Harte's Peak Read online

  “You were rather cocky when you came into town. So that’s where that comes from?”

  “Maybe.” Winning tournaments meant money, prestige, and attention. And something that felt like love, which he now recognized as counterfeit.

  Vera leaned back in her chair and studied him. “I can’t figure you out, Colton.”

  “I think you tried once.”

  “Are you saying I was wrong?”

  “Not then. But you are now.”

  

  “Listen, I appreciate that you only tried to talk me out of the contest once today,” Vera said.

  Ryan walked with her to her car. She popped open the trunk to take off her boots, and he did the same.

  “The day’s not over yet,” he said. “But I must admit you’re a decent skier.”

  Vera beamed. “I tried to tell you. I owe you a nice home-cooked meal if you’re not busy.”

  “You can cook?” The idea struck him as funny, and he put his hand to his chest in mock shock.

  “Of course. I considered opening my own restaurant once. Before I bought the cafe.”

  “You should know one other thing about me: I’ll never turn down a free meal. Remember, I’m a public servant.”

  He followed her car back into town as the freshly fallen snow created a line of cars stopped in the other direction along Route 129. Ryan spotted one of their deputies out on the highway assisting stranded motorists. Good thing he’d brought a second set of chains and insisted that Vera put them on her vehicle.

  Tonight, he’d find out exactly why she had this death wish. The competition he’d seen on the slopes today made Vera’s chances at winning a long shot. He didn’t want to crush her spirit, but he had to make her see the truth somehow.

  She needed money, evidenced by the sale of the car, which hadn’t fooled him. It had nothing to do with speeding tickets. If he could get to the bottom of the problem, maybe he could help in a real way. But first Vera would have to trust him.

  And he was curious about the Wall Street guy, because there was something going on there, even though it was none of his business.

  A small tri-color Beagle greeted them at the entrance to Vera’s home.

  “This is Stin.” Vera bent down to pet its head.

  Stin took one look at him and, tail between her legs, ran out of the room headed toward the back of the house.

  “Was it something I said?” Growing up, he’d had three dogs and friend’s pets usually sensed the animal lover in him.

  “Don’t take it personally. Stin doesn’t like men.” Vera shrugged. “I think it has to do with the deep voice.”

  He stepped into the house and what seemed a simulated photograph inside an issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Not that he read that magazine, but his mother used to get a copy every month. She’d drool over places that looked like Vera’s home.

  Apparently owning a café could be a lucrative business, which made him even more confused. Hardwood floors ran the length of the hallway to the kitchen, which was obviously the focal point of the home with its black granite countertops and cherry wood cabinets. A large kitchen island sat in the center. The hanging pots from a hook above the island were owned by someone who took pride in having the best tools for the job. Finally, some common ground.

  “Have a seat.” She waved toward the couch.

  He didn’t feel dressed well enough to sit on the couch, so he pulled out a kitchen stool by the counter.

  Vera pulled out a knife from the butcher block and reached for the cutting board inches from him.

  “Can I help?” Surely, she wouldn’t want him to sit. He got up to assist and bumped right into Vera’s shoulder.

  As she turned to face him, they stood short inches from each other.

  He breathed in the scent of her honeysuckle shampoo.

  “You do not want to mess with a woman and her knife.” She smirked.

  “I’m not crazy if that’s what you mean.” He grinned.

  “Ryan, I know you want to help. Right now, you can help by sitting down.” She pointed to the stool.

  Chastised, he sat and observed as she chopped vegetables with expert skill. She was right about the fact that he wouldn’t want to get between her and that knife.

  She flitted about the kitchen, filling a pot with water and throwing the vegetables in a pan. They sizzled, and the smell of garlic filled the air.

  “Smells great.” Whatever she was cooking made his stomach growl.

  “Pasta primavera. We need our carbs after a workout like the one we had today.”

  When she smiled every angle of her face relaxed, and Ryan had to remind himself that he’d sworn off women until he met the one he would marry. As it turned out, he hadn’t dated in months, but who was counting?

  Still, he couldn’t stop appreciating Vera any more than he could turn away from a red sunset.

  “I haven’t seen Jack for a while, but I saw Maggie last week, and she’s huge.” Vera stirred the pot of pasta.

  “Jack is settling in to his newly elected position. I can’t complain. Pretty nice when your best friend is also your boss.”

  “I hope Maggie would say the same thing.”

  “Something tells me she would.” Kind of strange that their best friends were married to each other.

  He had a lot to be grateful for, and one of those things was his friendship with Jack and Maggie Butler. When Jack started going to church with Maggie and her daughter Lexi, he invited Ryan along. After several invites, Ryan had gone, and because of Jack’s diligence, he’d found his freedom and the identity he now had in Christ.

  Most of the town of Harte’s Peak had come out for his baptism six months ago. Vera hadn’t shown up, but she didn’t attend church. Also notably absent was his father, who lived out of state and thought Ryan had joined some type of cult. He still had a lot of work to do on that end. Right now, his work involved one stubborn blonde and a contest. Enough of the pleasantries.

  “The thought still occurs to me that I might have an easier time qualifying for this race.” He played with the silverware Vera had placed on the counter.

