Chapter Thirteen

After a night of tossing and turning, Starr welcomed the beep of her phone alarm at six thirty the next morning. She dragged herself into the kitchen, turned on the coffeemaker, and sat across from it at the kitchen table watching the dark liquid trickle into the pot.

What the heck was she doing? It had started so simply: help Matt. The kid had been her neighbor and her student. He was in trouble and needed help. It was very straightforward. Until Spencer got involved. Of all people for Matt to pickpocket, why did it have to be Spencer? For a guy who professed to want no part of her new “project,” Spencer stuck to her like a goat head thorn and wouldn’t let go. He literally wouldn’t go home.

Where was he, anyway? Still sleeping or just avoiding her? Argh…why did she care?

Frustration boiled inside, a geyser ready to explode. She didn’t want Spencer’s help. Worse, she didn’t want the way her body went haywire every time he came near. Her senses on hyper-alert and her skin tingling, craving his touch. Longing for his arms to wrap around her. Muscular arms. Firm, big. Were other body parts just as big?

She shook her head. She needed to get Spencer on a plane and far away from here. Far away from her.

The coffee finished brewing, and she checked her watch. She should wake up JJ. No, let him sleep. He’d done a great job with the morning chores these past few days. Besides, she’d need something to occupy her time—and her mind—once he left for school and Starr was stuck with Spencer, assuming he was still bent on staying. She poured a large mug of coffee and sat back at the table, enjoying the view through the window of the bright, mango-orange sunrise.

Her phone rang. Who on earth is calling so early? She looked at the screen, and the sunrise suddenly soured.

“Robert,” she said drily, answering the phone. “It’s a bit early in the morning, don’t you think?”

“Come on, babe. I know you’re an early riser. You definitely got parts of me rising some mornings…”

Her stomach recoiled at the memory, one she wished she could erase. “What can I do for you?” she asked, refusing to take his bait.

Robert chuckled. “Just checking in. Have you made it out yet? You know, have you—”

“I know what you’re asking, and no, I haven’t.” She couldn’t even say the word—skied. The word stapled itself to her tongue, refusing to come out. “But I will. Soon.”

“You know those promos—”

“Aren’t the only thing I’m doing for MogulMania.”

“But right now, they’re the most important. We’d start small—interviews on a few blog sites. I can push back the feature in SkiLife for a few months.”

A magazine feature? Starr squeezed her coffee mug, imagining the stress ball she used during her sessions with Dr. Parnell.

“But you need to actually be back skiing. You can’t promote MogulMania products very effectively if the day you wore them you fell to pieces and never recovered.” He sighed. “You’re making my job very difficult.”

His job. Of course. This was all about him. How the accident had affected poor, poor him.

“Is this the only reason you called, Robert? Because if it is, you’ve wasted your time and mine.”

“No, no, of course not.” Fake charisma coated his words. “I’m going to be in town on Saturday, passing through.”

“Really?” Bull. Reno wasn’t a pass-through town to anywhere.

“Do you have time to meet? There’s some other business we need to discuss.”

“What other business?”

“Company business. I don’t have time to go into it now. But it’s important and can’t be put off. So, what do you say? I can swing by your brother’s ranch, if you’d like. Or we can meet in town for lunch. My treat, for old time’s sake?”

She could survive one lunch, especially if it had to do with MogulMania. “Fine, lunch. There’s a new Italian bistro at the Lucky Lane downtown.”

“Great. Let’s say noon? I’ll text you when I get in.”

“Sure.” She clicked off the phone and rubbed her temples with her fingers, wishing she could crawl back into bed and restart this day.

Instead, she poured herself a second mugful of coffee and gulped it down just as JJ shuffled into the kitchen.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” She got up and rubbed his arm, planting a quick kiss on top of his forehead before he could pull away. “How’d you sleep?” She placed her empty mug on the counter.

“Okay.” He yawned.

“Listen, it’s late already, so I’ll feed the animals in a bit. Eat some cereal and then get ready for school.”

“Really? Cool.” He yawned again, grabbing a cereal bowl from the cupboard. He filled the bowl with Froot Loops and milk and carried it to the table. “Why is Spencer back?” he asked, sliding into his seat and chowing down.

“How’d you know?”

“That bedroom door was closed,” he said, mouth full of cereal. “So I peeked in.”

Of course.

“Is he here to stay?” The boy’s tone was hopeful, irritatingly so. Spencer had managed to Xbox himself into JJ’s comfort zone. Dang him.

“No,” she said.

From the doorway, Spencer cleared his voice. “Actually, I’ll be here for a few days, kid.”

