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  He turned slowly to look at me. “What do you mean?”

  “As you know, Patrick died on a ski trip.” I said this flatly and without emotion, even though my stomach churned. “Do I have to spell it out?”

  “I’m a skier? And you think that’s dangerous?”

  I let go of the bedpost and backed up toward the windows. “Yes. I know how fast you ski down the slopes. You set the world record, for heaven’s sake.”

  “A dozen years ago.”

  “You could die.”

  “But I’m not going to.”

  “You don’t know that.” Supposedly that ski trip was perfectly safe too. Just last year a man died on the Emerson Pass slopes when he lost control and hit a tree. “There was that guy last season,” I said out loud.

  “He was an amateur on a slope he had no business being on.” Garth spoke quietly and calmly, as if I were an animal about to charge at him. “That was completely different from anything I do.”

  “You share too many qualities with my late husband. And I won’t be left alone again.”

  “I’m not sure what we have in common. He was a brilliant billionaire tech guy. I’m a mediocre attorney and former Olympian.”

  “It’s a quality. I can’t explain it. A recklessness.”

  Garth grimaced as he grabbed the T-shirt hanging from one of the bedposts and pulled it over his head. “I’m not reckless. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. Skiing is not reckless, it’s just something I love.” He sat on the edge of the ottoman. “My entire life was defined by my little brother’s death. I’ve had this feeling that I had to live for both of us. Every day I ski is with that in mind. I’m still here when he didn’t get to be. Racing down a mountain makes me feel alive.”

  “I know. Which is why I would never ask you to give it up.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Not for me.”

  He rubbed his chin. “We have a connection, even if you think it’s only physical. A closeness that doesn’t come along every day.”

  “We have chemistry in the bedroom,” I said, defensive. I didn’t enjoy being the bad guy. “But we’ve both known this wasn’t a long-term thing.”

  “You’ll be rid of me.” Garth took his jeans from the arm of the chair, but instead of putting them on, folded them over his lap. “My house is done.”

  I looked away, unable to stand the look of hurt in his eyes and in the tone of his voice. “We’re friends. That won’t change.”

  “Sure. That’s good.” The finality in his tone told me he’d had enough. I’d managed to successfully push him away.

  As he tugged his jeans on, I slipped into my robe, suddenly aware of how thin my pajamas were. If I wanted us to stay apart, then I shouldn’t be running around half naked.

  “I’ll see you later?” I asked.

  “Probably not. I’ll stay at my house tonight.”

  He sounded so grim I almost reached out to him but knew that wasn’t fair. If we were to stay apart, I had to be strong.

  When he reached the doorway, he turned back to me. “Did you have the kind of chemistry we have with your husband?”

  I blinked, surprised by the question. How could I answer truthfully and not give him hope?

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “He and I loved each other very much.” Despite what others claimed, I’d married him because I loved him, not because of his money. The press had gone for my jugular when we’d gotten married. Forty-four to my twenty-four, rendering me a gold digger according to Twitter. “We enjoyed all aspects of a good marriage.”

  “Was it as good as us? Because I find that hard to believe.” His eyes glittered with intensity as he stared me down.

  “The things we’ve experienced together—I’ve never had that with anyone else, no. Not even Patrick.”

  He smiled again, this time a little triumphantly. “Yet you claim there’s nothing here worth exploring?”

  “Sex isn’t everything.” I sound ridiculous, I thought. Like a child. No one had ever given me as much physical pleasure as Garth. Still, I couldn’t grant him my heart.

  “True enough,” he said. “But you said yourself we’re friends too. What’s better than being friends with the person you go to bed with every night?”

  The air seemed to leave the room. “I’m not there. I’m sorry.”

  “Fair enough. At least now we know where we stand.”

  He didn’t give me a chance to say anything else as he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.

  Discombobulated, I sat on the side of the bed. Why did I feel strange and shaky? I do not care about him, I told myself. He’s just really good in bed. That’s all this is.

