Want You by Stacy Finz (11)

Chapter Eleven

TJ had a breakfast meeting with Nate Breyer on Saturday. The hotelier owned and operated Gold Mountain, a cabin resort fifteen miles from Glory Junction. He also had a B&B in the neighboring town of Nugget and a fleet of high-end hotels in the Bay Area. He lived part time in Nugget and was up for the weekend. TJ thought they could do business together.

His phone got an incoming text. Nate was running ten minutes late, which worked out fine because TJ still wanted to drop by the office and get his tablet. He was moving slower than usual this morning.

The driveway was a slushy mess but easy enough to get out of without having to shovel. According to the weather, no more snow until next week. If he got a chance later today, he planned to do some skiing and take advantage of the champagne powder. He parked in front of GA and rushed inside to find Darcy bent over a calendar.

“Hey, Darce. What are you doing here on a Saturday?”

Startled, she jumped up and knocked her headphones off in the process. “You scared me.” She turned off her iPod.

“Darce, the door’s glass. Didn’t you see me coming?”

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

He looked down at her desk to see what she was working on so intently.

“I’m trying to reschedule the canceled tours.” She tugged her dress down and took her seat again.

“I told Win to do that.” The asshole had dumped his work on her.

“He did do it. But some of the groups can’t make the new dates work. I’m trying to rejuggle. But TJ, this is a screwed system.” It was the most assertive he’d ever seen her. Of course, she had to go ruin it by saying, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“If it’s true, you should tell me. Otherwise, I can’t fix it. I still don’t understand why you’re doing this and not Win.”

“I have time to kill before I pick up my grandmother.”

Well, he didn’t have time to argue about it. Nate was due to meet him at the diner in a few minutes.

“All right, but put in for overtime,” TJ said. “And if you figure out a way to make the system better, let me know.” There were always going to be cancellations due to weather, and reorganizing these trips had become a major pain in the ass.

He hurried to his office to get his tablet. On the way out, he called, “Don’t work too hard.”

She was so absorbed in what she was doing, she didn’t hear him.

He walked to the Morning Glory, hoping to get a quiet table before Nate arrived. Deb saw him as soon as he came in, collected a menu from the box at the cash register, and started to show him to a booth.

“There are two of us.” He nudged his head at the menus. “I need two.”

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he thought he saw disappointment streak across her face. Deb grabbed another menu and led him to a seat.

“This okay?”

“Perfect.” He took off his jacket and hung it on a hook on the wall, then slid into the banquette. “A cup of coffee would be great.”

She ran off to get it and he checked his phone. Nothing more from Nate, so TJ presumed he’d be here any second. Deb came back with his coffee, a second cup, and a carafe.

“You want to order or wait for the rest of your party?”

“I’ll wait,” he said. She started to walk away and he grabbed her arm. “We need to figure out how to get a story in an adventure magazine like Outside.” Colorado Adventure’s head start was keeping him up at night.

“I don’t have contacts like that.”

Lauren would have. Then again, Lauren’s smiles didn’t wrap around his heart the way Deb’s did. And that was an issue because where Deb was concerned he was all emotion, not business. “It would help if you could put more hours in next week, maybe assist with some of the administrative work so I can focus on getting some buzz on the retail end.”

“I’ll try, but I promised Felix two weeks.” Someone at another table waved to get her attention and she had to run off.

Nate walked in the door and TJ stood up to shake his hand. “Good to see you.”

Breyer was a few years older than TJ and a hell of a businessman, building the Breyer Hotel chain from the ground up. TJ could learn a lot from Nate. Even though they were in different industries, they were both selling luxury experiences.

They spent time exchanging pleasantries and talking about Gold Mountain. The summer resort had been run down when Nate and his sister bought it. But they’d completely renovated the place, including winterizing the cabins. Now it was as busy in winter as it was in spring and summer.

Deb came back to take their orders and hung around to eavesdrop.

“You know her?” Nate asked when she left to go to the kitchen.

“She’s actually heading up our new retail operation at GA.” He may as well have said, We’re amateur night here in Glory Junction. Instead, he hastily added, “This is her last week at the diner.”

“Watch out. Pretty woman like that and the next thing you know, you’re marrying her.” He grinned. “That’s what happened with my wife. Luckiest day of my life when she walked into the Lumber Baron.”

“Yeah. Not gonna happen.”

Nate threw his head back and laughed. “That’s what I said.”

They talked business until their pancakes came, then talked some more. Nate had all kinds of ideas of how they could cross-promote. By the time TJ picked up the bill, his head was swimming with possibilities. After Nate left, TJ returned to GA to get his skis. Darcy was still there, her shoes off and a pencil through her hair.

