Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel (7 page)

Lindsey shook her head, a for-sure look on her face. She’d had plenty of experience with bitter divides, having been tossed in the middle of Thistle Bend’s generations-long family feud between the Karlssons and the Crenshaws when she first came to Thistle Bend. “This town’s had a few of them over the years, hasn’t it?”

“It’s odd, because Thistle Bend is a pretty happy place.”

“Carden said your grandma was ill while all this was going on.” Lindsey had stopped eating her cinnamon roll.

Holly pushed the box toward her, urging her to finish it. Emotion welled in her throat and she swallowed against it. “She’d had a massive heart attack and a quadruple bypass six months before the lodge drama started. Her recovery had gone slowly, but she was making progress. The doctors expected her to regain her strength and stamina over time. But they warned us that too much stress would inhibit her progress, and might even contribute to another heart attack.”

“And along came all the people and all the pressure on your grandpa,” Lindsey said.

Holly nodded. “Grandma understood why some people wanted him to approve the loan and others didn’t. She begged him to vote against it.” She drank some more espresso, hoping the buzz would make her numb to her knotted emotions, yet knowing full well it wouldn’t. “She told him that any problems with the lodge would be blamed on him, while any successes would be attributed to Evanston. In other words, he could have made a decision that was unpopular in the short term, but it would’ve ended the debate since there’d be no lodge. Otherwise, my grandpa would be the fall guy…forever.”

“He went against her advice?” Lindsey asked.

“There was more to it than that. A couple of his really good friends were on the town council, and they pressed him to vote for the loan. Of course they had businesses that stood to benefit from the construction and operation of the lodge, and they were also some of the bank’s biggest customers. Grandpa couldn’t win either way.” Holly stabbed her cinnamon roll with her fork, tore off another bite, and ate it. “He was so torn up and stressed about it, I’m surprised he didn’t have a heart attack himself.”

“It had to be awful for you and your family—watching your grandparents go through that.”

“Imagine how my dad felt, trying to help his parents but being helpless to do much of anything. My mom, too. We were all really close. I was only seventeen, but I remember the weight of it on us. I mean, no one was angry, but everyone was tense.”

“At least y’all were able to keep anger out of the situation,” Lindsey said, her tone sympathetic. “That takes a strong family.”

At least we had that.

Lindsey crossed her legs and leaned forward. “So the loan went through and the lodge was built—”

“But so many things went wrong. With contractors and employees and loan payments. The place turned out to be spectacular, yet nothing but bad came from it.”

“People blamed your grandpa?”

“Yep.” Holly bunched her lips. “And everyone in our family, by association.” Her stomach clenched. “I remember the stares and whispers I got when I came home from college for summer breaks during the lodge’s worst years. But Grandpa got the worst of the anger, just like Grandma had predicted. The stress of it was awful for both of them. Grandpa had real struggles at the bank when the loan payments stopped and they had to foreclose on the lodge. Then the few people who were happy with the place, or who liked their jobs there, became upset, too.”

“What a mess.”

“It was worse than that. From the second that Evanston applied for the loan, my grandmother’s health never improved—it deteriorated under the stress the lodge continued to cause.” Holly shrugged weakly. “But she was never bitter or negative about the situation—she kept it all inside. She’d garden a little when she had the strength. I remember her working out there, so slight and frail, her big ol’ wide-brimmed hat shading her sweet face.” She gazed at the narrow silver cuff bracelet on her wrist—a thirteenth-birthday gift from her grandma. Holly had worn it every day since, trying to live by the inscription engraved inside.

Always love.

“Did you mean for this to say ‘Love always’?” she’d asked her grandma.

“No,” she’d said, with a wise smile. “I like it better this way.”

Holly blinked back tears. “She died from another heart attack right after the bank foreclosed on the lodge.”

Looking a little teary-eyed herself, Lindsey got up and hugged Holly. “I’m so sad for you.”

Holly’s heart lightened a little. “Please don’t be. It’s hard to lose people you love, but we all try to be happy in her memory instead of sad.”

“I like that,” Lindsey said as she settled back in her chair. “And I can understand why you and your family would have an aversion to the lodge and anyone or anything associated with it. Now I get why Carden felt so bad for pushing you about the information while your grandpa was standing right there. Did he mention it after Carden left?”

“No, but I could tell it was on his mind. We were busy planting a big section of the garden. He loves planting days, so I let it go, hoping he’d get lost in the ritual and enjoy putting the seeds and seedlings in the ground.”

Lindsey frowned. “How do you think he feels about the lodge coming back into your lives, so to speak? You’re going to be representing the buyer at closing. It’s almost like
Groundhog Day.
”

The knot in Holly’s chest pulled tighter. She puffed up her cheeks and blew out a breath. “I know. I’ll have to talk it through with Grandpa soon. I mean, it’s a good opportunity. There’s always plenty of work during these busy summer months, but the more I get, the more money I can save. Who knows how long the real estate market will stay strong here? It’s hard to say no to the business.”

