Secretly Hers (Sterling Canyon) (22 page)

Kelsey’s mind replayed a conversation she’d had with Trip at the Mineshaft a few weeks ago.
That spot would be a great place for a sports park, with unpaved parking, a football field, baseball diamond, a playground, and maybe even a skateboard park.

It couldn’t be a coincidence, but how?
I have money. Serious money.

“Hey, Kels.” Bill touched her shoulder. “You okay? You look peaked.”

She waved him off, despite feeling woozy. “I’m fine, sorry. I just . . . I don’t know what happened.”

“You looked like you were about to swoon.” He chuckled. “Who knew a park would get you so excited?”

“Hardly.” She lied. “I’m just tired. It’s been a busy week. So, did Nick ever meet the principal?”

It had to be Trip. What other buyer would be so confident that the “Concerned Citizen” wouldn’t pick another fight?

“No. Everyone’s been guessing, but what makes the most sense is that it’s someone who owns a vacation home here and wants to keep a low profile. I say who cares, right?”

Kelsey’s thoughts spun. Had Trip spent six million dollars to make up for the commission he knew she’d lost? Was this the latest in a line of gifts, starting with Cowboy, he’d bought to make her happy?

“Bill, is that you?” Maura called from the entry. “Let’s hustle!”

“Got to go.” Bill kissed Kelsey’s forehead. “Thanks again.”

She was following behind him to say good-bye to the group when she heard Fee’s excited holler, “Prince Charming!”

“Princess Fiona, how lovely to see you again.” Trip’s deep voice rumbled down the hallway, temporarily stopping Kelsey in her tracks. Her mind went blank, but curiosity drove her to take the final steps toward the door.

She fanned herself to cool down.

When she came face-to-face with Trip, she saw him wearing a ridiculous-looking satin Prince Charming costume. The arms of the white jacket were far too short, as were the horrible royal-blue satin pants. He held a toy unicorn-head-on-a-stick in one hand and a bag in the other.

Her jaw slackened, but she managed not to drop the candy bowl. Through a haze, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you. Glad to see you in your princess outfit.” He grinned, dazzling green eyes sparkling at her. Then he bent to Fee and handed her the unicorn. “This is for you.”

Kelsey blinked absently, her heart unable to keep a steady beat. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“Avery.”

Kelsey’s mind couldn’t make sense of anything except for the fact that Bill and Maura were now staring at the two of them. “Why are you dressed like that?”

“Trying to live up to the title Fee gave me.” He nodded at Maura and Bill.

Kelsey’s body grew tingly, her head gauzy. “Why?”

“I thought we’d be alone, but maybe it’s better your family’s still here.” He retrieved a shoebox from the bag and got down on his knees. “These are for you.”

Kelsey handed the bowl of candy to Maura while he opened the box. Inside was a pair of crystal-encrusted Jimmy Choo bridal shoes. Suddenly dizzy, eyes watering, she grabbed the doorframe to steady herself. His smile suggested he enjoyed rendering her speechless.

Trip held out his hand for her foot, which she gave him. He replaced her shoe with one of the new ones. “Perfect fit.”

“Like Cinderella, Mommy!” Fee interrupted.

“Shh!” Maura tugged Fee against her side.

When he finished replacing the other shoe, he stood and placed his hand in his pocket to retrieve another surprise. “I hope this fits perfectly, too.”

Kelsey’s body began quaking the instant she saw the tiny black velvet box in his hand. Her knuckles were turning white from the death grip on the door. When she looked into his eyes, she almost cried.

“When you told me you loved me, I should have dropped to my knees right then and there.” A thin line of perspiration formed along his brow, but he pressed on. “I’m sorry I didn’t, but I’m more sorry I never gave you what you needed, when you were giving me everything I never even knew I wanted. But if you meant what you said, and if I haven’t blown it already by being a moron, I’m hoping you’ll let me make that up to you today, and every day from now on. I love you, Kelsey Callihan. Will you marry me?”

Fee jumped up and down, clapping. “Yay! Aunt Kelsey’s getting married, Mommy!”

“Oh, Fee, since you can’t keep quiet, I think we should get on our way and let these two have some privacy.” Maura kissed her sister before hustling her family off the porch.

Trip barely looked at them before he popped open the lid to reveal a sizable peach-pink cushion-cut diamond set in a diamond-encrusted band.

