Trent looked down at the large St. Bernard puppy squirming on his lap in the cab and wondered for the hundredth time if this wasn’t the worst idea he had ever had. Over the years, Trent had indulged in some truly spectacularly bad ideas. But this could possibly make the top ten.

The puppy was wriggling and wagging his tail and licking Trent’s hand like he had never been happier in his whole, short life. “How could I think you’re a bad idea?” Trent mumbled into the little dude’s fur. Or, not-so-little. He weighed more than Trent’s luggage, he was almost certain.

Trent took a breath and reminded himself again that the fact that there had been a St. Bernard breeder in Jackson, Wyoming, with a litter ready to go and just one pup left the very week Trent had come home, was a sign from the universe he wasn’t willing to ignore. Even if this was a dumb idea, the stars had aligned for him and there was no going back now.

He looked out at the weak midday sunshine reflecting blindingly off the endless fucking snow and sighed. The only good thing about this weather was that it meant snowboarding, something Trent intended to do a lot of while he was here. The resort didn’t have a gym, so he was going to struggle to stay in shape during his stay. The best he’d been able to do was order a set of weights for his cabin.

His dad knew he was coming. Trent suspected that Barry had phoned Trenton James Charles Sr. in the couple of days it had taken Trent to fly out here and smoothed the way. Or tried to, at least. But in any case, Trent’s dad had emailed him to let him know that the resort had a staff cabin he could rent for a reduced rate. Trent had wanted to write back and say he could afford the full rate, because he didn’t want to come across as taking advantage. But he knew that kind of offer would be perceived as ungrateful.

He’d wanted some kind of peace offering to go to his dad with, though. Hence, the crazy idea of the puppy.

Trent looked down at the not-so-little guy and chewed his lip. He deliberately hadn’t been back to the resort since the accident. He knew his dad was mad at him for that, but what could Trent do to make it better? He’d need a time machine to be able to say goodbye to his mom, and the longer he left it with his dad, the more awkward it became.

Two years was a fairly long time. Trent wasn’t sure what he was even going to say when he saw his dad again. But he’d have to figure it out soon.

They were pulling up to the resort.

When Trent had been growing up, they’d lived in one of the actual towns about a forty-minute drive away. But when he’d left home at eighteen to chase his fame and fortune, his folks had quit their losses and moved into the staff accommodation. After over a decade here, Trent knew his dad felt like this was his home more than anywhere else had ever been. He loved the Grand Resort. More than he loved his son, Trent was almost certain.

Trent had never been all that close with his parents, but they’d gotten along as much as possible with Trent being such a rebellious teen. They had at least tried to understand how stifling he’d found small-town life. Trent was meant for the big wide world, not Buttfuck, Nowhere, Wyoming. He had been happy for them to leave his childhood home as soon as he flew the nest. The resort was their home, their family.

Trent glowered at the shabby front entrance. It hadn’t looked so dilapidated before. But it seemed appropriate to him. After all, this place had taken his mom from them all.

He didn’t understand how his dad could stay here for two years with all those memories haunting him. But he had. Trent couldn’t help but feel like his dad had forgiven the resort far quicker than he had Trent.

“Thanks, man,” he muttered to the cab driver as he paid him.

He let the chubby puppy down in the snow where he immediately started tugging at his leash, attacking the powder with tiny growls as he pounced and dug a few holes. Trent looped the end of the leash over his wrist, then picked up his two bags to take them toward the front door. Despite wearing sunglasses, Trent still squinted up at the lodge. Wow, the place had really gone downhill. What had happened?

Due to the state of the building and the fact it was nearing the end of the season, Trent wasn’t surprised there were only about a dozen people milling about in the lobby, including the staff. That didn’t help him feel any more comfortable when all twelve of those people turned to look at him as he and the puppy and his massive suitcases clattered through the door.

He cleared his throat and pulled off his glasses. Damn. At least his dad wasn’t out here.

“Oh – my god,” a voice declared in jubilation. It immediately caught Trent’s attention even before he identified who had spoken. The last thing he’d been expecting to hear out here was an English accent.

He looked around to the guy who was standing by the reception desk to his left. Then Trent blinked. Wow. That guy was beautiful. There was no other way to describe it, even if he was a dude. Tall, slim, pale blond hair that flopped over in a neat side part, high cheekbones and a bright, open smile. Designer jeans clung to his narrow hips and a cashmere sweater hung off his torso and arms.

