Gold Fire (6 page)

The older man’s obvious distaste made Jase wonder if Russ was worried about the offer, and that Jase might change his mind. It was hard to know; Russ had never been big on sharing his feelings. Jase propped a shoulder against the doorjamb as he regarded his business manager. “You never said anything about the offer. You think I should sell?”

Russ lifted a shoulder. “Not my call.”

“You must have an opinion. Selling would put you out of a job.”

“Worse things have happened. I’ll survive.”

Worse things, like Jase causing Russ’s son’s death in a stupid downhill race that went out of control. Russ had survived the grief and agony of Adam’s death. The loss of an only child. And for Jennifer, the loss of a husband. They’d lost
everything
that day. Adam never had the chance to reap the benefits of fame that Jase had won—the lucrative endorsement deals would have meant a lot to his financially strapped family.

Jase cleared the gravelly tightness in his throat. “Just so you know, you have a job here as long as you want it,” he said, leaving before Russ felt obligated to thank him. The last thing he wanted was Russ’s thanks. The man had always kept his feelings to himself, but since Adam’s death he’d been so withdrawn Jase wondered if he even had feelings anymore. Jennifer, too. Nine years gone, and she hardly ever laughed, not like she used to,
with a bright laugh that carried a jolt of electricity. Losing Adam had left them all a little dead inside.

As if on cue, Jennifer came in the back door, stopping in Russ’s office to drop off her purse before heading for the front of the saloon. She threw Jase a distracted hello and he followed her to the bar. He watched from the customer’s side, propping a foot on the brass rail as she pulled out her inventory log behind the bar. No other bartender was more meticulous about the daily accounting, noting how much was on hand and what needed to be replenished before opening. It had always seemed like tedious work to Jase, but Jennifer claimed to like it, preferring the orderly, logical work of stocking the bar and measuring out drinks to actually mingling with the customers. She wasn’t shy but, like her father-in-law, she’d put up a wall nine years ago and never stepped out from behind it.

She’d set her logbook down and was scooping her brown hair into a ponytail when she noticed him watching her. “Hot today,” she said, snapping the rubber band in place and tugging the hair taut. “We might be wishing for air-conditioning by this afternoon.”

It was a friendly and persistent disagreement between them. She knew he wouldn’t make any more changes than necessary, maintaining the historic integrity of the saloon. “The roof fans will have it cooled down by evening.” He gave his automatic reply, his mind elsewhere.

It must have shown on his face. Jennifer paused. “Is there a problem?” As she said it, her brow creased with a new thought. “Did you hear from Marty? Is it my transmission? Am I going to need to replace it after all?”

“No, no.” He waved her concern aside. “Nothing like that. Marty said he just had to replace a gasket. Don’t worry about it.” At least, that’s all she’d ever see on her copy of the bill. As long as she was too stubborn to accept his financial help, he had to do it behind her back. It was another long-standing argument between them, and it wasn’t worth reopening now.

“Well, something’s wrong.”

“I was just thinking.” He might as well ask, since she knew he had something on his mind. “You didn’t say much about the offer from the Alpine Sky.”

She shrugged. “It’s not my decision.”

“I’d like your opinion.”

She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. “I thought you’d made up your mind about keeping the Rusty Wire. You seemed pretty sure about your answer to that Larkin woman.”

So she’d zeroed in on the name, too, finding Zoe’s old reputation a stronger identifying factor than her current job at the Alpine Sky. He hadn’t realized how much Zoe had to fight against that, or how long people’s memories were. He should have, especially for the bad stuff. No one ever forgot that.

“She’s the assistant manager,” he said, feeling he should do some small part in focusing on her present, since he expected the same from her. “I gave her an automatic answer at the time, pure impulse. Now I’m trying to be rational, take everything into account. So what do you think?”

“I told you, I can’t imagine you doing anything else. I thought you were happy running the Rusty Wire.”

She watched him as if his answer really mattered. He hadn’t expected that, putting his feelings ahead of
the logical considerations of money and economic impact. Maybe the old Jennifer was still alive under that hard shell.