  Anyway, this is how it happened. Love had sucked me in once and convinced me that all the broken, missing parts were fixed, and then he died on me.

  Had I worried about my husband’s ski trip? Not at all. Back then I was still so stupidly sure everything would work out. I’d found the love of my life. For three lovely years we were happy.

  After I’d moved to Emerson Pass and bought a home from an elderly gentleman perched on the southern mountain, I’d contemplated opening a restaurant. I could afford it, after all. The amount of money I’d inherited from Patrick was more than a hundred reasonable people could ever spend in a lifetime, unless one was interested in buying small islands and that kind of thing. However, I was conservative by nature. Nan and my mother had taught me that simplicity was best. My needs were simple. I wanted a quiet, unassuming life in the place where I’d been the happiest as a child. Garth had not been in the plan.

  I went back to my maiden name. Other than a few friends, no one knew I was the widow of a famous tech billionaire. I’d opened a kitchen shop as a distraction from my grief. Perhaps because I’d been raised by a potter, I particularly loved curating beautiful pieces from small artisans and businesses around the world. In addition, I’d started giving cooking lessons once or twice a month in the kitchen. They’d become popular with the tourists especially. So much so that I’d hired a young chef, Mindy, in need of work to take over some of the classes. She’d been such a delight that I’d ended up hiring her full-time as my manager. Recently, she’d asked if she could buy me out, and we’d worked out a deal between us. As much as I’d thought it was a good idea to have a passion project, it felt right to transition it to someone who needed and wanted the work more than I did. By the end of the month, the paperwork would be completed.

  However, as I heard the shower start in Garth’s room, I had to admit I was not doing a particularly good job of understanding my feelings. I sat back on the bed, unsure of what to do or think.

  I wished I could talk to Nan. I needed her clear-eyed vision to tell me what to do. I touched my fingers to the spot on my chest she’d tapped that day by the river. Nan, what am I doing?

  2

  Garth

  All the way on the drive to my house, I replayed the conversation with Crystal. I could kick myself. Me and my big mouth. I’d revealed too much. So much for playing it cool. But darn it all, I was sick to death of acting as though I didn’t care. Pretending that I hadn’t fallen in love had started wearing on my soul. Keeping my feelings to myself, which I knew instinctively was the right way to stay in her life, had become impossible. Everything about her made my knees weaken. Her cooking, graceful body, quick mind, and soft heart. Yet my feelings didn’t matter. She wasn’t ready. She might never be. I truly needed to get myself together and walk away. I hadn’t set out to get my heart broken again. Here I was, though, mooning over a woman I couldn’t have.

  Fine, I’d fallen for her. There was nothing to be done about my feelings or her lack of them. Anyway, she was way out of my league. A billionaire doesn’t marry a two-bit lawyer and former ski champion.

  Then there was this revelation about skiing. I hadn’t known until today that part of her reservation was my favorite hobby. I had no idea how to reassure her that my skills far outweighed the risks. Most ski accidents happene
d to amateurs, not Olympic athletes.

  I blamed my fate on my parents. They’d named me after Garth Brooks, thus guaranteeing a life that played out like a three-chord country song. Divorced by thirty from a woman who took half of my carefully saved nest egg, I’d decided to follow what was left of my heart and move to Emerson Pass, Colorado. I’d sold everything I owned and poured my time, energy, and money into building a new home nestled in the mountains. Somewhat reluctantly, as I’d figured out too late that I didn’t really care for lawyering, I’d opened a family law practice. Any spare moment, I spent on the ski slopes. What had once earned me a gold medal at the Olympics was now my beloved hobby. Being an attorney was my job. The slopes were my passion.

  Everything was moving along all right until a fire came roaring through the mountain, destroying everything in its path. I’d rescued my beautiful neighbor right before our houses went up in flames. Quite by accident I’d fallen in love with her. Tragically, she was in love with a ghost. If that doesn’t sound like a country song, I don’t know what does.

