Marriage on Her Mind

Chapter Three

Heather locked up the office then she and Casey headed down Elk Avenue to the Teocalli Tamale. The interior of the little shop was warm after the chill outside and the air was fragrant with the smell of onions and green chili. “Hello, Patti. Ben.” Heather greeted the woman behind the order window and another diner. “This is Casey Jernigan, my new assistant.”

“Hey, Casey.” Patti nodded.

“What’ll you have?” Heather asked. She indicated the menu posted on the wall to their right. “It’s all good.”

Casey ordered a chicken burrito and iced tea, while Heather opted for a taco salad and a diet soda. Patti assembled their meals right away and the two women carried their trays to one of the tables.

“Ben Romney.” The distinguished man with thinning brown hair and kind blue eyes came over to them and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“Ben is the local orthopedist,” Heather explained. “He stays busy patching up tourists and locals alike.”

“How is Emma?” Ben asked.

Heather frowned. “At the moment she hates my guts because I refused to let her get her belly button pierced.”

“She’ll get over it,” Ben said.

“Yeah. Maybe in another five or six years.” Heather looked at Casey across the table. “Last week she was upset because I wouldn’t let her dye her hair purple. Before that she pitched a fit because I refused to let her spend spring break in Mexico with a bunch of kids I don’t know.”

“You’re doing a good job with her,” Ben said. “She’ll appreciate it one of these days.”

“Here’s your order, Ben.” Patti walked over and handed him a white paper bag.

“Wish I could visit with you ladies more, but I’ve got to get back to work. I’ve got a young man waiting who will probably need surgery on his knee.”

“Skiing accident?” Casey asked.

Ben shook his head. “Fell off his roof shoveling snow. Happens all the time.”

Sure it does, Casey thought. Why am I even surprised? “He seems nice,” she said after Ben had left them.

“Yeah.” Heather salted her salad. “You should try the green chili sometime. It’s to die for.”

“I’ll do that.”

They were silent a moment, eating, then turned their attention to the boisterous group crowding in the door of the restaurant.

“Be still my heart,” Heather said, clutching Casey’s arm.

“What?” Then she recognized Max in the group of men. He had his back to her, busy removing his jacket and the long scarf wound around his neck. Her heart beat a little faster, seeing him. He probably had that effect on everyone.

He turned around and saw her and his grin lit his whole face. “Hi, Casey. How’s your first day at work?”

“It’s going great,” she said.

“Hello, Hagan.” Heather’s voice was pitched two notes higher than usual. Casey turned to look at her boss and held back a grin of her own at the sight of Heather’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. So Max wasn’t the man who made Heather’s heart race.

“Hello, Heather.” A tall blond with a soft accent nodded to the women on his way to a table on the other side of the room.

“Hi, Heather,” Max said. “How’s it going?”

“Okay.” Heather turned in her chair to look after Hagan. “You two are welcome to join us for lunch,” she said.

“Thanks, but Hagan isn’t good company today,” Max said. “He’s been unlucky in love.” He winked and moved past them.

Heather faced forward again and rested her chin in her hand, lips turned down in a pout. “I know all about unlucky in love. He’s probably just mad because some snow bunny stood him up last night.”

“Is he a skier?” Casey asked.

“Ski patrol.” Heather sighed. “You should see him in his uniform. No wonder half the women on the mountain are literally falling at his feet.”

Casey’s own record with men wasn’t stellar enough that she felt qualified to give advice to Heather. She returned her attention to her food, but all the while she was aware of a certain big man seated in the corner of the room.

She was looking forward to their promised trip up the mountain to the resort later this afternoon, but she didn’t know what to make of her obvious attraction to Max. Maybe it was merely a combination of his good looks and his willingness to help her out of a jam last night. He was a friendly guy, but she had no business reading anything more into it than that. After all, history had proved she was a lousy judge of what constituted romance.