“Still working it out, huh?”

She blew out a breath. “It’s like dominoes. One tile falls and they all come crashing down. We have to come up with a better scheduling system. During the winter months, we have to set up two dates for every trip—an event day and an alternate day. Our clients need to agree to the substitute date up front. Otherwise, it becomes too complicated to reschedule and people wind up asking for their money back.”

“I like it. Set up the new system.” She stared up at him like she couldn’t believe he was listening to her. “In the meantime, go home and have the rest of your weekend. Win shouldn’t have dumped this on you.”

“I don’t mind.” She started to say something but stopped herself.

“What, Darcy?”

She chewed the inside of her cheek and seemed to contemplate how to proceed. “He seems sad, that’s all.”

“Win?” He seemed distracted. TJ wouldn’t necessarily describe him as sad. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s not any of my business.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to pick up my grandmother now.” She gathered up the calendar and notes and stowed them in her big bag. “I’ll come back.”

“You don’t have to, Darcy. It can wait until Monday.”

She finished packing up and TJ heard the front door click closed as he went in search of his skis. He usually kept them in his office. But he’d recently cleaned and waxed them and had left them . . . somewhere. Maybe the equipment room, which resembled a war zone. Crap everywhere. He made a mental note to put Win on cleanup duty.

“What are you looking for?”

TJ jumped. “Dammit, Deb. Don’t sneak up on someone like that.”

“Sorry.” She held up her hands, but a grin played on her pretty pink lips.

He had an overwhelming urge to put those pretty pink lips to work. On him. “What brings you in on a Saturday?”

“You said you needed help . . . I’m here.” She looked at him like he was schizoid.

“I thought you had plans to ski.” First Darcy, now Deb. Was he that much of a taskmaster?

“I talked to Hannah last night at dinner and got a better handle on the numbers of sweatshirts we should start with. She also told me how many hats to get. I thought I’d at least put the order in now; that way I can work with you on the Colorado Adventure thing next week in between my shifts at the diner.”

“Get the order in and take the rest of the day off, Deb. We’ll deal with Colorado Adventure on Monday.” He was unlikely to find a magazine editor in the office on a Saturday.

“Then what are you doing here?” she asked.

“Getting my skis. I thought I’d get a little time in at either Squaw or Royal Slope.”

“Ooh, can I come?”

He hadn’t skied with her alone since high school and he wanted to. He wanted to badly. “Sure. How long will it take before you’re ready?”

“Just long enough to get that order in and to change.” She looked down at her diner clothes. Black pants and a white blouse. Not a uniform, but all the servers at the Morning Glory did black and white. Deb wore it better than anyone else there. Then again, she’d look good in a gunnysack.

He wanted to get an early start and if he helped her with the orders, they could hopefully get it done faster. “Go get started. Once I find my skis I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have to. I could meet you at the lifts.”

“Oh yeah, how you planning to get there?” He leaned against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest.

“Uh, good point.”

“I called Roger to have him tow your car to that mechanic I told you about. The one who does the transmissions.”

Deb got a panicked look in her eyes. “I can’t afford that right now, TJ. You should’ve talked to me first.”

“You can’t leave the car there indefinitely. There’s street cleaning. I’ll take care of it for you. You’ll pay me back when you can.”

“That’s very nice of you. But I don’t know when that’ll be. Besides, do you cover all your employees’ car repairs?”

She knew damned well he didn’t. “Deb, could you just take care of those orders? I want to get out of here.”

“We’re not finished talking about this.”

Yeah, they were. “Come on. It’s a rare day when I get to go skiing.”

“You went just last weekend,” she said and backed out of the equipment room.

Ten minutes later, he found his skis in the men’s locker room. While he was there, he changed, got his boots, and carried them into Deb’s office.

“How’s it going?”

“Good.” She remained fully focused on her computer monitor, looking ridiculously beautiful. Her dark hair spilling over her shoulders. He took a few moments to appreciate her. Last night, when he’d given her a ride home, they’d been all business. TJ was pretty sure she’d been upset about something, perhaps her car.

“This is kind of fun,” she said, and he took his eyes off her long enough to collect himself. “So we don’t have to pay until the stuff is delivered?”

“Normally,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “But because it’s custom, we may have to pay in advance. Let me see.” He pulled up a chair. She had on that perfume she always wore. Something light and sweet. “Yep, see here.” He read her the fine print, pulled his wallet out, and flicked her a credit card. “Use that.”

She punched in the numbers and printed an invoice. “I can’t wait to see what they look like.”

