Chapter Two #2
This was the problem with having a secret lover—especially if said lover’s ex-wife still had a possessive streak when it came to the man she was no longer married to. These days, with Lenore, it was just safer to keep conversations pleasant and vague.
At the hotel, Riley did her morning review.
She made the rounds, checking that every area was up to standard, starting with the lobby and its intricately etched windows, lustrous silk curtains, antique furniture and a beautiful collection of frontier-era antiques.
She made sure that all of the staff was on shift, that her employees were feeling well and ready for the day ahead.
Next, she met with Annette briefly, and then together they held the daily meeting with their department heads. After that, she made the rounds again, spending extra time in the lobby to greet guests and be the face of the Statesman Hotel.
It was almost noon when she went downstairs to her office to get going with the mundane task of reviewing invoices and screening résumés. She was ten minutes into checking the invoices when Josh called on her cell.
She glanced down at the image of him in his banana costume and felt a little lurch in her chest—maybe guilt that she’d yet to share the baby news.
Or maybe that thrill she always got at the thought of him now.
Because the secret-fling thing with him?
It was every bit as hot and fantastic as it had been that first night in October.
She took the call. “Hey.”
“There you are.” He said those three words low. And intimate. For her ears alone. “I thought for a second that you wouldn’t pick up.”
“You call, I answer.”
“I love the way you say that.”
A shiver ran up the backs of her knees. She chuckled. “But seriously. What?”
“Hmm,” he said, slow and deep, still teasing her. “Let me think…” And then he was all business. “Oh, right. I called to confirm—tomorrow at my place, you and Dillon, me and Shane.”
He had two beautiful acres of land outside of town, complete with a pretty little creek that drained into a pond.
His dad had acquired the property in some deal or other and then deeded it to Josh for his twenty-eighth birthday.
Bravo Construction had then gone right to work building a log house and a barn.
He asked, “Can you get there at seven or so? I’ll make us breakfast before we go fishing.”
“Seven. We’ll be there.”
“Excellent,” said Josh. “I have two short poles for the boys and plenty of worms—you get your fishing license?”
“Yes, I did.” Her dad used to take her spin fishing starting way back when she was five.
And then, the year after her mom died, when Riley was eleven, he’d taught her to fly fish.
She treasured the memories of the two of them, out at the crack of dawn of a summer morning, casting for trout, determined to catch their limit.
Alvin Barkowski had worked for the Wyoming Department of Transportation.
He’d died when she was twenty, got caught in a landslide on Teton Pass.
To this day, she teared up at the thought of him, of his gentle voice and his kind eyes.
He had a slight limp from an earlier accident on the job, but he never let it get him down.
“You’re quiet,” sad Josh. “Thinking about your dad?”
“How’d you guess?”
“I remember you used to go fishing with him—and I know you miss him.”
“I do, yeah. A lot.” She shook off the sadness and asked brightly, “So. What can I bring?”
“It’s a sleepover,” Josh said. “Bring your PJ’s. Or don’t.”
“Very funny.” She faked a stern tone. “And seriously, are you planning hanky-panky with the children there?”
“We’ll be stealthy. They will never know what we get up to once they’re all tucked in bed.”
She stared blankly at an invoice from the linen supplier and had no idea what it said as she thought of the baby again. Could she tell him tomorrow after the kids were in bed?
No. Not a good idea, to go sharing the big news with the kids asleep in another room. He might need to leave once she got the words out, might want to give himself space to get over the shock.
Coward, muttered a disapproving voice in her head. She should have told him weeks ago.
And she would tell very soon. Just not this weekend. And that was okay. Kind of. It was Shane’s birthday celebration, after all. Not a good time to break the big news about the baby…
“Riley? You still with me?”
“Right here. And, Josh, there is no way I am sneaking into your room with the boys in bed across the hallway.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I mean it, Josh.”
“Understood.”
Did she believe him? Not really. But all she had to do was hold firm about it. At least that way she could feel marginally less guilty about how long it was taking her to tell him what he had a right to know.
Tell him now, her conscience insisted.
But then he said glumly, “Lenore tripped all the breakers herself last night, just to get me over there.”
“Wow. That’s…not okay.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he grumbled.
“Did she admit it?”
“Nah. She turned it around on me, tried to make me the bad guy.”
