“Here are your room keys, Mr. and Mrs. Bogden,” Maggie said, pushing the plastic access cards across the wooden counter. “Your room is on the second floor.” She pointed to the two-story staircase to her right. “Take a left at the top of the stairs and your room will be halfway down on your right. You all have a beautiful view of the mountain and the creek.”

“Thank you,” Mrs. Bogden said. “We’ve heard such wonderful things about the lodge.”

“I’m so glad.” Maggie beamed. The Lodge at Canyon Creek was as much her baby as it was Valerie’s. Valerie and John had given her a home when they’d brought her into their dream. “If you’re planning to ski on Canyon Creek Mountain, we have a shuttle that takes you to the resort side of the mountain. It runs every thirty minutes, weather permitting, from six a.m. to ten p.m.”

“I noticed your website talked about dog sledding,” Mr. Bogden said.

“Yes, O’Halloran’s Snow Dog Tours is our recommended vendor.”

“Oh, that’s so funny.” Mrs. Bogden shook with laughter.

Maggie cocked her head, her brows furrowed in confusion.

“O’Halloran,” Mrs. Bogden repeated.

Maggie shook her head.

“He runs a dog sled company and his name is O-Holler-Ran,” she annunciated each syllable, “like he’s hollering at the dogs to run.” She covered her mouth and giggled.

“Forgive her,” Mr. Bogden wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Her sense of humor is unique.”

Maggie laughed out loud. “Actually, that’s pretty funny. I’d never thought of that before, but you’re right. Be sure to tell Grady if you book a tour. He’s the owner and one of the operators.”

Mrs. Bogden dropped her hand and smiled.

“If you book with our shuttle desk,” Maggie motioned toward the small counter underneath the staircase, “Trevor will be happy to help reserve your tour and arrange transportation.”

Maggie didn’t mention that she was about to add to Trevor’s workload. Without John working anymore, there were a few people she’d be counting on to pick up the load.

“I’m so excited to be in Colorado,” she practically squealed.

Maggie laughed. Mrs. Bogden’s excitement was infectious. This was one of the reasons she loved working at the lodge.

“I’d love to meet the owner while we’re here, to say thank you for being so sweet when we booked our room,” Mrs. Bogden said. “She must have chatted with me for half an hour.”

“You’ll see her out and about at some point during your stay I’m sure. Just look for the tall, beautiful woman with silvery blonde hair. You’ll probably hear her before you see her.” Maggie kept to herself the fact that Valerie’s husband of thirty-four years had just passed away.

Of course, many of their guests had been coming here for years. If they hadn’t heard the news yet, they would soon. Maggie would be sitting down and emailing several of them to let them know what had happened. She didn’t want them to be surprised when they came for their annual visits.

She refocused on the couple in front of her. “The elevator is just down the hallway to the right of the fireplace if you need it, and I’ll have your bag brought up right away.” She pointed toward the archway.

“Thank you…” Mrs. Bogden paused, glancing at Maggie’s name tag.

“I’m Maggie,” she answered the woman’s silent question. “Maggie Lawrence, the manager.” Maggie reveled in her title. Even though her ultimate goal was to own a small hotel of her own someday, for now, she was happy here at the lodge.

Since she’d barely skated through high school and never finished college, Maggie had worked her way up the ranks in the industry through different hotel and restaurant jobs. She’d worked practically every position in the industry. Ben probably thought she was too dumb to run a hotel of this size.

The only thing she’d been known for in high school was a pretty face. But with John and Valerie’s encouragement, Maggie had thrived, finding her passion in the hospitality industry. She’d even enrolled in a few online classes in hotel management.

Despite what Ben thought, Maggie and the Sumners were ready for the growth they knew the expansion would bring. Going from a medium-sized bed and breakfast to the much larger lodge meant more revenue and more work. She’d never admit it to Ben, but she had to acknowledge the job of managing the lodge was harder now that John was gone—for a multitude of reasons. She missed his energy, his creativity, his encouragement. Tears stung Maggie’s eyes. She could use the help but she wouldn’t bother Valerie. Not yet. Her friend needed rest, and time to mourn.

“Well, thank you, Maggie.” Mrs. Bogden smiled.

“My pleasure. Enjoy your stay.”

Mr. Bogden clutched their paperwork and keys. “We will.” He nodded.

Once they were out of sight, Maggie sagged against the counter, glancing at the clock on the computer. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon but it already felt like midnight. She’d been up since four.

The busier Maggie stayed, the less time she had to focus on John’s passing, and the doubts Ben Sumner had planted in her mind. Doubts never helped anyone.

“Maggie,” Denise called out.

Maggie glanced to her side and saw Denise Johnson, the head of their housekeeping department marching her way. With almost thirty guest rooms, and an additional three suites, their cleaning staff had grown exponentially in the last two months since they’d begun opening the new lodge rooms. Thankfully, Denise had worked in a large hotel chain and was able to keep up with the demands. She was also ex-Army, which meant she ran a tight ship with her staff.

“What’s up?” Maggie asked, pasting on a smile that she hoped said she had plenty of energy left to tackle whatever the problem was. She didn’t.