Lindsey smiled knowingly. “You mean it’s hard to say no to the client.” She took the last bite of her cinnamon roll and pressed her hand over her flat belly as if there might not be room for it there.

“Can you blame me?” Holly teased, trying to keep things light despite her worry that her attraction to Bryce might be overriding her good sense. Maybe she should back away and simply represent him at closing. Helping him figure out what had happened with the hidden suite could be taking things a step too far.

As if kissing him wasn’t a giant leap…

“I went to the lodge with him yesterday,” Holly said.

Lindsey’s eyes bugged. She stopped chewing and slapped her fingers in front of her mouth. “What?”

“He asked me to go on a walk-through.”

Lindsey swallowed with a visible gulp. “So the realtor was with you guys?”

“No. George had a scheduling conflict. Bryce and I went alone.”

Lindsey’s jaw went slack. “You guys went on a date!”

“Not exactly.” The emotions Holly had stirred up while telling the story of her family’s past with the lodge had her even more conflicted about her present-day situation. Perhaps it would be best if she waited to see what today brought before she told Lindsey more about yesterday. If she decided to back away from both Bryce and the mystery, there was no need to pique Lindsey’s interest.

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

Cornered, Holly’s pulse thrummed in her ears, the espresso kicking in. “It means we drove up there, looked around inside, drank a bottle of wine…” Tingles swirled up her spine and heat rose in her face as she pictured the part of the story she was leaving out.

That kiss…

Lindsey nodded, more engaged with each revelation. “What was it like?”

Like I can’t wait for another one.

Tearing her thoughts away from Bryce, she focused on envisioning the lodge. “Kind of creepy—all closed-up and musty. The place is pretty much a shell, stripped of almost everything, down to the boards and beams. There were beer cans and graffiti—stuff like that—from where people had broken in over the years.”

“I didn’t mean the lodge.” A slow grin stretched across Lindsey’s face. “I meant the kiss.”

Bryce pushed the huge piece of plywood aside and gestured for Holly to go ahead of him into the suite, shining the beam of his flashlight through the hole in the wall. “Ladies first.”

“Your chivalry is noted, sir, but I’m going to decline,” she said with a grin and a curtsey. “In this case, the knight in shining armor should proceed.”

Bryce bowed with a flourish. “As you wish, m’lady.”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling, looking exactly like his kind of lady in her snug jeans, hiking boots, and a brightly colored, fitted flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He wore a similar getup, except his jeans weren’t snug, his shirt wasn’t bright or fitted, and his baseball cap was blue. Hers was the color of orange sherbet, with
Thistle Bend
embroidered on the front in a girly font, her silky ponytail sticking out the back, reminding him of how she’d looked the day he’d met her on the ridge trail. They’d come to the lodge to find answers, and that might take some getting dirty. It would also take some focus, because he’d much rather kiss her than work.

Yesterday’s killer kiss had left him wanting more. Holly had seemed into it too, with her sweet mouth on his, her palms pressed against his face, and her fingernails lightly grazing his cheeks. He would’ve sworn they were both feeling the undeniable electricity between them. But after their kiss, she’d seemed to withdraw. Not overtly, just a vibe he caught—as if she was second-guessing letting her guard down.

Given time to think about it overnight, Bryce decided that he’d been the one who let his guard down, talking about his mom, his search-and-rescue mission, and his relationship with James. He’d never revealed that much to any girl so soon. Clearly
he
had felt a connection with
her,
but sharing a sexy kiss didn’t mean she felt the same. He’d experienced more than a few hot, meaningless kisses with women—no reciprocal connection required.

Bryce hadn’t been looking for romance when he’d gotten pitched from that mountain bike, or when he’d shown up at Holly’s office searching for a real estate lawyer. But there she’d been each time, stirring up an unusual urge in him to get closer and solve her mysteries. Why was she down on the lodge? She’d made her opinion of the place quite clear that day in her office, yet she hadn’t said much more about it since. What made her so hesitant to reveal herself, even though she seemed quite open?

And when should I risk kissing her again?

He’d spent way too much time imagining them together—a kiss being just the beginning of all the things he wanted to do to please her.

He struck the images from his mind before they hijacked his body again. There was no running water in the lodge. No cold shower to cool him down like the one he’d taken last night.

For now he’d have to settle for working with her and taking his cues from there. He’d been surprised she’d agreed to return to the lodge, but here she was, seeming eager to see what else they’d find in the suite.

He tossed his heavy tool bag through the hole in the wall and it landed inside with a thud, a crack, and a clatter.