“SO JUST HOW BIG was Mitzi’s boyfriend?” Max asked as he and Hagan stood at the front counter.

“Very big.” Hagan rubbed his jaw, which was taking on a purple tinge. “Good thing I turned or he would have broken my jaw.”

“Funny how she forgot to mention this boyfriend.”

“I suspect she was trying to make him jealous.” Hagan studied the menu and shrugged. “It happens.”

“Yeah, but games like that can get a man killed. Or at least crippled.”

“Worse, I’m out twenty dollars for the binding strap.” He scowled. “Women. Never trust them.”

“That’s what you get for dating strangers.”

“And as I said before, you are not one to be giving advice about dating.” He looked up as Patti approached. “Would you go out with him?” He pointed to Max.

Patti raised one eyebrow. “What? Is he your broker or something?”

“Ignore him,” Max said. “He took a punch to the jaw and it rattled his brains. Bring us a couple of specials.”

“Poaching on someone else’s territory, Hagan?” Patti asked.

Hagan straightened. “Why do you say that?”

Patti shook her head and began assembling their burritos.

“Why did she say that?” Hagan asked Max.

“You have a reputation, dude.”

“Hmmph. At least they don’t call me Mad Max.”

“A name I happen to like.” He frowned at his friend. He should have taken Heather up on her offer to join her and Casey for lunch. The conversation was bound to be better. He turned away. “Holler when the food gets here.”

Hagan grunted and went back to brooding. Max walked over to Heather and Casey’s table and took a seat. “What’s new at the chamber of commerce?” he asked.

“Casey got the full treatment this morning,” Heather said. “Jerry Rydell brought her moose poop and Bill Whitmore asked her to lunch.”

“Isn’t Bill dating Marcy over at the library?” Max asked.

Heather shrugged. “Guess he’s keeping his options open.”

Max grinned at Casey. “I’m sure you made a good impression on all of them.” He ignored the pinch in his gut that might be jealousy. After all, he’d been the first to welcome her to town, and living across the hall from her, it was only natural he’d feel a little territorial.

“I don’t want to make an impression on any of them.” Casey shifted in her chair. “I’m sure they’re very nice guys, but I didn’t come to town on some kind of man hunt.”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Heather said. “After you’ve been here a while you’ll be just another local like me. Yesterday’s news.”

“Did she tell you a bunch of lifties serenaded her last night?” Max grinned.

“No!” Heather laughed. “I’ll bet that was a riot.”

“Sounded like a bunch of raccoons fighting over leftovers,” Max said.

Casey joined in the laughter. “It was pretty terrible,” she said. “Max ended up rescuing me and taking me home.”

“Any woman who drives halfway across the country by herself with only a houseplant for company doesn’t need rescuing,” he said. “I figured you were worn out from your trip and didn’t need the hassle of dealing with those guys anymore.”

He’d been standing by the bar, making fun of the singing when he’d locked eyes with her across the room. She’d looked exhausted and more than a little lost in the midst of the raucous crowd. What man wouldn’t have stepped in to help her?

“Well, I appreciate it, anyway,” Casey said. She rearranged her silverware, avoiding his eyes. Which was a real shame. She had beautiful eyes. The gray of a stormy sky.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the letters that had come for her this morning. “These were in the mail for you,” he said.

She took the letters, frowning when she read the address on the first one—the one from Mr. and Mrs. Charles Jernigan. When she got to the one from Paul Rittinghouse she positively glowered. “You don’t look too thrilled with mail from home,” he said.

She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed, then folded the envelopes in half and stuffed them into her pocket. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I mean, I just got here.”

“They must have been mailed before you left,” he said.

“You’re probably right.” Her expression brightened, but he had the impression the look was forced. “Heather has been telling me about the Flauschink Polka Ball,” she said.

“I was explaining to her she needs to come up with a costume,” Heather said.

“And I’ve been trying to explain to her I’m not really much for fancy parties,” she said. She’d attended enough overdone celebrations in Chicago to last a lifetime.

