely took a full day off, and never took vacations. The occasional strip club night out with some of his crew maybe, but that’s about it.

In fact, if he wasn’t sitting there with a face that had been used as a punching bag, Brett would have discounted Maksimov’s comments as nothing other than trying to stir up some trouble to see what might shake loose.

“Well?” Dan prodded. “You gonna tell me what’s got your designer knickers all knotted up or not?”

“They’re Levi’s,” Brett said, trying harder not to get exasperated. He and Dan had their moments, but this was a snide side he’d never heard. “So, I found an old log cabin, up in the hills on a ride today. Falling down, abandoned, lot totally overgrown. Then, on the way down, I passed by an old farmhouse, barn, silo. Beautiful creek running through the property, wide open spaces. Looks like it’s been empty for some time now, too.”

“Fascinating. What has this got to do with us?”

“It got me to thinking, with the resort newly opened, over time, there will be a need for vacation housing, time-shares, as well as full-time homes for people who are drawn into the growing development, that kind of thing.”

“You mean the kind of thing we already have in Vegas?”

“I don’t want to build tract housing. Even ridiculously over-the-top Liberace mansion tract housing. I’m talking smaller, intimate, one-of-a-kind places, unique in structure and suited to the landscape here, both mountain and valley.” He leaned forward, excited now that he’d finally gotten to tell someone. Saying it out loud wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he’d thought it would be. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He was really going to do this. It had already grabbed his heart. “I want to work with what’s already here, as well as build new.”

“And you think I should take the company that my dad spent his lifetime building, that I inherited, and what, chuck it? Sell it? Move east? Holy hell, Brett, what has this chick done to your brain?” He made a little crazy motion next to his head with the beer bottle. “No, seriously, are you even listening to yourself? I’m asking you to come home—home, bro—and work side-by-side with me, and you turn me down flat. Now you have the nerve to invite me to what…work for you? Are you fucking serious?” He downed the beer in one swig and stood, albeit a bit unsteadily. “I’m going to bed. Frankly, I don’t care what the hell you do. But as of this moment, I think it’s safe to say you can officially leave me out of it. Thanks for nothing.” And with that, he tossed the empty beer bottle in the general vicinity of the kitchen, where it bounced from counter to floor—thankfully not shattering—before stalking off to the master bedroom and kicking the double doors shut behind him.

Brett sat, perfectly still, on the couch opposite where Dan had just been sitting, wondering what in the hell had happened to his best friend since he’d left Vegas. That was not the Dan he knew and loved. Granted, maybe he should have thought through his presentation a little bit better, given the status of their relationship when he’d shown up this evening. Hell, he hadn’t even been thinking of Dan when the idea had hatched in his head. He’d been thinking of Kirby, and partnering her into the business using her excellent interior design skills. What she’d done with the inn, the personal touches, the local flourishes, the natural warmth she’d created…that’s how he pictured these places.

He’d design and do the reno, she’d design and decorate the interior, then they’d sell it and move on to the next project. His biggest concern was whether she’d want to take on something like that while running the inn, but he figured his busy season would be her slow season, so perhaps it would be the perfect partnership. He’d help her out in the winter with the inn and guests; she’d jump in with him in the spring and summer.

He hadn’t really thought about Dan, or bringing him in, until just about thirty minutes ago. The truth of it was, he really wanted a fresh start, and he wanted to share this new adventure with Kirby. He wanted a break from his past. Not to abandon it, but to move forward. He’d always love Dan, Vanetta, and the rest of the friends he’d made back in Nevada.

But here…this was where he wanted to be now. And he’d meant what he’d started to say, he hadn’t thought about it, but now that he was, yes, he’d take Dan on, too, form some kind of partnership. If Dan were remotely acting like Dan, anyway. They would make a good team in this endeavor. Dan’s strengths were in building solid structures with solid craftsmanship. Brett could design and help with construction, but Dan would make the perfect site manager and project foreman.

He acknowledged that his offer had been seen as an insult, and he even got where Dan was coming from. He’d been clumsy, at best, thoughtless at worst, in presenting it to him as he had. He didn’t know what to tell Dan about his dad’s company, or where he should go. Maybe Dan needed a fresh start, too. Though good luck convincing his deeply entrenched, routine-loving best friend of that possibility.

