The Heart Of The Game (34 page)

When they returned to the lodge, Cody left Zoe to tell her story to her family and friends. He spoke briefly with the duty ranger and told him about the slide area. The ranger assured him that they’d put up warning signs at the trailhead. Cody went to his room alone, only half aware of what he was doing as he went through the motions of unpacking his gear and settling in.

He showered, ordered room service, turned on the news. As if world events would distract him from his thoughts.

He considered joining the guys, wherever they were skiing, but he’d already gotten in his cross-country adventure for the day. And he simply didn’t want to talk about Zoe, who would no doubt be the topic of their conversations if he were with them.

He lay on the bed,
not
comparing it to the hard, cold ground where he’d spent the night and not thinking of the activities and the woman that had kept him warm through that night. He draped both arms over his face and started a run-through of statistics on batters in the National League, beginning with the Dodgers.

He awoke a bit groggy, with the sun casting shadows on the far wall and the same news being reported, but by a different newscaster.

Zoe had followed him into his dreams.

He stood, trying to escape his memories.

He stared out the window, across the vast, snow-covered valley surrounded by mile-high peaks. He opened the doors to his balcony and walked onto the narrow deck. Yosemite Falls still flowed in the distance, water trickling a path through ice and snow and plummeting to the rocks below.

The sight was truly magnificent, beauty and strength and endurance combined into one essence. It was stunning. Just like Zoe.

And he had to let her go.

The reality thudded into him with a force he knew well. Truth, when it landed, sometimes landed hard. Boxing Zoe into a place that didn’t suit her would be like expecting an orchid to thrive in the Arctic. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, do that, even if he had the chance.

He sure wasn’t proposing to live in Italy. And he couldn’t ask her to do what he couldn’t do himself. And though he saw in her face, heard in her voice and her choice of words that she was conflicted, that didn’t mean he could horn in and take advantage of her warring feelings and try to turn her away from her plans. She knew what was important to her, and even if she was still in the early stages of finding her path, well, she had to find it in her own way and in her own time. And that truth hurt like hell.

The irony was that he was all in—heart, soul and body—and because of that, because he loved her, he had to back away. Knowing that she cared for him made sticking to his resolve that much harder.

He called the hotel desk and told them he’d be checking out early.

But he would follow through on his hunches about her dad and Vico. Nothing could stop him from making sure she was safe.

Something was up, he could feel it. If he hadn’t had experience listening to his inner voice in the past, he might’ve thought he was being paranoid. Or crazy. But all the signals that he trusted pointed to looming danger.

He punched in his dad’s number. When he didn’t answer, Cody told him to call back as soon as he got in.

The irony of turning to his dad for help to protect the woman he loved hit him. Life had a way of making people rebuild their bridges, but he hadn’t expected to be rebuilding his with his dad this soon. And with complete trust, no less.

Forgiveness had a power that surprised him. The cell he’d locked his heart into had blown out its walls. And for the first time in Cody’s adult life, the wide-open space in front of him didn’t hold its usual, thrilling appeal.

He was in line at the desk to check out when he saw Vico Gualdieri come in from skiing with Adrian. Seeing their chumminess, Cody immediately changed his plans to leave that afternoon and decided to stick around until the next day. He planned to keep an eye on the smooth-talking Italian—even if an evening of being around Zoe without being able to touch and kiss her would be excruciating.

The text tone sounded on his phone just as he returned to his room. Not his dad.

Meet me in at the base of the solarium stairway at 5:30? I need to talk with you.

He wasn’t sure he trusted himself alone with Zoe, even in a place as public as the solarium.

Yes,
he texted back, ignoring his instincts.

A knock sounded on his door. He glanced back at the screen on his phone. No more messages. What he’d been expecting, he wasn’t sure.

He opened the door to find Parker, dressed in a tunic—velvet—and wearing a ridiculous hat.

“This is authentic, I’m told,” Parker said as he breezed into the room. “Eighteenth century. I brought you some duds.” He held out a pile of velvet trimmed with gold braid and God only knew what else. When Cody said nothing, he added, “For the Bracebridge Dinner.”

Cody refused the pile of clothing Parker held out.

“Right. You were otherwise engaged last night when we all discussed our plans.” He nodded toward the wine the room steward had left on a table by the fireplace. “Open that; I’ll fill you in. And thank you for rescuing Zoe. Seems that she was in over her head out there.”

Cody couldn’t believe the enthusiasm that Parker had for the upcoming dinner. They sat and Parker related the details of how the annual holiday celebration had been inspired by Washington Irving’s Sketch Book and that Ansel Adams had once directed the festivities. Cody could only listen as Parker revealed that the Ahwahnee dining room had been converted into an eighteenth-century English manor and that the guests were expected to participate in the elaborate playacting.

“So we literally sing for our supper?” Cody asked. “And here I thought the fees were already steep.”

Parker laughed, saluting Cody with his glass. “You pay extra for the experience,” he said. He reached to the side and selected an item from the bundle of fabric on the table next to him.

“Zoe and I have been chosen to be Squire and Lady Bracebridge,” Parker said as he shook the dust out of the garment. “This tunic should fit you. Hmm... a bit tight in the shoulders.” He held it up toward Cody’s shoulders.

“I am
not
wearing that.”

Parker actually appeared affronted. “You wear all sorts of uniforms.”

“For a reason. A good reason.”

“Then you’ll have to wear a dinner jacket.” He folded the tunic and tucked it under his arm. “You did bring one?”

Cody shook his head, suddenly feeling that at the moment he’d driven into the valley, he’d fallen into a parallel universe. One that was determined to make him as miserable as possible.

