After Hours with Her Ex

Three

It went wrong right from the jump. For the next hour, they butted heads continuously until Lacy had a headache the size of Idaho.

“You closed the intermediate run on the east side of the mountain,” he said, glancing up from the reports. “I want that opened up again.”

“We can’t open it until next season,” Lacy said, pausing for a sip of the latte that had gone cold over the past hour.

He dropped a pen onto the desk top. “And why’s that?”

She met his almost-accusatory stare with cool indifference. “We had a storm come through late December. Tore down a few pines and dropped a foot and a half of snow.” She crossed her legs and held her latte between her palms. “The pines are blocking the run and we can’t get a crew in there to clear it out because the snow in the pass is too deep.”

He frowned. “You waited too long to send in a crew.”

At the insinuation of incompetence in his voice, she stood up and stared down at him. “I waited until the storm passed,” she argued. “Once we got a look at the damage and I factored in the risks to the guys of clearing it, I closed that run.”

Leaning back in his chair, he met her gaze. “So you ran the rest of the season on half power.”

“We did fine,” she said tightly. “Check the numbers.”

“I have.” Almost lazily, he stood so that he loomed over her, forcing her to lift her gaze. “You didn’t do badly...”

“Thanks so much.” Sarcasm dripped from every word.

“It would have been a better season with that run open.”

“Well yeah,” she said, setting her latte cup onto her desk. “But we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

His eyes narrowed and she gave herself a mental pat on the back for that well-aimed barb. Before Sam had walked out on her and everyone else, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d lost her temper. Now that he was back, though, the anger she used to keep tamped down kept bubbling up.

“Leaving that alone for the moment,” he said, “the revenue from the snack bar isn’t as high as it used to be.”

She shrugged. This was not news to her. “Not that many people are interested in hot dogs, really. Most people go for a real lunch in town.”

“Which is why building a restaurant at the summit is important,” he said.

She hated that he was right. “I agree.”

A half smile curved his mouth briefly and her stomach gave a quick twist in response. It was involuntary, she consoled herself. Sam smiled; she quivered. Didn’t mean she had to let him know.

“If we can agree on one thing, there may be more.”

“Don’t count on it,” she warned.

He tipped his head to one side and stared at her. “I don’t remember you being so stubborn. Or having a temper.”

“I learned how to stand up for myself while you were gone, Sam,” she told him, lifting her chin to emphasize her feelings on this. “I won’t smile and nod just because Sam Wyatt says something. When I disagree, you’ll know it.”

Nodding, he said, “I think I like the new Lacy as much as I did the old one. You’re a strong woman. Always have been, whether you ever chose to show it or not.”

“No,” Lacy said softly. “You don’t get to do that, Sam. You don’t get to stand there and pretend to know me.”

“I do know you, Lacy,” he argued, coming around the desk. “We were married.”

“Were being the operative word in that sentence,” she reminded him, and took two steps back. “You don’t know me anymore. I’ve changed.”

“I can see that. But the basics are the same,” he said, closing the distance between them again. “You still smell like lilacs. You still wear your hair in that thick braid I used to love to undo and spill across your shoulders...”

Lacy’s stomach did a fast, jittery spin and her heartbeat leaped into a gallop. How was it fair that he could still make her body come alive with a few soft words and a heated look? Why hadn’t the need for him drowned in the sea of hurt and anger that had enveloped her when he left?

“Stop it.”

“Why?” He shook his head and kept coming, one long, slow step after another. “You’re still beautiful. And I like the way temper makes your eyes flash.”

The office just wasn’t big enough for this, Lacy told herself, and crowded around behind the desk, trying to keep the solid piece of furniture between them. She didn’t trust herself around him. Never had been able to. From the time she was a girl, she had wanted Sam and that feeling had never left her. Not even when he’d broken her heart by abandoning her.

“You don’t have the right to talk to me like that now. You left, Sam. And I moved on.”

Liar, her mind screamed. She hadn’t moved on. How could she? Sam Wyatt was the love of her life. He was the only man she had ever wanted. The only one she still wanted, damn it. But he wasn’t going to know that.

