West wasn’t thrilled to hear that the Ice Princess—a bad driver—would be driving his Prius tonight. But what could he say? If she totaled it, at least it was covered. And the car was six years old anyway. Still, it was aggravating. Instead of going straight home, he decided to stop by the grocery store to replenish the basic necessities he kept in the studio’s kitchenette. Unless his mother really insisted, West was determined to stick around throughout Christmas. He had to get better acquainted with Emma.
After putting the bags in the Jeep, he called his mother. He knew she’d be fretting over his absence and wasn’t even sure what to tell her. Relieved that it went straight to voice mail, he left an apologetic message, insinuating that something regarding his house made it mandatory for him to remain there longer—which was true. Then he promised to get back to her by midday tomorrow. He knew she’d be disappointed. But if she understood the real reason for this delay, she would probably encourage him to stick around. Mom was always nagging him to find the right girl. From what he’d seen so far, Emma had all the right ingredients. Besides being beautiful, she was kind and gentle and sincere . . . and they shared many of the same interests. He felt certain his mom would approve.
When West got home, Gillian, Harris, and Emma were standing outside in front of the Prius. He parked his Jeep off to one side, leaving plenty of room for everyone to come and go then got out.
“Evening, folks,” he called as he retrieved his grocery bags.
“Hey, West,” Emma called back. “I was just telling these guys about Bullwinkle’s Dinner Club—and the good food and music and dancing.”
“And I was telling Emma she needs to go back there with us,” Harris said. “But she’s being very stubborn and refusing.”
“Because I’m tired,” Emma said.
“I’m not only tired, I’m achy and sore,” Harris confessed. “But Gillian’s making me go.”
“Yeah, well, I feel sorry for leaving Grant here alone,” Emma protested.
“He’s not alone,” Harris declared. “His parents are in there watching an old movie.”
“I think it’s very thoughtful that Emma wants to keep my poor brother company.” Gillian used a sweet tone. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Especially since he got hurt trying to help her.”
“I bet he’s asleep by now. He just took a pain pill.” Harris grabbed Emma’s hand. “Come on, Em, we won’t stay late. Just come and show us where this hot spot is located.”
“She already told us.” Gillian’s tone turned impatient. “Let’s just go, Harris. Time’s a-wasting.”
“Not without Emma.” Harris opened the car door. “Come on, Emma, get in. No excuses. This is your vacation too.”
“Well, if Emma comes, maybe we should make West join us too,” Gillian said with arched brows. “That way she’ll have someone to dance with.”
“But West is probably tired too,” Emma protested. “Why don’t we just—”
“I’m not tired,” he said quickly. “Just let me put this away and I’ll be right back.” Before anyone could protest, West stashed his provisions, then returned. “How about if I drive?” he offered.
“No,” Gillian said sharply. “I’m driving the Prius. You and Emma ride in back.”
“My legs are too long for the back seat,” West told her. “How about Emma and I take the Jeep and just meet you there?”
“Great plan!” Gillian gladly agreed.
As West drove back to the club, he asked Emma more about her music. “I’ve been wishing I could hear you do some music. Have you recorded anything?”
“No. I have a friend with a small studio. He keeps encouraging me to do an indie album—you know, to have something to sell at gigs—but I just can’t afford it. Not yet.”
“Yeah, it’s not cheap to produce a decent indie. But I wish you had one, Emma. I’d love to hear you.”
“I was tempted to bring my guitar up here, but Mr. Landers said to travel light.”
“I can loan you a guitar.”
“Really? You play guitar?”
He admitted that he played not only the guitar but a few other instruments as well. Still, he didn’t say anything about songwriting. He liked that she still believed he was an impoverished caretaker. Going incognito allowed him to get acquainted with Emma on a level playing field. He didn’t want her to be so impressed by his music career that she no longer wanted to tell him about her own. Or worse yet—although he couldn’t imagine Emma acting this way—what if she tried to use him to launch her career? It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened.
When they went into Bullwinkle’s, Gillian was dragging Harris out to the dance floor. It wasn’t long before West and Emma went out there too. Then after just one dance, Harris insisted they switch partners. Gillian looked irritated, but at least she didn’t throw a full-blown fit over her new partner. West tried to treat her politely and couldn’t deny she was a decent dancer, but when the song ended, he left her on the floor, heading straight for Emma. And so it went. He’d barely finish a dance with Emma before Harris would jump in and whisk her away—and West would get stuck with the Ice Princess again.
Finally, the band took a break, and while Emma visited the ladies’ room and Harris went to refresh their drinks, West was seated at a table with Gillian, trying to think of a way to excuse himself. At least she was more interested in her phone than him. When the band’s lead guitarist came over to introduce himself, shaking hands like they were old friends, West welcomed the distraction. “You guys are putting out some good music,” he told the musician.
