Emmett stepped through the enormous sliding glass doors of Canyon Creek Mountain Ski Resort, instantly thrown back in time. The place had been in Elle’s family for generations, each expanding on the original hotel until the entire resort now consumed God only knew how many square feet and acreage. The Nobles owned three-quarters of Canyon Creek Mountain, and many said they’d inherited the “golden” side.

The prospectors from centuries ago had traveled west in hopes that the entire mountain would be made of gold. When Lazarus Sumner and Ezra Noble established the town in 1851, the two men planned to call the mountain Gold Peak Mountain, after the fortune they knew they would find. When not one ounce of gold was discovered, they changed the mountain’s name to match that of the town, Canyon Creek, branded for the beautiful creek that ran through the valleys surrounding the area.

Of course, since a mountain is neither a creek nor a canyon, the name was ridiculous and had long been a bit of a town joke. In the end though, the Nobles had managed to turn the mountain into gold, Emmett supposed.

The landscape on this side of the mountain was conducive to skiing and the family had capitalized on it. The Sumner side, while closer to the town itself, was filled with steep jagged cliffs. It was popular during spring and summer with avid rock climbers, and even for the crazier winter ice climbers, but had never been suitable for skiing.

The resort catered to the wealthy. Emmett nearly choked on the grandiose interior as he walked toward the massive granite counter in the reception area. That hadn’t been there when he and Elle were young. He was pretty sure the chandeliers were new, as well, but maybe he’d simply never noticed them. His attention was always on Elle.

“Welcome to Canyon Creek Mountain Ski Resort,” a voice exclaimed from behind the front desk. “My name is Jennifer. How may I assist you?” The woman seemed nice enough, in an I work with the public and this smile is plastered on kind of way.

“I’m here to meet with Elle Noble.”

“Oh, yes,” Jennifer’s smile broadened, “let me just let the executive offices know you’re here. If you’d like to have a seat in our great room.” She extended her hand toward the massive “room” that could double as a small stadium. “I’ll just come get you when Ms. Noble is ready.”

“Uh, sure. Thanks.” Emmett walked around the vast, two-story stone column standing in the center of the first floor. At the base was a fireplace that five people could stand in easily, had there not been a fire blazing inside. Stairs wrapped around the column and led to the second floor which overlooked the lobby.

“Would you like something to drink while you wait?” Jennifer asked. “Tea, coffee, latte?”

Latte? Emmett nearly laughed out loud. Since when had the Nobles become so pompous? Since always, he thought. He hadn’t seen it when he was with Elle. She never acted as though her family was as wealthy as they were. She included him in everything and never made him feel like he didn’t belong.

Not that Emmett’s family had been poor. They were comfortable. They had what they needed, and they had a great deal more than other people in town. They simply weren’t the Nobles.

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Emmett answered.

She nodded, that smile firmly in place.

Nervous energy prevented Emmett from sitting. Instead he walked around the back side of the stone column, stopping when he saw the restaurant he and Elle had eaten inside many times. The space was much larger now and included a bar area.

The restaurant was a design in understated elegance. Tables were covered in white linen, topped with flickering candles, even in the afternoon. The room featured windows overlooking a stunning view of Canyon Creek Mountain. A long bar lined the back of the restaurant and was filled with skiers obviously trying to escape the frigid mountain air.

How the hell was the lodge supposed to compete with this?

You can’t.

Emmett shook his head, then drew in a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh. Never mind the problem of competing with the resort, how the hell was he supposed to work with Elle Noble?

They’d once been inseparable but now all he held for her was disdain. He wasn’t sure he could put away his anger and work with her, no matter how much his mother wished differently. No one knew about their night together in New York City. And if he had anything to do with it, they wouldn’t.

“Emmett,” a voice called behind him.

His heart beat fast in his chest and his palms began to sweat. He would recognize her voice anywhere, it had been a part of his life for nearly his entire life. The sultry smooth tenor of Elle Noble’s voice melted over him like warm caramel on a hot summer day.

Lord, he had to stop writing romance novel lines in his head.

Slowly, Emmett turned, not surprised when his breath caught. She had always been stunning. Why would today be any different?

Tall, in a knee length red fitted dress that wasn’t too tight and wasn’t too loose. It was just right.

Her legs extended long, as always, accentuated by heels high enough for Emmett to fear she might fall over. Her legs had always been her best physical feature. She was a dancer and they’d always been toned, and sexy as hell. He remembered the way they’d wrapped around his waist during their one night in New York City. Hell, never mind remembered. He craved—stop!

Emmett shut down the part of him that couldn’t help but respond to her and focused on the reason for the reunion: business.

