seven

West didn’t know what it was about that girl . . . but something about Emma had gotten under his skin. Sure, she was pretty. Almost exotic looking with that long, glossy black hair, espresso-colored eyes, and fine features. But it was more than just looks. She had a quiet gentleness about her. Sort of peaceful and calming. A quality he didn’t often see in women. Especially in beautiful women. Especially in women who discovered his true identity. Once a girl found out he was TW Prescott, one of the “most successful songwriters of his generation,” not to mention best buddies with Gunner Price, the games would begin. And they were games he wasn’t good at playing. As a result, he tended to avoid dating in general.

So when he called his mom later that night, he wasn’t quite sure what to tell her. “Something has come up here, Mom,” he began. “I might not make it out tomorrow.”

“The weather?”

“Well, the weather is one thing. But it’s something more.”

“Is it the house-swap guests?” she asked with concern. “I had a feeling this wasn’t a good idea, but Drew was so certain. And I must admit this home is pretty gorgeous. The boys have sure enjoyed that pool. But if the Arizona guests are a problem, I’m so sorry.”

“Not a problem exactly.” He didn’t want to say too much. “But I think I’ll be waylaid at least one more day—maybe two.”

“But you’ll be here by Christmas Eve?”

“That’s my goal. As long as I can get a flight.”

“I sure hope this house swap hasn’t ruined your Christmas, West. Where are you staying anyway?”

“In my studio.”

“On that Murphy bed?”

“It’s not bad.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll get it all taken care of quickly. Just keep me posted.”

“I will, Mom.” As he hung up, he felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn’t that he’d lied to his mother, but he hadn’t told her the whole truth. He was usually more honest with his mother than anyone, but he’d held back for a couple of good reasons. First of all, he didn’t want to worry her about not making it to Arizona in time for Christmas. Even more than that, he didn’t want her to get her hopes up. He knew how she wanted him to find just the right girl. She worried that he was becoming a hermit or a lonely “confirmed bachelor” who would never marry and give her more grandchildren.

If his mother realized he’d delayed his travel plans for Emma, she would jump to conclusions. But West’s track record with women wasn’t impressive. For some reason he usually attracted the wrong ones, “gold diggers” as McKenzie liked to call some of them. Unfortunately, West had fallen for a pretty face before . . . and the outcome had been disappointing. Not only to him but his whole family. It was possible that he was wrong again—and he didn’t want to drag everyone down that path one more time.

“It’s too early to go to bed,” Gillian told Emma as they sat around the big rock fireplace where a large log was still burning. “It’s barely ten. Didn’t you get the memo? This is vacation. We stay up late and sleep in. Remember?”

“That’s right,” Harris agreed. “Don’t bail on us, Emma.”

“Yeah,” Grant chimed in. “No party poopers allowed on this vacation.”

Emma smiled patiently as she leaned against the tall log post. “But I heard Gil saying that being on vacation means you get to do whatever you want—isn’t that what you said when your parents turned in?”

“That’s because we wanted them to go to bed,” Gillian told her.

“But you get to stay up late with the grownups.” Grant grinned.

“I appreciate that, but I’m tired, and I have to get up early for a ski lesson in the morning.”

“Seriously?” Gillian blinked. “You already booked a lesson? You work fast, girl.”

Emma just nodded, not eager to confess she’d agreed to let the caretaker give her a lesson. She could just imagine Gillian’s reaction. Especially since she’d already expressed her opinions on the guy.

“Is it a private lesson?” Grant asked with interest. “Or can I come along? I need to brush up on some skills.”

“Oh, I thought Harris was going to help you,” Emma said lightly. Hopefully, Harris would take the hint that she didn’t want a lesson from him.

“Good point. I’m not sure I want anyone besides Harris to witness me flopping in the snow like a fish outta water.” He turned to Harris. “You okay with that?”

“Sure. But I’d like an early start. I want to hit that fresh powder before it’s all torn up by other skiers and riders.”

“What do you consider an early start?” Grant frowned.

“The lifts open at nine. So we should probably head out around eight or even earlier since we’ll need to rent skis for the week. Might be good to beat the rush.”

Grant let out a groan. “So much for sleeping in.”

“Well, anyway, I’m calling it a night,” Emma announced again. “See you all in the morning.”

“You won’t be seeing me in the morning,” Gillian said. “I’m on vacation.”

“Emma’s got the right idea.” Harris stood. “I’m hitting the hay too.”

“Yeah, guess I’ll call it a night.” Grant conceded.

“Killjoys!” Gillian yelled out. “You guys are a bunch of party poopers!”

“Good night, Gillian dear,” Emma called back sweetly. She knew it was pointless to engage with her right now. Hopefully she’d be in better spirits in the morning . . . or afternoon by the time she got up.

Emma hadn’t said much about her sleeping quarters, but she still felt certain she’d scored the best room in the house. It wasn’t fancy in the way that Gillian or her mom would appreciate, and Gil wouldn’t like the lack of closet space. But to Emma, it was perfect. The fabulous view had only gotten better as the sky turned dusky earlier. While alone in the house, Emma had just stared in wonder as the sunset transformed the snowy slope into shades of indigo blue and purple. Meanwhile the lights from the nearby ski lodge had glowed like golden torches. It had been absolutely magical.

It was still magical. So magical that she didn’t want to close the blinds. She got ready for bed in the bathroom then, snug in the big bed, she looked out the window, happily drifting to sleep with the gorgeous view still imprinted in her mind.