  “You can banish that thought right out of your head.” She waved the knife in his direction.

  “It’s not going anywhere.” He stared.

  “Keep it to yourself then. It was fun today. I haven’t had so much fun since my dad took me.” A distant look appeared in her eyes.

  “Your dad liked to ski?” They had that in common as well. Ryan’s dad had introduced him to the sport, pushed him into the competitions and the touring lifestyle. Ted Colton had enjoyed the lifestyle, too—enjoyed it right up to the steps of the courthouse where the divorce hearing had been held. Ryan’s mother still blamed the ski tournament tours for destroying her family, and for the first time in his life, Ryan realized she’d been right all along.

  “Yeah, he used to take my sister and me skiing every season. Then he got himself a new family.” Vera set two plates on the counter.

  “Sorry.” Ryan’s jaw tightened.

  They had more in common than either of them realized.

  “Don’t be. I can’t say that I blame my dad entirely. You would have to know my mother to understand. Although, if I think about it, I’m not sure what came first. The divorce or my mother’s bitterness. I guess they’re both intertwined.”

  “Did your mother remarry as well?”

  “Are you kidding? Not when she can be a living martyr.”

  “My mother never remarried either. Instead she clung to my brother and me like we were a lifeline. I was the first to leave home, but my younger brother followed shortly after and joined the Army. Anything to get away from home.”

  This conversation was good. Maybe if he confided in her, eventually she’d let her guard down enough to tell him why winning this contest seemed so important to her.

  “At least she paid attention to you.” Vera placed a pitcher of water in front of him.

  “If by attention you mean
smothering, then, yes.”

  Vera laughed and the sparkle in her eyes caused his knees to nearly buckle for the second time in one day.

  

  Vera served dinner at the counter, and they ate on the kitchen stools. No need to get fancy with Ryan. This wasn’t a date, and she wanted to make that clear. Men like Ryan, church-going men, were to be her friends and nothing more. Even if those brown eyes, that devastating smile, and his athletic form reminded her that once she’d thought him a very attractive man. A little too handsome maybe. She’d quickly placed him in the compete-with mirror-time category, but tonight it seemed she might have been wrong all along.

  “This is delicious,” Ryan said.

  He must have meant it because he cleaned his plate. She’d forgotten how satisfying it was to cook a meal for someone who appreciated it. “Thanks.”

  “Maybe you should open that restaurant.” Ryan rose and took his plate to the sink.

  In the sudden, gaping silence, Ryan seemed to regret his words. “I’m sorry. I know times are hard for everyone. Every business owner in town is struggling.”

  Vera winced. She could ski with the wind and cook like a chef. “I don’t need your pity. The café is doing great.”

  “That’s kind of what I thought. So tell me, why this urgency to get your hands on the top prize of twenty-five thousand dollars?” The penetrating look in his brown eyes almost undid her. But the pity in those eyes didn’t sit well with her.

  “What makes you think there’s urgency? I didn’t say any such thing.” She rose to take her plate to the sink.

  “Who decides on a whim to enter this kind of contest unless you desperately need the money?”

  “I have never stepped down from a challenge.” And she wasn’t going to start now.

  “I don’t doubt that. But what if you don’t win? Have you considered that possibility?”

  “Of course I have. I’m not an idiot.” But in truth, if she didn’t win this contest she would have to pick between her house and the café.

  “But will you be OK without the winning purse?”

  “Of course. Yeah, it would be nice. But contest or not, I’ll be fine.” She’d be all right, no matter what. Even if she had to bring in a cot to sleep in the café’s office.

  “I don’t want to discourage you, but—” Ryan began.

  “Then don’t.” She glared at him, hands on her hips, shoulders squared.

  “You could get hurt.” Ryan’s gentle tone undid her again.

  “Don’t worry. I won’t be a hero.” Vera rolled her eyes.

  “Ha, you’re funny.”

  “If this is going to be a problem for you, I understand. I wouldn’t want you to feel guilty about indulging me.” She would almost like a way out of spending all this time with this irresistible man. Sometimes she swore he could see right through her.

  “No. I don’t mind training you. But I’ll be tough. It’s what you’ll need to beat the competition.”

  “I’m ready.”

  “You say that now, but I wonder how you’ll feel after you’ve been through one of my training sessions at the gym.”

  “Gym?” She hated the gym. Didn’t have a membership and didn’t need one. The gym was a place fools frequented to torture themselves.

  “Don’t worry. I’m a card carrying member, and I’ll get you in on a guest pass.”

  “Uh, what will we do at the gym?” She didn’t like the sound of it. Not at all. There would probably be sweating involved at some point.

  “What aren’t we going to do at the gym?” Ryan smiled and cocked an eyebrow. “Push-ups, jumping jacks, the treadmill, the stair climber.”

  “Ryan, I should warn you. I don’t do push-ups. That’s against my religion.”

  He actually laughed—a rolling and hearty sound that made her heart skip. Weird.

  “You’ll have to be in the best shape of your life for this competition. If that’s what you still plan on doing.”

  “Yes, but why the gym?”

  Ryan held up his hand. “Don’t argue with the trainer.”