She walked toward him, her heels clicking softly on the wooden floor. “Thank you for meeting with me. It’s good to see you again.” She sounded nervous and stiff, not her usual confident self. “I think if you and I can work together on this project, our families can really—”

“Look, no offense, Elle, but I’m only here for my mom. And honestly, this is probably going to be the only meeting. In fact, I have no desire to work with you or your family.”

He saw the slight flinch at his words, but ignored his guilt. Elle stood stoic. In fact, she’d probably appear unaffected to an outsider. Elle had always had the uncanny ability to show no emotion when needed.

It was a blessing and a curse for her, she’d always said. People thought her aloof and most of the people they went to school with had no problems labeling her a snob when they were younger. Many times, it had been Emmett who jumped to her defense.

He would guess she was grateful for the ability now, though.

“I understand,” she spoke softly.

Emmett tilted his head. “You do?”

She nodded. “Yes. The way I left things in New York, well, I’m honestly surprised you agreed to meet with me once. I had a feeling it was more to appease your mother than anything. Valerie can be quite determined when she sets her mind to something, can’t she?” She smiled and Emmett bit back his own laughter. Her expression warmed parts of him he’d rather stay frozen.

Elle was right, though. Valerie Sumner was tenacious, especially when it came to fixing up her sons. He needed to remember that his mother’s persistence was one of the reasons his family was in the financial situation they were.

“Well, then.” Elle tossed him a frigid smile. “Why don’t we discuss things and then you can tell your mom you made an effort and it didn’t work out?” Elle motioned toward the restaurant. “Shall we?”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“We can just sit at the bar if you’d like.”

That was when Emmett realized she had no notebook, no file folders. Was this strictly a social call for her?

Elle tilted her head, her lips quirking in that familiar expression that said she was curious. “What?” she asked.

“I thought this was business,” Emmett said.

That stopped her and she glanced around. “We can talk business at the bar, can’t we? I’ve had lots of meetings there with vendors and clients.”

The way she said that felt dismissive, like Emmett was nothing more than business to her. But wasn’t that what he wanted? Hadn’t he told her not two minutes ago that was all this was going to be?

“All right,” he said.

Elle walked in front of him and nodded at the hostess as they entered the restaurant. “Hey Vicki, this is my friend, Emmett Sumner.”

Vicki’s eyes rolled up to meet Emmett, her brows rising in what Emmett thought must be surprise. The town knew the families didn’t exactly get along, but he wondered how much more people knew. Did people in town talk about him and Elle and what had once been between them? It was becoming apparent that his family did, but Emmett wouldn’t have guessed that would extend to the town.

“Of course, Elle.” Vicki smiled at Elle as she and Emmett slipped past, moving toward the bar.

Emmett walked behind Elle, keeping his eyes anywhere but at her ass, tight and lush though it was. Shoulder blades. He’d focus on shoulder blades. That was safe, wasn’t it?

No. Not safe at all. Not when he pictured himself taking her from behind as he bit into one sweet, sculpted shoulder. Heard the moan of her pleasure as he pushed deep inside her.

Emmett shook his head and refocused on present-day, here-and-now Elle, not his memories.

Elle stood by the bar, arms resting casually on the back of a stool. “Hey Randall, this is my friend, Emmett Sumner.”

Why did she keep introducing him as a friend?

Randall glared at Emmett, before his gaze returned to Elle. Emmett wanted to growl when he saw the gleam in the man’s eyes as his mouth split into a huge grin upon seeing her. He shouldn’t be surprised. Elle had that effect on men.

“Hey, beautiful.” Randall spoke to Elle, never once acknowledging Emmett. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll just have a club soda.” Elle returned his smile.

Emmett’s gaze never left the bartender, his blood heating at the possessive look Randall gave Elle. The man made no attempt to hide his lust. Once upon a time, Emmett would have had more than words for this asshole about the way he ogled his Elle. His Elle. Where the hell had that come from?

Business. Just business.

“Emmett,” Elle called his name.

Again, he was lost in thought. Elle probably thought he was an idiot.

“Um, I’ll have a root beer.”

Elle laughed. “Root beer.” She snorted.

“What?”

“I remember you used to order that when we were ten. You acted like it was real beer.”

Emmett cocked a brow. “I seem to recall you got hooked, too.”

Elle glanced back to Randall the Dick. “Make mine root beer too, Randall.”

“Sure thing, Els.” He winked then walked away.

Els? Emmett’s teeth clenched at the sound of the nickname on another man’s lips. Why the fuck was he calling her Els? That was Emmett’s nickname. The world could call her Elsbeth or Elle. He’d been the only one to call her Els. Ever.