He wished he could get as enthusiastic over clothes as Deb, especially if they were going to sell them. He just wasn’t that in to fashion—not that you could call hoodies fashion—never was. Josh’s snowboard idea, now that was a different story.

“You ready?” he asked because sitting here so close to her was getting difficult.

“I have to go home first to change.” She eyed him up and down, taking in his skiwear. “I can meet you back here.”

“I’ll go with you.” It was a supremely bad idea. But apparently, he’d become the kind of guy who regularly showed poor judgment.

“I’m warning you, it’s a mess.”

He’d once had a girlfriend whose chow shed all over her apartment. Big clumps of red, dog hair everywhere. If that wasn’t bad enough, she tossed her clothes on the floor. Dirty, clean, she didn’t seem to care. The whole place was a laundry basket. It wasn’t like TJ was a neat freak by any stretch. But the fact that she never scrubbed her bathroom—there was a film around the tub that gave it a third-world vibe—made him not want to stay over there. She was sensitive about it, accusing him of using it as an excuse to leave after they’d had sex because he wasn’t that serious about her. He supposed there was some truth to it. After all, he could’ve just helped her clean the place.

He doubted Deb’s apartment was that bad—or that he’d leave after sex.

“Let me just make sure the back door’s locked.” He checked it and turned on the alarm when they left. Glory Junction was a relatively crime-free town. But Garner Adventure housed hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of equipment. No sense tempting fate.

They walked to the diner and climbed the stairs to Deb’s apartment. She definitely wasn’t going to win housekeeper of the year, but it wasn’t that bad. A few dishes in the sink, some clutter on the kitchen table, and a bunch of magazines on the couch. It looked lived in, unlike his house, which was neat as a pin. Not because he kept it that way but because he was never there to mess it up.

“I’ll be out in a second,” Deb said and disappeared down a narrow hallway to what TJ presumed was her bedroom.

He snooped around while she changed. There were lots of pictures of her, Hannah, and Foster on a baker’s rack in the kitchen area. Mostly of them in various forms of drunkenness. He perused her bookcase and found a high-school yearbook. He thumbed through the pages and a loose picture fell out. Deb and Win at their senior prom. Win had his arm around her, a cheesy grin on his face, like the whole thing was a big joke. But not to Deb. The camera, which never lied, had caught her smiling up at him as if he’d hung the moon—and her heart. TJ’s slammed against his rib cage. Carefully, he put the picture back between the pages and closed the book.

He’d been in college when that picture was taken, sleeping and drinking his way across campus. Trying hard to make the feelings he had for her go away. He’d come close a time or two in grad school, met a few women who he could fall for, but it’d never stuck. Then he’d come home and there was Deb.

“What are you doing?” she called from her bedroom.

“Checking out all your stuff.”

“Don’t look too closely. I haven’t dusted in two years.”

She came out in a snug pair of ski pants and a zip-neck top that clung to her every curve. For a second, TJ gawked before catching himself. Deb didn’t seem to notice—TJ got the sense she had no idea how gorgeous she was—and just went about her apartment, collecting her boots and skis. On their way out, she tried to put on her jacket with her hands full.

“Here.” He took her skis and poles and helped her shrug into the jacket.

“Can we go, Bennett?” She’d actually proven to be faster than most women. That was the thing about Deb; she was as much of an outdoor fanatic as the Garner brothers.

They walked back to TJ’s truck and took off for the mountains.

“Squaw or Royal Slope?” he asked.

“The Slope.”

He smiled to himself. For an official trail, Royal Slope was probably the most challenging run in the Sierra. Only very advanced skiers felt comfortable on the piste, though occasionally some jack-off new guy would try it and end up crashing.

“Unless you want to go backcountry?” she said.

“Nah, it’ll take too long.” Although the nonsanctioned trails were the best, daylight was burning. “Hey, let me ask you something. Does Win seem sad to you?” Sad had been Darcy’s description. The only time TJ had known Win to be truly sad was when Josh had nearly lost his leg in the bombing. They’d all been devastated, not knowing if he’d ever walk again.

“No. Why do you ask?”

“He seems off.”

“He’s definitely been distracted,” Deb said. “But isn’t that just his attention deficit disorder talking?”

Is that what she called it? TJ supposed it was better than the alternative: treats-Deb-like-shit disorder. To be fair, Win didn’t treat anyone like shit. He just went through life woefully unaware of how his indifference hurt others.

“If anyone would know, it would be you.” TJ slid her a glance. He didn’t know what was up with Win, but Deb’s dismissal of it being anything serious was a relief.

“I doubt it. We haven’t been close for a long time. Not even friends, really.”

“Doesn’t that change every couple of days with you two?” All part of Win’s so-called attention deficit disorder.