“I wouldn’t call the Polka Ball fancy,” Max said. “It’s mostly just fun.”

“Your costume will have to be something simple,” Heather said. “We’ve only got a week. And I don’t think anything in my closet will fit her.”

“What about that ball gown or whatever it is in your closet?” Max asked. The thing had taken up half her car, like one of those hoop-skirted costumes from Gone with the Wind or something.

“No.” She shook her head, her cheeks a deep pink. “That wouldn’t be appropriate at all.”

Heather gave Max a questioning look. He shrugged. Whatever was in that bag, Casey clearly didn’t want to talk about it and he wasn’t going to push it.

“Why do I have to have a costume?” Casey asked. “Couldn’t I stay home?”

“And miss one of the best parties of the year?” Max asked.

“You haven’t lived until you’ve heard the polka version of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody,’” Heather said. “Besides, we’ll need you there to help sell tickets and things like that.”

“Maybe I’ll wear what I have on and go as a normal person,” Casey said. “I can wear a sign around my neck that says Endangered Species.”

Max laughed. “That’s pretty good. But the whole point is to shake you out of normal person mode. It’ll be good for you.” She obviously had a sense of humor, but there was a certain tension about her, as if she were always reining herself in.

“Do you have a red dress?” Heather asked.

“Not entirely red, no. Why?”

“Does it have some red in it?”

She nodded. “But why do you want to know?”

Heather turned to Max. “I’ve got red heels and red fishnet hose she can borrow. And my red feather boa. She can go as Miss Scarlet.”

“Miss Scarlet?”

“From the board game Clue. Ben Romney came last year as Colonel Mustard and we all said it was a shame we didn’t have a Miss Scarlet, too.”

“What are you coming to the party as?” Casey asked Max.

He grinned. “You’ll have to show up and find out.”

“Last year he was Mr. Disco, in orange bell-bottoms and a rainbow Afro.” Heather laughed. “Add a clown nose and big shoes and you could use the same outfit as a clown costume.”

“I promise you will be astounded and amazed by my costume this year,” Max said. He’d outdone himself, if he did say so.

“Your food’s getting cold,” Hagan called.

“We have to get back to work, anyway.” Heather stood and Casey rose also.

“See you later, neighbor,” Max said.

The smile she gave him made him warm clear-through, setting off warning bells in his brain. He did his best to ignore them. He and Casey would be friends, that’s all. He didn’t have any intention of taking things any further. Why ruin a good friendship with something as messy as romance?

THAT AFTERNOON, Casey waited until Heather was involved in a lengthy phone call before she slipped the letters out of her pocket. She opened the one from her parents first, already pretty sure of what it would say.

As she’d expected, the letter in turns scolded her for being so foolish and irresponsible, pleaded with her to come to her senses and return home and reminded her how disappointed they were that she had embarrassed them so in front of all their friends.

Of course, that was what was most important, wasn’t it? The impression she gave to all their friends. Never mind what she might be feeling. What she might want. Over the years she’d tried in various ways to tell her parents that she didn’t want the kind of public acclaim and popularity they craved, but she could never make them understand.

And worse, they’d almost succeeded in convincing her that she was wrong, that of course she was supposed to lead the kind of life they’d planned out for her—the good marriage to a prominent member of society, the memberships in the Junior League, the League of Women Voters, the Chicago Art Project, et cetera, the house in Madison Park or the Gold Coast and a vacation home on Martha’s Vineyard. Shopping at all the right stores, eating at all the right restaurants, knowing all the right people.

She’d almost believed them. Until the morning she woke up in a panic and realized that if she didn’t do something soon—something drastic—she’d be trapped forever in a life she’d never wanted.

She glanced over and saw that Heather was still on the phone. She dropped the letter from her parents, along with the envelope, into the shredder and watched with relief as the missive was reduced to paper ribbons.

