Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel (4 page)

“That would be sweet.”

Bryce led her farther into the space, running the flashlight beam across the now-covered wall that would yield the multimillion-dollar view. “This area will become an open-concept restaurant and bar—and a kick-ass place for events, especially with the huge decks outside.”

Holly scanned the space, nodding. “There’s definitely a lot of potential here.”

And not just for the lodge.

He gave her a sidelong look, tinged with a little heat. “I agree.”

She looked away and cleared her throat. “Maybe we should go see the guest rooms.”

He laughed, tipping his head back and gazing up into the exposed-beam ceiling high above.

“What?” she asked.

“Talk about lame come-ons.”

Her jaw dropped and she yanked her hand away from his arm. “That was totally not a come-on. I said that seeing the guest rooms was number three on my list—closely tied for number two, if you need a reminder.”

Detecting the smile in her voice, he reached down to the handle of the camping lantern she held, cupped his hand over hers with a gentle grip, and brought it nearer to her face. “The light’s a little fuzzy, but I think you’re blushing.”

She pressed her lips together tightly. “It takes way more than your wishful thinking to make me blush,” she teased, and pulled the lantern down.

Bryce kept his hand firmly on hers. “Sounds like a challenge.”

She shook her head. “I think you’ve got enough to keep you busy right here.”

He squeezed her hand and, as he drew away, skimmed his fingertips lightly along the satiny skin on the inside of her wrist. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he said in his sexiest drawl. “I’m one hell of a multitasker.”

Holly had been there before. Swept up in a whirlwind of attraction that she was aching to act on—with a man she knew nothing about. The strong grip of Bryce’s hand and the feathery touch of his fingertips had rekindled a fire in her that had burned out long ago. She gazed at Bryce with a look that dared him to start proving his multitasking talents…now.

Remember what happened with Max…

And that was the problem. Holly did remember what had happened with Max, and it had been amazing—at least for the few months it lasted. But the resulting heartbreak had been devastating. She’d been certain that she and Max had a future together, but geography and family roots had been obstacles too large for them to overcome.

But Bryce was here.

For the moment.

Before Holly made another stupid mistake with her heart, she had to find out more about him—where he came from, what he was all about, and why he’d chosen the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge. She had to take her time, but he was ridiculously hard to resist.

He gave her a crooked grin that left her tingling. “About those guest rooms.”

“Right.”

He pointed the flashlight beam at the tiers of balconies in the far front corner. “Some of the nicer ones are on that wing. Or maybe I should say they’re just bigger since they’re mostly empty and all torn up like the rest of the place.”

Holly liked the humor and positivity in his tone, despite the enormity of the project he was taking on. She’d known the exterior of the lodge needed a lot of work, but she’d had no idea that the interior was such a miserable mess.

“That makes it easier to do things your way,” she said. “Sort of a clean palate.”

Eager to connect with him again, she linked her arm in his and he led her across the huge space, boards wavering and creaking beneath their feet. Holly was half creeped-out by the place, and half dying to help redesign it—although the only cred she had were her own tastes. That left zero room for her to hate the lodge like she had before she’d come there today. She’d have to do some heavy thinking about that later, but for now she planned to watch her step, take it all in, and enjoy being with Bryce.

As they reached the far side of the lodge, they came upon a large stairway that was positioned out of sight behind a wall.

“There are stairs like this on all four sides, which lead up to the rooms,” Bryce said. “I’m thinking of taking down the walls and opening up the space.”

They took the stairs gingerly, stopping on the second floor, where the doors to three rooms stood ajar along the balcony hallway.

Holly took inventory, her pulse picking up pace, and not from climbing the stairs. She was as up for an adventure as anyone but…all these dark, abandoned rooms? The other three corners of the atrium were murky mirror images—balconies, railings missing spindles, and mostly open doors.

Bryce gave a rotten spindle a halfhearted kick and it fell, clattering on the floor below, the noise echoing. “These spindles will have to go. Even if they weren’t falling apart, I’m not into that look. What would you think about horizontal cables instead?”

“Much more updated.” She nudged his side, coming up against solid muscle. “And much less likely to rot.”

“You’ve got a point there.” He lighted the way for them to go into the middle room.

Stepping into the gloom, Holly almost regretted mentioning number three on her must-see list, but he probably would’ve shown her the eerie guest rooms anyway. “Wow. ‘Mostly empty’ was an understatement.”

All that was left in the spacious room was one drawer from a now-missing bureau, a shattered mirror hanging askew on the wall, and a platform base that had once held a mattress.

“You going to stick with platform beds?” she asked.

