Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Trevor Montgomery never liked goodbyes.
Mostly, because he didn’t get nearly as attached as the people he hung out with. That made it awkward.
He supposed something inside him was broken.
But Darby was cool. They were on the same page.
Together, they stood on the sidewalk of Concourse D waiting for the driver to pull the luggage from the town car. They’d met a month ago at a gala, and they hadn’t been apart since. But their time was up, and now, she was flying to Iceland to spend Christmas with her family while he returned to Wyoming to spend it with his.
“You know, this doesn’t have to end.” She wagged a finger between them.
Oh, shit. Maybe not on the same page after all. He hoped he hadn’t done or said anything to mislead her. He was pretty sure he hadn’t. He tried hard to be transparent.
“All you have to do is sign the contract.” She brushed her free hand down his chest. “And we can spend a whole year together.”
Subtly, he took a step back. He didn’t do public displays of affection. He’d learned early on if he wanted to preserve his privacy, he couldn’t feed the media machine. “I’m not sure I can keep up with you.” He grinned, resorting to humor. But it was true. They might be the same age, but they lived at different speeds.
The driver set Darby’s suitcase down, and Trevor held up a finger. “I’m going to walk her in. I’ll just be a minute.”
But before they headed off, she pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of her pocket and handed it to the man. “Happy holidays.”
“Oh, there’s no need,” the driver said. “The tip’s included.”
“It’s Christmas.” She pressed the money into his palm. “Surprise your partner with a bottle of champagne.”
Her brilliant smile had the older man blushing. “Thank you.”
As Trevor wheeled her luggage inside, she asked, “So, what, you’re just going to sit on the porch wrapped in an old blanket when you could be watching NASCAR with me?” She bumped into him playfully. “Hey, I’ll even let you behind the wheel sometimes.”
A familiar burn at the back of his neck gave him a split-second warning of what was to come. After all this time, he’d become hyperaware of a fan’s proximity. His intuition was confirmed when the cold metal of the selfie stick tapped his inner thigh.
When he spun around, the fan cried, “Boxers? Briefs? Or commando?” Her group of friends burst out laughing, and the woman said, “We love you, Trevor Montgomery. We’re your biggest fans.”
Even after three decades of the same movie franchise, people never grew tired of this game. Everywhere he went—no matter the country—people tried to find out what he wore underneath his kilt. Mostly, they were respectful.
“Thank you.” He smiled, signed their autographs, and then turned his attention back to Darby.
“And that’s why I want your signature on that contract,” she said. “You’ve been retired for three years, and you’re still the most beloved movie star in the world.”
“I should probably stop wearing the kilts.” But of course, he couldn’t do that yet. When he’d passed the franchise onto the next generation, he’d committed to a small role in the first two films to ease the transition. His contract required him to wear the kilt in public until one month after the last movie’s release.
“Oh, where’s the fun in that?” Darby waited for the next available kiosk. “At least, I hope it’s fun. Because if you do sign the contract, you’ll have to wear that outfit for another year.”
While he had no interest in continuing to dress in costume, his stomach pitched and rolled when he considered what the rest of his life looked like. “Let me think about it over the holidays.”
“Okay, but don’t forget. The season starts in February.” She pulled her phone out of her messenger bag and pointed it at the ticket screen. “And it’s going to be a damn good one.” Her tone held pure confidence. “We’re going to sweep the races this year. It’s so much fun. You only got a little taste of it.”
A celebrated driver, Darby had taken him around the track at nearly two hundred miles per hour. She was a high-octane woman, and they’d filled their every waking moment with meetings, dinners, antique hunting, and parties—which was in total contrast to the week she’d spent at his place in Wyoming, where they’d hiked, sat around the fire pit at night, and spent time with his four grandkids.
Needless to say, she’d been bored out of her mind.
“Okay, well, you go drink champagne on your luxurious private jet, and I’ll slog it with the middle class.” The woman had millions in endorsements, so he knew she was only joking. She got up on her toes to kiss him on the mouth.
