Amelia
Chapter Five
Amelia
S ome nights, when sleep proves elusive, I wander Pine Haven’s halls. Tonight, my footsteps echoed against the hardwood floors that had carried three generations of guests. A half-moon cast silver light through the windows, turning familiar corners into something dreamy and strange.
The old photos lining the walls seemed to watch me pass—Great-aunt Flora teaching the first ski class, Uncle Jamie repairing the original chairlift, Grandma’s careful hands arranging flowers for the Hendersons’ first anniversary. Each face held a piece of my grandfather’s dream, their silent judgment weighing heavily as I carried my laptop toward the empty lounge.
I hadn’t expected to find Hunter there.
He sat in darkness, illuminated only by dying embers in the massive stone fireplace where Dad had taught me to roast marshmallows. His usual polished appearance was nowhere to be seen—jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly disheveled. He looked... human. Vulnerable, almost.
I almost retreated, but he glanced up before I could escape. “Can’t sleep either?”
Something in his voice made me pause—a rawness I’d never heard before. “Too much on my mind.”
He gestured to the chair beside him—Mom’s favorite, where she used to read me stories on rainy afternoons. After a moment’s hesitation, I sat, tucking my feet under me. The fire’s warmth and the late hour created an odd bubble of intimacy, making the space feel smaller and more personal.
“I used to hide out here during family vacations,” I said, watching the flames dance in patterns I’d memorized as a child. “When the cousins got too loud, or Mom fussed over wedding details.” The memory of her arranging flowers in this room caught in my throat. “Grandpa always knew where to find me.”
“Arthur mentioned you practically grew up here,” Hunter said softly, using that gentle tone he’d used when I’d twisted my ankle during debate finals.
“It was more home than our actual house.” I traced the worn leather of the armrest, feeling years of stories beneath my fingertips. “Every milestone happened at Pine Haven. First ski lesson on the bunny slope with Dad, first job working the front desk when I could barely see over it...” The firelight cast dancing shadows on walls that held a thousand memories. “This lounge was my favorite escape. Something about it just felt... safe.”
Hunter shifted in his chair, turning to face me more fully. The movement brought him closer, and suddenly his presence filled my senses—the subtle cologne he wore, the way his shoulders filled out his dress shirt, how his eyes caught the firelight. He looked softer in this light, more like the man who’d danced with me at Taylor’s wedding than the CEO who’d arrived to save Pine Haven.
My heart did an unexpected flutter. This was dangerous territory.
“Why did you come back?” I asked, needing to break the intimate mood before I did something foolish. “The truth this time.”
He was quiet for so long that I thought he might not answer. The fire popped and settled, sending sparks up the chimney where Dad had once convinced me Santa had visited. Finally, he spoke softly, “Because I remember what Pine Haven meant to everyone who came here. The families, the celebrations, the traditions.” His eyes met mine, intense in the flickering light. “And because when your father called, he didn’t just sound worried about the business. He sounded worried about you.”
“Me?” I scoffed, but it came out weaker than intended. Mom used to say I got my stubborn pride from Grandpa.
“You’re running yourself into the ground, Amelia. Taking on everyone’s burdens, trying to fix everything yourself. Just like at debate finals when you insisted on competing with that fever.”
“That’s my job.” The words felt automatic, worn smooth like Pine Haven’s front desk from years of use.
“Is it? Or is it what you think you have to do to prove yourself worthy of your grandfather’s legacy?”
The words hit too close to home, echoing conversations I’d overheard between my parents late at night. I stood abruptly, needing space. The air between us felt charged, like the moment before a summer storm broke over the mountains. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” His voice remained gentle, reminding me of how he’d talked me through panic before my first major debate. He stood, too, and suddenly, the room felt much smaller. “You think I don’t understand family pressure? Living up to impossible expectations?”
Something in his tone made me turn back. “Your father’s company...”
“Was failing when he died.” Hunter’s jaw tightened, shadows deepening across his face. “Everyone expected me to save it when I was old enough. Instead, I sold it as soon as I inherited it and started my firm. The great Miller disappointment.” Bitterness echoed off walls that had heard so many family confessions.
I studied him in the firelight, seeing him differently somehow. Gone was the polished CEO, replaced by someone more real, more vulnerable. Someone who understood the weight of a family legacy, of expectations handed down like heirlooms.
“I didn’t know,” I whispered, remembering how he’d disappeared after his father’s funeral, how Taylor had worried.
“Few people do.” He stepped closer, and my pulse jumped like it had during that dance at Taylor’s wedding. “The point is, I understand wanting to prove yourself. But sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you need help.”
We stood there, caught in some undefined moment, the space between us crackling with possibility. The fire cast shifting shadows across his face as Hunter’s eyes dropped to my lips for a second, and I forgot how to breathe. Just like that night on the deck when we’d almost...
Then my laptop chimed, shattering the moment.
I stepped back, my heart hammering as I opened my laptop. Whatever had just almost happened between us would have to wait. The news alert for Pine Haven demanded attention, and as I read the headline, all thoughts of Hunter’s proximity vanished, replaced by ice in my veins.
