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Slowly, she sat up and shoved her hair out of her eyes. But when she put her feet on the floor, she yanked them back. Pins and needles stabbed her abused toes. When was the last time she’d done that much standing and walking? “Never,” she mumbled and hobbled into the bathroom.
Thankfully, the shower came on hot nearly immediately, and she stepped under the spray with a sigh. Warm. Comforting. Leaning back against the tiles, she let the water wash over her.
What had happened to her life? Two days ago, she’d had a job she loved—a career job, not a waitress job—her grandfather was safely situated in his little house and life was good.
Now none of that was true. Closing her eyes, she tried to force herself to relax. This might be her last chance to do that.
Had she really told Trey she’d be working again today for a whole shift? The man did intrigue her. Tall. Athletic. Cowboy boots and jeans were never a bad thing. His image was fresh and clear in her mind—his voice, deep and warm, echoed in her thoughts.
Stop that! She grabbed the soap and lathered up. Now was the time to focus—and not on some guy, no matter how good-looking.
Still, if she was working at the bar, when was she going to job hunt? Heck, when was she going to find her grandfather? Or some decent shoes? She needed some support for her poor arches if she was going to be a waitress.
She was not going to be a waitress forever, she reminded herself. It was just...temporary. She was an event planner with a life in Denver, not here.
Turning off the water, Lisa grabbed one of the big, fluffy towels. Another reality. She couldn’t afford to stay here, not on a waitress’s salary, though she had gotten some really nice tips last night.
She’d have to stay at her grandfather’s place until she found him. But what if the intruder came back? What if she was asleep when they did? She couldn’t stay awake all the time. She shivered and stepped out of the shower.
Oh, what was the purpose in fretting? She quickly dressed and headed down to breakfast—it was free, after all. Images of an old lady she’d seen at a buffet once, sliding food into her purse, came to mind.
Was that why grandmas always had huge purses? To slip food into, just in case? No, no, she reprimanded herself in her best mental impression of her grandmother.
Free breakfast here, and Trey had told her she could get lunch if she came in early. She’d be fine. Her stomach growled in a loud taunt.
She’d been destitute for all of twenty-four hours, and she was already turning into a pathetic shadow of herself. Shaking her head, she went downstairs in search of food and her sanity.
Evelyn was up bright and early. The older woman bustled behind the serving table, directing a couple of young girls to refill the serving trays. Lisa’s heart hitched. That was her job. That was what she was supposed to be doing. Damn Robert and his greed.
“Good morning, dear,” Evelyn greeted her. “Did you sleep well?”
“Uh, yes, I did.” Once she got to bed. Three in the morning had been way past her normal bedtime. She headed for the coffee first.
“So glad to hear it.” Evelyn moved on down the line, stirring the food and directing the girls. “Better help yourself quick. We’ll be done soon.” She smiled at Lisa before disappearing into the kitchen with a nearly empty tray of potatoes.
The food did smell delicious, and Lisa heaped a plate full. Her panic returned to taunt her, but she pushed it away. She would find a solution to her current situation.
Evelyn came in with a set of to-go containers. She set them on the end of the long buffet table.
“Who are those for?” Lisa asked, not seeing anyone else in the room.
“We package up all the leftovers and take them to the church. They offer them to some of the parishioners who need help.”
“Oh, that’s nice.” Lisa’s voice faded. Was she destined to be one of those people? What if she couldn’t find a job? A real job, she amended. What if she was stuck here?
Now, cut that out!
She couldn’t be stuck here, she reminded herself. She had an apartment—and rent due in two weeks.
She took a deep breath with the next bite of eggs. She was being ridiculous.
“Morning, Ev. Lisa.”
Sam? What was he doing here? “Did you hear from Grandpa?” Her own situation and appetite forgotten, Lisa looked up at the big man.
Sadly, Sam shook his head and slid into the seat across from her. “No, hon. I came over to check if you had. Did he call you?” His eyes seemed sad, almost haunted, like he’d lost his best friend. Which in reality, he had. Her stomach dropped, and she set her fork down.
Then she remembered that last night she’d turned her ringer off and had shoved her phone into her pocket as soon as she’d waited on the first table. She’d been too tired to check it last night.
Would she have even heard it ring in the noisy bar? She struggled to pull the phone out of her purse then thumbed on the screen. Her heart sank. No calls.
“No.” She stared at the screen, hoping maybe it would ring now just because she wished it. It stayed silent. “Nothing.”
“Did you find anything else out last night?” She’d seen him by the Dumpster and knew he hadn’t found what he’d been looking for there.
“Nothing new about Win,” he answered.
Did the big man actually look sadder? What wasn’t Sam telling her?
“Unfortunately, his isn’t the only case I’ve got right now.” He looked at her then, the sadness of a friend gone from his eyes and the distance of a working lawman in its place.
* * *
TREY WATCHED HIS brand-new waitress move around the crowded room. She wasn’t homeless; she’d given him a very brief explanation on her situation. If she was staying at The Guest House—the nicest place in town—she was far from homeless.