Denise propped a wide hip against the counter and crossed her arms across her expansive chest. “You might need to check on your new worker.”

Oh God, Maggie had completely forgotten she’d put Denise and her staff in charge of Ben.

She hadn’t meant to be a bitch, but he’d acted as if he knew everything about the lodge when in fact, he knew nothing. To put him in his place and help him learn the industry, Maggie had thought it best to have him shadow every department. Sure, she’d started him in housekeeping, which wasn’t the most generous of moves on her part, but really, what was the worst that could have happened? She knew what the worst was.

“What’s happened?” Maggie asked, trying to hide a grin.

“He nearly threw up.” She thrust out two fingers. “Twice.”

Maggie’s eyes went wide. She’d wanted to teach him a lesson, not make him sick. “Why?”

“He had to clean hair out of the drain in one of the rooms.” Denise chuckled, shaking her head. “That guy is a total pussy.” Denise’s mouth was ex-military, too. “Apparently Pretty Boy has an aversion to moldy clumps of hair.”

Maggie gagged and held up her hand. “Please, spare me.”

“The guy looks wiped,” Denise said. “I felt kind of sorry for him so I let Rhonda help him with his last three rooms.”

Maggie pressed her back against the wall, a trick she’d learned could reduce the aching, at least temporarily, and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Do you think he learned his lesson?”

“What lesson is that? Not to cross Maggie Lawrence?” Denise chuckled. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s ready to grovel.”

“I don’t want him to grovel.”

Denise rolled her eyes. “Of course, you don’t,” she said sarcastically.

“I want him to understand we’re not just a business on paper,” Maggie said. “He needs to know we’re more than figures in a column, more than profits and loss. We’re a team.” Maggie also planned to prove him wrong about the facts and figures too, but the cleaning lesson had seemed the better one to start with. The funnier one, anyway.

“A team that cleans toilets and unclogs drains?” Denise raised a brow.

She smiled. “If need be, yes.”

Denise pushed off the counter. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you, Maggie.”

“What’s that?” Maggie blew at a curly tendril stuck to her lashes.

“You don’t mind rolling up your sleeves and doing the dirty work.” Denise nodded toward the employee entrance. “But it looks like someone does.”

Maggie followed her gaze and sucked in a breath, biting her cheek to keep from laughing.

Standing just this side of the door stood Ben. Or a version of the former Ben. His wide eyes and pale complexion had her contemplating placing a bucket at his feet. She’d hate to make him scrub puke out of the carpet after the day he’d had.

Maggie scanned down his body. His shirt was untucked and wrinkled, covered in something she’d rather not know about. His sleeves were rolled up nearly to his shoulders as his arms dangled limply by his side. He looked…defeated.

“Oh, my gosh, he looks awful.” Maggie swallowed a laugh.

Ben spotted her and his face went from pasty white to fury red in an instant, masking his gorgeous face.

“I stand corrected,” Denise smirked.

Ben prowled toward them, his usually light brown eyes now dark with anger as he moved slowly, Maggie in his sights.

Maggie stood frozen to the spot, but Denise continued. “Looks like Pretty Boy was willing to roll up his sleeves and get dirty, after all.”

Ben stopped at the counter, hands held out as if he were about to grab the counter and tell Maggie what he thought of her strategy.

“Uh, uh, Pretty Boy,” Denise scolded, “don’t touch these counters until you’ve washed your hands. We’ve discussed housekeeping protocol.”

Ben thrust his hands in Denise’s face. “I’ve scoured them, trust me,” he snarled through gritted teeth. He narrowed his eyes and glared at Denise. “And for the last time, my name is Ben, not Pretty Boy.”

Denise didn’t seem at all worried that Ben was the owner’s son. “Whatever you say, Pretty Boy.”

Ben lunged.

“It’s best to ignore her,” Maggie warned, tugging on Ben’s hand. Studying them, she noticed they were raw and red. “These look pretty bad. Did you pour chlorine directly on your skin?”

Ben jerked his hands away. “No.”

“Come on. I’ve got some salve in the office.” she said, pulling him around the counter toward the offices.

“See you, Pretty Boy,” Denise said with a wave.

Ben growled, but Maggie maneuvered between the two, pushing Ben on the shoulders to move him down the hall and out of Denise’s reach. She had to work to keep from running her hands over the muscles of his shoulders and biceps. Nope, she refused to give in to lust. Right now, Ben Sumner was the enemy. Well, maybe not enemy, but he certainly wasn’t an ally. Unfortunately, he was damned sexy, despite his grungy appearance.

Ben looked back. “She’s evil. Pure evil.”

“Who?”

“General Denise, the Dictator,” Ben said.

Maggie laughed.

“That’s what she made me call her, Maggie, the General. Who does that?”

Maggie shook her head and smirked. “Yeah, Denise can be hard core, but she’s efficient and reliable. Two things any good manager wants in an employee.” Maggie unlocked the door to the lodge offices and flipped on the lights. “Sit,” she pointed to a side chair beside her desk.

Ben glanced around the open room. “This is a desk, not an office,” he said. His tone wasn’t condescending, just observant.