“But you said you’d never get married.” Kelsey wiped the tears trickling down her cheeks. “You don’t believe in it.”

“I was afraid.” He grinned. “Okay, in all honesty, I’m still a little afraid.”

Looking at this giant of a man dressed in a costume in public made it impossible to imagine him being afraid of much, but he sounded sincere.

“Then why?”

“Because I’m more afraid of my life without you in it.” When she couldn’t speak, he removed the ring from the box and dropped to one knee. “Maybe I should try this again. Kelsey, I love you, and only you. Always you. Marry me, please.”

More tears streaked down her cheeks, but she managed to nod while trying to catch her breath.

Trip stood, placed the ring on her finger, and kissed her, only to be interrupted by a sharp whistle and clapping from the crowd that had apparently gathered on the sidewalk and witnessed the proposal.

Trip winked at Kelsey, and then turned around and bowed at the group. The parents released their children, and within seconds, six kids were holding out their bags for candy.

After the group ran off the porch, Trip crushed her against his body. “I missed you so much. I could barely breathe from missing you.”

She feared her heart might literally explode from happiness. “I missed you, too.”

He kissed her again, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe we should go inside.”

“Okay,” she said. When he lifted the unicorn off the porch, she asked, “What’s with the unicorn?”

“When Fee asked if she could be our flower girl, you told her she could wear her costume and ride a unicorn down the aisle. I thought I’d better be prepared.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that. I didn’t even remember!” She laughed at the refreshed recollection.

Trip grabbed her into his arms again and looked in her eyes. “I remember every moment we’ve spent together, Kelsey. Every single one.”

Kelsey thanked God Trip was so tall and strong, because he was the only thing keeping her from fainting to the ground. “I love you, Trip Lexington, so you never have to be afraid of me, or this,” she said, wiggling her ring finger.

The doorbell rang, making Kelsey suddenly wish she hadn’t agreed to stand in for Maura.

“Guess this is good practice for next year.” Trip shrugged before he bent over to pick up the bowl of candy. He kissed her cheek and opened the door to the sound of another group of loud kids yelling “trick or treat.”

Kelsey watched him compliment the little girls, marveling at how she’d risen from the depths of darkness to the absolute peak of happiness in a matter of weeks. A slight pang pressed on her chest at the memory of the child they’d lost. But together she and Trip would eventually create the family she’d always wanted.

As she stood there in her princess costume staring at him in his garb, she realized dreams really do come true as long as you believe.

Epilogue

A month later, Kelsey came home to her two boys, Trip and Cowboy. Trip was leaning over the dining table studying architectural plans for the park, while Cowboy pranced around his feet.

Her heart stretched open wide like it had every other evening since Halloween. She lifted the kitten to cuddle him while peering over Trip’s shoulder. “Happy with them?”

“They’re just preliminary drawings, but it’s coming together.” He wound an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek before returning his attention to the drawings.

“Have you come up with a name, yet?” She set the kitten back on the floor and noted the toddler playground installation plans.

“Think I’ll just go with Mountain View Park, that way the name and location work together.” He smiled like a kid at Christmas. “By the way, just heard there won’t be any holdup with the subdivision of the back half acre for home construction.”

Their home. One she’d help design. “I’m so excited! I want it to be a homey place with a porch, a picket fence, and a few extra bedrooms.”

Trip turned toward her and tugged her against his body, his mind obviously diverted from the park. “Extra bedrooms, huh? How ’bout we practice filling those extra bedrooms, starting right now?”

He kissed her behind the ear, then moved to her mouth. Like always, her knees softened at his touch.

“Sounds perfect to me.” Kelsey jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Giddyap, cowboy.”

As he carried her back to the bedroom, she stared at the sparkling ring on her finger and refrained from pinching herself. If this were just a dream, she’d rather stay asleep.

Acknowledgments

Of all the books I’ve written to date, this one was “a gift” because it flowed effortlessly from start to finish. Even so, I have many people to thank for helping me bring it to all of you, not the least of which include my family and friends for their continued love, encouragement, and support.

Thanks, also, to my agent, Jill Marsal, whom I finally made teary with this one, as well as to my patient editors Chris Werner and Krista Stroever, and the entire Montlake family for believing in me, and working so hard on my behalf.