Because she had trusted him. More than anyone in her life, she had trusted him and he’d left her without a backward glance. The pain of that hadn’t faded.

He narrowed his gaze on her. “There’s someone else?”

She laughed, but the sharp edge of it scraped her throat. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’ve been gone two years, Sam. Did you think I’d enter a convent or something? That I’d throw myself on our torn-up marriage certificate and vow to never love another man?”

His jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching as he ground his teeth together. “Who is he?”

She sucked in a gulp of air. “None of your business.”

“I hate that. But yeah, it’s not,” he agreed, moving closer. So close that Lacy couldn’t draw a breath without taking the scent of him—his shampoo, the barest hint of a foresty cologne—deep into her lungs. He looked the same. He felt the same. But nothing was the same.

Lacy felt the swirl of need she always associated with Sam. No other man affected her as he did. No other man had ever tempted her into believing in forever. And look how that had turned out.

“Sam.” The window was at her back, the glass cold through her sweater and still doing nothing to chill the heat that pulsed inside her.

“Who is he, Lacy?” He reached up and fingered the end of her braid. “Do I know him?”

“No,” she muttered, looking for a way out and not finding one. She could slip to the side, but he’d only move with her. Too close. She took another breath. “Why does it matter, Sam? Why would you care?”

“Like I said, we were married once,” he said as if he had to remind her.

“We’re not now,” she told him flatly.

“No,” he said, then lifted his fingers to tip up her chin, drawing her gaze to meet his. “Your eyes are still so damn blue.”

His whisper shivered inside her. His touch sent bolts of heat jolting through her and Lacy took another breath to steady herself and instead was swamped by his scent, filling her, fogging her mind, awakening memories she’d worked so hard to bury.

“Do you taste the same?” he wondered softly, and lowered his head to hers.

She should stop him, she knew, and yet, she didn’t. Couldn’t. His mouth came down on hers and everything fell away but for what he could make her feel. Lacy’s heart pounded like a drum. Her body ached; her mind swirled with the pleasure, the passion that she’d only ever found with Sam.

It was reaction, she told herself. That was all. It was the ache of her bones, the pain in her heart, finally being assuaged by the man who had caused it all in the first place.

He pulled her in tightly to him and for a brief, amazing moment, she allowed herself to feel the joy in being pressed against his hard, muscled chest again. To experience his arms wrap around her, enfolding her. To part her lips for his tongue and know the wild rush of sensation sweeping through her.

It was all there. Two years and all it took was a single kiss to remind her of everything they’d once shared, they’d once known. Her body leaned into him even as her mind was screaming at her to stop. She burned and in the flames, felt the heat sear every nerve ending. That was finally enough, after what felt like a small eternity, to make her listen to that small, rational internal voice.

Pulling away from him, Lacy shook her head and said, “No. No more. I won’t do it.”

“We just did.”

Her head snapped up, furious with him, but more so with herself. How could she be so stupid? He’d abandoned her and he’s back on the mountain for a single day and she’s kissing him? God, it was humiliating. “That was a mistake.”

“Not from where I’m standing,” Sam said, but she was pleased to see he looked as shaken as she felt.

Small consolation, but she’d take it. The office suddenly seemed claustrophobic. She had to get out. Get into the open where she could think again, where she could force herself to remember all of the pain she’d been through because of him.

“You can’t touch me again, Sam,” Lacy said, and it cost her, because her body was still buzzing as if she’d brushed up against a live wire. “I won’t let you.”

Frowning, he asked, “Loyal to the new guy, huh?”

“No,” she told him flatly, “this is about me. And about protecting myself.”

“From me?” He actually looked astonished. “You really think you need protection from me?”

Could he really not understand this? “You once asked me to trust you. To believe that you loved me and you’d never leave.”

His features went taut, his eyes shuttered. She felt him closing himself down, but she couldn’t stop now.

“But you lied. You did leave.”