“You two dating?” Emmett asked like a jealous boyfriend before he could stop himself.

“What?” Elle still stood, her hands holding on to the stool, but now she turned to gape at him.

“You and Randall.” Oh, God, had he just said the dick’s name like a…well, like a dickhead himself.

Her full lips quipped into a smirk he hadn’t seen since they were kids, one lone dimple appearing in her cheek. “You sound jealous, Emmett Sumner.”

God, she was beautiful. And completely untrustworthy. Remembering that last part would be the difference between walking away from this unscathed and walking away with a knife sticking out of his chest.

“Nope, not jealous, Just wondering.” He shrugged and slid onto one of the bar stools.

“Still watching out for me like a big brother, I see.”

Emmett stilled at the words. There wasn’t a damned thing about his feelings toward her that were brotherly.

If she noticed, Elle ignored his reaction. She rotated the stool and smoothed the back of her dress as she sat. She was the most graceful woman he’d ever met. What she did on the dance floor was a thing of magic, but it also carried over into her everyday movements.

“If I remember correctly,” Emmett said, “I was anything but a big brother the night you chose to walk away without a word.”

Elle’s smile fell. He felt like a dick. Again. Knowing he was being an ass and actually changing it were two different things, it seemed. Emmett couldn’t stop the desire to lash out at her, hurt her the way she’d hurt him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes pleading.

“Whatever.” He was an ass. She wanted forgiveness, but he couldn’t give it to her. What kind of a dick did that make him? “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t matter.”

“It totally matters,” Elle said as she slid her hand toward his.

He drew it away before she could touch him.

“Sorry,” she said again in a whisper as she pulled her hand back and placed it in her lap. He noticed her intertwining her fingers and rubbing her palm with her thumb. She’d done that anytime she was about to perform on stage and he knew what it meant. She was nervous, scared, and he’d made her that way.

“Look, it’s okay, Elle, I—”

Her head snapped to his, eyes wide. “No, it’s not. What I did was—”

“Here you go, Els.” The bartender interrupted, placing Elle’s drink in front of her. “Anything else you need?”

Elle gave the dickhead a stern look. “My friend also ordered a root beer.” She nodded toward Emmett.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” The bartender glared at Emmett. “Sorry about that, man.”

Sure, he was.

“No problem. You know what,” Emmett shook his head, “I’ve changed my mind. I really don’t want anything.”

Dickhead nodded once and left.

Emmett turned back to Elle and watched her stir her drink with the swizzle stick until the bartender was out of earshot.

“He does it because he likes you,” Emmett said.

Elle’s head snapped up, her hand nearly knocking over her drink. “Does what?”

Emmett laughed. “Calls you Els. You were always oblivious to the effect you had on men, Elle.”

Oblivious to the way he’d always felt, he might have added, but didn’t.

Her reaction was subtle. So damned subtle not many would have noticed it. But he did.

Elle’s body curled into itself, her chin falling. It was a move that said she was unsure of herself, uncomfortable in her own skin. And that sure as hell wasn’t his Els.

Elle had always been a bit shy but regardless of that, she’d been comfortable and confident in her own body, especially when she was dancing. She used her body as a work of art, communicating with it through her dancing, and her confidence always shone.

Emmett hadn’t been wrong in his earlier thinking. Elle was different. Something had happened. What could have hurt her enough to cause the reaction he’d just seen? Unease swept over Emmett as he ran through all the possible scenarios. Each was uglier than the last.

Elle stared out the huge window, seemingly lost in thought. When she turned to face him again, she was all business. “So, I was thinking that if we plan events at the resort and the lodge, we can bring new tourism to Canyon Creek. Maybe we can get the town involved and run a few festivals and things?”

“What is it, Els?” Emmett asked quietly, glancing around to be sure no one was close enough to hear their private conversation. His head warned him that he didn’t want to know what was going on with her. Hell, his mind screamed at him to walk away from this woman right now. Before she could cause him the kind of pain she seemed so talented at bringing.

But his heart wouldn’t let him walk away from her. His heart could never leave Elle hurting, even if she’d done it to him time and time again. So, he pressed on. “What is it that changed you? What are you not telling me?”

She froze, but quickly recovered, trying to play it off like she didn’t understand. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me what’s happened. I can see there’s something, something that changed you.” He glanced around again to ensure their privacy, then brought his gaze back to her. “Don’t you trust me?”

“What?” She sounded hurt, and for a split second he felt bad for prying. “No, of course I trusted you,” she said. “I mean, I trust you.”

