Jumped (7 page)

“Don't be stupid. I told you, I'm fine. Stop asking already. You're annoying.” Why did he assume he was ruining her day, the arrogant bastard? Beth felt some adrenaline trot smartly into her muscles. Poor super-nice Beth had just contracted a serious illness.

Finn leaned his elbows on the table and spoke quietly. “You left the party. That's not the Bethany I know.”

Beth, aware that someone at the table might be watching, smiled and scooted her chair closer to Finn. She wasn't about to allow him to pity her. Pity was inexcusable. “I. Was. Tired,” she said, still smiling. “That was all.”

Finn smiled back. “Stop being so stubborn.”

Beth smiled harder. “I will when you stop being arrogant. And egotistical. If you can help it.” Super-nice Beth was on life support.

“I'm egotistical? You're the one who's so worried about what everyone thinks, last night you hid.”

Beth tossed her head, forcing a laugh and smiling. “Oh, Finn!” she said loud enough for the table to hear and as though she was delighted by his witty repartee. She whispered. “I did not hide! You're not all that, you know. I hate to inform you, but you didn't devastate me when you left.”

“When
I
left!” He opened and closed his mouth, then smashed his lips together into a tight seam. It was a sure sign he was getting angry and trying to conceal it. She could hear him breathing like a snorting bull. After two seconds he looked at her and resumed smiling. “Your memory must be failing. I didn't leave you.”

“You most certainly did,” Beth said pleasantly.

“You left me and you know it.”

That did it. Super-nice Beth had bought the farm. “
You
left
me
. You didn't give us time to work things out.”

“Like hell. You didn't care enough to keep trying. You wanted to spend as much time away from me as possible and run from our problems.” Finn stopped smiling.

Beth stopped as well. “
I ran?
Who took extra jobs so he wouldn't have to be in our apartment except to sleep?”

“Excuse me for trying to provide for you and pay for your horse habit. Yeah, boy, I was a real bastard.”

“I never asked you to.”

“You didn't have to. It was implied by you and your family the minute the ring went on your finger.”

Beth spoke quietly but she no longer whispered. “My family isn't me. I never expected you to buy me horses. Never. I told you that. Training and teaching was my job and I was doing just fine before I even met you.”

“No argument there. I only wish you would have told me you were already married to your job before you married me.”

“You knew what you were getting into.”

“No. Because if I had, I never would've gotten into it. You told me more than once, and I quote, ‘It's going to get better.' Except it never did.”

“You loved how passionate I was about my job!”

“Yeah. But I thought you might be passionate about me, too.”

“I was.”

“You had a strange way of showing it. Horse showing every single weekend. Refusing to commit to dinner with me once a goddamn week.”

“You guys! Beth, Finn!”
It was one of the guests. No, make that the bride. Melissa. Finn scrubbed his face with one hand and swallowed, looked at Melissa, then found four pairs of eyes staring at him and Bethany. Who knew how long they'd all been listening? Damn, he should have been more careful. He had argued with her, which he'd sworn he wouldn't do, no matter what.
Hell.

Melissa continued, “You two want to fight, take it outside. The rest of us have to eat.”

“I'm sorry,” Finn said, making sure to make eye contact with all four of them in turn. “That was uncalled for. I apologize.”

“Sorry, you guys. We just can't keep our mouths shut. It's all in good fun. What's a wedding without a cranky divorced couple to show how happy the bride and groom are?”

The guests chittered and made the obligatory understanding noises about how they weren't offended. Bethany rubbed the back of her neck so that her hair fell across her cheek.

Table-wide conversation resumed and Finn and Bethany participated with vigor, ensuring they never spoke directly to each other.

Finn wasn't going to bike or balloon, and the chances of him kayaking were slim. He was going to either give himself an architectural walking tour of Aspen, or go see the Maroon Bells, the mountains not far from town. He'd been to Aspen once before, in college, when he'd worked at a restaurant in town. Back then, although he knew his way around a hammer and liked construction work, he hadn't appreciated the town's architecture; he was more interested in the proportions of Aspen's ski bunnies than its buildings. Since moving, he hadn't had a chance to sightsee, so now was a perfect opportunity.

The breakfast conversation turned to the cycling outing and the logistics of ferrying people to the bike rental place. Guilt mixed with the eggs and sausage Finn had just shoveled in, giving him heartburn . . . and an idea. With an effort, he stared down Bethany so that she had no choice but to look at him.

“You going on the bike ride?” he asked.

She squinted at him and drew out the words like a prohibition gangster. “Yeah. Why?”

“I'll give you a lift.”