Holly winced. “Think there’s a hole in the floor now?”

“We’re gonna find out.” Hugging a portable work light to his chest, he squeezed his way past the splintery edges of the paneling and into the suite. Holly followed, carrying a second light.

Number one on his to-do list: Pry the plywood away from the balcony door and windows, and let some sunlight in. If prying didn’t do the trick, he’d break out some more MMA moves and bust the boards off their nails. Either way, there’d be sunlight as long as the clouds gathering beyond the ridge played nice.

Even so, they’d still need the lights to illuminate the suite, especially the bathroom and closets. Bryce had picked them up at the hardware store, along with a variety of tools and useful items—hammers, pliers, a maul—hoping to handle whatever challenges they might encounter.

But no tool could help him if Holly came across pictures similar to the bulky wooden-framed one he’d found on the nightstand in the suite’s bedroom and slipped into his backpack yesterday. It was a full-color 8x10 candid photograph of a middle-aged man and woman, standing in front of the lodge’s huge pitched-glass window with the kick-ass view. Bryce guessed the woman to be late forties. Mostly fit and flashy, she wore a short red cocktail dress that showed too much leg and plenty of cleavage. Her dark hair was piled on her head, looking intentionally messy, with tendrils falling around her face. Large, glimmering earrings dangled from her ears—maybe diamond, he’d never know.

Unless they’re still in that jewelry box she left behind.

She was the kind of woman who caught men’s attention—like a colorful lure attracts fish. Pretty and doe-eyed, with lots of makeup. Looking a little too dressed up, and a little too willing. A couple of Bryce’s friends had fallen for that type of girl, but who was he to judge? He’d fallen for Whitney, and look where that had gotten him.

Bryce pegged her as the woman who had stayed in the suite—maybe even lived there. The only clue he had to her identity were the initials VRS engraved on the silver ring in the jewelry box—if the ring even belonged to her.

But no clues were required for Bryce to identify the man in the picture—a tall fifty-seven-year-old dressed in an open-collared shirt and jacket, in decent shape, yet fighting a middle-age paunch. His salt-and-pepper hair was parted on the side and slicked back. The smile on his face narrowed his eyes, but didn’t seem to reach them. With his straight nose and strong jaw, the man was nearly handsome. Bryce really couldn’t say, because all he saw was his father.

Adam Evanston.

The man who’d built the lodge, wreaked havoc, and left the place high and dry. The man who, according to Holly and by all accounts, blazed a trail of wretchedness from the second he came to Thistle Bend. Now that Bryce had the means, he intended to right his father’s wrongs, even though he’d never met the man.

Bryce’s mom had always been open about his father’s identity. Whether or not it had been emotionally healthy for Bryce, he’d followed news about his father for years, never imagining that they’d end up in a similar business—but with completely different philosophies. Bryce enjoyed putting his customers and employees first and had seen how that benefited his business in turn. Thankful for the opportunities his mom and James had given him, he gave back—hosting a free summer adventure camp in Costa Rica for at-risk teenage boys like he had been.

But his father was a taker. Bryce was determined to make good on all the bad he’d wrought on the people of Thistle Bend. To prove that, despite his DNA, he was not his father’s son. Wanting no association with the man, Bryce’s mom had given him her last name. No one in Thistle Bend needed to know about his connection to Adam Evanston, and he hoped no one would figure it out. But if a keen-eyed person looked too closely at photographs, they might become suspicious. That’s why he’d removed the picture from the suite before Holly could see it. Because when he looked at his father, he saw himself.

Would the similarities be obvious to others? Bryce couldn’t say. No doubt Holly had seen Adam Evanston when he’d lived in Thistle Bend, and she probably remembered what he looked like. There was nothing Bryce could do to change that. But he could try to keep her from seeing a picture of his father while he was in close proximity. He didn’t want the connection to be made between them, but it went deeper than that—Bryce didn’t want to be associated with the man at all.

He had known how badly his father and the lodge had affected the people of Thistle Bend, at least in theory. But he’d been totally blindsided by the rumor that Holly had shared after they discovered the hidden suite.

A woman disappeared from the lodge shortly before it closed five years ago.

He stood next to his tool bag, dazed by the idea that, if it was true, his father might’ve been responsible for her disappearance in addition to all the other despicable things he’d done. His stomach pitched. Whoever boarded up the suite had to have guessed it would be years before it was discovered—if ever. When George had shown him the property, he’d told Bryce that there had been talk about razing the building several times over the last five years. If that had happened, everything sealed up in the suite would’ve been tossed among the rubble.

No evidence.

All things considered, there was no telling what he and Holly might find in the suite. But were they disrupting a crime scene? Maybe he’d been prescient when yesterday he had called her his accomplice.

Should I have involved her in this?