His eyes flashed once—with hurt or shame, she didn’t know, couldn’t tell. “You think I planned to leave, Lacy? You think it was something I wanted?”

“How would I know?” she countered, anger and hurt clawing at her insides. “You didn’t talk to me, Sam. You shut me out. And then you walked away. You hurt me once, Sam. I won’t let you do it again. So you really need to back off.”

“I’m here now, Lacy. And there’s no way I’m backing off. This is still my home.”

“But I’m not yours,” she told him, accepting the pain of those words. “Not anymore.”

He took a breath, blew it out and scrubbed one hand across the back of his neck. The familiarity of that gesture tugged at her.

“I thought of you,” he admitted, fixing his gaze to hers as his voice dropped to a low throb that seemed to rumble along her spine. “I missed you.”

Equal parts pleasure and pain tore at her heart. The taste of him was still on her mouth, flavoring every breath. Her senses were so full she felt as if she might explode. So she held tight to the pain and let the pleasure slide away. “It’s your own fault you missed me, Sam. You’re the one who left.”

“I did what I had to do at the time.”

“And screw anyone else,” she added for him.

Pushing one hand through his hair, he finally took a step back, giving Lacy the breathing room she so badly needed. “That’s what it looked like, I guess.”

“That’s what it was, Sam,” she told him, and took the opportunity to slip out and move around until the desk once again stood between them like a solid barrier. “You left us all. Me. Your parents. Your sister. You walked away from your home and left the rest of us to pick up the pieces.”

“I couldn’t do it.” He whirled around to face her, green eyes flashing like a forest burning. “You need to hear me say it? That I couldn’t take it? That Jack died and I lost it? Fine. There.” He slapped both hands onto the desk and glared at her. “That make it better for you? Easier?”

Overwhelmed with fury, Lacy thought she actually saw red. So many emotions surged inside her, she could hardly separate them. Lacy felt the crash and slam of the feelings she’d tried to bury two years ago as they rushed to the surface, demanding to be acknowledged.

“Better? Really?” Her voice was hard, but low. She wouldn’t shout. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing just how deeply his words had cut her. “You think it can get better? My husband left me with all the casualness of tossing out an old shirt.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” she interrupted him before he could.

“I won’t.” He fisted his hands on the desktop, then carefully, deliberately, released them again. “I can’t explain it to myself, so how could I explain it to you or anyone else? Yeah, I left and maybe that was wrong.”

“Maybe?”

“But I’m back now.”

Lacy shook her head and swallowed the rest of her temper. Clashing with him was no way to prove to Sam that she was over him. She would not get pulled into a Wyatt family drama. She wasn’t one of them anymore. Sam returning had nothing to do with her. In spite of the heat inside her, the yearning gnawing at her, she knew she had to protect herself.

“You didn’t come back for me, Sam. So let’s not pretend different, okay?”

“What if I had?” he whispered, gaze locked with hers.

“It wouldn’t matter,” she told him, and hoped to heaven he believed her. “What we had is done and gone.”

He studied her for a long minute. Seconds ticked past, counting off with every heartbeat. Tension coiled and bristled in the air between them.

“I think,” he said at last, “we just proved that what we had isn’t completely gone.”

“That doesn’t count.”

Surprised, he snorted, and laughter glinted in his eyes for a split second. “Oh, it counts. But we’ll let it go for now.”

She released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Ridiculous to feel both relieved and irritated all at once. How easily he turned what he was feeling on and off. How easily he had walked away from his life. From her.

“Back to business, then,” he said, voice cool, dispassionate, as if that soul-shaking kiss hadn’t happened. “Yesterday, you and Kristi were talking about the End of Season party.”

“Yes. The plans are finalized.”

Fine. Business she could do. She had been running the Wyatt resort for the past year and she’d done a damn good job. Let him go over the records and he would see for himself that she hadn’t curled up and died just because he left. Lacy had a life she loved, a job she was good at. She was happy, damn it.