“We're all splitting a cab.”

“You won't all fit. I have a car.”

“I'd rather be tied to the roof of the cab than get a ride with you.”

As Finn had hoped, humor glinted in her gray eyes and softened her words. They were bantering. He smiled and raised his eyebrows as he said, “That can be arranged.”

“You wish.”

“So that's what I should've done. Bondage.”

“I guess we'll never know now, will we?”

“Never say never.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Finn glanced away from Bethany's face—which was fun to watch when she was arguing, because her gray eyes went from the size of dimes to nickels—and realized that the two of them had, once again, become the morning floor show. He should charge admission.

Mike, one of the guests, spoke. “Why don't you come along, Finn? That way you two can keep arguing.”

Bethany snorted a laugh. “A bike ride? Are you joking? I don't know if you know this, but Finn can't—”

The moment stretched out so that Finn could practically see it in the air between them. He held Bethany's gaze and prayed she'd be kind. She had no reason to. But he hoped she would anyway, that she'd remember she'd once loved him. And then he saw the change in her face, as her eyebrows lowered slightly. She made a decision. She looked at the paper place mat, and then flicked her gaze to his eyes for a split second. But it was enough. She turned to the rest of the group.

“. . . stand rented bikes. Absolutely hates 'em. Thinks of 'em like rented bowling shoes. He's such a snob that way.”

Melissa laughed. “Too bad. We hear you're in great shape.” Her tone went sultry. “At least, that's what Kristen's been saying.” She waggled her eyebrows and the crowd hooted.

Finn laughed, mostly in relief but also to lessen the importance of Kristen's opinion. The next sentence he uttered was especially for Bethany. “It's easy to look good in a tux. And she's never seen me in less. So whatever rumors are circulating to enhance my already studly reputation, sadly they're not true.”

He glanced at Bethany. She was looking at him, but her expression was as unreadable as a panel of drywall.

The group meandered back to the Hotel Jerome in the perfect summer day—warm and sunny, with an alpine breeze that kissed Aspen's streets. It was as though the entire town was climate controlled. When they arrived at the parking garage, Finn maneuvered himself next to Bethany. “Will you let me drive you to thank you?”

The pancakes and bacon must've improved her mood because she said, without bite, “Okay, fine.”

Finn had to acknowledge Bethany's decency at breakfast. After a few minutes, awkward though it was going to be, he forged into the silence in the car. “Thank you for covering for me back there.”

“No need to thank me. I almost blew it.”

“Whatever, I appreciate you not ratting me out.”

“Your life would be easier if you'd just learn to ride a stupid bike.”

“It doesn't come up very often now that I have a driver's license.”

“You could get a motorcycle. That would improve your studly reputation.”

“I'm too studly as it is.”

She laughed. “If anyone doubts it, they can ask Kristen, right? What happens when wife number two has her heart set on a bike tour through Europe for the honeymoon?”

Something zapped his chest when she said “wife number two.” It didn't last long—it was like being struck by a spark while welding—but he noticed it. “I'm not real worried about that.”

“Maybe you should be. Not everyone is as forgiving as me. Other women will demand that you ride a bike. It's a known deal breaker.”

He knew she was teasing, but hearing Bethany talk about his romantic future made his bones itch. “Still not worried about it,” he said, keeping his eyes on the road like a novice driver.

“Think about it. You're alienating a whole segment of the eligible female population. Not smart, especially since you're not getting any younger and your prospects are dwindling.”

A current of electricity roared through him, so much so that if Bethany were a man, Finn would be curbing an urge to punch him. “Would you drop it already?” he said through gritted teeth and too loudly.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Bethany turn to look at him. “Lighten up, Finn. Sorry I offended your delicate sensibilities. Geez.”

He sighed and squeezed the steering wheel so hard, his knuckles whitened. “Sorry.” He didn't trust himself to say anything else. He had to stop letting everything she said get to him like some kind of annoying rash. They drove without speaking. Bethany checked her phone, and Finn wondered if she was only using it as a prop to avoid talking to him. Whatever the case, one thing was being hammered home during this wedding weekend: he wasn't over his ex-wife.

5

B
ethany was eager to
start the bike ride purely to escape Finn's grumpiness. The good mood they'd shared the night before had evaporated like so many champagne bubbles. In some ways she enjoyed poking this particular bear with a stick, but in the grand scheme of things, it probably wasn't good for her soul. She thought he'd drop her at the bike shop and leave, but for whatever reason, he got out. She politely thanked him for the lift, then got her bike, which took ten minutes. She was the first to get there, so she had to wait for the rest of the crew. She stood beside her mountain bike and studied the trail map without seeing a single trail.