He spent a few more minutes considering if there was a way to expand on the Vegas business and just branch it out. He thought about what Kirby had said, about it being hard on Dan to have a friend who was a well-known celebrity, that his ego could only take so much. So he’d make Dan a full partner in this new endeavor so it didn’t come off sounding like he was offering Dan a job in his own damn industry, the one place where Dan was supposed to have the leverage and expertise in their friendship.

He hung his head and let the tension roll from his shoulders. Then he knocked back the rest of the beer before getting up and retrieving the other bottle, throwing them both in the trash.

He let himself quietly out of the suite, trying to decide what the best next step would be. But though the ride down in the elevator didn’t bring any answers regarding his friend, he did know what the next step was going to be with Kirby.

Smiling despite still feeling deeply unsettled about the situation with Dan, he climbed on his bike and headed home.

K
irby carted the last load of quilts and bedspreads through the screen porch and out to the backyard where she’d resurrected the old rotating laundry line. It was still warm and the air fresh and dry enough that she thought it would be nice to give them all a good airing before her guests started arriving that weekend.

So, she might have shaken them loose with a bit more force than was absolutely necessary, but it was a harmless enough way to burn off excess energy. Energy she’d been hoping to burn off another way entirely. Except it didn’t appear as if Brett had come back last night. Or if he had, he was already up and out early this morning. He never made his bed and she hadn’t done his room yesterday assuming she’d get to it this morning. After they got up. Together.

She snapped out another blanket. Of course it was her fault. She’d told him to go be with his friend, hadn’t she? And she’d meant it. But that was when she’d thought he was coming back, when she could serve him the dish she’d kept warm in the oven for him, share a late-night glass of wine, and then maybe carry the bottle upstairs with them.

She swore under her breath as she flipped the heavy quilt up and over the line, then some more as she tugged it so it laid smoothly over the laundry cord. Would it have killed him to have at least called? She’d been all dreamy and thinking about their future after he left and then…nothing. She turned around, ready to shake out another blanket, only to discover she’d done them all. She picked up the basket and propped it on her hip, giving the linens a final look over.

Great. “Now what in the hell am I supposed to do?” she muttered.

“Well, they look kind of dry to me already, so you’ve got me.”

She swung around and wished she was slightly less thrilled to see him, that her heart hadn’t done a little twist and leap inside of her chest, and that her body hadn’t gone on full-tilt alert the moment she laid eyes on his smile. Because it would have been a hell of a lot easier to be at least a little put out with him, or at the very least, more believable.

“I’m airing them out,” she said, striving for complete indifference. But well aware that the thin, long-sleeve T-shirt she had on, and the complete lack of bra, was probably making it clear she was anything but. Maybe she could blame it on the breeze. If there was one.

“Do they need monitoring, or could I pull you away?”

Every particle of her being shouted “Pull! Pull!” She didn’t even try pulling off the bluff. Brett was definitely not the guy to try that with. “Pull me away where?” Her thoughts had already strayed up to his bedroom, and it was only a miracle of will that her gaze didn’t follow.

Then she realized he was holding something behind his back. Which turned out to be a motorcycle helmet. Her particles sank a little.

“I was hoping I could convince you to come on a ride with me. Up in the hills.”

If that last part was supposed to reassure her, he had missed the mark. “Why the sudden urge for a road trip?”

“I want to show you something. Two somethings, in fact.”

Then it clicked into place. She’d been so busy pouting and being put out by his not coming home to her last night that she’d forgotten all about the thing he’d started to tell her about. “Does this have something to do with the house you started to tell me about?”

He nodded. “Everything to do with it. Come on, I’ve been dying to show you, to tell you all about it.”

Could have fooled me,
the pouty part of her still wanted to say. Fortunately the mature side of her brain prevailed. “Couldn’t we take my truck? Then we could talk on the way and you can tell me about it.” She cocked her head. “Are you…pouting? Did I just see you stick your bottom lip out?” Like he needed to be more adorable.

He lifted the helmet. “I don’t want to tell you. I want to show you. And besides, on my bike I can have you all wrapped around me.”

Her body leapt right on board with that suggestion. But her body was shallow. Her body wasn’t the part that was going to give her nightmares about suffering a road rash fatality. That was her head. The same rational part that was going to turn his suggestion down. Flat.