Bryce gave her a sidelong glance. “Not your style?” His tone—one part flirty and seven parts sultry—had Holly at a momentary loss for words as heat swirled through her.

“I…Um.” She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth. “Never tried one before, so I couldn’t say.”

“Do you think I could make them work, décor-wise?”

Holly fully expected to be worn out from the temperature fluctuations Bryce caused. He could flip the switch to hot at any moment and dial it down to basics like décor a second later.

“If you did a cool headboard,” she said. “Maybe something high and cushiony, upholstered in leather or suede.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” And there was that crooked grin that left her a little off balance. She was dying to go ahead and kiss him, just to see if he lived up to all the hype in her head.

“The fireplace is nice.”

“All the suites and junior suites have them. The sales specs classified these middle rooms on the second and third floors as junior suites because of the added fireplace, the extra space…” He aimed the beam at the back wall where the large windows and a sliding glass door were boarded over. “And—although you can’t see it right now—they have triangular balconies since they’re on the corners of the building.”

“Nice.” Holly glanced into the bathroom, noting nothing remarkable except the missing toilet. “They took the toilets too?”

Bryce peeked inside and shook his head. “Go figure. I’m surprised there isn’t one somewhere along the trail out back—say, about halfway up to the ridge.”

Holly cracked up. “That would be a sight.”

“And a smell.”

“Eww.”

“Just sayin’.”

“No one would actually use it.”

He leveled a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me gaze on her. “Ever been on a weekend mountain biking bender with a bunch of brash guys?” He nodded. “Someone would use it. They’d sit there and read the newspaper while they did their business.”

Holly squeezed her eyes closed. “Too much information. I’m trying to unsee the image you just seared into my brain. Show me something else—quick.”

He laughed, low and easy. “Let’s head up and look at a suite.”

Holly took hold of his arm. They climbed the stairs and stepped onto the fourth-floor balcony. The view into the atrium was a little dizzying, with the brighter light near the upper-level exposed glass giving way to the gloom. Deepening darkness made the ground floor appear even farther below, and the rickety railing offered her little sense of safety. She turned her head and gazed down the exposed hallway, then glanced back across the atrium at the other three fourth-floor balconies.

“That’s strange,” she said.

“What?”

“This section only has one suite. The others on the fourth level have two. Is this one the honeymoon suite or something?” She followed Bryce’s gaze as he checked it out, shifting from balcony to balcony and then down the hallway where they stood.

He scrunched his face. “Maybe? But the property description says sixteen deluxe rooms, eight junior suites in the center of the second- and third-floor wings, and eight one-bedroom suites on the fourth floor.”

Holly poked him between his pecs. “Who’s got a thing for numbers now?”

“Busted,” he said, but the puzzle seemed to have him preoccupied. “Maybe it was a typo.”

“One way to find out.” She gestured toward the door behind them that stood open several inches.

Bryce led with the flashlight and she followed. The one-bedroom suite was in much the same condition as the room downstairs, with random items left behind. A blanket in the bedroom. A lampshade in the living area. And the bathroom had a toilet.

He shone the beam into the rooms a second time. “This suite doesn’t take up the entire top corner of the building. It’s no different than the others I’ve seen.”

“So there’s a suite missing?”

Bryce raked his fingers through his hair and it fell back into its sexy, disheveled style, skimming the collar of his green acid-washed shirt. “Something’s not adding up.” He clutched her hand, led her out of the room and along the rest of the hallway, where another door should’ve been. Yet there was nothing but the same rough-hewn paneling that appeared to be standard issue for all of the hallways.

Holly held the lantern low as she walked, her gaze following the base of the paneling. It curved slightly outward for a short distance then straightened until it reached the corner where it didn’t quite meet the wall. Behind it was a similar sheet of paneling.

“Look.” She pointed toward the corner. “There are two layers of paneling on this wall.”

Bryce aimed the flashlight and examined the corner as she knocked on several sections of the wood, her raps sounding hollow above the slight outward curve in the paneling.

Holly’s heart hammered. Now things were getting really creepy. “Someone covered up the door.”

But why?

Striding back down the hallway, Bryce knocked as he went, stopping next to the door of the room they’d just left. He skimmed his fingers along the side of its frame. “Come here.”

She joined him and he grasped her hand, guiding her fingers along a narrow seam between the door frame and the second layer of paneling that had been added.

“Same thing here,” he said. “The missing suite is behind this flimsy sheet of wood. The property description makes sense now…but nothing else does.”

Holly’s stomach clenched. The lodge had plenty of bad mojo. She worried that the secret suite would only add to it. “On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to find out what’s going on behind this paneling?” She tapped on the wood.