Movement at the corner of his eye caught Emmett’s attention. He looked up and found the bartender standing there, mouth pressed tight.

“Uh,” Dickhead stumbled with his words. “I was just checking to see if you needed anything.”

Elle sat silent.

“No, we’re good,” Emmett answered, his eyes never leaving Elle’s.

“Els,” Dickhead asked.

What the fuck?

“Do you mind?” Emmett asked, more harshly than he should have. He had no right to be possessive of Elle, to be pissed the guy had called her Els and used the name as though they had some connection.

“Yeah, I do, actually,” Dickhead answered, seeming to come to some kind of decision. “You’re upsetting Elle and that upsets me.”

Emmett almost offered a smart-ass retort but thought better of it. Instead he turned to look at Elle, thinking he’d let her tell the guy she was fine, but his heart sank when he saw her.

Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears and her cheeks flushed red, something she always did when she was upset.

“I’m fine, Randall.” Elle spoke softly, a wobble in her voice.

Emmett slid off his bar stool, glad that Dickhead finally walked a few feet away.

Somehow, Emmett had gotten sucked into Elle Noble’s vortex again. He was trying to talk to her as though he cared, as though he wanted to know what was going on with her and— Shit. He just couldn’t go there again.

“Never mind.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “Look, I can’t do this.”

“Do what?” She asked, turning to face him, but looking like she didn’t want the answer to the question she’d asked.

“I can’t pretend that everything’s okay between us. I can’t work with you without—”

“Without what?” Elle’s chest stilled and Emmett feared she might not be breathing.

“Without trust. I don’t trust you, Elle. And you obviously don’t trust me.” Emmett stepped back, putting more distance between them.

“How can you say that? Of course, I trust you, Emmett.”

Emmett laughed under his breath. “Yeah, you trust me so much you left me to sit in a hotel room in Manhattan wondering what I’d done wrong. A thank you note, Elle? Really? Thank you?” He looked away and then back just as quickly.

“Emmett,” she whispered the word as she swiped at a tear on her cheek.

“I‘ve got to go.” Without another word Emmett stalked toward the front of the restaurant, knowing full well, if she caught up with him, he’d be under her spell again.

“Emmett,” a man said in front of him.

He glanced up, surprised to find Warner Noble, Elle’s father, standing toe to toe with him, a huge smile spreading wide across his face. The man wouldn’t be smiling when he heard how Emmett had just treated his daughter. He’d likely want to punch him in the face. Hell, Emmett wanted to beat the crap out of himself.

Elle’s dad didn’t seem to notice. “I’m so glad I caught you. Megan told me you and Elle were down in the bar meeting. I think you’ll find we’ve come up with some great ideas for—”

“I don’t think it’s going to happen, Mr. Noble. No offense, but I just can’t work with Elle. If you have ideas, I suggest you contact my mother, or Maggie Lawrence, the lodge’s general manager.”

Mr. Noble’s brows furrowed and his smile fell. “Emmett, I’m sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to working with you.”

“Why?”

His head flinched back. This seemed to stop the man. “Well, you’re a talented writer,” he said, recovering quickly, “and you’ve written some excellent ad copy for your family’s hotel.”

“You’ve stalked our website?”

“Of course. It’s market research.” He studied Emmett, as though he really didn’t understand. Damn. The whole freaking family was clueless. What made any of them, including his own mom, think Emmett could do this? How was it hard for them to understand he couldn’t be around Elle like this?

Instead of addressing the issue of Mr. Noble’s daughter, Emmett went with the business side of things. “Sales and marketing isn’t my specialty.”

“I know, but it doesn’t show. You boys have done such a remarkable job, moving back home to help your mother. I’m so sorry about your father’s death. It was a blow to the entire community.”

“What are you talking about?” Emmett was completely baffled. Mr. Noble had always been cordial growing up, but the animosity between the two families had stood for generations.

“Your father. He was a huge part of this city, this mountain.” Mr. Noble motioned toward the massive windows at the back of the bar. That’s when Emmett noticed Elle walking toward them. He couldn’t see her again.

“I’ve got to go.” Emmett moved around Warner Noble, ignoring the stunned look on the man’s face.

“Emmett, please, don’t leave.” Elle said.

He glanced over his shoulder, a carefully blank look on his face. “You did it first, Elle.” Without another word, he turned and walked straight out of the resort. He wouldn’t be back.

Emmett was being a complete jerk, he knew it, but somehow, he was unable to stop himself.

Self-preservation. That’s what it was. That’s the only excuse he would give himself for being a complete jackass to the woman he’d once loved.