“Did you use sunscreen?”

It was Finn. Of course.

He was next to her and she looked at him. “Yep. All taken care of, Mom.”

His mouth twitched. “Backs of your hands? Remember, you're not wearing riding gloves.” He squeezed sunscreen from a tube onto his fingertips.

“Yes. Done.” Although she probably hadn't been exactly thorough, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of being right. Her hands would survive, even in the strong mountain sun.

He stood facing her. “Bet you didn't get your ears. You always forget your ears.”

He was right. And boy, he must really feel bad about snapping at her in the car—it was the only logical reason he was being so solicitous. “They'll be fine.” She started reaching for the sunscreen in her backpack on the ground next to her.

“Why take a chance?” He caught her chin with his right hand, while applying sunscreen to the rim of her right ear with his left hand, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. It was such a simple, intimate gesture, it caught Beth completely off guard. She looked up and over his perfectly rumpled, bronzy-brown hair so that she wouldn't look at his eyes. He turned her face a few inches the other way to coat the other ear. She looked at the handlebars of her bike and could see a distorted version of Finn in the silver tubes. He looked good even warped. And up close like this, he
smelled
handsome. She made herself stare at the bike and think about where it might've been made, because his warm fingers tugging and massaging her ears were unexpectedly sensual. She tried to imagine how the handlebar had been heated and bent into shape in some bicycle factory somewhere, but the sensation on her ear merrily trounced any attempts to shove it aside. She was all about those ears and Finn's fingers. Darts of pleasure, like lively ponies in a field, made her neck and arms tingle. Goose bumps blossomed on her arms.
Goose bumps!
Her mind dredged up memories of Finn making love to her amid gloriously rumpled sheets early one rainy morning—God, but he had been otherworldly in bed—and she wanted to grab his head and kiss him. Right there, in front of everyone. But instead she fastened her gaze on sunlight sparkling on the tiny bell on her bike.

“There,” Finn said softly, and tugged her earlobe. Her eyes refused to do the sensible thing and keep staring at the bell. Instead, the traitors took the dangerous path up to his eyes. She held her breath and dived into those cerulean depths, her mind cleared of everything except . . .
Finn.

He grazed her cheek with his thumb while his fingertips trailed along her jawline to the tip of her chin. He gently pinched her there and flashed an uncertain smile that said he had gotten as lost as she had.

It would be so easy to kiss him. It would be a cinch. All she had to do was lean forward, and she was pretty sure he would take care of the rest. What would one lousy kiss hurt?

“Finn, you change your mind?” Melissa wheeled her bike next to Beth.

Finn looked at the new bride. “Nah. Just making sure Bethany here knows how to use the bell to scare away bears.”

The spell was broken. They were exes once more. Which was as it should be.

Armed with a
list
of addresses and his car's GPS, Finn set out to find the more stupendous homes in Aspen and its environs. He had researched the more innovative Aspen architecture firms before moving. Eventually he'd tour Beaver Creek and Vail as well. Driving the steep, twisty mountain roads, he saw five of the homes on his list. They were all sprawling, constructed mostly of wood and stone, and had plenty of windows that offered eye-popping views of the mountains, ski runs, or Roaring Fork Valley. It was architect porn.

Finn was especially interested in seeing how the structures fit into the environment. Being on site also gave him a
feel
for the building. He couldn't explain it, but he'd always equated it with Bethany talking about “feel” when riding, the ability to know what the horse was going to do before it happened. It was architect's intuition, and it was critical when you were going to build someone's home.

At the last house, which was the most grand, he saw flaws and knew he would have done it better. If he could make his own luck here, he'd soon be one of the Rocky Mountain region's premier architects. And he had a particular project in mind—a request for bids had come to his attention from Mitchell Frederick. “Uncle Mitch” was an old friend of Bethany's family. If he could land this job, he'd be set.

As his eyes roamed over the soaring structure with its large windows and expanses of stone, he thought,
I can build a better house. I can make it greener and more beautiful. I can do this. I can design a dream of a house for good ol' Uncle Mitch.

Driving to the kayaking school, Finn had begun designing the Frederick house in his head. The rest of the wedding group—eight of them—was already there. Finn spotted Bethany immediately. He had regained the radar he used to have for her when she was his wife. When he saw her, a shaft of sunlight slid over his heart.
Better to feel this than all that anger, pal. At least you're on speaking terms now.

He said hello to everyone and sat with Nick on the bus that would ferry them and their watercraft to the reservoir.