“Mountain Paradise Lost: Pine Haven Resort’s Steady Decline.”
My hands shook as I scanned Alexis Smith’s brutal review. She’d torn apart everything—from our “charmingly outdated but ultimately inadequate” ski facilities to our “overwhelmed and undertrained” staff. Each word felt like a physical blow, attacking not just our business but our family’s legacy.
“Let me see,” Hunter said, moving to read over my shoulder. His presence was warm and steady, anchoring me as the words blurred before my eyes. Despite everything, I leaned slightly toward him, seeking comfort I wasn’t sure I had the right to want.
“This is a hit piece,” he finally said, his voice tight with anger I’d never heard from him before. “The timing’s too perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
He hesitated, then gently closed my laptop, his hand lingering near mine. “Crystal Ridge has a pattern. Negative press appears just before they move in on a property.”
The implication took a moment to sink in through my shock. “You think they’re behind this?”
“I think nothing about this situation is coincidental.” He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting its usual perfect style. The gesture made him look younger somehow, more approachable. More like the boy who’d defended me at debate competitions when judges got too harsh.
My phone buzzed, interrupting my thoughts. A text from Dad: Saw the review. Call me when you can.
“I need to respond to this. Draft a statement, something to counter—” My voice had taken on that shaky quality Mom used to get when things went wrong.
“No.” His hand caught mine as I reached for the laptop again. The contact sent sparks up my arm, warmth fighting against the icy dread in my stomach. “Not tonight.”
“Hunter—”
“You’re exhausted.” His thumb traced small circles on my palm, probably meant to be soothing, but it was having the opposite effect. Each touch sent tingles through my skin. “When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep? Had a meal that wasn’t grabbed between crises?”
I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. I couldn’t remember. Just like Mom in those final months, always saying she was fine.
“That’s what I thought.” His other hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, the gesture so tender it sent a wave of emotions through me. His fingers lingered near my cheek, and I fought the urge to lean into his touch. “Let me help you fight this battle, Amelia. Please.”
Maybe it was exhaustion, the lateness of the hour, or how his fingers traced patterns on my skin, but something in me cracked. The walls I’d built since Mom died, since taking over Pine Haven, crumbled.
“I’m so tired,” I whispered.
“I know.” He was close now, so close I could see the flecks of gold in his eyes caught by the firelight. His hand was still warm against my cheek, steadying me as everything else felt like it was spinning out of control.
“I can’t let them win. Can’t let everyone down...” My voice caught on memories of Mom saying the same thing, of promises made to Grandpa.
“Hey.” His hands framed my face now, and I couldn’t look away if I tried. The tenderness in his touch undid me more than any business strategy or pep talk could. “You have let no one down.”
Time seemed to stop. The fire crackled softly, casting us in shifting shadows that made everything feel dreamlike. Hunter’s eyes dropped to my lips again, and this time, there was no mistaking his intent. I swayed toward him slightly, my heart thundering in my chest. His cologne mingled with the scent of wood smoke, and I thought of all our almost-moments, all the times we’d nearly crossed this line.
Then his phone rang, shattering the spell.
We jumped apart like guilty teenagers, though we’d done nothing wrong. Yet. Hunter grabbed his phone, his expression shifting from frustration to something darker—almost frightened—when he saw the screen.
“I need to take this,” he said, backing away. “I’m sorry, I—”
He answered as he walked out, but not before I caught the edge in his voice: “Travis, I told you never to call this number.”
I stood alone in the firelight, my skin tingling where he’d touched me. The warmth of his hands lingered on my face, making it impossible to dismiss what had almost happened as just another moment of weakness. What was I doing? Hunter Miller was here to save Pine Haven, not... whatever this was becoming.
The flames had died down to glowing embers, reminding me of how many family secrets this room had witnessed. Mom used to say these walls held more stories than any history book. Tonight, they’d almost seen another one.
But as I gathered my things to head upstairs, I couldn’t stop touching my lips, wondering how it would have felt if that phone hadn’t rung. The fear in Hunter’s voice, when he’d answered, nagged at me, so different from his usual confidence.
Sleep wasn’t happening. Not after... whatever that was downstairs. After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up and headed back to my office. The review needed a response, and I might as well use my sleeplessness productively.
But even as I paced my office, trying to focus on drafting responses to Alexis Smith’s review, my mind kept drifting to Hunter’s hands on my face, the way his eyes had darkened just before that phone call.
The phone call.
Hunter still hadn’t returned, though I’d heard his voice earlier, sharp with tension, echoing from somewhere near the back entrance. Now, approaching midnight, light spilled from under his office door down the hall, a beacon in Pine Haven’s darkness.
I shouldn’t check on him. It wasn’t my business. We were partners—strictly professional—and whatever almost happened in the lounge was clearly a moment of weakness. Exhaustion, stress, and the way he’d looked at me like I was precious...
A crash from his office decided for me.
I found him standing over his desk, papers scattered everywhere, one hand gripping his phone like he might throw it soon. His usual composure was completely shattered, reminding me of how he’d looked at his father’s funeral—raw, unguarded, terrifyingly human.