“You can duck your head behind mine. Close your eyes. But I honestly think once we turn up the mountain road you’re not going to want to hide. It’s nothing like riding through town or in traffic.” At her continued mutinous expression—okay, okay, maybe it was more dubious by then because her damn body wasn’t backing down—he added, “If you hate this ride, I won’t ask you to do it again. The truck will be the automatic default vehicle.” He held up his hand in some configuration, changed it a few times, and then grinned broadly and said, “Scouts honor. At least I’m sure they would honor my word. If I’d been a scout.”

She couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Okay. But this will be it for me, just saying that up front.”

“Wait until you see a mountain sunset from the back of a bike; you might change your mind. At least try and keep an open one.”

“Why don’t we start with open eyes and go from there?” she said, then added, “Will we be gone that long?”

“I know you have a million and one things to do, and we could postpone until after—”

“No, it’s not that. Actually, I’ve been ready for days now. I’m at the point where I’m rearranging every piece of furniture and second guessing dried flower arrangements—do purple heather or marigolds strike just the right accent with the wedding ring quilt—that kind of thing. Getting out of here for a day would probably be the best thing for me. You’d never know I handled fully booked international resorts in my day. It’s silly to be so nervous—”

“Not silly.” He set the helmets aside and took the laundry basket from her arms and set that next to them. Then he cupped her elbows, drawing her hands up to his shoulders before pulling her into his arms. “That was a corporate-owned entity, and even if you were part of that corporation, it’s not the same. Here you’re inviting people into the place you created, the place you call home. It’s personal. And I think it shows how great an innkeeper you are that you’re so concerned about the details.” He tugged her closer to him. “In fact, it’s your very attention to detail and your good eye that I’m hoping to exploit.”

“Really,” she said, her brows quirking. “That’s a new approach.”

He laughed. “That wasn’t sexual innuendo. In that case, I meant it straightforwardly.” He tipped her chin up to his. “However, I’m not above—or beneath—a little innuendo if it will get me in tight with the innkeeper.”

She smiled up into his dancing eyes. “Now there’s an innuendo.”

“Isn’t it, though?” he murmured, and captured her mouth.

It started as a simple, sweet kiss, with all that banked steamy stuff that was always below the surface with them, just simmering along. But then she might have sighed a little, possibly moaned when he pulled her tight against him so his hips could rock against her stomach. And the kiss dipped right past sweet and dove straight into that carnal place. She definitely moaned then.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and he held her face in his wide palms with more determination, his mouth slanting more heavily over hers as he sought out what he wanted…and got it.

She was considering the merits of distracting him from his proposed motorcycle ride with another, far more enjoyable ride, when he broke the kiss and laughed.

That caught her up short. When her eyes finally came back into focus, she said, “What was funny? Did I miss something?”

“No, it was…it was us, this. Not a ha ha laugh, more an amazed laugh.” He pulled her up into his arms so her feet barely touched the ground, and kissed her mouth, then the tip of her nose, and as he let her slide back down his body—making them both suck in a quick, shuddering gasp—he kissed her forehead, too. It should have felt patronizing, or…something. But it was endearing and sweet and made her feel a little…cherished. Which might have been silly, but there it was anyway.

“Amazed at…?” she led, knowing she shouldn’t fish like that, so blatantly, but she’d been giving a lot of thought to what he’d said before, about staying, about finding something that had sparked his interest—beyond just a fling with the local innkeeper.

And she’d dared, on occasion, when she couldn’t shore up her defenses well enough, to think about what it would be like. If he stayed. And the picture that painted was too good, too perfect, too…exactly what she wanted most, to allow herself to wallow around in it. Staying in the moment, and enjoying it, were one thing. Planning a future with a guy who had no mapped-out future…not so smart.

“What’s amazing is this. You. Us.”

There’s an us?
she wanted to ask. Which sounded obtuse, for, as far as she knew, there wasn’t anyone else and they clearly were voluntarily staying connected to one another.

“I won’t lie to you, Kirby. I’ve never felt this before. That kind of instant connection. And time is going on, and it feels so new and fantastic, but also like I’ve been right here, in this place, with you, forever. It’s that comfortable. And comforting.” He laughed again, but it was with a definite self-deprecating edge. “You’re probably wondering how in the hell to tell me that it’s just a fling for you. And tell me, Kirby, if that’s what this is. Or all it can be, for you.” He tipped her chin back up, lowered his mouth again. “And tell me soon. Because I’m falling here. And I really, really like where I’m landing.”