But he turned just in time for her lips to land on his cheek. “Sounds good.” All she wanted was his celebrity status to draw attention to her team, so he wouldn’t need to do much but show up at the events.
Her love for her sport was infectious. Honestly, nothing was sexier than a woman who loved her work.
Mostly because, while he’d had a great career and achieved success beyond his wildest imagination, he’d never had a passion.
Well, not for a job or a hobby. For a person, yes. The garden in his heart grew nothing but Elzy flowers. But that wasn’t the same thing.
And he needed it. Needed a project that consumed him, that he could throw himself into. He was lost without it. And the NASCAR season ran for ten months, so that would sure as hell be all-consuming.
Instead of heading off to her gate, she hesitated. “You sure you don’t want to come with me?” Darby always dreaded going home. She said it was a whirlwind visit of family and friends who couldn’t understand why she’d chosen a career in America over getting married and having kids who’d grow up with cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents back in Reykjavik.
He’d never been to Iceland and wouldn’t mind seeing it. But it was Christmas. Family time. And thanks to a brutal filming schedule, he’d missed out on so much with his son. He was determined to be present for his grandkids. “Sounds fun, but I want to be with my family.”
“You know, there’s a simple solution to our problem.” She had a teasing glint in her eyes.
“We have a problem?” he clapped right back.
“We do.” She pressed a hand to his chest. “Wherever we go, we’re both visitors. Guests. We don’t really belong.”
Though he couldn’t deny the truth, it stung to hear it. He loved being a grandfather, but too often, he was in the way. In his son’s household, it was always nap or bath time, or the girls were throwing a fit or racing out the door to dance class.
Trevor knew they loved and appreciated him, but his son and daughter-in-law were trying to wrangle order out of mayhem, and there just wasn’t a role for him. Maybe when the kids were older it would change but not yet.
Up until a couple of months ago, he’d felt part of the family. So, when he’d heard his daughter-in-law’s hushed, urgent voice behind the closed door of her bedroom, it had gutted him.
I can’t handle one more person in this house.
He still visited, of course. He was there whenever they needed him to babysit or celebrate, but he was extremely conscious of overstaying his welcome.
“What’s your solution?” Because he wasn’t going to deny he had a problem. His life revolved around his family, but they were—necessarily—their own unit. His son was focused on managing four daughters, a wife, and owning a hockey team.
And now that Trevor was retired, he had no job. No hobbies.
He had no passion.
She gazed into his eyes. “We could belong to each other.”
The suggestion blew through him like a brisk wind. They’d never talked about a future. Nothing serious at all. “We’ve known each other for a month. What do you mean?”
“Trevor, we’ve both had our great loves. There’s not going to be another one for either of us. We also know how hard it is to ‘visit’ our families. And I don’t know about you, but I’m so tired of dating apps—well, dating in general. It’s awful. We could solve all our problems by being great companions for the rest of our lives.” She reached for his hand. “Aren’t you tired of being alone?”
He could say yes. It wouldn’t be a lie. But there was a tug deep inside he couldn’t ignore. Because on some level, he was still holding out.
For a woman he hadn’t seen in thirty years.
One who’d moved on. Had a family of her own.
“Think about how we met,” she continued. “We hooked up at a gala. Do you want to do that for the rest of your life?”
No. I want Elzy.
My Calamity Jane.
Her face popped up in his mind. Not the professional headshot she used on her website—that wasn’t his sweetheart. But the way she’d looked when they’d exchanged vows in that Las Vegas chapel.
God, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
And he’d ruined it.
Fucked it all up.
Sentenced himself to a life without love, passion… or true happiness.
So, yeah, he saw Darby’s point.
“Trevor Montgomery?” Her eyes glittered with mischief. “Will you marry me and be my plus one for the rest of my life?”
Startled, he could only let out a laugh. “You’re giving me a lot to think about over the holidays.”