Model, Trent thought immediately. But he immediately reconsidered when the guy threw up his hands, then dropped to the floor with absolutely no regard for his couture and opened his arms up for Trent’s puppy.

“Who’s a good boy? You are, yes you are!” the Brit cried, letting the puppy scramble and slobber all over him. “Good lord, he’s adorable. What’s his name?”

Trent looked down into a pair of teal-green eyes, wide with excitement. This guy was completely uncaring of the fact everyone was looking at him. He just smiled at Trent like he was the only person in the room.

Trent frowned. He didn’t have the energy for this. Did the guy recognize him? Was he flirting? He was obviously gay and Trent didn’t feel like breaking any hearts before he’d even had the inevitable row with his dad.

He glanced up at the rest of the room. Luckily, the same old country music was playing quietly over the sound system, so it wasn’t completely awkward with no one talking. He gave a tight smile to the people loitering around. Strangely, he wasn’t sure anyone recognized him. There were a couple of grandparents with a bespectacled kid under five making their way to the restaurant, probably for lunch. A dude in a white Stetson turned to a bellboy to ask a question, and a group of three middle-aged women in skiwear was sitting around the fireplace on sofas with hot drinks. They were all looking because this Brit was causing a scene and, to be fair, the puppy was adorable enough to grab anyone’s attention. But Trent didn’t spy that hungry look of recognition he usual got from fans.

He relaxed just a fraction, then looked down at the Brit. He was still gazing up at Trent as he played with the puppy.

Oh, right. He’d asked Trent a question. “No name, yet,” he said in a low rumble. “Excuse me.”

He knew it was rude, but he was so on edge he thought he might lash out or fall apart if he had to deal with any unnecessary distractions. He just needed to speak to his dad, then he could think about other people. If the Brit did know who he was and blabbed on Twitter, Barry could sweep that kind of thing away easily. Trent wasn’t here to make friends.

He tugged the puppy away from the guy and dragged his suitcases over to the desk. Luckily, the conversations around him were picking up again, so he didn’t feel everyone was listening in.

“Trent!” the girl behind reception said in delight. “So nice to see you again!”

Trent glanced down at her tag. He felt awful that the name ‘Kadie’ rang absolutely no bells for him. But it had been, what? Four years since he last came here? She looked to be in her mid-thirties, so probably had been here when he’d visited as a teen with his head in the clouds.

Trent smiled, though. He didn’t want to be an asshole, after all. He’d promised Barry he wasn’t going to turn into that person.

“Hi, Kadie,” he said. “My dad said he’d organized my accommodation. Do you have the key?”

Kadie obviously knew exactly how famous Trent was, but she was doing her best to be professional. Her smile was so wide it looked painful, and she was a little breathless as she spun around to get Trent what he needed.

“Yes, of course,” she said. “It’s Cabin Three and you’ve got it for as long as you need. The usual tenant left a couple of months ago. We love you – I mean – we’d love to have you as long as you like. Here. Really.”

She went pink and pressed the key into his hand. “Thanks,” Trent said. He couldn’t help but smile at her and she giggled softly.

No. He wasn’t even going to think about messing around with that sweet girl. No more broken hearts. So, he dropped the smile and pocketed the key. “Dad in the store?” he grunted.

“Um, yes, I think so,” said Kadie, her smile only faltering a little. She was a professional, after all.

Trent nodded. “See you later, Kadie,” he said.

He turned to find the Brit standing behind him, patiently waiting to presumably speak to Kadie again. He had his hands in his pockets and the dazzling exuberance from before was gone. He looked downcast, only offering Trent a small twitch of his lips.

“Sorry I petted your puppy without asking,” he said, stepping around Trent to get to Kadie.

Trent opened his mouth to say there wasn’t any need to apologize. But the guy was already speaking to Kadie in soft tones about something, the spa possibly? He laced his long fingers together on the desk and hunched his shoulders.

Urgh. Trent hadn’t meant to upset him. He just didn’t feel able to navigate a conversation with anyone right now. He simply needed to get through this first meeting with his dad. Then he could maybe act normal again.

Maybe he’d see this guy around later to apologize. Unless he was checking out? Well, then Trent wouldn’t have to worry about him again.

Except, he didn’t like the idea he had made such a seemingly nice person sad.