JJ’s eyes widened, in direct contrast to Starr’s, which narrowed at Spencer. His hair was catawampus and he was dressed in clothes Starr had pulled out for him the last time—sweats and another tee of Noah’s. He looked comfortable, bare feet and all. Too comfortable. She glared.

“That’s awesome,” JJ declared. “Isn’t it, Aunt Starr?”

Starr gritted her teeth. “It’s certainly something.”

Spencer’s lips twitched, his expression way too smug. And JJ’s was way too happy.

Spencer’s phone rang. He checked the screen, then answered. “Hello, Kate.”

Kate? Dumped Kate? What was this, the morning that exes came back to life?

“Next month? I don’t know.” He winked at Starr when he noticed her watching him. “I know it’s important. I’ll do my best, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

Guarantee what? Was she actually asking for a favor? After how Spencer had treated her, why on earth would she ask him for anything?

“It’s no problem. I’ll get back to you.” He clicked off the phone but didn’t say anything. Not that he had to; it was his own private conversation. Still, it’s not like Starr had eavesdropped on purpose. She waited, hoping he’d say something that she could parlay into a question about the call. Instead, he walked toward her to the counter, got a mug from the cupboard, and poured himself some coffee. Slowly. Deliberately. Silently.

She finally couldn’t stand it any longer. “Was that Wedding Day Kate?”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised in surprise, like he’d forgotten Starr had overheard him that day. “Yeah.”

And?

Fine, she’d ask, but only because it was so absurd that Kate would call. “So, what’s up?”

He shrugged, stepping back and then leaning against the counter. “The place she’d planned to host her sister’s engagement party just fell through. She wants to know if I can get her some space at a club my buddy owns.”

“She’s asking for a favor? You were so rude to her.” What was wrong with Kate? Starr grabbed the coffeepot and filled her mug, splashing coffee on the counter with her rough moves.

“I was honest.” Spencer watched her wrestle the coffeepot. “But that’s water under the bridge.”

“It was only two days ago.” He’d been so rude, so arrogant with her. “Are you actually trying to make up with her?” Something bristled inside her at the thought. For Kate’s sake, of course. Starr took a large swig of coffee.

“Kate knows that won’t happen.” A slow grin spread across his face. “Why, are you jealous?”

Jealous? Starr almost spurted the coffee out of her mouth. She forced it down, coughing as she swallowed. “Of…of course not.” He could be with whomever he wanted. She felt her face flush as she coughed.

Spencer’s grin grew larger. Jerk.

He waited until Starr’s coughing had subsided, and then he shrugged again. “She’s in a bind, and it’s an easy fix.”

Of course, Mr. Fix-It to the rescue.

“Do you help all of your exes?” What a list that must be. “Do you fix all the problems they bring you?” Again, she felt that bristling sensation in her chest.

“When I can,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s not like Kate’s asking me to go out on a limb.”

“Right, I forgot. No emotional attachments. You don’t go out on limbs for other people.” Like for Matt.

“Usually the fruit’s not worth it.”

“Yet you’re staying here. Putting your life on hold.” For me. “Why?”

“I said usually.” He winked.

The nerve. “You know…”

“Spencer, want to do some Call of Duty battling when I get home?” JJ asked, still basking in the happiness of having his Xbox buddy here for a few more days.

“Sounds like a plan, bud,” Spencer said.

“Or we could play Battlefield 4,” JJ offered. “I can show you how.”

“Forget battles, JJ, chop, chop,” Starr said. Enough of the BFF stuff. “Spencer has work to do. It’s not like he just dropped everything to stay here. If you’re done eating, go get dressed. You don’t want to miss your bus.”

“Fine.” JJ slouched to the sink and deposited his empty cereal bowl. He shot a sideways glance to Spencer, who gave him a thumbs-up.

Apparently, the battle had already been fought. And Starr had lost.

A couple hours later, the morning chores were done. Starr had fussed enough about wanting to do them herself that Spencer had finally conceded. Instead, he’d asked to borrow her car. A run to the mall for a couple shirts, he’d said. But he’d returned over an hour ago, and even with her purposely glacial pace, her must-do list had come to an end, as had a lot of her energy. It was time to go back into the house. To where Spencer was.

She pushed open the screen door. A moment later Spencer was in the kitchen, like he’d been listening for her. His hair was wet, fresh from a shower. His T-shirt—plain green, one she didn’t recognize, apparently new—stretched tautly across his chest. Her shoulders stiffened. He’d made himself at home, and it looked good on him. Dang him.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, walking past him. Twenty minutes later, she came back out, showered, a bit more relaxed, and a lot starved. Again, Spencer was waiting for her in the kitchen, like he was stalking her. Her breathing hitched. Why couldn’t he stay in his room? Or in the living room? Or anywhere she wasn’t? Instead, he was in her space, sucking up her oxygen, making it tough—no, impossible—to breathe.

