1. Chase
Present
“Don’t you have practice or somethin’?” Dad asks as he tops off my mug. Something the owner of the Hideaway Springs Inn shouldn’t be doing. Like he’s using the refill as a subtle opportunity to ask why I’m hanging around the lobby bar of the Inn. Instead of heading back to my condo in Denver the minute our family meeting was over.
He pours leisurely, almost deliberately so. Like honey out of a jar.
He only bought this establishment a few years back with the noble intention of helping the previous owner out of a bind when the IRS came to collect. At least that’s how it started.
The motivation behind keeping the ancient inn open and revamping it with a lobby bar and coffee lounge came after town officials threatened to shut it down.
After the scandal with Robert Woods’ fraudulent business transactions and then the tragic death of him and his wife, the town became vigilant in avoiding anything that could tarnish its reputation in the media.
The only hotel—if you could call it that—in town being permanently shut down would adversely affect our small community. With there being no hotel for ten miles, our town would get fewer visits from tourists and out-of-town family members. And have zero emergency accommodations for local residents. Or worse—the chance that a bigger fish would make a home here. Which, while better for our economy, would lead to more buildings, traffic, pollution and social tension within our small community.
Besides, Dad’s a lifer in Hideaway Springs. After spending twenty years as a professional boxer, he needs something to keep him busy.
“Don’t you have someone else who does that around here?” I deadpan, glancing at the pitcher of coffee.
He glances back at Bethany, one of two waitresses he has on staff. “Yeah, well, with that fresh bruise on the side of your eye and the scowl you’ve had on since you walked in, you’re a little less than approachable today.”
I flex my jaw and glance at the innocent waitress. “Last week you complained that I was scaring off the customers, now it’s the staff? And if you didn’t want me here, then don’t call me in for a family meeting that has nothing to do with me.”
“Helping your older brother plan his son’s birthday party has everything to do with all of us, now snap out of it.”
I lean back in my booth with a sigh—debating on telling him I’ve decided to hire someone to take care of Elliot’s place.
And then sell it.
Withoutsounding like a coward. A coward who still won’t admit that his little brother’s death is on his head. A tragedy I could have prevented.
Had I not been so damned desperate for Elliot to be his own person. And leave me to be mine.
Dad turns and scans the small crowd, checking if all his patrons are alright for the time being, then takes a seat across from me. His tone suddenly shifting.
“Hey, I could have gone another way with that.” He chuckles lightheartedly. “Could have said she’s too intimidated to talk to Chase Reeves, the Dallas Kings’ team captain and the guy on this month’s cover of Sports Illustrated.”
“Last month’s.” But the correction doesn’t come from me. It’s from my brother Noah—the second oldest Reeves brother, who just strolled in like he owns the place. Okay, so maybe he owns part of it, but he had his own reasons for rooting himself in this town. Unlike Dad, I don’t meddle in other people’s business.
Same way I wish people wouldn’t meddle in mine.
Dad rolls his eyes. “I was making a point.”
“A point about what?” Noah pries. The attorney in him always asking questions he has no business asking.
“She’s just busy, Dad, leave her alone,” I say, ending the whole Bethany is too intimidated by me B.S.
“Hi, Noah.” Bethany appears suddenly at our now very crowded table. “Can I get you anything?”
My brother looks up politely, offering a small smile. “Hey, Bee, I’m alright, thanks. Just forgot to grab an espresso before I left.”
“I’ll get that for you,” she chirps.
Dad cocks his head toward his other son but keeps his eyes on me. “Approachable.”
That’s because Noah is in and out of here in three seconds on a typical afternoon and Bee was just being proactive. As the only affordable lawyer in town—he’s always busy. So after a long day of working in the office on his high profile city cases, he heads home to work on pro bono cases for the town locals, stopping for a caffeine spike here at the inn.
“Dad, leave him alone. He’s just pissy because his game’s been off the last few weeks.”
“Just the last three games and piss off before I call Bee back and tell her you want to try her special today.”
“You know it wouldn’t kill you to be nicer to the female population.”
“I am nice.” I lean back with a smirk. “When it counts.”
Dad stands with a sigh. “That’s my cue.”
Noah kicks me under the table. “Why do you have to get like that in front of Dad?”
Ignoring him, I check the time. “I’ve got to get to practice.” The Denver Kings arena is forty-five minutes from town. I won’t hit traffic around here, but closer to the city, I’m looking at, at least a twenty-minute delay. Polishing off my coffee, I grab the keys to my Harley off the table.
Noah stands first. “You’re comin’ back for poker night tomorrow, right?” he asks. “Levi wants to go over the guest list too. Says there’s a suspicious number of single moms coming this year.”
I zone out for a minute, remembering my game schedule. “Tomorrow’s Sunday? Yeah. I’m good for Sunday.”