My Beta Babes (Christie, Siri, Katherine, Suzanne, Tami, and Shelley) are the best, always providing invaluable input on various drafts of this manuscript. Also Heidi Ulrich and the Revisionaries (Monique, Annette, and Rob), for the hours they spent reading and critiquing the story.

And I can’t leave out the wonderful members of my CTRWA chapter (especially my MTBs, Jamie Pope, Jamie Schmidt, Jane Haertel, Denise Smoker, Heidi Ulrich, Jen Moncuse, Tracy Costa, Linda Avellar, and Gail Chianese). With this story in particular, Kristan Higgins led a fantastic workshop on layering and, together, we brainstormed parts of this story. Year after year, all of the CTRWA members provide endless hours of support, feedback, and guidance. I love and thank them for it as well.

Finally, and most importantly, thank you, readers (especially those who have been waiting for Trip’s story), for making my work worthwhile. With so many available options, I’m honored by your choice to spend your time with me.

An Excerpt from
Unexpectedly Hers

Editor’s Note: This is an uncorrected excerpt and may not reflect the finished book.

Straddling her hips, Dallas smeared a handful of chocolate sauce and whipped cream across her breasts.

“Like a sundae.” He bent over and licked her, then looked up with a lusty smile as his hand found the red curls at the top of her inner thighs. “This bit of red is the cherry on top.”

He licked her again as she writhed with pleasure—her arms still tied to the bedpost—then his head disappeared between her legs.

Bang!

Emma flinched, then shoved the advanced review copy of her debut novel under her pillow before her mother marched in and caught her with smut. That’s what her mom would call it, anyway. She imagined everyone’s shock if they ever discovered that she was Alexa Aspen, the author of
Steep and Deep
, which many would deem “mommy porn.”

Of course, no one would ever learn her secret. When her agent negotiated her publishing contract, Emma had chosen to avoid the brunt of Sterling Canyon’s small-town scrutiny by assuming a pen name.

It’d been so easy that, except at the moment she’d signed the contract, she hadn’t even flinched. No one would ever believe quiet, conservative Emma Duffy would
read
a book containing smokin’ hot sex, much less write one. She could hide in plain sight because people assumed writers only ever wrote about what they knew, and who would ever suspect
her
of knowing much about sex?

Emma smiled to herself while remembering one night in Aspen three years ago, when she’d stepped outside her normal boundaries and . . .

Bang, bang! A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed no one was entering her room. Actually, the noise sounded too distant to be her bedroom door. Grabbing her green cable-knit cardigan, she went to investigate. Hopefully the porch posts weren’t cracking apart.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

She trotted down the staircase of her family’s seventy-year-old bed and breakfast, The Weenuche, named for a Ute Indian tribe that had once inhabited Southwest Colorado. Emma’s presence marked the third generation to run the inn although, technically, her mother ran the business while Emma managed the kitchen and concierge desk. The worn carpet beneath her feet sadly announced to the world that it had been decades since the place had been refurbished.

Who had money to splurge on redecorating when ancient plumbing, sagging roofs, and other emergencies cropped up every month? The unusual spate of monster-sized October snowstorms hadn’t helped, either. And while El Niño snowfall should bring more tourists to town, it also inevitably would cause more wear and tear on her battered inn.

Jogging across the small lobby, she shoved open the front door, which creaked against a strong early-November wind. Had the gust not set her back, she might have crashed into the unfamiliar young men in skullcaps and combat boots who were nailing flyers to the posts on the front porch.

“Excuse me!” Emma approached them with caution, tightening her cozy sweater to buffer against the frigid air. “Who are you, and what are you posting on my property?”

The one with the blond goatee and short ponytail smiled. “We’re just posting the disclaimer notices so we don’t have to get specific waivers for people to be included in the documentary.”

Documentary? She scanned the sheet of paper, which read:

REEL DRAMA, INC.

is currently videotaping and

cablecasting scenes at this

location for possible inclusion

in television programs.

If you do not wish to be

photographed or to appear on

television, or to be otherwise

recorded, please leave this

location during our

videotaping.

By remaining in this immediate

vicinity, you are giving REEL

DRAMA, INC. your

consent to videotape, record,

and cablecast your picture,

likeness, voice and statements.

Oh, good Lord. What the heck had her mother gotten them into now?

“I’m sorry, will you please hold on a second? Don’t post anything else until I speak with my mother.” She turned on her heel and entered the lobby, calling out, “Mom!”

