Chapter 2
“Thanks.” I nod at the barista who handed me the large coffee. Steam travels up to my face and I draw in a deep breath. I need this. If the scent of the strong drink won’t wake me up, gulping it down will.
“Long night?” she asks, giggling at the way my eyes nearly roll back in my head after I take the first decadent sip and sign the receipt.
I wasn’t out partying hard until the early hours of the morning, if that’s what she means. My days of living on the edge are over. They’ve been over. Caleb and I used to live by the motto of working hard in order to party hard, but that was in our twenties. They say thirty is the new twenty, but I’m not feeling it.
“No,” I tell her, wishing it isn’t a lie. While I wasn’t out living it up in downtown Denver, I was awake. Sleep evaded me last night, and the scant rest I got was restless and crappy. I simply have too much on my mind to get a solid night of slumber.
I’m wide awake and not at all happy about being here on the first floor of this hotel this early at seven in the morning because I couldn’t stop thinking about my problems long enough to relax. Maybe that’s the whole reason why coming out here will be a great idea. I’m a city dweller, and while Denver isn’t shabby, it’s not New York. Still, my best friend Caleb has enticed me to come check out this bed-and-breakfast he can’t stop raving about.
It won’t be a wasteful trip. Even though I have billions and truly don’t need to worry about money on a daily, or even monthly basis, I’m careful to always be mindful of my time. I seldom vacation for straight-up pleasure anymore. Since Caleb cut back on living wildly, I saw the allure of “growing up” as well. Many of my trips of late are for business. This one, though, is something of a mesh, both business and pleasure.
I take my coffee and head over to the lounge area of the coffee shop. That low couch is calling my name. No one is near, and the Wi-Fi is strong. Perfect.
My cold-turkey of a reply was a signal for the chatty barista to think twice about targeting me for a too-early conversation. It’s also a chance for me to find a quiet spot to go over the correspondence with my assistant back in the Big Apple. I’m away from my office, but that never means I’m distanced from my work.
My wealth comes from my billion-dollar real estate empire, and I’ve come to learn the sky truly is the limit. Years ago, I branched out of buying properties in New York, and it’s what I’m doing now as I finish the last leg of this trip toward the Goldfinch Ridge BB. I’ve been checking out properties on the way, and while I usually fly for these kinds of things, I made a road trip out of it this time. I bought a big, brand-new truck, and for the last few days, I’ve been trucking it and seeing the country while I pass by the properties I’m interested it. I was hoping it would be a symbolic and therapeutic action—that the drive and deliberate travel from my issues in New York would help me somehow.
Yeah, right. I’m still as moody as I was when I drove out of Manhattan.
After I helped Caleb rescue Lauren from her wedding in California, I flew back home to the East Coast. He talked up this bed-and-breakfast so much, I gave in. I had to see it. I had to get to know this girl who made my best friend change so much. Love was no trivial thing. I would know. Unfortunately, I know this because I lost love. I didn’t find it.
Or maybe I never really found it at all with Johanna. Maybe I thought it was love but it was something else.
I sigh and sip my coffee as I unlock my phone to check if my assistant has replied to my emails about the last property I stopped at. Instead of reaching my inbox, I stall on the message I received last night. I looked at it late into the night. When insomnia kept me awake with what-ifs, and where-did-I-go-wrongs, I read and reread again, the simple message from my ex.
Johanna: Can we talk?
I don’t want to. She’s been reaching out to me just like this for the last year, and each time she tries to contact me, I fail to reply. I’m not sure I’ll ever get to the point I want to speak with her, much less see her, and her constant messages and calls grate on my nerves.
“No,” I mumble under my breath as I swipe out of my texts. I can remove her summons from sight, but I know they are still there. If I go back to my messages, she’ll be waiting there. She’s always lurking in the background, just there. For a long time, I looked forward to when she would always be there. Back then, I thought ahead to when she could be a permanent fixture in my life as my wife, as my partner, and as my future.
Now?
I scowl. Her message sours my mood all over again, and I lose interest in glancing at my emails. It can wait. I need the slight peace and quiet of driving again. Solitude is hard to find in New York, and escaping the noise is even trickier.
Since I caught Johanna cheating almost twelve months ago, I’ve volleyed back and forth between feeling okay and lousy, but I’m getting used to the spells of normalcy. I was starting to really move on and get over her. Before Caleb’s scandals got a hold of him, I really thought I was improving in this heartache business. But then she crept back in, contacting me.
How dare she!
Not only did she cheat on me with a business rival, another property investor I knew and worked with before, but she also showed her true self and revealed her real motivations of being with me.
