Chapter 7

The hotel wasn’t anything Bernadette wasn’t used to now, but she wasn’t jaded enough to fail to appreciate it.

If anything, the quiet luxury was a welcome respite after the manic insanity of the previous few months. And though she knew that by now, Em would undoubtedly be in with the shareholders as their meeting was at seven in the morning, she couldn’t find it in her to care as she watched the porter drop her case at the foot of her bed.

The frame was opulent and grand, while embracing the beauty of nature. Her bed was carved from oak, the four posts rising proudly from the floor to spear the air above them. White billowing fabric swathed around it, making it look like something from a romance novel. The bedding was done in gold and cream with touches of mink, and a fur blanket covered the bottom of the bed.

Either side of the four posters were matching nightstands. Two unfortunate bears lay supine for guests to stand on after leaving their beds, and a small dressing table with a huge gleaming mirror made up the rest of the décor. A few natural landscapes covered the wall, a pretty agate wind chime was an unusual touch but it made a gentle tinkling noise when Bernadette opened the French doors onto the private patio that was hers alone.

The mountain vista ahead of her was all that she could have dreamed of and more. The sheer vastness floored her, and though she was worth more than she knew what to do with, at that moment, it meant nothing.

How could it? When here was where the past, present, and future came together.

These mountains would see far more than she could ever imagine, and that was enough to make her feel very, very small.

It was, therefore, very good for her ego. A dose of reality was always imperative; it stopped her from getting too big for her boots.

She turned to the left when something caught her attention and she jolted when she saw Tyson grinning at her. His arms were folded as he leaned against the ornate cast iron railing. The filigree seemed super feminine against the sharp cut of his tailored suit.

He looked all man at that moment. With the mountain at his back, and that diamond bright smile, he could have been in an advert for cologne or something.

Her mind’s eye switched between colors as she imagined the palette she’d use to recreate such a scene. She was a painter at heart. Grafix would never change that. It just meant that she barely had any time at all to do what she loved the most.

Which sucked.

The thought had her flinching in distress, which in turn made Tyson’s smile falter.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, and it astonished her how attuned he was to her moods.

Such sensitivity she’d imagined was way beyond the limitations of any man.

She cleared her throat. “I was just thinking about how much I’d love to paint, that’s all.”

“That made you sad?” he asked, still frowning, still looking too handsome for his own good.

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, then cut her glance from his to stare out onto the snow-capped mountain range in front of her. “I haven’t painted in nearly…” It floored her when she made the calculation, and her words were choked as she confessed, “eight months.”

He whistled. “You had that easel set up in your bedroom all the time when you were a kid. Has that changed?”

She nodded. “I know. I used to.”

“What about now?”

She shook her head, then conceded, “I only just moved to a new place. I don’t spend much time there so everything’s still in boxes.” Her shrug was redolent with her discontent. “I would have set it up if I was there more.”

“That’s one sad statement to make, Birdie,” he replied softly. “All work and no play makes Bernadette a very unhappy birdie.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Don’t you start too. It’s bad enough with Emily always reminding me I don’t get enough free time.” She wriggled her shoulders, already feeling the tension that had started to disperse on the journey here, make an unwelcome return. “It will level out soon. I’ll get some time for me again.”

Tyson sighed. “If you believe that, then you’re crazy.”

“What do you mean?” Whipping herself back round to face him.

“Do you think we should have this conversation over a balcony?” he asked, cocking a brow at her.

She huffed and strode back into the bedroom, then through into the shared living room, which was simply elegance personified.

Perfect for après ski get togethers or a pleasant place to sit after returning back here from a meal.

The large sofas were squashy and loaded with down. They were neat in oatmeal linen, and the ottomans were a dusky brown leather. There were console tables loaded with vases and ornaments, and a baby grand piano sat overlooking the scene, meaning the pianist could take in the room at a glance or look to the mountains ahead of them.

A fireplace with an open hearth looked primed and ready for licking flames, and there was another bearskin rug in front of it that made her think of corny sex scenes in Z-rated romance films.

Not that she was averse to corny sex.

Hell, the last time she’d painted was eight months ago… She couldn’t even count how long it had been since she’d had sex.

Shrugging aside the depressing thought, she turned to Tyson when he appeared from his bedroom and motioned to the couches.

He sprawled on the armchair and waited for her to do the same. There was something about him that always seemed at ease. Always comfortable in any situation.

Not so for her.

She sat primly, knees tucked together as she stared down at the rug.

“They have a thing for taxidermy here,” she remarked. Not as a conversation starter, but the presence of yet another dead bear came as a surprise.

He snorted. “It’s not my idea of interior decoration but it’s not my hotel.”

“Do you have two in the bedroom as well? Maybe they’re to keep guests company at night?”

His chuckle was deep as he slouched further into the armchair. “That’s exactly what it is. They’re our guardians while we sleep.”

She smirked, then relaxing a little, sank back into the sofa, allowing the cushioned headrest to support her neck where tension was still swirling around. It was early, and though she'd slept on the plane, she still felt fatigued. Too fatigued for a heavy conversation.

Staring overhead, she realized the ceiling wasn’t just painted a duck egg blue to counterpoint the duck egg touches in the otherwise cream palate, it was actually a mural. Of the sky.

She studied the swirls of cloud, preferring to look anywhere but him, and murmured, “What are we doing here, Tyson?”

“I don’t know. What are we doing here?” he shot back at her, but she had the feeling he knew exactly what was going on.

“Have you fucked the receptionist?” The question wasn’t loaded with the jealousy she felt, just the curiosity.

Bernadette had seen the way the brunette had been eying Tyson. Like he was a chocolate chip cookie she’d already savored and wanted to try again.

Then, there’d been the barista when they’d stopped off for a drink while reception handled their out of the blue reservation for a suite. She’d looked him up and down like he was a pole, and she was a pole dancer.

He was surprisingly shameless as he admitted, “All fun. Nobody got hurt.”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what men say, believing it, and actually, they fucked with more than just a woman’s body.”

He snorted. “They knew the score. Hell, some of them made the rules themselves. There’s been a sexual revolution, Bernadette. I don’t know if you’ve heard about it.”

She huffed. “I’ve heard about it. I just think it’s bullshit. Someone always gets hurt.”

Tyson eyed her a second, then murmured, “Why Aspen?”

She blinked at the change of subject. “Because I saw a movie set here when I was a kid, and I always wanted to come visit.”

“So, why have you waited until now?”

“If I haven’t been painting, you can sure as hell believe that I haven’t had time to go visiting places on my bucket list,” she pointed out. Lifting a hand, she rubbed her brow where a pucker had appeared at the thought.

Tyson’s presence in her life was making her retrospective. It was starting to get irritating, and it wasn’t even his fault.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’ve always read me too well.” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about it. Not now. Maybe another time.”

He smiled. “Sure thing. What do you want to do with the day?”

She was still tired, and knew he had to be too because she doubted he'd slept on the flight. But, if he was game, then she wasn't going to let the side down. “I think we should get business out of the way first. That way, we can get down to the fun stuff.”

He grinned. “I like your style.”