“Don’t shout, dear. It isn’t very ladylike.” Her mother emerged from the back office with a large suitcase in tow. Freshwater pearls complimented her best twinset and wool slacks. She would’ve looked quite elegant if not for the Velcro orthopedic walking shoes. “I was just coming to find you. I’m leaving now to pick up Vera for our cross-country sojourn. You’re in charge, my angel.”

The overwhelming scent of her mother’s beloved White Diamonds perfume enveloped Emma, making her cough.

“You told me this would be a quiet month,” Emma accused, remembering when her mom had first informed her of the plans for Aunt Vera’s month-long sixty-fifth birthday trip. She’d been happy to learn of it, because it would leave her more privacy to prepare for the book launch. “You said I’d only be dealing with a skier, his brother, and a small group while you were away.”

“Yes, that’s right. Apparently the freak October blizzards have made Sterling Canyon an ideal spot for his training.”

Training? As usual, Emma had a hard time following her mother’s trail of thoughts, which usually made assumptions about which details Emma had been privy to.

Emma raised her arms toward heaven. “So why are there men outside posting notices about filming a documentary?”

“Isn’t it wonderful?” Her mother’s eyes lit. “People love a comeback story, so this film should be quite popular. The free publicity will bring all kinds of attention to our inn. When it airs, it’ll put us on the map so we can compete with that Wade Kessler’s new hotel.”

“What?” Her pulse beat hard at the base of her neck. The lack of communication astounded her. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“I’m sure I mentioned it to you.” Her mother patted her arm.

“I think I’d remember if you mentioned a documentary.”

“Emma, your head’s been in the clouds a lot lately—always off in a daze. Perhaps you just weren’t listening.”

Emma couldn’t deny that possibility. These past several weeks she’d easily lapsed into thoughts about her book, its early reviews, launch preparations, and her next story. Perhaps her mother
had
mentioned it and Emma had just not heard it amid all her nattering.

“Now that I have your attention,” her mother began, “all the paperwork and permits are on my desk, and there’s a big list of items they need, too. I took care of most things, although you should double-check the list from the nutritionist before you grocery shop this week. Also, I forgot to arrange for a yoga instructor, but you used to teach at YogAmbrosia, perhaps you can do it.”

“Me? Then who’ll be preparing breakfast, Mom?”

“Oh, yes. That. Then call there and arrange for one of the instructors to come give private lessons here in the morning. Any of those ladies would probably love to work with a real athlete.” Her mom smiled and patted Emma’s cheek. “It’s just so lovely to know I can always count on you, my perfect girl. You always make me so proud.”

Normally Emma would bask in the glow of her mother’s praise. But the last thing she needed now was to be dodging a camera crew while juggling her duties to the inn and her book launch. And what made her mother think The Weenuche could compete for the same customers as Wade’s soon-to-be completed Bear Lodge—a five-star, state of the art boutique hotel?

The entire situation robbed Emma of her good manners. “So you’re taking off scot-free while I’m going to end up on camera at all hours, with flour on my clothes and wearing a hairnet?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Emma. Neither of us likes it when you act like your father.” Her mother smoothed her own faded red hair.

As always, a chilly two-second pause followed any mention of her father, the man who’d left them both almost twenty years ago to pursue fame and glory in Hollywood. The fact that he’d only ever made the D-list pleased her mother, who’d never wanted to see him rewarded for his philandering and abandonment.

“Think of this as a little adventure.” Her mother cleared her throat. “I spoke with the documentary director, Mari, who sounds like a very nice woman. You aren’t the subject of this movie, dear, so just smile and make the place inviting.” She pinched Emma’s cheek. “Maybe put on a little make-up, just in case you end up on film.”

“You’re really quite something.” Emma rolled her eyes.

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.” Her mother waved dismissively and popped up the suitcase handle. “Now help me load this into the car. It’s parked out front.”

Emma strode out the door, rolling the hefty bag behind her while trying not to be insulted by her mother’s assessment.

“Can we continue?” Goatee guy asked as she and her mother breezed past him and his cohort.

“Apparently.” Emma sighed and heaved the bag down the few porch steps. “Careful, Mom, there’s still some ice.”

“I see, Emma.” Her mother tsked. “You really must get on this sooner.”

“Andy will be here soon to clear it.”