Bailing on game night isn’t an option unless I have a direct conflict. It was Elliot’s thing and we vowed to keep it alive. We just call it ‘poker night’ now.
“Crashin’ at my place again?” He looks down at me in expectation…or maybe as a challenge.
“Yeah, maybe.”
He and I both know I don’t sleep at the cottage that Elliot left me. I can barely stand in that house for more than five minutes without reliving the last time I saw him in it. The night before his accident.
Two minutes after Noah leaves and I’ve double-checked which days I have games, I’m considering a second attempt at telling Dad about Elliot’s place when a car door slams on the quiet street outside, followed by the sound of screeching tires. From my vantage point, I catch a glimpse of the yellow taxi from the big city race its way out of town.
Soon after, the bell to the front entrance chimes announcing a new patron, which means it’s clearly not the right time to approach Dad about my plans for the burden that was left for me.
A relived sigh carries across the room. “Oh, thank God, this place is still open.”
The voice. It’s breathy and alive. Desperate and determined.
Familiar.
“Please, please, please tell me the Inn upstairs is still open.”
An old vision creeps into my mind before I look up. Of the small-town girl with the easy smile, long wavy red hair that reminds you of an autumn sunset in Hideaway Springs; breezy, colorful…naturally beautiful.
“Still in business,” Dad answers. “But I’m afraid—”
“Fabulous.”
I turn to find the visitor at the counter. I only see the back of her bleached-blonde head, but there’s no mistaking who it is.
Pepper Woods.
She’s wearing crisp white running shoes and a pink velour sweatsuit. Her hair is loosely bobby-pinned in various places. Her cheeks are shimmery and rose-powdered. And I’m almost positive that’s a veil poking out of her tan leather backpack.
“Pepper, is that you?” I hear Dad ask cautiously from behind the counter.
“Mr. Reeves? Oh my gosh. Yes—it’s me. Well, I go by Penelope now. I knew someone would still be living in this town. You work here?”
He scoffs. “Sort of. Bought the place.”
“Really? Why? I mean. That’s great. I need a room. Any room.”
“I’m sorry, Pep—Penelope. We’re booked.”
“Booked?” She laughs but in a panicky sort of way that piques my curiosity. A curiosity I buried a long time ago when it came to her. “How can this place be booked?”
Dad blinks and I cough a laugh.
This grabs her attention and she turns, looking for the source.
Big, tired eyes lock with mine and her lips part—but only slightly—as she sweeps her gaze over me. Then turns back to the only gentleman in this entire establishment.
“Look, I’m desperate. I’m sure you save something for you know…important people?” She winces at her own words.
I prop up my elbow as I lean back against the window in my seat, curious as fuck to see how Dad will handle that one.
I’m stroking my jaw and bottom lip with my thumb when Dad catches his immediate response with a light chuckle.
I know he’s about to comment something like “We consider everyone who walks in here important, Penelope,” but I beat him to it.
“Is that how it’s done in Washington, Pepper?” I ask smugly.
She turns to me with a scowl. A slightly more prepared ‘you again’ scowl that almost makes me laugh. And there isn’t much I find funny these days. “Not surprised to see you still here, Chase.”
Well, well. Pepper Woods remembers my name.
“Is that a veil?” I ask, leaning back in my booth and glancing at the white lace dangling from her backpack.
She snaps her head down and pushes the exposed piece back through the open zipper. “Mr. Reeves,” she starts again with fresh determination.
“Please, call me Aiden.”
She shakes her head. “Mr. Reeves. Please. I need…something.”
He considers it, but he and I both know there’s nothing he can do. Not unless he has her crash on his couch—for however long she needs. “Look, Pepper. I…understand you might not have family in town, but…don’t you have friends you can call?”
He sounds hopeful. He really does.
She chokes a laugh. “Friends. Yes. Yes, of course.” She shrugs awkwardly. “Lots.” Keeping her eyes on my dad, she pulls out her phone and holds it up. “I’ll just ring any one ‘em…right now.”
Dad licks his bottom lip and briefly focuses on the dark marble of the bar, like he wishes there was something else he could offer her.
“Why don’t you…have a seat and I’ll get something for you from the kitchen.”
She shakes her head absently. “No thank you. I’m not hungry. Water…maybe?”
He motions Bethany over with the pitcher.
I watch as Pepper’s chest moves up and down. Her eyes, dazed as if she’s wondering how she got here.
It’s like a train wreck, and I can’t look away.
Dad circles the bar and sits across from me. I sit up on alert because this isn’t going anywhere good.
“Well, I gotta get—”
“Sit down,” he hisses.
I drop back onto the bench, already knowing what he’s going to say: take her back to the city, sit with her until she finds someone in town.