Coming around the desk, she ignored him and hit a few keys on the computer to pull up the file. “You can see for yourself, everything’s in motion and right on schedule.”

She moved out of the way as he stepped in to glance at the monitor. Scrolling down, he gave the figures there a quick look, then shifted his gaze to hers. “Looks fine. But end of season’s usually not until March. Why are we closing the slopes early?”

Lacy was on familiar ground here and she relaxed a little as she explained, “There hasn’t been any significant snowfall since early January. Weather’s been cold enough to keep the snowpack in good shape, but we’re getting icy now. Our guests expect the best powder in the world—”

“Yeah,” he said wryly, “I know.”

Of course he knew. He had, just like Lacy, grown up skiing the very slopes they were discussing now. He’d built a life, a profession, a reputation on skiing.

“Right. Then you should appreciate why we’re doing the official closing early.” Lacy walked around the desk until it stood between them again. She sighed and said, “Numbers have been falling off lately. People know there’s no fresh snow, so they’re not in a rush to come up the mountain.

“Throwing the End of Season party early will bring them up here. The hotel’s already booked and we just have two of the cabins left empty...”

“One,” he said, interrupting the flow of words while he continued to scan the plans for the party.

“One what?”

“One cabin’s empty.” He shrugged. “I moved my stuff into Cabin 6.”

A sinking sensation opened up in the pit of her stomach. Cabin 6 was close to her house. Way too close. And he knew that. So had he chosen that cabin purposely? “I thought you’d be staying in the family quarters at the lodge.”

He shook his head. “No. The cabin will suit me. I need the space.”

“Fine,” she said shortly, determined not to let it matter where he stayed. “Anyway, locals will still come ski whether we’re ‘officially’ closed or not. We’ll keep the lifts running and if we get more snow, then others will come, too. But holding the party early gives us publicity that could keep tourists coming in until the snow melts.”

“It’s a good idea.”

He said it grudgingly and Lacy scowled at him. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not,” he said, then dropped into the desk chair. “You know this place as well as I do. You were a good choice to run the resort. Why would I be surprised that you’re good at your job?”

Was there a compliment in there?

“I want to go over the rest of the records, then, since you’re the manager now, I’ll want to talk tomorrow about the plans for the resort.”

“Fine,” she said, headed for the door. “I’ll see you here tomorrow, then.”

“That’ll work.”

She opened the door and stopped when he spoke again.

“And Lacy...”

She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes met hers. “We’re not done. We’ll never be done.”

There was nothing she could say to that, so she left, closing the door softly behind her.

* * *

That kiss stayed with him for hours.

For two years, he’d lived without her. It hadn’t been easy, especially at first. But the grief and rage and guilt had colored everything then and he’d buried her memory in the swamp of other emotions. He’d convinced himself she was fine because the reality was too brutal. She’d come to haunt him at night of course. His sleep was crowded with her image, with her scent, with her taste.

And now he’d had a taste of her again and his system was on fire.

Need crouched inside him, clawing at his guts, tearing at what was left of his heart. He’d loved her back then. But love hadn’t been enough to survive his own pain. Now there was desire, rich and thick and tormenting him in ways he hadn’t felt since the last time he’d seen Lacy Sills.

She’d said she had a new man. Who the hell was touching her? Who heard her whisper of breath when she climaxed? Who felt her small, strong hands sliding up and down his skin? It was making Sam crazy just thinking about it. And yet, he couldn’t seem to stop, either.

Yeah, none of it was rational. He didn’t care.

When he’d headed home, his only thought had been for his father. Worry had driven every action. He hadn’t stopped to think what it would be like to be near Lacy again. To face her and what he’d done by leaving. His heart told him he was a bastard, but his brain kept reminding him that he’d had to leave. That he might have made even more of a mess of things if he’d stayed.

Now he was here, for at least a few months. How was he going to make it without touching her? Answer—he wouldn’t. The truth was, he was going to touch her. As soon and as often as possible. Her response to his kiss told him that whether she wanted to admit it or not, she wanted him, too. So to hell with the new guy, whoever he was.