“Well, at least it’s not a no, right?” Her gaze lingered, searching, no doubt, for a window of hope he couldn’t give. Darby was determined. She got what she wanted.
Maybe she’d get her wish with him.
“It’s not a no.” He kissed her cheek. “Safe travels.”
As he turned to walk out of the terminal, he got a text from his son.
Cole: Well, merry fucking Christmas. All four girls are puking their guts out.
Trevor: Flu?
Cole: Yeah. So much for all the fun shit Hailey had planned. Looks like we’re just going to hang out around the house.
The jolt that went through his body surprised him. Had he just been kicked out for Christmas ?
His daughter-in-law had grown up as an only child, so raising four kids had to be overwhelming for her. She had sick kids. It was a lot. He got it. He understood.
But Christmas?
He had only himself to blame. He knew that. Because he’d let his son be raised by nannies. Of course, he was a guest in Cole’s house.
And, so, maybe Darby’s invitation into her world would give him a chance to be part of something, give him a purpose. To belong.
Because Jessica Elsworth is not coming back.
And your son will never be close to you because you didn’t form that bond when he was a child.
But Darby wants to give you companionship for the rest of your life.
His daughter-in-law’s voice slipped into his thoughts.
I can’t handle one more person in this house.
An urgency shot through him, and he turned around, darting between families, travelers, and airline employees to get to his friend.
“Darby,” he called. “Darby!”
She turned around, concerned.
When he caught up with her, he cupped her elbows. “Let’s do it.”
Why the hell not? They both wanted companionship, nothing more. Neither could get hurt if it didn’t work out.
“Let’s get married.”
Jessica got lucky.
A warm front hit Iceland, which meant there was very little snow on the ground, giving her outstanding views both from the plane and the drive to the remote hotel.
Usually, when she traveled, she had an impression of the destination from movies or photographs. The canals in Venice, the grand, historic buildings of Paris, or the turquoise-blue seas of Bora Bora. But she hadn’t known what to expect with Iceland.
And it was like another planet. Volcanic craters, electric-blue ice caps, black-sand beaches, and steaming hot springs made up the landscape.
Now, after a red-eye flight and a two-hour drive from Reykjavik, she sat in Chris Pullman’s office. Judging by the streaks of gray in his thick, dark hair and skin roughened by sun exposure, the handsome man looked about her age. His wealth—as she picked up from the big, shiny watch, designer jeans, Gucci loafers, and Tom Ford flannel shirt—stood in contrast to a room that smelled like old paper and a hint of must. The furniture was dated and scuffed, and the chair cushions held deep impressions.
“Tell me about the history of this place.” From the exterior, she could tell it had a great footprint. It might not be as much work to upgrade as he expected.
“My grandparents bought this land for pennies.” He motioned toward the window. “It was largely unusable. How do you build on a thousand-year-old lava flow?”
She could answer that. “You work with it and not against it. Also, the quality of the lava’s a determinant. You can’t build on it if it’s brittle, so I’m going to assume this field’s strong and impenetrable.”
Smiling, Chris sat back in his chair. “See that. Worth every penny.”
“Well, it was a seven-and-a-half-hour flight. I had to do something to fill the time.”
“Most people sleep on red-eyes.” Mischief sparkled in his eyes.
“Most people don’t get two hundred thousand dollars for four days of work.” She’d also done her research on him. He’d made his fortune on Wall Street. Considered a maverick, he’d given countless interviews and closed massive deals, so she’d found enough information to form a solid impression of him.
“Very true.” He laughed. “But that tells you how important this project is to me. So, yes. It’s rugged lava, and my grandparents were able to build on it. Over time, they developed the geothermal features and wanted to share them with others, so they turned it into a B&B. With the help of an investor, they expanded into a hotel. The bones are solid, but it’s never been anything more than a place to sleep for a night along the Golden Circle.”
“And the inheritance battle? I read the hotel’s been closed for a number of years.”