  The best thing I could do was get out of Trapper’s house. If I stayed there, Crystal and I would never stop breaking our promises. My contractor had called yesterday and said my house was ready. As much as I’d felt as though we barely escaped with our lives the day of the fire, I felt the same now. For self-preservation, I needed to move back into my own place.

  I passed through town. Red and yellow leaves still clung to the branches of the trees, but soon they’d be gone. We’d have our first snow by the end of the week if it was a typical year. As much as I loved ski season, I loved autumn in Emerson Pass. The skies were often startling blue in contrast to the leaves and the redbrick buildings that lined Barnes Avenue. Today, town was quiet. Tourists didn’t come until the slopes opened. This place was frozen in time, especially the downtown area. The original brick buildings from the original settlers remained, albeit with face-lifts and modern windows.

  I passed by the market and the bar and grill, two staples for permanent residents. To get to my small office next to the newspaper, I’d have turned right. But I wanted to go out and see the house before I went in to work. I didn’t have an appointment until later. Across from the bar and grill, Brandi and Crystal shared a building for their shops, a bakery and a kitchen store. The hanging flowerpots held mums this time of year. Soon, the street would be decorated in lights for the holidays.

  Emerson Pass skiing would begin soon. People came from all over for ski vacations during the winter. Town would bustle with visitors. I preferred the quiet months when the population shrank to permanent residents. However, I was happy when tourists came to spend their money. My clients were always residents. In family law, most of the cases I dealt with were custody agreements. Most of the time, a divorcing couple could come to terms, but every so often a nasty one like the one I was working on now came my way. I had a bad feeling it would go to court. The divorcing couple were wealthy, and each wanted full custody of their four children. Neither was willing to back down, which meant the billable hours kept coming.

  At the end of town, I took the road that led up to the southern mountain where my house was tucked into the trees. Well, what used to be trees. They’d cleared all the burned ones out and replaced the scorched earth with new dirt and gravel. Already, seedlings had sprouted. Life continues. Even after devastation.

  I drove down the long driveway I shared with Crystal. The charred remains of trees stuck up from the black ground like ugly birthday candles. The work to clear the lot hadn’t yet reached this part of the property. They’d focused first on the lot where my house had been, clearing dead trees and what remained of the house.

  The rebuilding had gone so quickly it was almost hard to believe. I had a feeling Crystal had something to do with that. She wouldn’t confess when I asked how she’d gotten everything rolling so quickly, but I was certain if I followed the money, it would lead right to her. Whenever I brought it up, she always said I’d saved her life, therefore the debt was on her, not me.

  From my deck, I’d been able to see Crystal’s house and yard. When the fire happened, I’d had more warning than her. I’d torn down her driveway, worried she wouldn’t understand how quickly the fire was coming. She was so shaken that she’d only grabbed a few items and jumped into my car. We’d sped out of there as the fierce winds brought down parts of the forest. Both of our houses were destroyed.

  She’d insisted that my house be built first. We were sharing a team of builders from Northern California called Wolf Enterprises that included Jamie Wattson’s interior designer brother, Trey. Jamie had only just opened her inn when the fire crushed her dream. I’d run into her in town a few days back and she said she thought she’d be able to open by late spring. She’d said it in an optimistic tone that didn’t match the defeat in her eyes. Debt had a way of doing that to a person.

  My yard was empty. For months, whenever I’d come by, the driveway had been busy with trucks and workers. I parked outside the garage and practically ran to the front door. My stomach fluttered with excitement as I used my key.

  I actually exclaimed out loud at the sight of the front room. The floors were made of a dark walnut and paired with light walls. A river stone gas fireplace took up one end of the room with the kitchen on the other. An entire bank of windows ran the length of the room and faced the northern mountain. I’d had the house built using the same rustic, Japanese-influenced farmhouse plan I’d used for the first house. With flow between the different areas of the house, there wasn’t a square inch of wasted space. Rustic beams inserted into what was a traditionally Japanese style gave the home the feel of the farmhouses I’d dreamed of as a kid.