“Thanks, man, that means a lot coming from you.”
“Oh, yeah.” West instantly realized his mistake. This guy knew who he was. “Well, thanks for providing us with some extra good dance tunes tonight. Looking forward to some more. Your band’s got a great beat.” He spoke quickly as he stood, thinking he’d make a getaway before his cover was completely blown. Fortunately, Gillian was still glued to her phone.
“You still work with Gunner Price?” the guy asked with too much interest.
West mumbled an affirmative, hoping Gillian was still oblivious.
“Your songs are the best, TW. I write a little too, but nothing like your stuff. It’s an honor to meet you. I heard you lived in Breckenridge, but I never dreamed I’d actually meet you in person.”
“Yeah, well, I sort of need to go, uh, to check on something.” West patted the guy on the back, then hurried away. Hopefully Gillian, distracted by her phone, had missed all that. But when the music started up again, and Harris and Emma weren’t back, Gillian found West. Grabbing him by the hand, she grinned as she tugged him out to the dance floor with her. The Ice Princess had figured him out—he knew it.
Naturally, Harris used this opportunity to snag another dance with Emma. When Gillian refused to let West go for the next number, Harris got another dance with Emma. And another. Finally, West was fed up. The Ice Princess was a good dancer—and much friendlier than before—but he wanted to be with Emma.
“I need a break,” he told Gillian. As they returned to their table, he didn’t see Emma or Harris, not on the dance floor . . . or anywhere.
“Where’d they go—have you seen them?” he asked Gillian.
“Oh, Emma texted me a while ago. She’s driving Harris home.”
“Yeah, I told her to just get the keys from my bag and use the Prius.”
“But why?” he demanded. “Why did Emma need to drive him home?”
“Because Harris got a bad charley horse in his leg and could barely walk, let alone dance. It was probably from that treacherous slope you took him down today.” She shook a finger at him with a sly smile. “Harris claims you tried to kill him.”
“That’s not exactly what happened.” West was trying to wrap his head around this. Emma took Harris home and now he was stuck here with the Ice Princess?
“I’m sorry, West, I should’ve mentioned it to you earlier. But we were having such a good time dancing.” Her expression held a saccharine sweetness. “Who would guess that a caretaker has so many hidden talents?”
“Hidden talents?” He was trying to think of a way to put this evening to an end.
Her blue eyes twinkled. “Expert skier, expert dancer . . . makes me wonder what else you do expertly . . .”
“I’m a pretty good driver,” he said wryly. “I can drive us home.”
She stuck out her lower lip. “So you don’t want to dance with me anymore? Just because Emma and Harris are gone?”
“It’s late, Gillian. And I know you weren’t too eager to dance with me—”
“Oh, that’s just my little act. You should ask Emma about it. I always play hard to get around guys who interest me.”
“Really?” He narrowed his eyes. “Why would I interest you?”
“Because you’re so interesting.” She laughed. “And after hearing everyone bragging about what a great ski instructor you are, I’m wondering if you’d have the patience to teach someone as uncoordinated as me. I’m afraid I have two left feet.”
“For two left feet, you’re pretty good out there on the dance floor.”
“Well, thank you.” She beamed at him. “So there might be hope for me to learn to ski?”
“I’m sure there’s hope. There’s always hope. I’ve seen guys without legs ripping down a run.”
She giggled. “So that’s a yes—you will teach me to ski?”
“I, uh, I didn’t say that.” He glumly shook his head. “I know what you’re doing, Gillian. And it’s not working.”
“What in the world do you mean?” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes. He almost expected her to flutter her eyelashes but was glad she didn’t.
“You know who I am.” He stared intently at her.
“Sure. You’re West, the multitalented caretaker of the house we’re staying in.”
“Right.” He knew she was playing him. She had to be. “Well, just so you know it, Gillian, I don’t like to play games.”
“I totally understand. And I apologize for treating you so badly before. The truth is you hurt my feelings the first time we met. You have to admit you were a bit rude. For that reason, I wanted to punish you. But I am sorry about that. The more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I realize that there’s a lot more to you than I thought. The others were right.” She sighed. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
He shrugged. “Sure, I forgive you. But like I said, I’m not into games. Besides that, I’m tired. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to go home.”
“I don’t mind at all. Especially if we need to get up early tomorrow. You know, for my first ski lesson.”
He didn’t respond to this because he didn’t want to hear her pleading or coaxing, but he had no intention of playing ski instructor to the Ice Princess tomorrow—or ever. Despite her innocent claims, he felt fairly certain she’d figured out his true identity. That had to be the only reason she was no longer treating him like something slimy stuck to the bottom of her fur-lined boots.