Bryce shuddered, suddenly feeling chilled. What had been a simple walk-through designed to get Holly to warm up to the lodge had turned into something much more complicated. He liked that she was shrewd enough to notice the odd number of suites on that wing of the fourth floor compared to the others, and that she’d been curious enough to investigate.

They’d found the suite, yet he hadn’t imagined it would lead him down a dark path. Holly had seen it with him the first time, and she might be suspicious considering the years-old rumor she’d shared, but he hadn’t had to invite her back there today.

Or had he?

Smart, levelheaded, and connected to Thistle Bend, she was the perfect person to have on his side—if she actually
was
on his side. Maybe he just wanted her
by
his side, and closer whenever he could get her there.

“How about you set up these lights while I work on getting us some sunlight in here?” He pulled an extra flashlight from his backpack, clicked it on, and handed it to Holly. “Let’s start in the living area then move into the bedroom.” That would give him a chance to skim the bedroom and check for more pictures while Holly focused elsewhere.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Bryce hoisted his tool bag up from the floor and pointed his flashlight at the hardwood where it had landed. “Look, no hole.”

“This suite is in way better shape than the rest of the place.” Holly pressed the toe of her hiking boot against the floorboards.

But it’s definitely more dangerous, by far.

Bryce headed over to the huge sliding glass door that led to the balcony, its one-time gleam smothered by a hazy film. The plywood had been nailed on the outside, so he unlocked the door, grabbed the handle, and hoped the thing wasn’t somehow sealed or just plain stuck. He didn’t mind busting out plywood if he had to, but he wasn’t keen on kicking through glass.

One hard tug, and the door didn’t budge. Another more forceful one yielded the same result. Before he jumped to the conclusion of stuck or sealed, he ran the beam of his flashlight along the door’s track, finding a locking pin at the base of the slider. He pulled it away and tossed it aside, one step closer to opening this place up to the daylight. The creepiness had started to weigh on him.

Another tug at the door and it stubbornly jerked along the track. Bryce sucked in a deep breath of the fresh, thin air that seeped in past the warped edges of the plywood. He set his flashlight on the floor, pressed his palms against the massive sheet of wood that covered the door, and pushed. The board gave with the heavy pressure of his hands, creaking against loose, rusty nails. He grabbed his tool bag and pulled out some gloves and the maul—no sense in taking it easy. He could pry the plywood off the plate-glass windows with a hammer, but the only way to go at this sheet was full force.

“This is gonna be noisy.” He shoved his hands into his gloves and grabbed the maul just as Holly switched on the work light. Despite its wattage, it only made the place a brighter shade of dim, motivating Bryce even more. He gripped the maul with both hands, set his feet in a sturdy stance, and took a mighty swing. The maul cracked a hole in the grayish plywood, and the top corner of the sheet pulled away from the outside wall, nails protruding along its edges. A sliver of sunlight streamed in, but not nearly enough.

“Whoa,” Holly said from behind him, sounding impressed.

He leaned down and crushed another hole in the bottom corner, and half of the sheet came loose. A couple more good swings and he had the door exposed.

Feeling less boxed in, he called to Holly, “Come see,” because the view was something to behold. He pushed the big board aside and shucked his gloves.

Holly joined him on the balcony that overlooked shimmering Turquoise Lake in the near distance, with a panorama of gray, russet, and green mountains in the background. The sky blazed neon blue with patches of white clouds lazily blowing toward the south.

The floor and railings of the balcony appeared to be in decent shape, but he linked his arm with Holly’s just in case. They carefully stepped over to the railing—where Bryce grabbed it, gave it a good shake, and found it surprisingly secure. “Seems okay, but I wouldn’t recommend leaning against it.”

He wasn’t sure Holly heard him, she seemed so dazzled by what she saw. “The view’s even more spectacular from up here.”

Pride swelled in Bryce’s chest. Hers was the type of reaction he couldn’t wait to get from everyone who worked on renovating the lodge and those who visited after it reopened. Seeing the awe in her eyes gave him the motivation to keep pushing forward, despite so many people’s bleak perception of the lodge.

Despite what we might find in the suite.

Bryce moved behind her, gently anchoring her against him with his arm around her waist, his hand splayed across her tight, flat torso. Her spine and shoulders were tense, but after a few quiet moments staring at the view, she relaxed. His body responded to her warmth, to the intoxicating tinge of her perfume, to the pressure of her curves against him. He couldn’t hold her there much longer without his attraction becoming apparent.

Bowing his head, he brushed a kiss along the side of her neck, and murmured into her ear, “Thank you for coming back here with me today.”

Holly tipped her head to the side, and rested it against his chest for a few seconds, his heartbeat picking up speed. She turned and faced him. “You’re not easy to say no to,” she said, giving him a hint of shy grin.