Maggie glanced around the large open area. Nothing separated the desks—no walls, no partitions. She’d never noticed that fact until now. Well, she supposed she’d noticed it, she just hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought. “It’s the office, not my office.”

“How do you get anything done in here with no privacy?”

Maggie studied the six desks placed haphazardly through the room. Hers sat closest to the door, with Valerie’s near hers. Four others reserved for other department heads sat in the back.

Before the remodel, there’d only been room for two desks in the office of the bed and breakfast. They’d all shared the space. This larger area was a luxury, but they’d been so busy with the build-out, they hadn’t had time to do much more than stick desks in the room.

Maggie’s eyes stopped on the last desk. The large oak table had been hand crafted by John Sumner and still held piles of his papers. She noticed his computer monitor, flickering wildly from the screen saver. Why hadn’t anyone turned off John’s computer? Tears burned her eyes and she glanced away.

“Of course, Bon Jovi made it on the walls.” Ben laughed.

Maggie glanced up.

Ben nodded toward the framed photos Valerie had taken at live concerts that littered her desk and the wall next to it.

Despite the haphazard placement of furniture, Valerie had made sure her band pics went up first.

Tacked to the wall behind them was a Bon Jovi calendar, each month displaying a new song along with its lyrics and photos of the band. John had given the calendar to Valerie just last month for Christmas.

“Born To Be My Baby.” Ben read the song title.

Maggie smiled. “Your dad always said it was his love song to Valerie.”

Ben laughed. “He used to tease my mom that she only married him because his name was John.”

Maggie smiled, but the tears she’d fought to keep at bay quickly overtook the laughter and trickled down her cheeks. She glanced down and saw Ben had wrapped his fingers around hers.

Maggie tugged from his hold and swiped at her face as she walked toward the small kitchenette. She wouldn’t let herself break down, not in front of Ben. She reached above the sink and grabbed the first aid kit, clutching it to her chest, while willing her emotions to settle. After taking in a calming breath, she turned and bumped into a wall. A hard wall.

A hard wall named Ben Sumner.

She gasped and moved to step back, but bumped into the counter.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Ben said quietly. “I just thought the counter here with the sink would be a better place to doctor up my wounds.” His lips quirked and he shrugged.

He looked innocent, adorable, like the younger Ben she once knew, but she wondered if this new Ben did anything unintentionally. He seemed to have a strategy and a plan playing out in his head at all times. Why did she always feel like he was thinking of ways to move her around, like a pawn on his chess board?

“Sure.” Maggie side-stepped him and placed the kit on the counter. She fumbled through the contents, finally pulling out the salve. “Let me see your hands.” She drew in a deep, steadying breath and nearly choked on the smell that had taken over the small space.

“What?” Ben asked.

She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe we should do this after you shower.”

“That bad?”

Maggie laughed and nodded.

He took the ointment from her hands and began to doctor his blisters. “It’s your fault you know.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean for them to work you this hard. It’s just—”

“I get it. I was being an ass.” He smirked.

“Kind of.”

He let out a breath and looked at her. “Look, Maggie. I don’t want to fight, but you have to understand, I have valid concerns.”

She didn’t understand. He wouldn’t look at the numbers with anything but a mental sledgehammer poised to knock down all their hard work. “Ben, this lodge is about so much more than numbers on a spreadsheet. I know you don’t think I can do this, but I can. I’m smarter now, I’m—”

“I never said you weren’t smart. I’ve never said that, or thought it.” His lips flattened in a grimace as if she’d offended him. He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Numbers are all I know, Maggie.”

In that moment, she felt a pang of regret for the young boy she’d once known, his head always buried in a computer. Had he ever noticed the world around him? Or had he been so consumed with the business of making a business he’d forgotten to live?

“Tell you what, Pretty Boy.” Ben narrowed his eyes at her, but Maggie laughed and pressed on. “Why don’t we both go get cleaned up and I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour. We can walk around the property and I’ll show you the business plan. It’s not always about the numbers, Benjamin Sumner.”

Benjamin Sumner? What had made her say his full name?

“I know it’s not, Margaret Anne Lawrence.”

She hadn’t been called Margaret Anne since she was five. And how had he remembered her full name?

“Touché,” she said. In a monumental display of stupidity, Maggie slipped her hands around his shoulders to push him out the door. She paused. They were so broad and strong, she wanted to squeeze every muscle. She hurried to turn him toward the door. “Go,” she said, pushing on his back. “Shower and change. We’ll meet back here and I’ll show you the build-out plans we’ve scheduled for the lodge over the next year.”

Ben glanced over his shoulder. “Then you’ll take me out on a date?” He smirked.

Wow, that half-smile had her insides fluttering like a school girl. “Date?” She laughed nervously. “I said I’d show you the property. I meant the cabins and wedding barn.”

“Then dinner afterward, maybe?”

She didn’t know what his angle was, but, as if on cue, her stomach growled. “Maybe.”

“Maybe,” Ben repeated. He strolled toward the door, humming a tune that, if Maggie wasn’t mistaken, sounded a lot like a Bon Jovi song.