His eyes widened, an I-think-you-know-the-answer look on his scruffy face. “Oh, say—
seventeen
. I’m getting ready to buy this place.”

No sense in asking
when
he wanted to find out, considering he’d already started prying at the edges of the paneling, trying to get enough leverage to tear it away.

“That’s definitely not gonna work,” he said. “Too many nails.” He walked down to the slight bow in the paneling, steadied himself, pulled a mixed-martial-arts move, and kicked a gaping hole in the wood.

Holly flinched as splinters flew and pieces of paneling crumbled to the floor. Dust rose in the already hazy air. She stared at Bryce, impressed that he’d kicked just hard enough to bust through the paneling and not jam his ankle on the closed door behind it. She nodded. “Cowboy boots. Multipurpose footwear.”

“Damn right.” He grinned proudly.

She set the lantern on the floor nearby, and Bryce positioned the flashlight next to it, propped up with a fragment of wood, beam aimed at the hole. Together they pulled away pieces of the paneling—basically thin particleboard with a wallpaper-like, rough-hewn veneer—and tossed them aside. The dust tickled Holly’s nose and she struggled not to sneeze.

Bryce ripped off a large chunk that exposed the door handle, and shifted his gaze to her. “Wanna try it?”

She reached for the burnished latch handle and pressed it down, expecting nothing but resistance.

Click.

The latch gave way and Holly’s heart hitched. She pushed the door open a few inches, and stepped aside. Bryce could take the lead through the hole they’d torn in the paneling. She wasn’t sure she wanted to go in at all, and she certainly didn’t want to go first.

“I can’t believe it’s not locked,” she said. “Why would someone go to the trouble of putting paneling over the door and then leave it open?”

“Guess they figured that once the gig was up, a lock wouldn’t make much difference.”

“Not to you and your cowboy boots, that’s for sure.”

Bryce shook his head. “That door would’ve been a different story.” Mischief danced in his eyes. “I would’ve picked the lock.”

“You’re a man of many talents, aren’t you, Mr. Bennett?”

Stepping close, he brushed a wood chip from a long layer of her hair, swept his fingers down its length, and tugged gently the ends. “Bet on it.”

Holly swallowed hard. She was betting on it all right. And if she wasn’t careful, she’d be all in way too soon.

He tipped his head toward the door. “You comin’ with me?”

At the moment, curiosity held a slight edge over creeped-out. “I didn’t help bust through that wall just to stand out here and look at the hole,” she said, sounding way more confident than she felt.

Bryce smiled slyly. “I like your spirit.” He handed her the lantern and grabbed the flashlight, aiming it at the slice of darkness beyond the doorway. Ducking low beneath the shards of paneling, he pushed open the door and wrested his way through the opening. Holly inched in behind him, her nerves in knots. Nothing good had ever come from the lodge in the past. Hopefully what they found in the suite would not follow suit.

Her heart thudded as she took in the scene in the lantern’s glow. The living area was fully furnished like an upscale mountain chalet—a caramel-colored leather couch, a cushiony chair upholstered in crimson suede. A thick artisan rug featured the same colors in a tasteful tribal pattern accented with ivory and brown. There was even a flat-screen television mounted on the wall above a rustic-yet-refined console. The place smelled closed-up, yet not as musty as the rest of the lodge.

“No way,” she murmured, still stunned by the contrast between what she’d expected and what they had found.

The dismayed look on Bryce’s face spoke for him. Shaking his head, he turned and walked into the bedroom. Holly stepped farther into the living area, imagining the view from the boarded-up windows and door, and the balcony outside—gorgeous Turquoise Lake down the mountain, the panorama of craggy mountain peaks in the distance.

But right now all she could see was what was on the inside, in dim and fuzzy light. She swung the lantern closer to the end table next to the couch where several yellowed, tabloid-sized newspapers were neatly stacked—the
Thistle Bend Times,
one from each week preceding the closing of the lodge nearly five years ago. Front-page articles about the lodge had been circled with a thick red marker, the color faded to nearly brown.

Strange…

On the lower shelf of the table was the only antique-looking item in the otherwise modernly appointed suite—a heavy-framed, 5x7 sepia-toned photograph of a distinguished-looking man, taken in a bygone era.

Late 1800s?

Holly picked up the picture and took a closer look. The man faced a little to the side, highlighting his strong nose and the upward tilt of his chin. His eyes were bright despite the serious set of his jaw, and his white hair was combed away from his face. He wore a high-collared shirt, with a dark tie and jacket—appearing confident and ready to get down to business.