“Correct. After my grandparents passed away, the property went to their children. They couldn’t agree on what they wanted to do with it. Uncle Rat Bastard wanted to sell it outright. He wanted the cash, but my dad and aunt insisted on keeping it. They couldn’t get a consensus, so it’s just sat here.”
“And now?”
“Uncle Rat Bastard died, and his siblings are too old to renovate this place.” He lifted both palms. “The timing was good for me, so here I am.”
“Just to be clear, how many voices have a say in the décor and, more importantly, the budget?”
“I own it outright, and I make all the decisions. And you should know, right off the bat, you have carte blanche to transform this place according to your vision. Do I want to see your choices every step of the way?” He nodded. “You bet. But I only reached out to one designer. There’s no one I trust more with this place than you.”
His confidence warmed her. “I appreciate that very much. And all this from one resort in the Maldives? What if you were love drunk because of the lovely Leizel?”
He laughed. “I’ve been to four of your properties. The Anabelle in St. Barts? That place is stunning. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
She smiled. “Thank you. That was a lot of fun.”
Truthfully? Even three decades into this career, she still felt uneasy about charging so much for doing something she loved. The little girl who’d never owned a single outfit that hadn’t come from the church clothing exchange internally screamed when she sent off a proposal. But because of that, she took her work seriously and made sure she delivered value.
“That one took three years,” she continued. “But since we’re not changing the footprint, I don’t think yours will take nearly as long. The biggest project will be adding a state-of-the-art wellness center and gym. Once we have our theme, it won’t take much to turn the rooms into suites. But as you said in your text message, we’ve got all the time in the world.”
He shifted forward, his features tightening. “You’re right. I did say that. But there’s a new development that’s pushing up the timeline.”
She was unfazed. “Oh?” Most of her clients didn’t understand supply and delivery issues, contractors who overbooked, and products that wound up being discontinued. “What’s changed?”
“My sister called last night. She’s getting married, and she wants to have it here. Childhood memories and all that.”
“Okay, so what kind of timeframe are you looking at?” Didn’t it take a year to plan a wedding? “Keep in mind the planning stage alone will take months. I can’t guarantee it’ll be done in time.”
“I understand that, and I don’t want to interfere with your process. I would, however, like to shift the agenda for your stay here.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “I’m listening.”
“My sister’s a race car driver—well, retired now—but she owns a team, and the season starts in February.”
The date landed in her gut like a brick. “If you’re not joking, then you’ve just wasted two hundred thousand dollars. With a deadline like that, at best, you’ll have time to slap on some paint and install new carpets. You can’t transform this place into a luxury resort in two months. During winter. ”
“No, of course not. But hear me out. A good part of what you do is interior design. For the short term, I’d like you to renovate the main part of the hotel—the entrance, the dining room, and some of the suites. Keep in mind, my family’s in the construction business, so they can make it happen fast.”
“You’ll be throwing out whatever work I do. You understand that, right? Because we don’t even have a concept. I haven’t studied the demographic, psychographic, or geographic characteristics of your target customer. It will take me months to find the right suppliers, the fixtures…to come up with a unifying palette of paint colors. We need a chef, a concierge?—”
“I get it.” He held up a hand. “And, yes, I fully understand what I’m asking you to do. That said, anything you can accomplish while you’re here that can do double duty would be great.”
“Does your sister understand what having it here will mean for you? The cost and effort?”
His gaze dropped to his black leather loafers. “My sister and I are the only ones who moved away. We were close growing up but living in America made us tighter.” He sat back in his chair. “In my business, you don’t make a lot of friends. You have colleagues and people you hang out with for a purpose.” He shrugged. “You have ex-wives and kids you barely know.” He shrugged. “But there’s no one in this world I’m closer to than my sister. And this hotel… Well, let’s just say it’s the only place that has good childhood memories for us.” With a look of resolve, he sat up straighter. “It has to be here. Can you help me pull it off?”
