“Because the longest relationship I’ve ever been in was the one with my wife, and it started when we were in high school. To be fair, it started long before that. I knew her almost my entire life. I assumed I’d spend the rest of my life with her. Turns out, it was only the rest of her life.” He blinked, and his eyes were so very blue. “So even though she’s gone, and I know she is, sometimes it rears up to surprise me in the strangest ways. You can’t . . . know someone that long and suddenly know how to handle it when they just disappear from your life. You can’t be with someone that long and not still feel the need to step in, to fight for them, to protect them.”
I couldn’t believe he was talking to me, like really talking to me. This was such a one-eighty from everything that had happened up until now. He’d been so closed off and angry up to this point, and now he was opening up? And about something so tragic. “I can’t even begin to imagine.” And that was the truth. I’d never felt the need to protect anyone other than myself. There was certainly no one to watch out for me. Ever.
“I meet new people every single day in this business. They come into what I feel like for all intents and purposes is my home, and I welcome them and make them comfortable. No one knows the story, no one knows what happened, because these are all new people you see, and they’re just here for the lake and canoes and the hiking.”
“And the fireplaces, you have some really great fireplaces,” I added, and he grinned. He really should grin more, it does incredible things to his face. There’s a sense of heavy that I sometimes feel around Archie, a sense that he’s seen too much for a young man. When he smiles, that goes away. The lines soften, smooth out, lines that I now know were put there by tragedy.
“And the fireplaces,” he agreed. “The people who work here, they’re my family. They know the story, they know everything, so they never mention it. Why would they? So you see, it’s a very safe place for me. And then someone comes in, someone I never wanted here in the first place.”
I raised my hand. “That would be me.”
“That would be you.” Another smile. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”
“Am I supposed to answer that?”
“You asked about my wife.”
I took a deep breath. “I did.”
“Why?”
I wanted to walk to him. I wanted to go over to him and lean up on my tippiest toes and press a soft kiss on his cheek, but oh boy, there were ninety-nine reasons why I shouldn’t and no real reason why I should.
Other than every single fiber of my being wanted to do so, and not stop there.
So I did the only thing I could do. I sat on my hands. And tried to explain. “You’re also a huge pain in the ass, and I don’t mind telling you that. In fact, someone should tell you that, repeatedly and often. But when I found out about your wife”—his eyes sprang open, searching—“you became more than just an ass. It’s not pity, but I did feel sad for you. I asked the wrong person. I should’ve asked you.”
He sighed. “When someone dies, the people left behind, no one quite knows what to do with them. They don’t want to talk about it, but sometimes you need to talk about it. But I never liked knowing that other people were talking, does that make sense?”
“It makes perfect sense.” I nodded. “So you tell me about her.”
“You sure we shouldn’t talk about what just happened? Up there?” His eyes flickered up to the observation tower, observing us right at this very moment.
“Oh, we’re gonna talk about that, Mr. Bryant,” I said, arching my eyebrow, “especially how you took matters into your own hands up there. And by matters, I’m speaking specifically of my ass.”
“I did nothing of the kind,” he murmured, the indigo flashing fire once more. “Your hips, on the other hand . . .”
“Remind me to chase you up a mountain more often.”
He laughed then, and it was magic. And it was into this magic that I did walk over to him, reach up toward him, not with my lips but with my hand, and gently brush back the shock of auburn hair that had fallen down over his forehead. He closed his eyes, then instantly leaned into my touch, almost like a cat. Jesus, when was the last time someone had touched this guy?
The truth was, however, it’d be the last time I’d be touching him, at least in this way. “And since people seem to go a little crazy up on these mountains, I recommend we stay a bit closer to the ground.”
His eyes remained closed, and he nodded, agreeing with my words. But he didn’t pull away just yet, and neither did I.
In the end, it was people coming up the trail, other early birds anxious to get out in the nice weather this morning that blew apart our little world inside the summerhouse. We backed away from each other, finally putting a respectable and appropriate distance between us.
But even at that respectable distance, his eyes blazed with heat.
The next day I arrived at the morning meeting and was surprised to see Archie there. Surprised because he hadn’t attended all week, only coming to meetings that he was specifically requested to attend and then to either sit and listen and not volunteer any information, or if asked a direct question respond in such a way as to prompt an argument with me as soon as he could.
Today when I walked in he immediately rose, brought me a cup of coffee, two sugars and a splash of cream, exactly the way I take it, and before I could stammer out anything he turned me toward the rest of the group and announced, “Starting today I will be embracing Ms. Morgan.”
I didn’t quite spit-take my coffee, but only because I’d swallowed it almost entirely, burning my esophagus in the meantime and blistering my tongue. The rest of the team simply stared at him in anticipation, wondering what in the hell kind of meeting this was about to become.
My reaction and their staring prompted him to immediately reevaluate his words, and he offered a nervous laugh. “Embracing her ideas, of course, her ideas. I’ve been, well, I think we can all agree, a real pain in the ass up until this point.”
I raised my hand. Although, to be fair, I might’ve been signaling someone to bring me ice cubes for my throat.
“Some of her ideas may be a bit unconventional, but I’m willing to try and see things her way. Within reason, of course.”
“Of course,” I croaked out, managing a smile while wondering what in the world he was up to.
Famous last words. The truce lasted barely an hour. By ten thirty he was frustrated, I was irritated beyond belief, and I wanted nothing more than to pick up my now empty coffee cup and whap him squarely in the middle of the forehead with it.
“You can’t keep dragging your feet on this, Mr. Bryant, it’s got to happen this way or we will literally never get anywhere.”
“Nothing has got to happen until I say it’s got to happen, Ms. Morgan, and I’ll thank you to remember that. I’m willing, more than willing, I think, to look into upgrading some of the rooms, but—”
“Not upgrading. Overhauling. New mattresses. New bedding. New pillows. Speaking from my own experience here, my bed, in a word? Sucks.”
“The beds don’t suck, Ms. Morgan,” he sputtered. “And I’ll thank you to remember that each of those beds has been a part of this hotel for over a century—”