“I don’t know what to say, Josh. I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too. I confronted her, but when she refused to admit what she did, I backed down. I need to get along with her…”
“Of course you do.”
“I’m just not sure how to deal with her. I’m really not.”
“You’ll figure it out. You are a great dad and an excellent ex-husband.”
He laughed, a wry sound. “Yeah, well. I’m doing my best. It’s just not quite good enough.” Right then, the phone on her desk rang. “Better answer that,” he said.
“All right, then. See you tomorrow.”
“You bet. I can’t wait.”
Feeling more than a little bit guilty that once again she’d failed to break the baby news, she said goodbye and answered the call, which was from the front desk.
Once that was dealt with, she finished reviewing the last of the invoices and then left her office to check on things upstairs before she took her lunch break.
At the foot of the stairs that led up to the ground floor, she heard voices in the recently opened Basement Bar. The bar had been Riley’s pet project, and Annette considered it Riley’s best idea yet. They’d completed it the year before.
The Basement Bar had a cozy, speakeasy feel. It opened at three in the afternoon, closed at the usual 2:00 a.m. and served liquor, wine and light dinner fare—things like steak sandwiches, classic salads, fish tacos and various small plates.
“I like Arlington’s Steakhouse myself…” That was Miles Crowne, Riley realized.
The burly, fiftyish carpenter owned Crowne Custom Design up in Sheridan.
Miles had built not only the gorgeous, curving mahogany bar for Riley’s pet project, but he’d also created the beautiful gold-upholstered barstools and the backbar with its period-perfect etched mirrors.
And he’d helped Riley talk Annette into a classic pressed tin ceiling as fine as the ones original to the hotel.
His work was beautiful and just right for the Basement Bar.
And yes, Riley knew she shouldn’t listen in, but Miles had sounded so…hopeful. Riley grinned in sheer delight. The carpenter was working up to asking Annette to have dinner with him.
“Miles,” Annette said sternly. “I agree. Arlington’s is great. But right now, we are discussing the backbar…”
Her response made Riley cringe. Annette would never get a chance to share a nice evening with a good guy if she shut the guy down before he could even get started.
“I understand,” said Miles gently. “And I’m just saying that sometimes it’s nice to get out, you know? It’s nice to go somewhere other than your own place of business, somewhere you can relax and enjoy yourself without feeling you have to be ready to jump up and deal with some issue or other…”
Go, Miles! Riley mentally cheered the man on as she tiptoed closer to the door that led into bar.
She couldn’t believe he hadn’t already given up.
He was such a great guy, all strong and hunky—and yet thoughtful and sensitive, too.
Annette shouldn’t even hesitate to say yes.
She hadn’t been on a date since her husband, Trevor Senior, died—which was a couple of decades ago now.
But then Annette said impatiently, “Yes, of course, Arlington’s is lovely. But I’m trying to tell you that in the original design, we miscalculated how much shelving we would need behind the bar.”
Miles made a low noise in his throat. Riley thought it sounded like disappointment. “So then,” he said. “You want me to add more shelving to the backbar.”
“Yes!” Annette replied emphatically. “But can you do it without things looking cluttered? I don’t want the added shelves and bottles to completely obscure the etched mirrors, which Riley and I both love.”
“Absolutely. I can make it work for you. I’ll draw up some plans.”
“That would be perfect.”
“Consider it done.” Miles sounded gruff now. Who could blame him? Asking a woman out shouldn’t be such torture. The man deserved a medal just for trying.
Slumping against the wall by the open door, Riley felt somewhat bereft that whatever might have happened between the talented carpenter and her mother-in-law would never have a chance to occur. Poor Miles had been downright valiant. He’d kept after it until he couldn’t take it anymore.
She did wish the man had asked the question directly, though. But she couldn’t blame him for holding back. Annette was not the least receptive.
But then Miles said, “Now, about Arlington’s Steakhouse. I have a favorite table there, in a private nook…”
“Well. That’s, uh, nice…” Annette sounded totally confused. “But honestly, Miles, what are you getting at here?”
And at last, Miles came right out with it. “I’m asking you to have dinner with me, Annette.”
Riley had to slap her hand over her mouth to stifle a screech of pure delight. Miles was a champion, and this was huge.
Say yes, Annette! Riley chanted inside her head. Say yes! Say yes!