Pepper isn’t going to find anyone in town. She left without looking back. Without saying her goodbyes. She followed her big city dreams to New York, somehow ended up in D.C. and got engaged to Troy Mayfield.
Now she’s here shaking in her Adidas like someone is going to burst through that door looking for her.
Glancing at Pepper sitting alone at a corner roundtable, he leans in. “You and I both know she’s not calling anyone.”
“Your point?”
“She needs a place to stay. The only one I know is the cottage you’re not occupying at the moment. There’s a bed. Take her there. Just for a night.”
“Are you fucking joking?”
“Keep your voice down. Look. I need to close in one hour. You’ve got practice. So unless you expect me to throw her out on the street, you need to take her back to Elliot’s place.” He whisper-screams that last part.
“No.”
“What’s it to you? You’re staying in your condo in the city tonight anyway.”
“Dad. Look at her. Yeah, she’s a hot mess right now. But that girl is not sleeping in an old cottage. She’s…”
“She’s desperate,” he says.
I shake my head, because I know how this ends. She’s going to fight me on going anywhere with me. Especially to some little old house with rusty old furniture, squeaky floors and probably plumbing issues.
He taps on the table as if he’s given up on waiting for me to respond. “Beau. Didn’t they used to date or something? He still lives here. I’ll give him a call.” Like he’s serious, he moves back behind the bar and pulls up his box of business cards.
With a growl, I push off the table and meet him across the bar. “What are you doing?”
Dad doesn’t look up. “He runs his dad’s old auto shop not far from here. I’ve got his card somewhere.”
I yank the shoebox away from him. “You don’t just call up someone’s ex and ask them to come pick up their girlfriend from eight years ago.”
“You got any better ideas, Chase? She’s alone. And wherever she came from—which let’s be honest, we all know where that is—she ain’t plannin’ on goin’ back.”
I run my fingers through my hair. I can’t think about this right now.
“I’m late for practice. Besides, I’ve got my bike and I don’t have a sp—”
Dad pulls out a spare helmet from behind the bar. “For just such an occasion.”
Shaking my head, I take the helmet and stride over to Pepper, setting it next to her water. “Put that on.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “You can’t be serious.”
“You’re out of options, Blondie.”
“Penelope.”
“Look, maybe that’s what your politician husband calls you, but here, you’re Pepper or Blondie or Pinky or whatever else I feel like callin’ you. Now unless you plan on getting intimate with the street corner tonight, you’re coming with me. There’s an empty place you can stay tonight.”
She looks up at me, horrified, but then stands with a curt nod, picking up the helmet. “You uh…you get the news here?”
“No. This is just some imaginary small town with no television or cell phones. Can we go now? I’m late.”
I turn and head out the back where my bike is parked. I don’t wait for her to follow. It’s bad enough I struggled to tear my eyes off her in the last ten minutes.
The sooner I drop her off, the better. She’ll have boarding for the night, and my one good deed for the day is done.
I hop on and make my adjustments before revving the engine.
Pinky lifts the sleek white helmet from under her arm and with deliberate motions, slides it over her head like a puzzle piece. Her fingers work under her chin and the click of the fastening strap echoes through the quiet alley.
I give her a nod. “All set?”
“How far we going?” she asks, checking out my ride.
“About five minutes.”
She sucks in a breath, avoiding my eyes as she nods. In a small, and somewhat shaky voice, she replies, “I guess.”
I’m tempted to ask if she’s ever been on one of these. Hell, I’m tempted to assure her she’s safe with me in the driver’s seat. But all that goes against everything I vowed to never do when it comes to Pepper.
I give my engine a roar and tell her to hop on.
With a backpack full of buried secrets over her shoulders, she steps on the footpeg and swings her leg over. I shift uneasily as she settles behind me, her body molding with mine like it belongs.
I shake it off and lift the helmet over my head.
“You insured?” she asks.
“Sure. For myself.”
Pepper presses her front to my back even more, wrapping her arms around my waist and my vision nearly blurs. I’ve given plenty of girls rides on this thing, their arms around me as natural as a seat belt—I barely notice it.
But this—I feel.
Maybe it’s her scent?
No. She smells like faded expensive perfume and the back of a city cab. Far from alluring.
“Thought you were in a hurry,” she calls behind me.
“Right.”
I head toward Elliot’s when I catch the sun setting over the mountains. That means it’s close to six, which means even if I were to head straight to practice now, I’ll be ten minutes late, at least. And I still need to get across town.
After last night’s screw up, and the shiner I got during a throw down, I can’t afford to be late. Coach will have my ass.
When I turn the corner, I pull to a stop. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” Pepper’s voice is muffled behind me under the helmet.
“Change of plans. You’re coming with me.”