Sam turned in the chair and looked out at the night. The lights glittering in the Salt Lake Valley below smudged the horizon with a glow that dimmed the stars. His gaze shifted, sweeping across the resort, where lights were golden, tossing puddled yellow illumination on the snow. It was pristine, beautiful, and he’d missed the place.

Acknowledging it was hard, but Sam knew that coming back here eased something inside him that had been drawn tight as a bowstring for two years. Coming home hadn’t been easy. He’d spent the past two years trying to convince himself that he’d never come back. Now that he was here, though, there were ghosts to face, the past to confront and, mostly, there was the need to make a kind of peace with Lacy.

But then, he thought as he stood and walked out of the office, maybe it wasn’t peace he was after with her.

* * *

For the next few days, Lacy avoided him at every turn and Sam let her get away with it. There was time to settle what was between them. He didn’t have to rush, and besides, if he made her that nervous, drawing out the tension would only make her more on edge.

And that could only work to his benefit. Lacy cool and calm wasn’t what he wanted. The temper she’d developed intrigued him and made him think of how passionate she had always been in bed. Together, they had been combustible. He wanted that back.

He glanced at her and almost smiled at the deliberate distance she kept. As if it would help. As if it could cool the fires burning between them. The day was cold and clear and the snow-covered ground at the summit crunched underfoot as they walked toward the site for the restaurant he was planning.

Tearing his gaze from Lacy momentarily, Sam studied the snack shop that had been there since before he was born. Small and filled with tradition, it had outlived its purpose. These days, most people wanted healthy food, not hot dogs smothered in mustard and chili.

“What’re you thinking?” Lacy looked up at him, clearly still irritated that he’d dragged her away from the inn to come up here and look around.

He glanced at her. “That I want a chili dog.”

For a split second, the ice in her eyes drained away. “You always did love Mike’s chili.”

“I’ve been all over the world and never found anything like it.”

“Not surprising,” Lacy answered. “I think he puts rocket fuel in that stuff.”

Sam grinned and she gave him a smile in return that surprised and pleased him. A cold wind rushed across the mountaintop and lifted her blond braid off her shoulder. Her cheeks were pink, her blue eyes glittering and she looked so good it was all he could do not to grab her. But even as he thought it, her smile faded.

“I think we’ll keep the snack shack for old time’s sake,” he said, forcing himself to look away from her and back out over the grounds where he would build the new restaurant. “But the new place, I’d like it to go over there,” he pointed, “so the pines can ring the back of it. We’ll have a deck out there, too, a garden area, and the trees will provide some shade, as well.”

She looked where he pointed and nodded. “It’s a good spot. But a wood deck requires a lot of upkeep. What about flagstone?”

Sam thought about it. “Good idea. Easier to clean, too. I called Dennis Barclay’s construction company last night and he’s going to come up tomorrow, make some measurements, draw up some plans so we can go to the city and line up the permits.”

“Dennis does good work.” She made a note on her iPad. “Franklin stone could lay the gravel paths and the flagstone. They’ve got a yard in Ogden with samples.”

“Good idea. We can check that out once we get the permits and an architect’s drawing on the restaurant.”

“Right.” Her voice was cool, clipped. “We used Nancy Frampton’s firm for the addition to the inn.”

“I remember.” He nodded. “She’s good. Okay, I’ll call and talk to her tomorrow. Tell her what we want up here.”

She made another note and he almost chuckled. She was so damn determined to keep him at arm’s length. To pretend that what they’d shared in the office last night hadn’t really happened. And he was willing to let that pretense go on. For a while.

“As long as you’re making notes, write down that we want to get some ideas for where to build an addition to the inn. I want it close enough to the main lodge that it’s still a part of us. But separate, too. Maybe joined by a covered walkway so even during storms, people can go back and forth.”

“That’d work.” She stopped, paused and said, “You know, a year ago, we put in a restaurant-grade stove, oven and fridge in the main lodge kitchen. We’re equipped to provide more than breakfast and lunch now.”

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