“I
am
happy here,” he told her. It might not be the whole truth, but it wasn’t a lie. He’d shut down other parts of himself nine years ago, the parts that pursued challenges with abandon, and set meaningful goals. The parts he’d once thought would be his whole life. It hadn’t mattered—nothing had meaning after Adam died. Life since then had more or less drifted by in a pleasant blur, maybe not as fulfilling as he’d planned, but not without happiness. That part wasn’t a lie, so he repeated it. “I’d miss the saloon if I sold.”

She squinted at him, as if she might be missing something. “Why are you asking? Is there something you’d rather be doing?”

Thoughts prodded the back of his mind, trying to pierce the barrier—the Olympic games he’d missed, the business he’d started with his buddy Brandon then practically abandoned. He shoved them back. “No.”

She seemed to relax. “Then there’s your answer.”

He nodded. No need to reassure her that her job was secure when it appeared she was more concerned with
his
life, and whether he was happy. He was glad he’d asked, glad to know some part of Jennifer cared about him. If she’d wanted his life to be pure misery, he wouldn’t have blamed her.

Any doubts about his answer were settled. Russ and Jennifer were behind him on this. He wouldn’t sell.

•  •  •

Zoe stared at the computer screen and the nine-year-old obituary displayed there. Adam Holbrook, age twenty-three, killed in a skiing accident. The details
had been harder to find than Jase’s Olympic fame, but were far more revealing. Adam, a top-rated skier, had been practicing downhill runs with his best friend, Olympic champion Jase Garrett. Adam tried to pass Jase by cutting through a small stand of pines. He’d hit a tree, sustaining fatal head injuries. He was resuscitated at the scene but remained unconscious, and died two days later in the hospital. Zoe didn’t need a news report to figure out what hadn’t been reported—two days of agonizing hope and indecision before the family decided to take him off life support.

The family—that was another surprise. Adam’s father, Russ Holbrook, was the man who’d introduced himself as the manager of the Rusty Wire. Adam’s mother was deceased and his sister lived in Phoenix, but the young widow, Jennifer, looked too much like the woman tending bar to be a coincidence. Zoe already knew that Jase had bought the saloon eight years ago, which meant it was a year after Adam’s death. The fact that he’d hired Russ and Jennifer had to mean something, but she wasn’t sure what.

Jase had dropped out of the sport after Adam’s death. Annual competitions he’d previously entered never listed his name again. On a hunch, she searched for combinations of Jase’s name with Nike, the largest company offering an endorsement contract after his Olympic victory. She viewed copies of old ads, noting the dates. The most recent one had run two years after Adam’s death. Nothing since. She imagined that Nike had been patient in waiting that long to pull their support and find a new champion. Other sponsors undoubtedly did the same. Four Olympic medals only pay off for a limited time once the athlete quits the sport.

Zoe rocked back in her chair, pondering the information. The Rusty Wire had become Jase’s sole focus after Adam’s death. But it wasn’t like he’d thrown himself into the work, not if he’d hired Russ to manage the place. He seemed more like what she’d taken him for at first, a regular patron who showed up to socialize. Adam’s death seemed to have reshaped the entire course of Jase Garrett’s life.

“What are you up to?”

Zoe jumped at Matt’s voice, and closed the screen. “Nothing important.” For some reason she didn’t bother to examine, the information felt too personal to allow Matt to include it in his strategy to make Jase sell. Although she was certain it figured prominently in Jase’s flat-out refusal.

“Good, then we can go check out the Rusty Wire. It’s nearly nine, so we should be able to get a good idea of what Jason Garrett does there that keeps him so tied to the place.”

Very little
, she thought but didn’t say. It wasn’t the business itself that kept Jase tied to the saloon. It was a dead man. She’d find out how and why. Then maybe she’d tell Matt.

Chapter
Four

M
att held the passenger door open for her, just like a date. Too much like a date. It felt old-fashioned, which was both awkward and good at the same time.

He got behind the wheel for the short drive down the mountain and gave her a curious glance. “Aren’t you hot in your jacket?”

She was. But she was also acutely conscious of the need to look professional, and not like the good-time girl she once was. That kind of reputation died hard. Besides, his shirt alone looked like it cost more than her entire outfit—heck, so did his haircut—and she needed every advantage if she was going to stand next to the glow of perfection. “I only wore a sleeveless shell underneath,” she told him. “Not professional enough for a business meeting.”