  I wandered into the master bedroom, also built on the first floor and with windows that looked out to the mountain. I’d splurged this time around and had them add another fireplace, as I’d regretted not doing so the first time. Despite the room being empty of furniture, it had a cozy, restful vibe. Upstairs were two more bedrooms, a Jack and Jill bathroom, and a den that could be used for a television room or an office.

  I stood by the windows that looked out to the foothills. This was a house for a family. Why had that never occurred to me before? All these bedrooms? The gorgeous kitchen with an island where people could sit and chat with the cook?

  The cook. I groaned softly. God help me, I’d pictured Crystal there.

  The fact that I’d become a family law attorney only to get divorced myself was not something I liked to think about. When I’d married, I wanted more than anything to remain so for the rest of my life. I’d wanted children, too, but as we ended up in a miserable marriage, I was glad my wife had refused to have any. We’d married right after college. Looking back, I could see clearly that neither one of us was mature enough to be in a relationship. We’d hung in there, though, until she’d met someone else.

  After it was over, a friend asked me how I’d married a woman who didn’t want children. Hadn’t we discussed it beforehand? We had. She’d told me she was open to the idea, but could we spend a few years enjoying each other first? Her request seemed perfectly reasonable. Sadly, there wasn’t much enjoyment of each other in our marriage. Mostly, we fought. We could fight about any subject on the planet. It was like our superpower as a couple. Finally, we’d agreed that we were simply not suited. Then she’d taken half of my savings and assets, and off she went.

  I’d come to Emerson Pass to ski and mend my broken heart. The original plan had been to stay for the winter and then return to my practice in the city. But the longer I was here, the more I knew I wanted to stay. By spring, I’d bought the house plan and started construction.

  Now here I was again, essentially starting over. The house was finished but empty of furniture and decor. I’d ordered everything to be delivered in the next few days. If I were to stay here tonight, I’d have to borrow a sleeping bag from Trapper.

  My stomach growled. I’d left Trapper’s without any breakfast. Usually, Crystal whipped
up a batch of muffins or eggs for me. I’d grown too accustomed to Crystal’s cooking over the last few months. Often, I’d kept her company while she prepared dinner. Brandi and Trapper always took an evening walk together before dinner. When they returned, they’d shower, and then the four of us would sit out on their deck and enjoy a leisurely dinner as the sun set. I worried that we were disrupting their honeymoon period, especially since the baby would come in early April, but they assured us it was fine.

  The four of us had such a fun time together. Brandi and Trapper felt like family to me now. Being there had reminded me of what it had been like to be a family. Before my little brother died and my mom left, we’d been happy.

  I pushed all of these thoughts out of my mind. I’d see if some of my buddies wanted to meet at the bar and grill in town for supper. Since I’d been living with Trapper, I’d become close with his two best friends from high school. He’d grown up with Huck and Breck, and through him I’d gotten to know them both well. Breck anyway. Huck, who ran the newspaper in town, was harder to know. Whatever had happened to him while covering the Middle East as a war correspondent haunted him. Trapper said he’d always been intense and prone to broodiness, but since he’d come home Huck’s dark side had seemed to nudge out any former lightness. Still, he was fun to hang out with over beers. Breck, the town vet, was the opposite. Sweet and unassuming, he was quick with a smile and a joke. He was the kind of man another man could rely on if he ever got into a scrape.

  Yes, dinner in town was what I needed. Put Crystal out of your mind, I told myself. You have a good life here and your house is finally ready. Time to start again.

  Huck and Breck were already seated when I arrived at the bar and grill. Since it was sparsely crowded tonight, they’d lucked into the best booth near the woodburning fireplace. The lights were dim, but the fire warmed up both the temperature and the atmosphere.

  Huck nodded as I approached. “What’s up, Welte?”