“Not anymore,” she said, an edge to her voice that TJ couldn’t read.

“You moving on?” In so many words, she’d said she was, but TJ didn’t necessarily believe her. The whole town assumed they would someday tie the knot. He wouldn’t be surprised if Reno bookies were laying odds right now on whether they’d get back together. He shouldn’t have asked. It was disloyal to Win.

“I told you I was,” she said and sounded testy. TJ didn’t know if she was trying to convince him or herself. “I don’t even feel the chemistry anymore.”

“A person can be great but just not right for you,” he heard himself say and felt like a complete traitor.

“What about Mandy or Karen?”

He lifted his shoulders. “They meet the criteria on my list, but . . . not feeling it.”

“You have a list?” Deb wiggled under her seat belt to turn sideways. She was laughing at him. “Of course you do.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re nosy as hell?”

“What’s on the list?” she asked, undeterred.

You. “We’re not doing this again.” Better to end the conversation now, before he told her the truth.

“Come on, tell me.” She poked him in the shoulder. “Karen or Mandy?”

“Hey, I’m driving.” He grabbed her finger and held on too long. “Neither.”

“Give me a break; you wanted to sleep with Karen.”

Maybe that’s what she’d been pissed about last night. Or maybe he was delusional. Either way, he didn’t want to sleep with Karen. He slid her another glance. “News flash: men want to sleep with women, period.”

“I don’t think you’re like that,” she said.

“Well, you’re wrong.” He pulled into the resort.

Unlike Winter Bowl, Royal Slope didn’t have a hotel or a village with upscale shopping. It was fairly bare bones, with just a lodge that housed a snack bar, bathrooms, and a seating area with a fireplace. The no-frills atmosphere helped keep the price down and appealed mostly to locals and experienced skiers. Glory Junction residents got special deals on season lift tickets and, in the summer, cyclists used the gondolas to go to the top of the mountain and ride down. He and his brothers loved it. And it kept the resort alive after the snow was long gone.

TJ carried his and Deb’s gear to the lodge, where they put on their boots and got in the chairlift line. Not much of a wait; the runs weren’t too crowded despite the recent snow. TJ figured locals, fearing mobs of weekenders and tourists, had stayed home, opting to ski Monday through Friday. It was the kind of town where people took off in the middle of the day after a fresh dump to be the first on the mountain. Recreation was a way of life in Glory Junction, part of the reason his parents had moved here from the Bay Area and founded Garner Adventure.

They rode the lift up to one of the most difficult black diamond trails, got off the chair, and put on their skis. TJ let Deb go first so he could hang back and watch her. She was a fantastic skier, smooth, her body completely in tune with the terrain. Like a choreographed dance. He lagged behind her for a while, enjoying the view of her backside swishing across the trail. Eventually, he caught up and skied next to her. It was kind of scary how in sync they were together, intuitively knowing when the other wanted to speed up or slow down. For a time, they just traversed across the slope. But when they got to the bowl—the basin of the mountain—they picked up speed and made big, swooping turns. A few skiers stopped to watch.

Back at base, Deb asked if he wanted to go to the terrain park, a roped-off run that included jumps, assorted obstacles, and a half-pipe for freestyling and aerial tricks. A woman after his own heart.

They took the tram up and spent a good hour or two sliding across the fun box and up the rail and doing hucks off the jumps. When they got down they were exhausted. And cold.

He and Deb took a break in front of the fireplace in the lodge, removing their boots to warm their feet on the hearth.

“God, you’re a good skier,” she said and rested her back against his shoulder.

“You too.” He draped his arm around her, then silently berated himself for doing it but kept it where it was.

“Why do you think you didn’t make the Olympic team?” She moved her feet away from the flames and tucked them under her butt. He watched the move, a little awestruck at how limber she was.

“Not good enough,” he said plainly.

“Yes, you were.” She stuck her chin out, reminding him of her stubborn streak. “I used to watch you guys train. You were the best in the group.”

But not as good as Win, who got a coveted spot and later decided he didn’t want to go all the way, didn’t want to put in the effort.

TJ shrugged because it was ancient history. “It probably worked out for the best.” He’d gotten an MBA instead.

“Probably,” she agreed. “An Olympic skier has a small window of prime time. Sponsors are always looking for the next pretty face. Not that you don’t have a pretty face.” She turned to look at him and snugged her head under his chin. Her hair smelled good, like some kind of fruity shampoo, and he felt himself instantly react.

Good thing for the long fleece. He inched away, even though he didn’t want to.

“Did you always know you would run Garner Adventure?”