“Hunter?”
He spun around, and for a moment, I didn’t recognize him. Gone was the confident CEO, replaced by someone almost desperate. Then he saw me, and his mask slipped back into place so quickly it was frightening. Like watching Mom try to hide her pain in those final months.
“Amelia.” He started gathering papers, movements jerky. “You should be sleeping.”
“So should you.” I stepped into the office, closing the door behind me. The click seemed to seal us in our private world, like in the lounge earlier. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just business.”
“Don’t.” The word came out sharper than intended. “Don’t lie to me. Not after...” I gestured vaguely, meaning the lounge, the almost-kiss, every moment of trust we’d built.
He stilled, then slowly straightened. In the harsh fluorescent light, I could see the tension in his jaw and the slight tremor in his hands—hands that had held my face so gently less than an hour ago.
“You’re right.” He sank into his chair, suddenly looking exhausted. “I owe you honesty. But Amelia...” His eyes met mine, pleading. “I can’t. Not about this. Not yet.”
“Is it about Pine Haven?” I moved closer, drawn by the pain in his voice.
“No.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in waves that made him look younger, more vulnerable. “This is... personal. Family stuff.”
I moved closer, perching on the edge of his desk. The same way I used to sit on Dad’s desk when he had hard decisions to make. “I thought your family except Taylor was all gone?”
“So did I.” The bitterness in his voice made me flinch. I remembered how close the Miller family had been before his father died, how everything had changed.
Without thinking, I reached for his hand. He stared at our joined fingers like they might burn him, but he didn’t pull away. His skin was warm against mine, callused in places I wouldn’t expect from a CEO.
“Whatever it is,” I said softly, “you don’t have to handle it alone.” The same words Mom used to whisper to Dad during hard times.
He looked up at me then, his expression so full of pain and longing it made me tremble. “Using my own words against me?”
“Learning from the best.”
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. We sat in comfortable silence, my thumb tracing the same soothing patterns he’d used on me earlier. The intimacy of the moment should have felt strange, but it felt... right. Like finding the last piece of a puzzle you didn’t know was incomplete.
“I want to tell you everything,” he finally said, his voice carrying that same raw quality from the lounge. “But I need to handle this first. Can you trust me that far?”
I studied him in the harsh office light—his rumpled clothes, the shadows under his eyes, the way he held himself like Atlas bearing the weight of secrets. Everything in me screamed to be cautious, to remember Michael’s warnings about Hunter leaving collateral damage in his wake.
But I thought about how he’d jumped in to help with the housekeeping crisis, how he remembered my favorite bear claws, how he saw straight through my defenses to the exhausted woman beneath. How he’d almost kissed me with such gentle intensity that made my heart race even now. The way he treated Pine Haven not as a business to save, but as a home to protect.
“Yes,” I whispered. “I trust you.”
The smile he gave me was worth the risk—real and warm, reaching his eyes in a way his business smiles never did. He squeezed my hand once, then let go, standing. “You should get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be busy.”
I stood, too, suddenly aware of how close we were in the confined space. The scent of his cologne, mixed with coffee and paper, is familiar now. “Hunter...”
“I know.” His voice was soft, intimate. “We should talk about what happened. What almost happened? But not tonight.”
I nodded, stepping back before I could do something foolish like kiss him myself. At the door, I turned back. “Whatever it is? I’m here.”
His expression softened into something that stirred an ache deep inside of me, something dangerously close to what I’d seen in his eyes by the fire. “Goodnight, Amelia.”
I was halfway to my room when I heard his phone ring again. This time, his voice carried clearly through the quiet halls, sharp with fear rather than anger.
“No, you listen. You got your money. Now stay away from my family. And if you ever contact her again...”
The rest was lost as I hurried away, my mind racing. Her? What money? And why did Hunter—confident, composed Hunter—sound more frightened than angry?
In my room, my phone lit up with a text from Michael: Got some interesting info about Miller. Call me ASAP.
I stared at the message, then at my reflection in the window. The woman looking back at me seemed caught between trust and terror, hope and history. Mom’s old advice echoed in my head: “Sometimes the heart knows what the mind hasn’t figured out yet.”
The smart thing would be to call Michael immediately. To listen to whatever information he’d dug up, to protect myself from whatever secrets Hunter was keeping. To remember that business and pleasure don’t mix, that Pine Haven needed a savior, not a romance.
Instead, I turned off my phone and crawled into bed, Hunter’s touch still burning on my skin, his secrets echoing in my head. I could still feel his hands on my face, see the vulnerability in his eyes when he’d asked for my trust. The way he’d looked at me in the firelight like I was something precious to be protected.
Tomorrow would bring enough complications. The review, Crystal Ridge’s threats, whatever Michael had discovered—it would still be there in the morning.
Tonight, I would let myself remember how it felt to almost kiss Hunter Miller—twice—and pretend that was enough. Pretend I wasn’t falling for someone with secrets that could shatter everything.
Because some risks, Mom used to say, were worth taking. Even if they broke your heart.