“I’ll send one down.” Parker took a swig from the glass of wine he’d poured and sat back, observing Cody. “Zoe can rile the best of us. And mind you, when an Italian marries, you marry the family as well.”

“I’m not riled.” And he certainly wasn’t thinking of marriage. Or was he?

Damn, he had been.

Parker looked him in the eye. “I can see that. You have it
way
worse than riled. Look, at least the Bracebridge will be entertaining. Consider it a welcome diversion.” He glanced at his watch. “Five—hell, I have to give Zoe her script.”

Cody shaved and slipped into the formal shirt and jacket Parker sent down to him. He’d taped a note to the garment bag.

Still time to change your mind. Here’s my room key if you want to grab the togs. See you on the other side.

Hotel guests were already milling at the entrance to the dining room and in the bars when Cody went down to the lobby. Evidently the participants planned their costumes with great care. If he hadn’t known better, he could’ve believed he was in eighteenth-century England. Except for the electric lights and computer monitors at the front desk. He made his way through the Great Lounge, grateful that he didn’t run into anyone he knew. His mind was on Zoe. One hundred aching, effing percent.

The solarium was empty. He settled into a leather chair that faced the staircase and the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out to Glacier Point in the distance. The sun was just setting, its last rays painting the granite with streaks of gold and red.

He heard a door close at the top of the stairway and then he saw a slippered foot on the top stair. He knew that ankle, would know it for life. His heart raced when first the hem of a gown appeared and then the skirt. He stood. Photographers called this time of day the magic hour for good reason. As Zoe floated down the stairs, no vision could’ve looked more magical to him. He barely noticed the low-cut velvet gown and the light shimmering off the jewels sewn onto it. His eyes were on hers.

She smiled when she reached the bottom stair. She remained there, her eyes at the same level as his.

“I should’ve warned you,” she said.

“Parker did, in his own way.” But no warning could have prepared him for seeing her. Giving her up was going to kill him. Already he was dying inside. “You look like a queen.”

She gave a light, nervous laugh. “Just yesterday I was a princess. Has the mountain air aged me that quickly?”

“I meant it as a compliment.”

“Thank you. But I’m supposed to look like a squire’s wife. Parker came up with this gown.”

She looked at something behind him.

“I see that I am interrupting.”

Cody spun around, face to face with Vico.

It was the second time he’d been so lost in his hunger for Zoe that he hadn’t heard someone approach. That wasn’t like him. But hell, neither was losing his mind over wanting a woman.

Vico crossed his arms over the tuxedo jacket he wore. The venomous look in his eyes had jealousy written all over it. Or maybe it wasn’t jealousy. Cody hadn’t felt jealousy since his first year in college, barely remembered the feeling. But he felt it then, and his eyes probably mirrored the glare in Vico’s.

A flame of protective energy lit in Cody’s gut. Instinctively he blocked Zoe from Vico’s sight. He sure as hell didn’t want an asshat like the smooth-talking Vico Gualdieri anywhere near her.

“We were just going to order drinks from the bar,” Zoe said, as if she were oblivious to the energy firing all around her. “Would you like to join us?”

“I wouldn’t think to intrude,” Vico said in the smooth tone that made Cody want to punch him.

“You wouldn’t be intruding,” she said, smiling.

They sat in the bar and ordered drinks. Cody ordered a hot cider.

“Not up for partying, my man?”

If Zoe hadn’t been sipping her champagne and enjoying the evening, he would’ve made it quite clear that he was nobody’s man, especially not Vico’s. The guy had a way of using language as a stealth weapon. Cody found himself seething more by the minute.

Parker stormed into the bar, the feather in his velvet cap making him look like a seven-foot giant.

“
Might
I have my wife?” he said, crooking an arm toward Zoe and affecting an odd-sounding English accent.

Zoe laughed. “You sound ridiculous.”

“I suck at acting,” Parker said. “Otherwise I’d be in Hollywood with Sabrina right now.”

The server brought their bill. Cody whipped out his credit card and laid it in the folder.

“How chivalrous,” Vico said. “As we seem to be in a hurry, I’ll take this up for you.” Before Cody could refuse, Vico had taken the folder and his card to the cashier.

Parker took a sip from Zoe’s unfinished champagne and then waggled his arm. “Shall we? You haven’t even looked at your script.”

Zoe cast Cody a look and touched his arm. “Let’s talk later,” she said in a low voice. “But please, don’t say anything. I... I haven’t spoken with my family yet about”—she glanced at Parker—“about anything.”

Vico returned with the folder for Cody to sign the credit slip. “Perhaps I can buy you a drink after the
charades
have finished, Zoe.” Vico shot a hard look at Cody. “When we all return to the real world and our natural places in it.”

Cody hated that he felt slimed by the guy. Hated even more that he felt the encounter had somehow slimed Zoe.

Zoe walked off with Parker on one side and Vico on the other, laughing and fussing at Parker. Her confession surprised Cody. Here he was thinking how the closeness of her family made him long for that same intimacy, and yet there she was deceiving them. She was merely playing a role.

He clenched one hand.

Were no families as close as he’d imagined them to be, as he’d wished his own family had been?

Was he merely fooling himself, projecting a boy’s wishes into a man’s world?

Zoe’s need to return to Italy, to open the gallery to honor her mother, and to be in the place that she considered home drove her with a force strong enough to make her deceive those she loved. He considered the power of dreams—his own dream drove him. He’d do almost anything to be a starting catcher in the MLB. Almost. But he drew the line at deception and its counterparts. Either he made the starting roster clean and square with the power of his body and brain or he didn’t. He wasn’t willing to twist the truth to get there.