But when she looked at the second letter, her relief vanished, replaced by sheer dread. Why had Paul written her? Obviously, her parents had given him her address here. Possibly they’d even encouraged him to try to talk some sense into her. Because, of course, anything she did that went against their wishes was senseless.

She stared at the envelope, at the neat, clipped handwriting. As upright and proper as the man himself.

Not that there was anything wrong with Paul, she reminded herself. He was a perfectly nice man. Good-looking. Rich. The perfect boyfriend.

Except he hadn’t been perfect for her and she couldn’t make anyone believe that. Not even, apparently, Paul.

She sat there, hand poised to tear open the envelope. But really, what could he say that she wanted to hear? He wasn’t going to make her think differently. He wasn’t going to make her go back.

Quickly, before she changed her mind, she leaned over and fed the letter, unopened, to the shredder.

Then she sat back with a sigh of relief, feeling as if she’d narrowly avoided a collision with a Mack truck.

Oddly enough, it was the same feeling she’d had when she’d made the decision to come here to Crested Butte. Everyone else thought she was crazy, but right now this was better than any sanity she’d previously known.

WHEN SHE AND MAX MET UP later that afternoon, Casey was surprised to learn they were taking the bus up to Crested Butte Mountain resort. “I’d have to dig out my Jeep to use it,” Max said, carrying a box full of miscellaneous snowboard parts to the bus stop in front of the chamber building. “Besides, the bus is free—the tourist tax dollars at work.”

Casey wasn’t about to admit she’d never taken public transportation before, much less something like this funky painted bus full of tourists. As the aide to the mayor, her father supported public transportation, though he didn’t feel that required him or his family to use it. Casey had traveled by private car, taxi or even limousine service.

“The bus is a great idea,” she said, as she followed him into the vehicle. This one was decorated with a scene of the mountains in summer, covered in wildflowers. She settled onto the seat beside Max and looked around at their fellow passengers: a mom and dad and their three children bundled up in ski jackets and knit caps, a group of teenagers similarly dressed, a young couple holding hands and an older man dressed in a chef’s uniform, obviously on his way to work at one of the resort hotels.

The bus pulled away from the stop and Casey turned her attention to Max. “Where are you taking the box?”

“George Taylor’s, right at the base of the lifts. I didn’t need this stuff and they did, so rather than me send it back and them ordering more, we’re doing a trade.”

“So you have a good relationship with your competition.”

He gave her a duh look. “Pretty much all the business owners up here get along. No reason not to. There’s room for all of us.”

In fifteen minutes the bus dropped them off in front of a soaring wood-and-steel building. “New condos,” Max said. “They sell out as fast as they can build them, so they keep building more.”

Casey turned to take in the tall buildings that rose on all sides. “It certainly looks different here than it does in town,” she said. Rough-hewn stone, oversize timbers and artful use of rusted metal gave the buildings the feel of a Bavarian village—a very tall, very modern Bavarian village. Groups of smiling people, some carrying skis or snowboards, all bundled in colorful parkas, made their way along the walkways between the buildings and the rows of shops that sold ski equipment, clothing and souvenirs.

“The resort is really growing,” Max said as they started up the sidewalk. “The condos have changed the look of the mountain, but that’s progress. The tourists pay the bills and at least we’ve kept it confined to the mountain.”

They came to an icy stretch of pavement and Max took her arm. The chivalrous gesture—or maybe it was the masculine strength of the hand supporting her—sent a pleasant warmth through her. “Thanks,” she said.

“Sure.” She half hoped he’d keep hold of her, but as soon as they were clear of the ice, he released her.

Past the condos, they could see the slopes, the ski lift silent, empty chairs swinging in the cold wind. “Do you ski or snowboard?” Max asked.

“I’ve skied some, on vacations with my parents or friends.” But those trips had really been more about wearing the right fashions and making the right connections than the actual skiing.