“You must be starved.” Spencer rummaged through the cupboards near the stove. “How about if I cook up some fresh eggs?” He pulled out a frying pan, smiling as if fresh eggs were some big adventure.

How could a guy holding a frying pan look so sexy? She forced herself to look away. She wouldn’t get caught up in this breakfast persona, like it was normal. Besides, she didn’t want anyone making her eggs. The last time she’s eaten eggs had been with Robert—and the day of the avalanche: eggs scrambled, sliced tomatoes, rye toast.

Robert didn’t do hash browns or bacon or sausage. He didn’t like the unnecessary calories or how they smelled up the kitchen, so they never cooked them at home. They weren’t hard to avoid when they went out to breakfast, either, since Robert had taken it upon himself to order for her. At first, she thought it was strange, then cute. More recently, it had grated on her nerves.

She’d tried to override his selection once. She shook her head, chastising herself for even thinking those words: tried to override. Like he was the boss of her. He’d tsked and then launched into a lecture, a thorough enough one that she was embarrassed enough for both of them, and she withdrew her request for hash browns. But she left the tomatoes on her plate untouched.

That was the morning she’d decided to break things off. That breakfast was, literally, the breaking point.

“So, you in?” Spencer asked. “I do a mean scrambled.”

“I prefer over easy.” Her words came out sharper than she’d intended.

“Okay.” He drew out the word. “I was going to cut the cantaloupe.” He pointed to the large, round fruit on the counter. “Unless you have other plans for it.”

“I’m going to fry some potatoes. With real butter.”

He paused, as if trying to reconcile her normal let’s-make-breakfast words with her sharp tone and the confrontational look she knew was on her face. “I saw bacon in the fridge, too,” he offered. He raised a brow, seeking her permission.

Why was he being so easygoing?

“Okay, we can skip the bacon,” he said, brows furrowed.

Confusion swirled in her mind. “Screw the bacon. What are you doing?”

“I’m hungry?”

“No, I mean, here. In this house. Twenty miles outside Reno. Twenty-five hundred miles from your real life. Why. Are. You. Here?”

He took a breath, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’m here to help.”

She reached out, placing a hand flat against the fridge, stopping herself—barely—from smacking it. “I don’t need your help.”

He raised a brow.

“Last night was a fluke,” Starr said, reading his expression. “You’re right, it was a bad choice.” There, she’d admitted it. “You made your point. You can go home now.”

“And I will.” He shrugged and put the frying pan on the counter. “As soon as your brother and Grace get back. Now, let’s get those potatoes going. Hand me the butter.” He stepped toward the fridge—and her.

“Screw the potatoes, too.”

He took another step closer. “We’ll use real butter.”

What was his obsession with breakfast food? With her? “Why are you doing this?”

He kept coming at her, and she instinctively stepped back until she hit the counter. Still he kept coming, and she knew where it would lead. She placed both hands against the countertop, ready to push off. “Just stop. What is your problem?”

He stopped, finally, directly in front of her. Totally inside her personal space and outside her comfort zone. “I like real butter, too.”

She inhaled a whiff of fresh soap. Who knew soap could smell so intoxicating? He leaned in and placed his hands over hers, boxing her in, only centimeters of air between them.

Heat from his palms traveled up her arms, over her shoulder, through her chest. It settled in her stomach then swirled like a typhoon. Her mind fuzzed. “I can make my own potatoes.”

His scent engulfed her. She needed a little taste. Just one.

Oh, what the heck.

She leaned in, covering his lips with hers. She felt a momentary pause, like she’d just blown his mind. Good. But then he was back in control.

It wasn’t a tentative taste like their first kiss, but he didn’t plunder and claim, either. He savored, slow and easy. Restrained. He ran his tongue over her bottom lip, then sucked lightly, promising more.

It was a promise too tempting to ignore. She parted her lips, letting him in. He deepened the kiss, one hand moving behind her head and the other around her waist as his tongue mingled with hers. Her mind exploded with feeling, and her body ached to feel him against her. She ran her fingers up his arms to his shoulders. His muscles tensed in response, and excitement surged through her.

She pushed against him, wanting to feel him, all of him. He caressed the length of her back, his thumb teasing the side of her breast, her rib cage, before resting at the small of her back. His other hand followed suit, while his lips worked their way up her jawline and nibbled her ear.