He chuckled. “I’d hardly call an evening at a decrepit old saloon a business meeting. Sleeveless is fine.”

“It’s not really decrepit, you know. He’s kept it up well.”

His glance seemed to question whose side she was on, so she showed her loyalty by doing as he suggested and shrugging out of her blazer. He looked at the white scoop-necked shell, his gaze lingering appreciatively, and smiled. “Much better.”

Definitely like a date.

So was the hand he placed on her back when they entered the Rusty Wire, guiding her to a table near the dance floor. Zoe decided to go with the feeling. If a rich, handsome man came on to her, a man with a likable personality and the right career goals, she’d be a fool to turn him down just because he happened to work with her. Above her, technically. But it wasn’t as if Matt got involved in the day-to-day running of the resort. He didn’t even live in Barringer’s Pass.

At least, she didn’t think so. It was as good a conversation starter as any. “Do you live around here?” she asked.

“Sometimes. I have one of the condos in the Pine Hollows unit,” he said, naming a luxury condo complex for singles owned by the Alpine Sky but detached from the main lodge. He gave her an odd look. “You must have known that.”

“I knew Mr. Flemming had one,” she said, slightly flustered. “I mean, your stepfather.”

“It’s mine now.” He smiled and cocked his head as if suddenly struck by an idea. “You’ll have to come see it sometime. I could use some female input on redecorating.”

He made it sound harmless, but who knew? He was too damn good with those lingering looks, the kind that made a woman think there was nothing in his world at that moment but her.

Or perhaps her and the waitress. Matt’s gaze snapped to the young blonde walking by in what seemed to be the Rusty Wire uniform: white T-shirt, blue jeans, and a short black apron to hold her order tablet and pen. He motioned the young woman over, flashing the same attentive smile.

“Miss, could you take our order?” he asked. He slung an arm over the back of his chair, and turned to face her. His change in focus was subtle but clear, and the waitress seemed to pick up on it.

She looked him over and grinned back. “Sure. What’ll it be?” she said, without bothering to take out the order pad.

“Two Coors.” He let his gaze slide to another table and gave a short nod in that direction. “And that pizza sure looks good. Could you bring us a small pepperoni? I’ve never been here before and I’d like to try it.”

She gave an approving nod. “Good choice. We have the best pizza in town.”

“Really? I’m not from around here, so I’ll have to take your word on that.”

It might not be much of a line, but it got the waitress’s attention. She gave Zoe a glance, as if wondering whether he was here because of her or if the new guy in town was up for grabs. She must have decided to go for it, because she gave Matt a wink. “Trust me on this one. The Rusty Wire only does nachos and pizza, but they’re fantastic.”

Matt laughed. “Fantastic, huh? That’s quite a promise.” They exchanged smiles for a couple of seconds while Zoe wondered if he could possibly not realize he was flirting, and decided he couldn’t. Her expectations cooled several degrees.

“You must like working here,” Matt said, oblivious to Zoe’s unamused stare.

“I do,” the waitress agreed.

“It’s nice to hear someone say that. So the management is as good as the food?”

“The owner’s a great guy,” she assured him.

Matt shook his head. “Lucky you. Wish I could say the same about the guy I work for.”

Zoe studied him as the two shared a laugh. Matt gave the waitress one last grin and turned as she left, aiming his sparkling gaze back at her.

“What was that about?” she asked, all resentment gone.

“Just checking to see how well liked Garrett is. It’s good to know everything you can about someone if you’re doing any kind of business with them. Don’t you think so?”

She nodded, reassessing Matt. She’d never thought to do that when she approached Jase with her offer to buy his saloon. Matt Flemming could probably teach her a lot more about management than she’d learned on her own.

She was still absorbing that when he spoke again. “Do you always wear your hair up?” he asked.

She gave a startled blink. “Usually.” It went with her straight-laced professional look. Long reddish-blond waves didn’t.

“You should take it down.”

She didn’t change her fashion or grooming styles just because a man asked her to. In fact, that was usually a good reason
not
to do it. But Matt was doing that intense thing again with his eyes that made her want to please him. Made her want to
keep him looking at her like that, and not at another woman.