Feeling more of a jerk than ever, Trent yanked his suitcases forward. The puppy scampered by his feet as they crossed the lobby of the main lodge and went down one of the corridors toward the gift shop. Okay, this was it. Whatever happened now, things would be better afterward. Right?

His dad was behind the counter of the jumbled gift shop, fiddling with the scuffed radio and drinking coffee from one of the green-and-silver-striped mugs that immediately brought Trent back to his childhood. It was like no time had passed at all. Except so much had changed in the years since he had last set foot in this place.

“Hi, Dad,” he said softly.

Trenton Sr. looked up. Then he looked back down again.

Trent swallowed and eased his way further inside the shop, leaving his luggage out in the corridor. It was difficult enough to maneuver himself and the dog inside due to the fact that the place was an Aladdin’s cave of junk and crap.

Stock teetered haphazardly in towers that defied physics. Ashtrays and maracas and creepy wool dolls. Magnets and shot glasses and miniature wooden clogs that Trent had never thought had a place in an American ski lodge. Poorly painted Christmas baubles rattled as Trent passed, trying to restrain the puppy from sniffing at the yo-yos on the bottom shelf they were passing.

“Um, it’s good to see you,” Trent tried again.

Trent’s dad was a weather-worn man in his fifties. His skin was tanned and starting to wrinkle, his dark hair beginning to gray. He wore the same style of chunky knit cardigan he had worn to this store every single day for over two decades. His glasses had a smudge that Trent saw reflected from the fluorescent lighting above.

“What’s that?” his dad asked, jutting his chin toward the St. Bernard puppy.

“Uh,” said Trent. Fucking hell. He performed for a living. He made blockbuster movies and had sung in front of eighty thousand people numerous times. Yet his old man made him tongue-tied. “He’s for you.”

He bent down to pick up the puppy, who naturally squirmed and wagged his already quite powerful tail. A tail that swiped off a whole row of china bells with ‘Visit Wyoming!’ painted cheerfully all over them. Trent cringed as they clattered to the floor, breaking several in the process.

He looked over at his dad whose jaw was tense. “Um,” said Trent and cleared his throat. “I’ll pay for those,” he muttered sheepishly, trying to minimize his large bulk. He held up the puppy. “He’s, uh, well. I thought you could call him Merlin. Or Arthur, I uh…”

He knew he’d fucked up as soon as the words left his mouth. His dad’s scowl intensified and he picked up his coffee to take an aggressive swig. “He’s not Lancelot.”

Trent gritted his teeth and moved closer, narrowly avoiding the display of pint glasses with the wrong mountains engraved on the sides. Honestly, he didn’t know why his dad still cared so much when the company gave him such shit to sell.

“I know he’s not, Dad. But I thought you might like a new friend. He’s a cute little guy.”

Lancelot had been an old dog when he’d passed away peacefully last summer. But after Trent’s mom’s sudden departure the year before, Trent suspected his dad had taken that heartbreak even worse. Trent missed the big old dude, too, but there was only so long someone could wallow in grief. Trent knew his dad well enough to think he’d appreciate the company a new puppy would bring.

Except, he wouldn’t even look at the poor puppy.

“You can’t just replace people, Trent,” his dad said, settling the radio channel on a soft rock station.

Coldness more bitter than the snow outside cut through Trent. Why the fuck had he ever let Barry talk him into this? The entire endeavor was doomed to fail. Trent’s dad didn’t want to talk through their shit any more than Trent did.

“Fine,” he said, doing his best to keep his hurt hidden. “I’ll just take him back.”

He made to turn when his dad slammed the coffee cup down so hard on the glass counter Trent thought it might crack. It didn’t. But his dad’s expression was still angry. “You can’t take him back. Just…leave him here.” His eyes flicked over the dog. “Merlin,” he said, like he was trying it out.

Trent licked his lips. He was almost certain his dad would love the puppy – Merlin – if he just gave him a chance. If Trent left them alone and his dad could forget where the dog had come from. He had adored his St. Bernards all his life.

So he carefully placed Merlin on the carpet and offered the leash to his dad over the counter top. His dad narrowed his eyes at it, then managed to take the end without making skin contact with Trent.

Trent shoved his hands in his pockets and walked as fast as he could back out of the shop. He paused to grab the handles of his two suitcases again, maneuvering them so he could wheel them away toward the exit that would lead to his cabin.

He thought he might have heard a small ‘thank you’ as he left. But he was probably imagining it.