Hell, maybe a year away from her is only the tip of the iceberg of what I need. Maybe relocating to another country would serve me well.
I roll my eyes, annoyed I’m letting her upset me again. I focus on those emails after all while I finish my coffee. It’s early, and I wish I could have slept in longer, but it’s time to get on the road again and get moving. Seeing Caleb and learning more about the place and the woman that makes him so happy should pull me out of my funk.
Hours later, I realize nothing will. It seems like today is the day I’ll be determined to linger in a crappy mood. I was already upset with the thoughts about Johanna lingering in the back of my mind, but now I’m lost, too.
“Just tell me where to go!” I shout at the navigation screen. Lines and arrows show, but none of these damn roads have signage. How am I supposed to figure out my way if only half the roads are labelled? No navigation app can fix that.
I suspect that first wrong turn in Breckenridge was my first mistake. Then heading too far west threw me off. Then when my phone pings with a notification, I immediately assume it’s another message from Johanna. It isn’t, but the mere thought about her pisses me off and makes me feel more on edge than I was when I drove out of Denver this morning.
“This is ridiculous.” I swear I’m driving in circles. At this rate, all I want to do is just get out of the truck and not have to drive for at least a few hours. Traveling in the country and especially up and down the mountains isn’t for the faint of heart. I just want to reach the bed-and-breakfast Caleb won’t shut up about.
“This way?” I guess, narrowing my eyes to peer ahead at the small beat-up car that’s cruising so slowly toward the intersection.
I think the sign reads Meadow Lane, and what the hell, I’ll try it. I gun the engine, passing the little sedan and run the red light. As I pass, I notice it’s a pissed-off woman. Sure, I just broke the law, but dammit, my patience is shot. I don’t have time for her to force that tiny clunker up the road.
As soon as I start to scale the mountain, she speeds up after me.
“Great. Road rage?” I roll my eyes at the obvious way she’s racing to catch up to me.
“Another woman trying to run after me.” Go figure. This one is a stranger compared to Johanna, but I’m irked at everyone and anyone now.
Scrapes sound to my left, and I wince at just how fast I’m driving. “Don’t they cut back the brush up here?” If I keep up this breakneck speed, branches will gouge lines in this brand-new truck. I’m just going to sell it once this trip is over, and I need to keep it in good condition. I won’t need a huge truck in the city. It’s the principle of it, anyway. A truck or a property, I know a thing or two about the value of things to resell.
As I slow, the small car passes me.
“I don’t have time for this.” I shake my head, realizing this woman will only slow me down as I seek the bed-and-breakfast. Already, she’s swerving and trying to keep up with the curvy incline.
When she skids too far and goes off the road, I snort a laugh. “Yeah. See? That’s what you get.”
I speed by as the driver’s door opens, and I don’t look back as I head further up the mountain. Only when I am about to turn on a curve do I glance at her in my mirror. She’s smaller, standing outside her car now. Car trouble? “You brought it on yourself making this a race.”
Her arm raises, and I don’t miss her finger as she flips me off.
“Back at you,” I retort as I step on the gas even harder.
“You have reached your destin—”
I jab my finger at the screen to silence the robotic voice. “Finally.” I’ve found the bed-and-breakfast at last, and as soon as I step out of my truck, I turn at the sound of another vehicle pulling onto the gravel drive.
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
It’s the little car. The speedster woman who wanted to pass me.
I watch as the small sedan jolts to a rough stop.
The woman exits her car and stands, glaring at me. The anger in her dark stare captivates me. She’s pissed. And gorgeous.
“You almost killed me!” Her finger lifts in a point at me, not the middle one, but this gesture isn’t any friendlier.
“I did not.” I roll my eyes, stalking over to her and ready to get in her face. Today is not the day.
“You totally cut me off.”
Sorry. Not sorry. “It’s a crappy, dangerous road. And you should have paid attention to the light.”
She screws her face up even more. “It was red.”
I shrug. It was. But I was too mad to admit it. “It was about to turn green.”
“Oh, you can predict the timing of traffic lights now?” Flustered and furious, she throws her arms up. When her hands smack her thighs, it pulls my focus toward her tight jeans. Jeans covered in mud.
Whoops. I must have splattered her when she opened her car stepped out.
“I—”
I hear “Hey, Dalt,” coming from the porch, and I tear my stare from this vibrant woman who looks like she’d love to strangle me.
I glance at Caleb, who’s grinning way too wide when I’m so annoyed. “Well, this isn’t how I imagined this going. Dalton, meet Aubrey.”