No, he’d wanted to be an international ski pro. Then he’d whiffed in those last few competitions and had lost his chance. That’s where GA came in. He’d always been the logical brother to lead the next generation of the company. And the fact was, he loved being CEO of Garner Adventure. No regrets. None whatsoever.

But lately, pushing papers, juggling profit-and-loss statements, finagling deals to grow the company . . . well, it wasn’t enough. He didn’t know exactly what he needed to fill the void, only that he couldn’t continue living the way he had these last ten years.

“For the most part,” he replied. “Colt wanted to be a cop. Josh went off to school and then the army, and Win . . .” They both laughed. It was a long-standing joke that Win was the screw-up in the family, when the truth was, he’d turned out to be a rainmaker for Garner Adventure. With his wit and charm, he made friends wherever he went. And as good an athlete as he was, he was laid-back enough never to be intimidating. As a result, he attracted a good number of the company’s clients, often big corporate accounts that wanted to team build. “Anyway, I was the one who showed the most interest in running GA.”

“You’re good at it,” she said. “You could probably be working at a huge Silicon Valley firm, living large. But this is better.”

He’d always thought so. “What about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?” He doubted she’d wanted to be a waitress.

“I don’t remember ever really thinking about it. My family wasn’t like yours. My parents worked hard just to scrape by. There wasn’t a whole lot of encouragement to go to college or to have big goals. Not because they didn’t want me to, but it just wasn’t part of our world.”

The Bennetts were good people. But yeah, she was right, at the end of the day, they didn’t have enough energy left over to dream big for their only daughter.

“I know they’ve been having a hard time of it with your dad’s back.” He didn’t want to say financially, even though he knew the truth. Deb could be touchy about it.

“Still scraping by.”

“With the new job and salary, you’ll be able to help more.” He only hoped the retail venture was successful, especially now, with Colorado Adventure crawling up their ass.

“Because you believe in me.” She was laughing at him, but there was something else there. Emotion in her eyes, like his words meant something to her, like they held weight, and like maybe no one had ever told her that before.

“I do.” More than she ever knew. “You want to get going?”

“Probably.” But she continued to sit with her feet tucked under her ass. “I’m hungry; are you?”

“I could eat, but not here.” The food was crap. Prepackaged stuff that had been sitting around for God knew how long.

“I want french fries from Old Glory.”

“Let’s go, then.”

They put on their shoes and he gathered up their hard goods and carried them to the truck. She tossed her boots in and he nosed down the mountain back to town. The wind was blowing hard and the day had gone from sunny to dreary. TJ dropped his skis off at GA, then continued to Deb’s apartment before heading to the bar.

It was after lunchtime, but Old Glory was still pretty crowded. Boden came out from behind the bar to say hi.

He eyed their clothes and their sun- and cold-chapped faces. “You guys been skiing, huh? How about the two-top over there?” Boden pointed to a table in the back.

They took it and draped their jackets on the backs of their chairs. A server brought them menus, but they didn’t need them. Deb asked for pub fries as a starter and they both ordered soup and sandwiches.

TJ got up and grabbed a basket of peanuts from one of the big oak barrels on the floor and set it in the center of the table. He cracked open one of the peanuts and flicked the shells at her.

She fired back and landed one smack in the middle of his forehead.

He pelted a whole peanut—shell and all—at her left breast. That had been totally unintentional. “Oops, sorry.”

“You want to play hardball, I would cover the family jewels if I were you.” She flipped one into his lap.

He held up his hands. “I surrender.”

She brushed the shell she was about to aim at him on the floor. Their fries came and they temporarily forgot the peanuts. The server brought the rest of their order and they ate in companionable silence. Occasionally, he’d sneak a peek at her when he thought she wasn’t looking and felt an ache of longing so deep that it hurt his insides.

“Quit staring at me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, babe.”

A text came in on his phone and he reached into his jacket pocket to check the display. They had a couple of tours today, including Colt’s speed-riding trip. He wanted to make sure it wasn’t an emergency.

But it wasn’t Colt or any of his other staff. It was Karen.

She’d signed it with a smiley face, which kind of bugged him . . . and why did he freaking do that? Why did he always try to sabotage any romantic prospect?

“Everything okay?” Deb asked.

“Yep.” He went back to devouring his sandwich.

“It was Karen, wasn’t it?”

Now, how the hell had she known that? “Yep.”

“She’s kind of pushy, isn’t she?”

“You certainly seem to have a problem with her,” he said.

She pushed her plate away and sighed. “I think I’m jealous, to tell you the truth.”

He assumed she meant she was jealous of Karen in general. But he didn’t ask her to clarify because . . . well, hope sprang eternal.