  “All right. Whatever you say. Fascist,” she muttered.

  “You’re right. This is now a dictatorship. If you want to be ready for the slopes, you need endurance.”

  They made plans to meet at Ryan’s gym for the next two weeks leading up to the tournament. Every day seemed unreasonable, and though she argued her point, eventually Ryan won the argument with, among other things, his persuasive brown eyes.

  

  Ryan stepped out of Vera’s home and spotted the sleek dark vehicle parked near Vera’s curb. Mr. Wall Street sat behind the wheel. No doubt watching Vera, but why?

  He didn’t know the guy’s name yet, but the guy had earned stalker status in Ryan’s book.

  Ryan approached the shiny black Rolls Royce and tapped on its window.

  Wall Street rolled down the window.

  “Can I help you?” Ryan asked.

  “Am I doing anything illegal, officer? I note you’re not on duty by the lack of your uniform, but I’ll excuse you for being over diligent. I know what it’s like to love your job.” He grinned with blindingly white teeth.

  “Are you here to see Vera?” No more games with this creep.

  “You might say that, but I’m waiting for the right time. I’m Kevin. Kevin Wright.” He held out his hand.

  Ryan shook Kevin’s manicured, pale hand. “Ryan Colton. And how long did you plan on waiting for the right time?” Stalkers rarely wanted to volunteer any information, and until he knew better he would treat Kevin like one.

  “Not much longer. Maybe I’ll come back another time.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Timing is everything when it comes to Vera. Once you’ve been married to someone, you remember these things.”

  “Married?” Experience taught him not to take a stalker’s word. Could Vera have ever been married to someone like this?

  “That’s right.” He nodded.

  “Regardless, that doesn’t entitle you to spy on her from your car.”

  He laughed. “I’m hardly doing that. She’ll be ready to talk soon.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Oh. You don’t know. Well, Vera has gotten herself into quite a predicament. You know what that word means, right? She’s in trouble. See, she’s a little overextended. That means she doesn’t have the cash flow to pay her bills. Do you understand? That happens in business sometimes.”

  “Overextended?” He’d let the guy treat him like an idiot as long as he kept on handing over information he could use.

  “You may have noticed Vera likes the finer things in life. She certainly did during our marriage. People don’t change. She’ll never be happy until she gets herself out of this mess. And I can help.”

  “How can you help?” Ryan narrowed his eyes, waiting for what would come next.

  “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

  “Yeah, you might have to. You see, us public servants, we’re a little dense.”

  “She may not realize it now, but Vera needs me. She needs the financial security I provide. I taught her everything she knows about business, and we make a pretty good team.”

  “How did she get overextended?” Ryan pressed.

  “You should ask her,” Kevin said.

  “You can’t park here all night.” He slapped the hood of Kevin’s car and hoped it annoyed the creep.

  Kevin winced. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

  “Yeah, see that you don’t. In fact, why don’t I follow you out of here? I’m sure you’re done here now.”

  Ryan waited in his car. After a few seconds, Kevin started his vehicle and pulled away from the curve. Ryan followed him out of the neighborhood. So, Vera had entered the tournament for the purse. Challenge or not, she needed the money, even if she hadn’t shared that with him.

  5

  The gym met her expectations. Men and women were equally clothed in her least favorite smell�
��sweat. The squeak of the treadmill as it circled round and round going nowhere, reminded her of the gerbils she had as a child. But her pets had no choice in the matter, while here, women and men raced on the treadmill going nowhere and paying good money to do it.

  Worse, the air freshener did nothing to rid the building of the smell of dirty socks.

  What was I thinking?

  She’d tossed and turned all night imagining Kevin watched her as she slept, waiting for a chance to prove that she couldn’t make it through this financial misstep without his help.

  Who wouldn’t have trouble sleeping with their creepy ex-husband sitting outside in his car?

  Yeah, she’d seen him; she’d watched as Ryan spoke to him outside her home. She couldn’t imagine what Kevin would say to Ryan, and that had kept her awake as well. One way or another she would find out what Kevin had told Ryan about her.

  Now she was at the gym at 6:00 AM on a Sunday. The one day she could sleep in past the crack of dawn and she was trapped inside this building that dripped with testosterone. Without her morning cup of coffee, she fought sleep, but she planned to prove to Ryan that these workouts were not going to stop her.

  “We better get going. I have to be at church at nine,” Ryan said.

  “Are you always here at this hour?” Vera searched for his faults. He sounded like a glutton for punishment. Strike one.

  “I’m not usually here on a Sunday, but we have a tight schedule between your work hours and mine.”

  “So we won’t always meet this early?” Please. Say the words and make my day.

  “Nope. Fortunately for us, the gym is open twenty four hours.”

  Vera stretched and yawned. He’d just made her day.

  The workout started with lunges and squats to strengthen the legs. Once he made sure her legs felt like rubber, he had her run on the treadmill.

  Like a torturer, Ryan kept increasing the speed until she sprinted and thought she would surely fall on her face.

  “Stop.” She changed the speed to a leisurely jog: four miles an hour.

  Ryan changed it back to six miles per hour.