Her heart started pounding so hard she didn’t know if she’d survive it and another passionate kiss from him. She felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest. “I—” She broke off, and his mouth hovered just above hers. In that split second, she wanted to pour out all the confusing and wonderful and terrifying feelings she was developing for him. After all, hadn’t he just handed her the perfect opening, backed up with his own admission? What more did she want? A guarantee her heart wasn’t going to be decimated a week from now? A month? A year?

Half her head was telling her to backpedal, to buy more time, to see where things were going when they weren’t all caught up like this. Problem was, they were always caught up like this. Even when they were two floors, or half a town, apart. This…connection, between them, existed all the time. Which was why half of her heart was telling her to jump, take the risk, what the hell.

“There isn’t a thing I’d trade, or change, about this.” Except maybe being more certain about where it was going. And that it was going. But she didn’t say that part.

His smile stayed, but his gaze took on a more probing look as he used his powers of people reading to look deep into hers. It should have unnerved her, used to. Not so much anymore, she realized. She liked that he got her, that he didn’t have to ask a million questions, or just guess. He looked at her. And he knew. It was a little daunting. But it was also a huge relief. Because then she didn’t have to find the words.

“You’re not sure of me, are you,” he said, not making it a question. “I understand that. I do. But if that’s all you’re worried about, come with me. Up into those hills. I have something I want to show you, something I want to ask you. And maybe then you’ll see that I’m not a man of flowery speeches and given to jumping on a whim. But know this, Kirby Farrell. I am a man who takes his time figuring things out when the hand’s not clear…but when he knows that what he has is a winner, he totally goes for broke.” Then he grinned again, and that light was fully back in his eyes. “And when I play like that, I pretty much always win.”

He leaned down and took her mouth in a kiss that was both a confident claiming—and he had every reason to believe he had because she certainly kissed him back with equal passion—and felt a lot like a promise.

Then, while she was trying to figure out how to handle all of this, he reached down and plucked up the helmets. “Come on,” he said. “Ride with me.”

She took the helmet, thinking that climbing on the back of his bike and wrapping herself around him while they flew up the side of a winding mountain road was probably not the smartest thing to do with her head spinning like it was. And her heart tilting. But then she was putting it on and walking around the corner of the house, and a minute later, holding on for dear life as they rolled down the long driveway…then took off like a shot toward the outskirts of town.

She was just about to jerk on his shoulder and motion for him to pull over so she could see her life flash before her eyes while sitting still, when he took a turn off the main road, past the edge of town, and suddenly they were in a totally different world. A narrow lane, no houses, no other vehicles zooming past, just trees and more trees as the road wound its way up and around and through them. There were glimpses, on the turns, of the town below on one side, and valley that stretched out below that on the other. She didn’t even realize that she’d kept her eyes open until she caught herself craning to look around him, waiting for that next overlook, to see the view.

She slid her arms farther around him, and as they leaned to one side, then the other, as the road became twistier, she started to get the feel of the road, the movement, and they way they wound their way through each bend and turn, their bodies moving as one unit, along with the bike. And…she realized she was liking it. A lot.

As they kept climbing, her grip on him went from one of panicked determination to one of desired connection. She liked having him between her legs like this, she realized, with the power of the bike thrumming beneath them. It was rather…visceral.

She smiled privately to herself and wondered what she’d say to him when they got to wherever it was they were going. Maybe he already knew, from the way she was holding him, that she’d changed her mind about riding. He always knew.

And that’s when it kind of all clicked into place for her. He knew her. Bottom line. He got her, honestly, completely, without reservation. He listened, and he asked, and he talked to her and with her, and it all came so naturally, so easily. There was no effort being made to try, no need to impress or go out of his way—or hers—to do or say things intended to elicit a certain result. They were just being themselves. And that’s when she realized that she’d never really been herself in her relationship with Patrick. Not all of herself, anyway. She’d kept a lot to herself, things she didn’t think he’d understand, or wouldn’t want to hear, thinking that was just the compromise of any partnership.