Once they got to the water, Kristen was right there, smiling and wordlessly demanding his attention.
Here we go.
She wore the hell out of a stretchy little tank top and shorts that showed off her long, tan legs. The other men noticed, giving Finn hope that in this target-rich environment she'd choose another victim. However, she hovered near him and dropped her keys. And picked them up. Right in front of him. Twice. Subtle as a sledgehammer. And he had experience with sledgehammers.

When it came time to get in the water, Finn caved to his urge to stick near Bethany. This was the last day of wedding activities. There was a dinner tonight, and then everyone would leave tomorrow and he'd return to his rental. He was an accomplished kayaker, and although he was tempted to take on the Roaring Fork River's class four Slaughterhouse runs, he opted for the beginner excursion instead. Bethany was game to ride the rapids, but today's group divided into expert and beginner, and she had only kayaked once before, in the Everglades. As stubborn as she could be—and he knew firsthand all about that—she didn't complain or challenge the guide.

On the Ruedi Reservoir, the kayak armada glided through the water like a family of ducklings, often ending up in a line. Finn was polite to Kristen, but he wished she wouldn't paddle so close that she sometimes bumped his kayak. At least she couldn't drop her keys anymore, but he noticed she had taken her black hair out of its ponytail and was whipping it around and kept running her hand through it. In addition, before they'd gotten into the boats, she'd removed her tank to reveal a bikini top and was about to ask Finn to apply sunscreen to her back, but Melissa had asked for his help with her life vest. Mike had happily assisted Kristen. While kayaking, she also enjoyed arching her back and stretching her arms, claiming they were stiff. He chuckled—while her ultimate goal had everything to do with “stiff,” it had nothing to do with her arms.

The reservoir was the result of damming the Fryingpan River, and the scenery was spectacular. Pine forests sloped up and away from the water, which was the bottomless blue of the clear sky. It really was Bayer blue. The kayakers had lucked out with weather, since on summer afternoons in the Colorado Rockies thunderstorms were the norm, and they could be sudden and severe, with plenty of lightning. But as stunning as the natural beauty was—and the reservoir was one of the most breathtaking spots Finn had ever visited—he preferred to look at Bethany. Pretty Bethany with toned arms. As long as he wasn't obvious about it, he decided it was okay to indulge, since he'd never see her again. They didn't run in the same circles. This is how he'd remember her now that the hurt between them had faded and they had moved on. Even if he wasn't over her, he didn't have a choice.

Nostalgia had a
stranglehold on Beth's heart. The bike ride was supposed to have been a pleasant diversion from Finn and his sunscreen. But it merely gave her time to think about him and those ridiculous goose bumps. Yes, she was surrounded by some of the best—and most expensive—outdoors America had to offer, not to mention the tangy scent of pine as the trail plunged into the alpine forests, but she couldn't shake her ex-husband. He clung to her mind like a persistent mist.

Now, on the reservoir, as she enjoyed the feel of the water pulling at her muscles and propelling her kayak through the still blue, she wanted Finn to talk to her. But he didn't. He stayed near that Kristen. And that was fine. Beth was above chasing him in a kayak. If he didn't want to talk to her, that was his problem. Anyway, after tonight's dinner, he'd be out of her life forever, and as much as she'd enjoyed his sunscreen application before the bike ride, he was her past, not her future. She had to remember that. And move on.

After two hours of floating, even in the middle of the magnificent White River National Forest, Beth was ready to turn in her paddles. She'd had her fill of mountain scenery, even though being on the water reminded her of summers in the Rockies. She remembered floating on a raft for hours on the lake at Ptarmigan, site of her family's summerhouse. Despite growing up in Ohio, she'd always felt more at home in the mountains, and the summers held her favorite memories.

Regrettably, this reverie made her think of Finn again, because that's where they'd met. Young, cocky, sexy Finn. She looked around for him now. Casually. Not that he'd notice.

There he was, smack-dab next to Kristen. The bathing beauty had gotten on her nerves, so much so that she really was getting a headache. And what about Finn? Had he paddled away from Cleavage Girl? Nope. He had chatted. Beth had been a regular aquatic hostess with the mostest, talking with everyone except Finn and Kristen. He probably didn't care, not with all that boobage on display. She told herself she wasn't doing it to punish him as much as to keep herself from ramming the geologist, à la
Ben Hur
. It was a boating safety thing. The park rangers should give her a medal.

The boat ramp was busy, so the wedding kayakers had to hang out in the deeper water off shore to wait their turn. Beth was fiddling with her sandal—the strap had something stabby in it—when someone bumped her kayak. She looked up to see Finn grinning at her.