After Hours with Her Ex

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He studied her for a long minute. Seconds ticked past, counting off with every heartbeat. Tension coiled and bristled in the air between them.

“I think,” he said at last, “we just proved that what we had isn’t completely gone.”

“That doesn’t count.”

Surprised, he snorted, and laughter glinted in his eyes for a split second. “Oh, it counts. But we’ll let it go for now.”

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Ridiculous to feel both relieved and irritated all at once. How easily he turned what he was feeling on and off. How easily he had walked away from his life. From her.

“Back to business, then,” he said, voice cool, dispassionate, as if that soul-shaking kiss hadn’t happened. “Yesterday, you and Kristi were talking about the End of Season party.”

“Yes. The plans are finalized.”

Fine. Business she could do. She had been running the Wyatt resort for the past year and she’d done a damn good job. Let him go over the records and he would see for himself that she hadn’t curled up and died just because he left. Lacy had a life she loved, a job she was good at. She was happy, damn it.

Coming around the desk, she ignored him and hit a few keys on the computer to pull up the file. “You can see for yourself, everything’s in motion and right on schedule.”

She moved out of the way as he stepped in to glance at the monitor. Scrolling down, he gave the figures there a quick look, then shifted his gaze to hers. “Looks fine. But end of season’s usually not until March. Why are we closing the slopes early?”

Lacy was on familiar ground here and she relaxed a little as she explained, “There hasn’t been any significant snowfall since early January. Weather’s been cold enough to keep the snowpack in good shape, but we’re getting icy now. Our guests expect the best powder in the world—”

“Yeah,” he said wryly, “I know.”

Of course he knew. He had, just like Lacy, grown up skiing the very slopes they were discussing now. He’d built a life, a profession, a reputation on skiing.

“Right. Then you should appreciate why we’re doing the official closing early.” Lacy walked around the desk until it stood between them again. She sighed and said, “Numbers have been falling off lately. People know there’s no fresh snow, so they’re not in a rush to come up the mountain.

“Throwing the End of Season party early will bring them up here. The hotel’s already booked and we just have two of the cabins left empty...”

“One,” he said, interrupting the flow of words while he continued to scan the plans for the party.

“One what?”

“One cabin’s empty.” He shrugged. “I moved my stuff into Cabin 6.”

A sinking sensation opened up in the pit of her stomach. Cabin 6 was close to her house. Way too close. And he knew that. So had he chosen that cabin purposely? “I thought you’d be staying in the family quarters at the lodge.”

He shook his head. “No. The cabin will suit me. I need the space.”

“Fine,” she said shortly, determined not to let it matter where he stayed. “Anyway, locals will still come ski whether we’re ‘officially’ closed or not. We’ll keep the lifts running and if we get more snow, then others will come, too. But holding the party early gives us publicity that could keep tourists coming in until the snow melts.”

“It’s a good idea.”

He said it grudgingly and Lacy scowled at him. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” he said, then dropped into the desk chair. “You know this place as well as I do. You were a good choice to run the resort. Why would I be surprised that you’re good at your job?”

Was there a compliment in there?

“I want to go over the rest of the records, then, since you’re the manager now, I’ll want to talk tomorrow about the plans for the resort.”

“Fine,” she said, headed for the door. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, then.”

“That’ll work.”

She opened the door and stopped when he spoke again.

“And Lacy...”

She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes met hers. “We’re not done. We’ll never be done.”

There was nothing she could say to that, so she left, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

That kiss stayed with him for hours.

For two years, he’d lived without her. It hadn’t been easy, especially at first. But the grief and rage and guilt had colored everything then and he’d buried her memory in the swamp of other emotions. He’d convinced himself she was fine because the reality was too brutal. She’d come to haunt him at night of course. His sleep was crowded with her image, with her scent, with her taste.

And now he’d had a taste of her again and his system was on fire.

Need crouched inside him, clawing at his guts, tearing at what was left of his heart. He’d loved her back then. But love hadn’t been enough to survive his own pain. Now there was desire, rich and thick and tormenting him in ways he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d seen Lacy Sills.

She’d said she had a new man. Who the hell was touching her? Who heard her whisper of breath when she climaxed? Who felt her small, strong hands sliding up and down his skin? It was making Sam crazy just thinking about it. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop, either.

Yeah, none of it was rational. He didn’t care.