“Well, you and Andy will have to make sure to clear all the snow and ice in a timely fashion so we can impress our guests and look good on camera. Remember, people’s perceptions are everything—in life and in business.” Her mother kissed her goodbye. “I’ll send pictures and little gifts from each city. Oh, I can’t wait to see Chicago, Washington D.C., and New York. Did I tell you we have tickets to
Hamilton
?”

“Only thirty times.” Emma hugged her ridiculous yet lovable mother goodbye.

It’d been just the two of them for a while now. A few years after her father had bolted, her beloved Grammy had died right here in the dining room. Choked on chicken, of all things. Aunt Vera lived in Denver, so they only saw her a few times a year.

Emma and her mom had nursed each other through broken hearts and broken dreams. Although the woman could verge on the absurd, Emma loved her mom and would never, ever want to let her down, so she would bite her tongue now and do what she could to make her mother happy.

“Drive safely, Mom.”

“I will.” Emma’s mother hugged her again. “This reminds me of the first time my mother left me in charge of the inn. Do you remember that ice storm that froze everything and the pipe that burst? Oh, Lord, that was something. Hopefully your month will pass without a major incident.”

“Yes, let’s do hope.” Emma smiled, remembering that storm, and all the candles they’d kept lit because of the blackout, as she helped her mother into the car. She waved goodbye just as a van pulled into the parking lot. Emma assumed that it must be ferrying more of the crew, possibly even the star of the dreaded documentary. Hopefully he wasn’t a prima donna.

Another brisk wind blew a cloud of snow in Emma’s face, forcing her to seek warmth. She hustled inside, past the guys on the porch, and scampered up to her room to run a brush through her hair, knot it into some kind of lumpy bun, and hide the box of her books under her bed.

She drew a breath, enjoying a rare moment of freedom and privacy. Of independence. Her mother didn’t crowd her, per se, but her presence could be suffocating at times.

Emma had grown up well aware of her mother’s and Grammy’s expectations, having overheard many discussions of the damage caused by loose morals. She’d been privy to more than one such lecture, too. Not that she’d needed it. She’d seen firsthand how often sex screwed up people’s lives.

As a result, she’d locked away that small part of herself that took after her father, even though sometimes the repressed passion simmering beneath her skin burned like fingers caught on a hot oven rack. Her secret night in Aspen had been necessary to avoid self-conflagration.

On her way back downstairs, she heard the murmur of voices and scuffle of bags coming into the lobby. She dashed around the corner to the welcome desk and then froze. Oh. My. God.

Dallas, er—Wyatt. Wyatt Lawson, former slopestyle snowboard International Games and Rockies Winter Games gold medalist, among other titles. She vaguely registered other people, too, but her gaze locked on Wyatt’s exotic face. Although born and raised in Vermont, he looked Brazilian with his wild, wavy black hair that hung to his jaw, his bronzed skin, his dreamy hazel eyes set deeply beneath straight, thick brows. Although she couldn’t actually see those eyes while staring at his profile, she still remembered them from their one incredible night together.

Her heart leapt to her throat.
Please, God, don’t let him recognize me.
Emma had never told a soul about that night, and would be humiliated if her mother or friends ever learned about her brief walk on the wild side. Especially when she’d acted like some kind of cougar, picking up a guy six years her junior.

Of course, Wyatt wouldn’t associate Emma with Alexa—the alter ego she’d adopted to break free from being Emma Duffy.

Unlike Emma, Alexa had confidently worn a silky black dress that barely covered her chest and butt. Alexa had rocked high-heeled knee-high boots, had her thick, red hair professionally styled, and worn smoky make-up and loopy earrings. Yes, Alexa had been a bona fide siren that night.

Wyatt had been in the midst of celebrating his victory when she’d spotted him in the bar. Targeted him, truthfully. Carefree, happy, drunk Wyatt—young and proud and on the prowl. He’d been the perfect man for her first and only one-night stand. And they’d had quite a night, until she’d woken mortified at five o’clock, and then ducked out of his hotel room without a trace.

But she couldn’t regret it because that night had prompted the kernel of an idea for a story, and naturally Wyatt’s image—and certain other things—remained the inspiration for her hero’s character. Since then, she’d thought of him as Dallas.

Wyatt now turned those greenish brown eyes her way and smiled at her—the kind of smile he’d give a friend’s little sister. She knew her heated cheeks meant her fair skin had turned almost as red as her hair.