Tonight, Lisa was wearing black cowboy boots with a pale peach dress that skimmed the tops of her pretty knees. He watched the skirt sway and swirl. Watched her smile shine down on the customers at each booth and table.
Who had taught her how to dress for a mountain winter? With the snow swirling outside, she should be freezing, but she’d been running back and forth, filling orders for over two hours. A sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, and earlier she’d pulled her blond hair back into a loose braid that was now little more than an idea.
It was still pretty, though he reminded himself he shouldn’t notice. He was her boss, for God’s sake. Well, technically, he was a supervisor and Hap was the boss. Except all Hap ever did here was drink with his buddies.
She was graceful despite the boots that should have made her just the opposite. At least, she couldn’t sneak up on him.
“Hey, give me two whiskeys, neat, and a couple of daiquiris for the lightweights with them.” She leaned against the counter and watched as he pulled the drinks together.
“You should take a break.” Trey shoved ice into the blender wishing she—and her amazing scent—would move away. Then he wouldn’t have to keep tearing his gaze away from her. He could actually focus on his job.
“I’m good.” She grinned at him as she refilled the napkins and straws on her serving tray. “I don’t think I’d know how to take a break.”
“I’m not against you giving it a shot.”
When her laughter overshadowed the noise of the bar, Trey realized he was in serious trouble. Warm and rich, the sound reached too deep inside him. He couldn’t help joining in.
Hastily, he shoved the drinks across the smooth bar. She set them on the plastic tray and wove her way back through the crowd. She’d definitely done something like this before. Maybe not waitressing exactly—she’d screwed up enough orders to tell him that—but something similar. She knew how to work a crowd.
He’d have to ask her... No, scratch that. He wasn’t asking her anything. She was temporary help. She’d eventually move on. For the millionth time, he wondered why she was here in Telluride.
She delivered the drinks with a smile and a heavy dose of sass. She was definitely in her element. People loved her, and she seemed to love them, too.
Later, after the crowd had finally thinned, the door opened again. The wind caught the wood-and-glass frame and slammed it against the wall. The man who came in just then grabbed it and fought the wind to get it closed. Finally, it latched, and the guy turned around, surveying the room as he straightened his expensive wool coat.
Lance Westgate. Trey frowned. The land developer who was building the retirement community that Hap was always talking about. He often came to the bar for an expensive drink and to flaunt his success.
He stood there in the doorway, surveying the room as if looking for someone—or pondering the peasants. There were empty tables now that the rush was over. “Take a seat anywhere,” Trey called across the room. “We’ll be right with you—”
Trey glanced around the room, his mouth open to speak to Lisa...but she was nowhere to be found.
* * *
LISA WAS FAIRLY CERTAIN that back in high school, Lance Westgate had been voted most likely to be found dead in a back alley. Polished, cleaned up and almost handsome now, he made her stop and stare. And duck down behind the bar until she could figure out what to do.
Facing him was not an option. Hadn’t he moved away? What was he doing back here looking all successful just when she...wasn’t?
It wasn’t like she was embarrassed or anything about losing her job—well maybe a little.
She didn’t know many people her age here anymore, having only visited her grandparents a few times a year, and meeting mainly their friends. But she knew Lance.
There’d been one summer when she’d met a lot of people her family hadn’t introduced her to. Sam had found her once and brought her home to her grandparents. Grandpa had made sure to warn her about Lance.
He runs with a rough crowd, girl, he’d said. Don’t get mixed up with people like him.
The warnings had only made Lance more intriguing. Until she’d gotten to know him. His friendly smile had faded quickly into a sneer, and one night in particular popped vividly to mind.
She’d been so young, naive and trusting. She’d stood her ground when he and his friends had pressured her to take a drink, though. She hadn’t given in to their pressure to smoke either, even though she’d been scared when they’d tried to intimidate her.
Heading back to Denver a few weeks later, she’d moved on, but never really forgotten. Had he changed? Grown up into a decent, responsible person? Matured?
Now he was on the other side of the bar drinking top-shelf whiskey. And she couldn’t face him. Not yet.
“Evenin’, Trey.” They knew each other? How well? Wasn’t that interesting? Lisa glanced up at the man beside her.
He leaned against the bar, his arms outstretched, shifting smoothly as he made the drink without seeming to even think about it.
From down here, he looked incredibly tall. He wasn’t short by any stretch of the imagination, probably five-ten. His jeans were worn, and fit like they were tailored for him...
Okay, Lisa, get your eyes off him. Think about something else.
She needed to move away. But if she crawled away, Lance would see her. What would he think she was doing down here if she popped up like a jack-in-the-box? She was losing her mind...what was left of it.
“Hey, haven’t run into the old guys here for a while,” Lance said.
Old guys? That got her attention.
“Didn’t know you paid them much mind.” Why was Trey’s voice thick with his Southern accent all of a sudden? She’d heard it faintly last night, and had asked him where he was from. He’d reluctantly answered but hadn’t elaborated.
