1. Heath
CHAPTER 1
Heath
S he didn’t look desperate. She looked smoking hot .
“He left her, so she’s hanging around bars. You know how divorced women are? Like I said, desperate ,” my ex-wife, Alexa, continued her tirade against the slender, gorgeous brunette sitting at the bar counter talking to the bartender. She had a quiet elegance about her—in the way she moved, laughed, and even sipped her wine. She reminded me of a doe…like Bambi?
I didn’t want to be here. I wasn’t supposed to be here, but Alexa dropped by the resort, where I was the general manager, and asked for a ride back to her place. Then suggested we go to her place together so I could check up on our daughter, who wasn’t feeling well. Since Juno was taking a nap, Alexa wanted to stop for a drink at the local watering hole, and hence, I was stuck with her, which I found irritating since we weren’t married anymore, and I didn’t want to spend time with her, not unless there was a gun to my head…and maybe not even then.
I didn’t hate Alexa, but I didn’t enjoy her company and hadn’t for several years, even while we were together. We married young and somehow grew in different directions. She turned into one of those desperate housewives they have several television shows about, wanting to buy the most expensive whatever and show it off while tearing down other people. It bothered me that Juno spent half her time with her mother—because I had seen traces of Alexa emerge in our daughter, especially her need for designer wear. I was hoping that she’d grow out of it, or at least I’d be able to divert her from turning into her mother.
I’d zoned out what Alexa was saying, but she drew me back when she whispered rather loudly, “ And she’s pregnant.”
Who? Bambi? She didn’t look pregnant, not from where I was sitting. And she was drinking wine, so….
“Who’s pregnant?” Alexa’s sister, Natasha, asked and helped me out.
“Jack’s assistant,” Alexa continued as she glanced at the woman I was now addressing as Bambi in my head.
Jack, I assumed, was Bambi’s husband, and from what I gathered, he had been cheating on her and apparently had also knocked the mistress up.
This was one of the problems of living in a small town. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It was a fucking nightmare. I knew for sure people talked about Alexa and me and our divorce because we were friends and friendly despite the papers being signed over fifteen months ago. There was no fucking way I was going to let my daughter get caught up in a nasty divorce, so I kept everything copacetic, but spending time with Alexa in a bar was pressuring those sensibilities.
“His assistant, Molly?” Natasha shook her head as if in disgust and then glared at her husband, Fred. “She’s like twenty-five and a twit. He left Sable for her . What’s wrong with men?”
Fred raised both his hands in defeat. “No clue, babe.”
Alexa sighed. “Sable’s barren, and Jack wanted to be a dad. Can you blame him?”
Barren? Fuck, did we still use words like that? And Bambi’s name was Sable. It suited her—an elegant name for an elegant lady.
I rubbed a hand up and down my face.
What the fuck am I doing listening to this crap?
When I asked Alexa for a divorce, she had agreed after a year of me trying marriage counseling and all that other bullshit, which I knew wouldn’t work. However, she insisted that we move from San Diego to Aspen, where her family was, so we could continue to co-parent our then fourteen-year-old daughter. Now, a year later, I was still part of Alexa’s social circle—many of whom I didn’t mind, except Alexa when she went on this gossip shit that irritated the fuck out of me. I liked Natasha most of the time, and Fred and I were nearly friends due to our love for golf in the summer and skiing in the winter. Alexa’s parents were okay people, but I kept my distance. Daniel and Cynthia Vikar were Aspen royalty. They’d offered to help me find a job anywhere I wanted to in Aspen, but I told them it wasn’t a problem.
I’d worked at the Royal Hotel Group for years and was close friends with Maverick Royal, the owner and CEO. He was happy as a clam that I wanted to leave the Royal flagship property in San Diego and move to Aspen, where they had a struggling ski resort. I had turned it around and now had all the Royal hotels and resorts in Colorado under my purview. It was a good career, and I loved the hotel business. It could be hectic, and I was on the floor of the hotel, but I enjoyed the hubbub of the lobby, the sounds of happy families by the pools, and watching adults enjoy our Michelin-star-level restaurants and bars.
Alexa used to work in PR in San Diego. That’s how we met. She was working on the team doing a project for Royal Hotels. We both had been young. She’d been, what, twenty-three and I twenty-five. We got married quickly enough and had Juno almost immediately.
The marriage, I wouldn’t say, soured immediately, but started on that path right after Juno was born. Alexa decided she wanted to be a stay-at-home mom. I respected that. I had married a career woman, but if that’s what she wanted, I would move heaven and earth to give it to her. Then, as I climbed the corporate ladder, Alexa became more and more the kind of woman I didn’t respect. She hadn’t wanted to stay home to take care of Juno, she wanted to hobnob with other wives of wealthy men and talk about who bought what and went on which expensive vacation.