How could she say no to that? “Keep in mind, your family might have the expertise and connections, but they have no control over supply and delivery considerations. Especially in winter.”
“I understand. But will you do it?”
She admired his determination. “Look, you’re paying me. I’ll do whatever you want. As long as you understand I’m not a wedding planner . I’ve never even had one of my own.”
Her stomach twisted at the lie. But hers was an elopement, and the marriage hadn’t lasted an hour, so it didn’t count.
Ugh. Why did it hurt to think about him after all these years? She wished so badly she could let it all go.
The way he had.
“Believe me, I understand. But she’s marrying one of the most famous men in the world, which means the guests will be A-listers, and I can’t have them staying in a shabby hotel.”
“No, you certainly can’t. And honestly, it’ll be fun to spruce this place up.”
His features broke wide open in relief. “Thank you. Excellent.”
“Now, in terms of double duty, I can get started on the search for a chef, sommelier, and concierge. You’ll need all of that for the wedding.”
“That’ll be easier than you think. You know how many people live here?”
“Three hundred and fifty thousand.”
He chuckled. “She does her research. Right, and guess how many restaurants have Michelin stars?”
Now, that she didn’t know.
“Three.” He held up his fingers. “Which means you only have to interview three chefs. And there’s only one master sommelier here, so there you go. I’ll pay them more than they make anywhere else. See how much easier I’ve made your job?”
She smiled. “Only the CEO of a massive hedge fund would think he could snap his fingers and complete a hiring process like this in four days.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Well, you only become CEO by working your ass off. I never ask anybody to do what I’m not willing to do myself. I made my money through hard work and sacrifice.” His features fell, and he let out a heavy sigh. “At this point in my life, my sister’s all I have, and I need to do this for her. She never thought she’d get married, but apparently, she’s found the perfect man. You hear what I’m saying?”
“I absolutely do. I feel the same way about my sisters. I’d move heaven and earth for them, so yes, I get it.” Her mind was already working on a plan of action. She grabbed a pen from her leather tote bag. “You’ve got three chefs and a sommelier in mind, so that’s a great start. We’ll need a concierge. Someone who was born and raised here and who understands Icelandic culture and traditions. I’ll order new mattresses and bedding and get started on a kitchen renovation. Oh, and I’ll hire a laundry service.” She tapped the page. “We’ll need to pull electricians, plumbers, and a contractor from their current jobs to get those rooms in shape.” She glanced up at him. “Any idea about the guest list? How many rooms we’re doing?”
He smiled warmly at her. “You said ‘we.’”
She knew just what he meant. It was a solo climb to the top of any career, but once there, all the choices and results rested on the shoulders of the leader. “I did.” The day her sisters referred to the business as, We, she’d taken her first full breath. “You’re not in this alone.”
“I’m glad for that. And no, I don’t know the guest list, but I’ll let her know the urgency in getting it to us.”
“Now, do you have any thoughts on décor? Style? Colors?”
He shook his head. “I hired you for your vision. You have carte blanche to do whatever you want.”
“Okay, well, I think we should reflect the environment with charcoal gray walls to mimic the lava and bathroom tiles in the deep blues of the thermal baths and greens of the moss that covers the lava. I love the idea of chandeliers and hanging lights that glow like the aurora borealis.”
He shivered. “I just got a chill.” He held out his forearm. “Do you see that? Wow. I love it.” He flicked a hand. Go on.
“I think every aspect should be Icelandic. Which means bespoke artwork and sculptures, but”—she held up a finger in case he was about to warn her about the time factor—“for our immediate purposes, we’ll visit art galleries and purchase what we need for the wedding. At the end of spring, I can come back and focus on the rugs and fixtures and the rest of the décor. Unless you need it sooner, in which case I’ll have to find an interior designer who understands our vision.”
“Nope. We’re not hiring anyone else. After the wedding, you can work at your own pace.”