“Not usually.” Lance shifted on the other side of the bar. Was he leaning forward? She tried to melt into the back of the bar, scooting as far as she could beneath the shelf. “Just seems odd without them.”
“It’s a bit late for the older crowd.” Trey moved away from her, picking up dirty glasses from the other end of the bar. Was he trying to distract Lance?
“Yeah. Guess I have to learn about the habits of the elderly. You heard about the development project I’m working on?”
Development project? She listened harder.
“A little. Hap mentioned it.”
She made a mental note to ask Trey about that project.
“Hap?” Could she actually hear a frown? “Oh, yeah. One of the old guys.” Lance laughed. She heard the glass move against the wood surface. “He’s the one with the walker?”
“Yeah. Used to be mayor? Owns this place?” Trey clattered the glasses in the sink. “He and his wife are looking at the retirement villas.”
“Good. Good. They are going to be mighty nice. I tell you, the architects and designers outdid themselves.” Another slide of glass on the wood.
“One more? It’s last call, so this is the end of the night.”
“Sure. I’m staying over at The Guest House since I’m only here checking on the project.”
The Guest House? Lisa clapped her hand over her mouth to silence her gasp. She’d have to keep an eye out for him.
Trey made another drink, though he stood farther down the bar to do it. He didn’t slide it down to Lance, which made the other man either have to lean to get it or scoot a stool over. Lisa breathed a slow, silent, sigh of relief.
“Maybe I could come by when those guys are here?”
“Why?” Trey frowned.
“Oh, they’re my target customers. Maybe I could talk about the development. Get their backing.”
“Maybe.” Trey focused on wiping down the bar again. “They don’t have a regular schedule. You know. Retirees.” Why was Trey saying that? She could set a clock by those three and their eating and drinking habits—except lately, since her grandfather had been totally out of his routine.
“Yeah. Here’s my number.” The sound of the card stock snapping on the wood seemed loud. “Maybe give me a call if you see them come in. I’ll come over and chat up my project.”
Trey picked up the card, nodding as he read it. She watched, mesmerized, as he slid the card into his back pocket.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” His voice startled her.
“You do that.” The silence grew, and Lisa heard the clink of ice. The sound of the highball glass’s thick base returning to the bar top was loud in the nearly empty bar. “Thanks for the drinks. How much do I owe you?”
Trey stepped over to where she sat, and she nearly squealed as he stopped right in front of her. What had she been thinking, ducking down right by the register? She curled in on herself, leaning her head on her raised knees.
“See you around, Lance.” Trey’s accent went even deeper. “I’ll let the boys know you were asking about ’em.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Lance’s voice was farther away now. “I’m sure our paths will cross.” The sound of footsteps against the wood floor receded, and Lisa heard the door open and then close.
Neither of them moved.
Slowly, Lisa opened her eyes and looked up. Trey’s denim jeans were still right there. She glanced up, noting his big belt buckle—maybe he was from Texas?—then moving her gaze even farther up to the muscular curve of his chest, to his chiseled jaw...and blue eyes staring down at her.
“Is he gone?” she whispered.
“Yeah.” Trey stepped back as if just realizing how close they were. “You can get up.” He extended a hand to help her stand.
She stared at it, hesitating. Then, swallowing hard, she put her hand in his. It was rough and warm and solid and big. Her mouth dry, she couldn’t speak for a minute. “Th...thank you.”
“Oh, no. It’s not that simple.” Trey leaned back against the ledge behind him, crossing his arms over that impressive chest. She’d taken stock of everything else, so why not appreciate the bulge of his biceps along the way?
Shaking her head, Lisa turned and reached back to untie her apron. Of course, the strings had become a knot.
“I want to hear what that was all about.” Trey stepped closer, and, after gently pushing her fingers away, worked at the knot himself. She closed her eyes again, trying to tamp down her awareness of him. What was wrong with her? He was her boss!
Finally, the knot loose, he flicked the apron off and pulled the right side. The fabric whispered over her before falling away.
She had to face him. Taking a deep breath, she got control of herself. “There’s nothing to tell. I was just surprised to see him, is all.”
Trey was back to leaning against the bar, her apron bunched up in one hand.
Feeling a bit foolish for her impulsive actions, she reached under the bar and grabbed her purse and coat. “I gotta go. See you—uh—tomorrow?”
Before he could say anything, she ran out through the kitchen, the screen door smacking loud in the night, the snow emphasizing the echo.
She glanced back over her shoulder and was surprised to see Trey standing in the doorway. The light from the kitchen outlined his body, casting him in shadow so she couldn’t read his expression. She wanted to turn around, see what he might say and do if she faced him, if she let her feelings show.
Instead, she focused on making her way across the alley and up to her room. Earlier today she’d planned to head over to her grandfather’s place and stay there. Sam didn’t think anyone was coming back, but it was too late to check out of the hotel now. “Just one more night. Then I’ll leave.”
Flashing her key card at the door, she hurried inside and up to her room. By the time she made it over to the window and parted the curtains, Trey was gone. Had he really been there? Had she imagined him?
Why did she feel disappointed that he hadn’t followed?
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