By the time I asked for a divorce, we’d had enough shouting matches that I knew weren’t healthy for our child. Alexa resisted it, insisting we go to marriage counseling first. We did for six long, excruciating months. We had grown into two people who didn’t have much in common. We didn’t have fun as a family—it was starting to affect Juno. My ex may not have been happy about the divorce, but our daughter had been thrilled. She felt we got along so much better as friends than a couple, and she was right. Not living with Alexa meant that when she got on my nerves, I could just walk away instead of getting into the same bed with her, where we would tear pieces of each other apart.
Alexa had tried to insinuate that San Diego was the problem since we were doing so well in Aspen. I didn’t burst her bubble that we were doing well because we were, in fact, not married. When she hinted that maybe we should think about reconciliation, I didn’t encourage it. There wasn’t enough Xanax in the world to make that happen.
And speaking of mental health, I needed to get the fuck out of here before I lost my mind.
I looked at my watch and decided that I’d just head on to Alexa’s place by myself and spend some time with Juno, even if she was sleeping. Anything was better than this. And then, because the universe was a fucking bitch and Alexa wasn’t bad enough, Leslie, one of her friends from high school—apparently, they were BFFs—what forty-year-old actually said that? My ex was who—joined us, her eyes eager.
“Are you talking about her ?” Leslie snarked, tilting her head toward Bambi. “I hear that she’s spending a lot of time with Ben.”
That I assumed was the older Native American bartender who Bambi was in deep conversation with.
“Ben Greyfeather?” Natasha sighed. “Come on, Leslie, Ben’s old enough to be our grandfather.”
“Oh, please, Sable was always such a slut,” Alexa remarked. “Even in high school, remember the time there was a sex video?”
“That was done without her consent,” Natasha shot back.
So, Bambi and these women had all grown up together and were all probably alike. That was good to know because that meant Bambi was off-limits. I didn’t need another Alexa in my life.
“She’s so on the prowl,” Leslie tittered.
“I mean, she’s here at the tavern, so…yeah,” Alexa laughed maliciously.
Okay, that was fucking enough.
I got up, pulled out my wallet, and threw some bills on the table. “I’m going to go check on Juno.”
Alexa pouted. “She’s sleeping, Heath, let’s hang here.”
“I’m tired. It’s been a long week.”
Bambi then laughed at something the old bartender said as she got up to leave. Her smile was brilliant, I thought, as she walked past us.
“Sable,” Leslie called out, winking maliciously at Alexa.
Bambi stopped, and her smile instantly went from easy to plastic. Maybe she wasn’t friends with this lot. She revealed her irritation at being interrupted on her way out but masked it quickly.
Well, darling, I’m in the same boat with you, I thought sourly.
“How are you doing, Sable?” Alexa stood up and did the fake hug and air kiss thing with Bambi, who didn’t look like she wanted to have anything to do with that kind of physical contact with my ex. But she didn’t make a scene, which I think Alexa had counted on.
How did I stay married to this woman for a decade and a half? She was still in freaking high school.
“I’m well, Alexa. Hi, Leslie, Natasha.”
Natasha, who wasn’t as much of a bitch as her sister, got up and extended a hand to Sable, who looked surprised by it but shook it. “It’s really nice to see you,” Natasha said politely.
Sable’s dark chocolate-brown eyes were brilliant with amusement.
Oh, she sees through these women , I thought almost gleefully and was even more charmed by her.
I hadn’t been with a woman locally since I moved to Aspen. In San Diego, it had been easier; here, I needed to be careful. Gossip was a local pastime, and I didn’t need my daughter to know about my sexual partners.
I wasn’t looking for a relationship, just companionship and sex. Casual. I was forty-two, and I was way past fucking random women. I had been loyal to Alexa while we were married, and I had dated some in San Diego after we divorced. I enjoyed the company of women, but with age, my needs had become particular. And women I could be physically attracted to didn’t stimulate me intellectually. But this woman, with her satin-like skin, fresh face, and sophisticated demeanor, called to me both sexually and at a human level.
“This is my husband, Fred.” Natasha all but pushed Fred onto Sable.
Bambi smiled at my former brother-in-law. “Fred, lovely to meet you.”
“Have we met?” Fred shook hands with her and looked keenly. It would sound like a line from someone else, but Fred was too decent for anyone to misunderstand him.