When he’d headed home, his only thought had been for his father. Worry had driven every action. He hadn’t stopped to think what it would be like to be near Lacy again. To face her and what he’d done by leaving. His heart told him he was a bastard, but his brain kept reminding him that he’d had to leave. That he might have made even more of a mess of things if he’d stayed.

Now he was here, for at least a few months. How was he going to make it without touching her? Answer—he wouldn’t. The truth was, he was going to touch her. As soon and as often as possible. Her response to his kiss told him that whether she wanted to admit it or not, she wanted him, too. So to hell with the new guy, whoever he was.

Sam turned in the chair and looked out at the night. The lights glittering in the Salt Lake Valley below smudged the horizon with a glow that dimmed the stars. His gaze shifted, sweeping across the resort, where lights were golden, tossing puddled yellow illumination on the snow. It was pristine, beautiful, and he’d missed the place.

Acknowledging it was hard, but Sam knew that coming back here eased something inside him that had been drawn tight as a bowstring for two years. Coming home hadn’t been easy. He’d spent the past two years trying to convince himself that he’d never come back. Now that he was here, though, there were ghosts to face, the past to confront and, mostly, there was the need to make a kind of peace with Lacy.

But then, he thought as he stood and walked out of the office, maybe it wasn’t peace he was after with her.

* * *

For the next few days, Lacy avoided him at every turn and Sam let her get away with it. There was time to settle what was between them. He didn’t have to rush, and besides, if he made her that nervous, drawing out the tension would only make her more on edge.

And that could only work to his benefit. Lacy cool and calm wasn’t what he wanted. The temper she’d developed intrigued him and made him think of how passionate she had always been in bed. Together, they had been combustible. He wanted that back.

He glanced at her and almost smiled at the deliberate distance she kept. As if it would help. As if it could cool the fires burning between them. The day was cold and clear and the snow-covered ground at the summit crunched underfoot as they walked toward the site for the restaurant he was planning.

Tearing his gaze from Lacy momentarily, Sam studied the snack shop that had been there since before he was born. Small and filled with tradition, it had outlived its purpose. These days, most people wanted healthy food, not hot dogs smothered in mustard and chili.

“What’re you thinking?” Lacy looked up at him, clearly still irritated that he’d dragged her away from the inn to come up here and look around.

He glanced at her. “That I want a chili dog.”

For a split second, the ice in her eyes drained away. “You always did love Mike’s chili.”

“I’ve been all over the world and never found anything like it.”

“Not surprising,” Lacy answered. “I think he puts rocket fuel in that stuff.”

Sam grinned and she gave him a smile in return that surprised and pleased him. A cold wind rushed across the mountaintop and lifted her blond braid off her shoulder. Her cheeks were pink, her blue eyes glittering and she looked so good it was all he could do not to grab her. But even as he thought it, her smile faded.

“I think we’ll keep the snack shack for old time’s sake,” he said, forcing himself to look away from her and back out over the grounds where he would build the new restaurant. “But the new place, I’d like it to go over there,” he pointed, “so the pines can ring the back of it. We’ll have a deck out there, too, a garden area, and the trees will provide some shade, as well.”

She looked where he pointed and nodded. “It’s a good spot. But a wood deck requires a lot of upkeep. What about flagstone?”

Sam thought about it. “Good idea. Easier to clean, too. I called Dennis Barclay’s construction company last night and he’s going to come up tomorrow, make some measurements, draw up some plans so we can go to the city and line up the permits.”

“Dennis does good work.” She made a note on her iPad. “Franklin stone could lay the gravel paths and the flagstone. They’ve got a yard in Ogden with samples.”

“Good idea. We can check that out once we get the permits and an architect’s drawing on the restaurant.”

“Right.” Her voice was cool, clipped. “We used Nancy Frampton’s firm for the addition to the inn.”

“I remember.” He nodded. “She’s good. Okay, I’ll call and talk to her tomorrow. Tell her what we want up here.”

She made another note and he almost chuckled. She was so damn determined to keep him at arm’s length. To pretend that what they’d shared in the office last night hadn’t really happened. And he was willing to let that pretense go on. For a while.

“As long as you’re making notes, write down that we want to get some ideas for where to build an addition to the inn. I want it close enough to the main lodge that it’s still a part of us. But separate, too. Maybe joined by a covered walkway so even during storms, people can go back and forth.”

“That’d work.” She stopped, paused and said, “You know, a year ago, we put in a restaurant-grade stove, oven and fridge in the main lodge kitchen. We’re equipped to provide more than breakfast and lunch now.”