Spencer splayed his fingers over her butt, caressed, then squeezed. Fire shot through her body, from her toes to her earlobes, and she pushed against his hardness, wanting more.

“Come to my bedroom.” His whispered words sent a chill down her spine. His lips sucked her neck, exploring.

His bedroom? But he didn’t belong here, did he? Could he? What was she doing… Wanting him, needing him, would give him power. Over her. It would mean she was weak. And she would never be weak again.

She pushed away, panting. Their eyes locked, and she saw desire mixed with confusion. It took everything she had not to fall into him, let him sweep her up and carry her to the bedroom. But she wouldn’t let that happen. He didn’t belong here and had no intention of staying.

What was she thinking? Geography was the least of the problem. She wouldn’t fall for someone like Spencer. She’d been down that road. The arrogance, the superiority. She wouldn’t fall for someone who liked to control things. For someone who thought she needed fixing.

She’d do her own fixing.

She ran to her room and grabbed her purse and car keys, then came back through the kitchen. She beelined to the back door, past Spencer and his dazed look that had morphed into full-on surprise.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

She paused at the screen door but didn’t look back. “Out.” She pushed it open.

“Starr, wait.”

She didn’t. She got in her car and pulled out of the drive with no specific destination in mind except out. Away. Any place but here. Before, when she needed to clear her head, there was only one place that worked. But now, her go-to place—the mountain—wasn’t a safe zone anymore. She’d tried more than once to reclaim it, and she hadn’t been able to step on the powder, let alone make it to the ski lift.

She squeezed the wheel as she drove toward town, miles of wide-open space zooming past. What if she’d pushed too hard before? Maybe what she needed was baby steps. She could drive by Mount Rose, maybe park in the lot. It’s not like she had to get out. She turned onto Highway 431 and headed toward the mountain. Drive—park—look. She had a plan.

With a singular focus, she drove up the winding single-lane road. Thirty minutes later, she turned into Mount Rose’s parking lot. The main lot was less than half full, typical for a weekday in early April even though the snow might last until mid-June.

Starr snagged an empty spot with her car facing the north side of Slide Mountain. Skiers milled around the lobby entrance, sticking tickets on jackets and messing with gear. One glance told her they weren’t the season ticket holders. But the occasional skier didn’t need a season pass with the locals’ deals Mount Rose ran. The Wednesday deal, ladies two-for-one, brought out lots of beginners. She could blend right in.

At the thought, her hands, clenched on the wheel, started to sweat. She looked out to the mountain. She couldn’t see much of it from where she sat, just the bottom of Ponderosa, a blue run, but it was enough. Her chest pinched, setting off her pulse in double time. She forced air through her lungs, visualizing the oxygen pushing down her windpipe and back up—in-out, in-out—like Dr. Parnell had taught, until the pounding of her heart subsided. Drive, park, look. She had this.

She kept her eyes trained on the snow, refusing to allow memories of snow packs and hypothermia to creep into her brain. Instead, it was Spencer who came to mind. And his lips. Dear Lord, his lips were masterful. So was his tongue. And his fingers. She could still feel him touching her, squeezing her. She might come just thinking of him.

How did this happen? Why was he even here? She didn’t want help. She hadn’t made him leave the airport or asked him to come after her. No, he was here because he was stubborn and arrogant and thought he knew better. Because he thought he could fix her. Okay, maybe not her, but the situation.

Because he thought she was in trouble.

Because he cared enough to want to help her. Enough to miss his plane and potentially wreck his deal. Strong and self-assured, a protector, on the outside; soft and caring on the inside.

In someone’s perfect world, he’d be the perfect guy. Could it be her world? She’d never felt anything more comforting, more secure, than Spencer’s arms around her. She fit. Perfectly.

But she didn’t want safe and secure. She wanted to be strong and self-assured, just like him. Instead, she was weak and full of fear, craving security from him. And she couldn’t allow that.

He was a distraction, making her want him. Making her think she needed him. But it was stopping—now. When she returned home, she wouldn’t let him affect her. She couldn’t afford to waste energy on some guy, especially one who’d be gone in a matter of days. She didn’t need a one-night stand; she needed to get her crap together. Preferably before lunch on Saturday.

She had a mountain to conquer.

Starr stared at Slide Mountain and then closed her eyes, envisioning walking on the snow, skis in tow. Placing them down, clicking in, pushing off. She’d arrive at the lift, line up, sit down, and let the chair carry her away. Up, up, up the mountain. She’d be in control. Calm and strong. Unafraid.

She could do this, on her own, by herself.

Tomorrow.

She’d be perfect.