“Now that you’re living here, you’ll have the chance to get really good if you want,” he said.

She glanced at him. “Are you really good?”

“I do all right. I have to test out the equipment to sell it, you know.”

They entered the snowboard shop. After the night chill, the interior of the shop felt almost too warm. A young woman in a pink baby-doll T-shirt layered over a white thermal underwear top waved at them. “Hey, Max. George is in the back.”

A bearded young man in a leather apron hailed them from the back of the shop. “Hey, Max.” He took the box from him. “Thanks for bringing these in. Sue’s got a check for you.”

“No problem. This is Casey. She’s new in town—works at the chamber.”

“Welcome to town.” George shook hands with her, then turned back to Max. “Have you seen those new mono-skis I just got in?”

“No. Let me check them out.”

While the men talked equipment, Casey wandered to a rack of clothing and began thumbing through the jackets, pants and knit tops. She’d definitely need to add to her wardrobe of casual clothes. Most of the suits and dresses she’d brought with her were too formal even to wear to work. Even business was a more casual affair in C.B. than it had been in Chicago.

Max collected his check and Casey, then they emerged once more into the cold. A few snowflakes swirled around them. “Let’s grab a bite to eat,” Max said. “The Avalanche has good food.” He nodded to a restaurant across the way.

Casey started to ask if including dinner now made this a date, but refrained. And once they were seated in the restaurant, she had to admit this was like no date she’d ever been on. Max seemed to know everyone and it took fifteen minutes to order their meal because they were constantly interrupted by people. Everyone who stopped by learned that Casey was the new employee of the chamber of commerce. “I’m showing her around, helping her get familiar with the area,” Max said.

“Cool,” his friends said. Or “Welcome to C.B.” No knowing looks or winks were exchanged. Nothing to suggest this was anything more than two friends enjoying a meal.

But it wasn’t exactly like a meal with one of her girlfriends, either. Max ordered what she and her friends had always called “man pizzas”—pies piled with meat and every other topping available. “Is that okay with you?” he asked belatedly.

She shrugged and unfolded her napkin across her lap. “Sure.” When in Rome and all that.

Their pizza arrived and the traffic around their table died down. “Do you know how many snowboarders it takes to change a lightbulb?” Max asked between bites of pizza.

“No, how many?”

“Three. One to change the bulb, one to videotape it and one to say ‘Awesome, dude!’”

She hadn’t expected this and struggled to keep Diet Coke from coming out her nose as she laughed.

“How many ski instructors does it take to change a lightbulb?” Max continued.

She shook her head, laughing.

“Six. One to change the bulb and five others to say ‘Nice turn.’ ‘Nice turn.’ ‘Nice turn.’”

She groaned. “That’s bad.”

“One more and I promise I’ll stop.” He helped himself to another slice. “What are a snowboarder’s last words?”

She shook her head. “I can’t even guess.”

“Dude! Watch this!”

She dissolved into giggles again. It wasn’t that the jokes were so funny, but that he looked so delighted to be sharing them with her. Their eyes met and she felt the definite sizzle of attraction.

She looked away and fussed with the napkin in her lap. Now this definitely didn’t feel like any date she’d had before. None of the men she went out with acted silly or went out of their way to amuse her. And she’d never experienced this sudden shift from laughter to lust. Was it the altitude, the novelty of her surroundings or something else entirely?

They finished eating, Max consuming the lion’s share, then walked back to the bus stop. It had stopped snowing again, but the wind had picked up. The icy chill seemed to slice right through Casey’s coat. She wrapped her arms across her chest and shivered. “I can’t believe it’s this cold in April,” she said.

“Nights can be cold here into the summer,” Max said. He put his arm around her and pulled her close in a hug. “Let me warm you up.”

It was a friendly gesture, but an intimate one, too. It felt good, his strong arm encircling her, the warmth from his body radiating to hers. She raised her eyes to meet his and found him studying her intently. “What is it?” she asked.