“Okay, then.” She shoved her notebook and pen into her tote. “I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
“Aren’t you exhausted from the flight? You didn’t sleep.”
“I’ll sleep when I get home, but right now, I need to set up tastings and interviews. I can only do that during work hours.” She stood up. “Do you want to come with me? Taste the food, drink the wine?”
“Taste the food of three Michelin-rated chefs? I think I could squeeze it into my schedule.” His phone buzzed at that exact moment, and he read the screen. “That’s her.” He waggled the phone. “My sister’s here.” Excitement had him hopping out of the chair. “Let me introduce you to her and her fiancé. Come on.”
“Great.” She followed him out of the office. “Now, where can I set up shop?”
He tapped out a message on his phone. “Let me get my assistant. He’ll set you up with everything you need. Sound good?”
“Perfect.”
“Great. Come meet the bride and groom.”
As they headed down the hallway toward the lobby, Jess’s mind spun with ideas. Crisp white bedding to go with the charcoal gray walls. Mirrored nightstands to add a little sparkle against the dark—they’d echo the night sky of this remote location. Burgundy velvet couches in the lobby—with black, mirrored throw pillows.
No, no, no . Let’s keep it thematically tied to the landscape and go with green velvet . The same color as the moss. “I’d like to get my hands on vintage photographs and historic maps of Iceland to go on the walls.”
“Well, you’re in luck because my grandfather was a collector. My assistant will take you to the owner’s quarters, and you can have a look around. Take whatever you’d like for the resort. I really like that idea, by the way.”
Voices in the entryway grew louder. From the conversation, she had a sense of the couple’s dynamic. Where the woman was loud, bold, and had an infectious laugh, the fiancé was quieter, confident. He seemed to give her all the space her personality needed.
A good match .
And then, the man burst out laughing.
The sound hit like a strike to her funny bone. “Who’s she marrying? I never asked.”
But there was no way . It’s not possible.
I’ve just been thinking about him a lot lately because of the move to Calamity.
There’s zero chance Trevor Montgomery is in this random hotel in Iceland at the same time as me.
Chris gave her a mischievous smile. “I’m not sure whether to surprise you or warn you.”
But before she could respond, a man in gym shorts and a tank top came hurrying toward them. “What?” He swiped the sweat off his face. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, good. You’re here.” Chris gestured to her. “Jessica Elsworth, this is my assistant, Jasper. When I asked if he’d make the move to Iceland with him, he gave me a list of demands?—”
“Really?” Jasper clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “A treadmill and weights are a whole list?”
“Let’s not forget the granola.” Chris grinned. “He’ll only eat one brand and one flavor, so we have to special-order it. In any event, Jasper, this is Jessica, our resort designer.”
“Hello,” Jasper said. “Nice to meet you.” Then, he turned to his boss. “You literally texted me, ‘Where are you? Need you in my office ASAP.’ I thought you were in crisis.”
“I am. Jess is only in town for four days, so you’ll need to get her whatever she needs to get her job done.”
“Will do.” Jasper smiled at her. “Whatever work you have is going to be a thousand times more interesting than picking up his dry cleaning and buying Christmas gifts for his family.”
“Chris?” a woman called. “Where are you?”
“I’m here. Hang on.” Chris touched her arm. “Come on. Meet my sister.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll meet them later,” she said. “I need to make as many contacts as possible during work hours.”
“Got it. Okay, I’ll see you both at dinner.” He headed off but called over his shoulder, “Jasper and I are the only two cooks around, so you’d better hurry up and hire that chef.” And then, he was gone.
“This place has a nice atrium. Let’s work there.” Jasper led the way.
As she started to follow, a whisper of tension fluttered at the back of her neck. She glanced over her shoulder, certain she’d see someone watching her.
Weirdly, an image of Trevor’s expression right before he’d closed the door of that motel room dropped into her mind.
Now, why would she think about that?
She checked, but the hallway was empty.