She laughed, and fuck if that sound didn’t go straight to my dick. “I love the Elk Steakhouse.”
Fred owned several restaurants around Colorado, including the most popular steakhouse in Aspen.
“ Yes .” Fred’s eyes lit up with memory. “You were there last weekend. Thank you so much for your patronage.”
“Next time you’re there, let the staff know; I’m usually around. I’d love to catch up, and you can have a meal on the house, right?” Natasha added. She seemed almost desperate for Sable’s attention, which surprised me.
Alexa frowned, not liking this at all. “Sable, this is my husband, Heath.”
“Ex-husband,” I automatically corrected, which she hissed at because she’d told me it was embarrassing when I did that, and I told her that it was uncomfortable as fuck for me to still be called her husband. She didn’t listen, so neither did I. “Nice to meet you, Sable.”
Bambi looked at me, and I felt the full force of her gaze like a sledgehammer. I’d never felt attraction like this before.
“Hi, Heath. Did you solve your problem with your stolen checkbook?”
I looked at her in confusion.
“I work at the bank,” she explained cheerfully.
I hadn’t seen her at Aspen Ridge Bank because if I had, I would’ve noticed.
“Yes, thank you.”
“So, Sable, we hear you’re single and ready to mingle.” Leslie had had enough of the introductory chit-chat and wanted to get to the point of dragging Sable into our group dynamic.
Sable laughed out loud, and I fell hard . “Oh, Leslie, I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
Leslie looked like she’d been slapped, which she effectively had been.
Sable nodded at us as a group. “Y’all have a good evening.” She then gracefully turned her back to us and walked away.
“The nerve,” Alexa muttered as everyone took their seats except me. I was still leaving.
“She’s so rude,” Leslie agreed.
“I think you’re the one who was rude, Les. Asking her about her divorce? That’s uncouth.” Natasha waved a hand to a server. “I want to go home, so let’s close out.”
“ Puhlease , don’t pretend you’re any better,” Alexa pounced on her younger sister. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who started the rumor about Sable fucking Mr. Pietro, saying that you saw them together.” She turned to look at me. “Mr. Pietro was our chemistry teacher.”
“I was a stupid teenager,” Natasha huffed. “Some of us have grown up, Alexa .”
I squeezed the bridge of my nose. I had to just turn Alexa down next time she suggested we hang out. Wasn’t the whole point of getting divorced that we didn’t have to spend time together?
Granted, I was still a newcomer by Aspen standards and didn’t know many people, but I’d rather sit out on my porch and stare at the mountains than listen to these women eviscerate another of their gender. So much for sisterhood!
“I’ll see you all later.”
I ignored Alexa when she called out to me. I was sure she’d find a ride home. As my daughter would say, I felt icky after spending time with Alexa, and it wasn’t the first or only time.
I saw Bambi in the parking lot.
She was on her phone.
As she spoke, she leaned against the door of a Nissan Leaf. I surmised her vehicle was parked next to my Jeep. Her back was to me, so I was not too conspicuous when I eavesdropped on her conversation.
“Jack, I don’t see why you think we need to talk about this,” she said.
I recounted the catty conversation in the tavern. Jack was the ex.
“No, you’re going to stop calling me and trying to control my life. You now have Molly to control…or take care of or whatever the hell you’re calling it. I’m not in your life and?—”
There was a pause.
“Jack, don’t raise your voice at me,” she said sternly. “If you do, I’ll hang up and block you for good measure.”
She paused for a minute and then hung up. When she turned to face her car door, she saw me. She was, no doubt, painting me with the same brush as the others because she didn’t look friendly. Not. At. All.
“Are you okay?” I asked. Of course, nothing was okay . I mean, her husband cheated on her, and he was still calling her and, apparently, yelling at her.
She shrugged. “No. But I will be.”
It was an honest answer, and I was surprised to get that from her. I thought she’d brush me off.
“That’s a very glass-half-full mindset.” I knew I was flirting, but then I wanted to.
“I believe in being positive.”
“I’m sorry about your divorce.” I couldn’t not say that since I’d overheard her conversation with her ex, and she knew I’d gotten the rest of the dirt from my companions.
She laughed. It was a ripple that went straight through, as the previous one had, to my cock.
“I’m not sorry at all.” Amusement danced in her eyes. “Have a nice day, Mr. Falkner.”
I watched as she expertly drove off.
She knew my name and where I worked; I knew her name and where she worked—this was a promising start. Maybe next time I was at the bank, which I’d endeavor to have a reason to be at sooner rather than later, I would seek her out.