Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel (8 page)

Bryce lifted the bill of her cap, took it off of her head, and hung it on the handle of the sliding glass door. A lock of hair that had escaped from her ponytail fell next to her face. He tucked it behind her ear, smoothed his hand to the nape of her neck, and pulled her to him, eager to kiss her again. A jolt of desire shot through him as his lips met hers—soft and sweet and yielding. He splayed his hand at the small of her back, pressing her closer, longing to feel her against him. She met each sweep of his tongue with a languid wisp of her own, vanquishing his thoughts of plywood and rusty nails…of anything except her.

He traced his fingers down the satiny skin of her neck and beneath the collar of her shirt, nudging it off her shoulder. Trailing kisses along the path his fingers had just taken, he caught a glimpse of her lacy, light blue bra, unexpected beneath the tomboy outfit she was wearing.

So damn sexy.

His cock fought against the restraint of his jeans as she arched her back and her breath hitched. He hooked his finger beneath the delicate bra strap, longing to see more of her.

“You make this incredible view even more amazing,” he said huskily.

“Mmm.” She rested her forehead on his shoulder. “And you make getting work done nearly impossible.”

Bryce gently grasped her shoulders and set his sultry gaze on hers. “Work now, play later?”

Holly bit her bottom lip and nodded.

God, he had to have her.

Play now would’ve been preferable, yet he’d take her promise of later any day—even more motivation to get the work done. He lifted her hat from the door handle and put it on her head. “You’re hard to say no to.” He winked.

She gave him a small, satisfied smile as she pulled her ponytail through the opening in the back of her cap. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“All right, boss,” he said, willing his body to settle down. “I need some room out here. Want to give me a hand tossing this plywood over the rail?”

“Sure.” She stepped over to the plywood propped against the far railing and grabbed an edge.

“Whoa.” Bryce held up his hand, palm out. “Wait a second, before you get a nasty splinter, or a puncture wound from a rusty nail—tetanus shots aren’t on the agenda.” He ducked back into the suite, dug in his backpack, and pulled out the pair of women’s work gloves he’d bought for Holly. Returning to the balcony, he handed them to her. “Put these on first.”

Smiling, she took them from him. “Thank you. I didn’t even think to bring gloves.” She tore off the label, put them on, and curled her fingers a few times. “Perfect fit.”

Bryce had felt the same when he’d held her closely against him. He leveled his gaze on hers. “I agree,” he said, his tone laden with innuendo.

Her lips twitched up at the corners. “About that plywood we’re going to toss?”

He put on his gloves and they wrangled the board over the rail, sending it soaring down to the deck three floors below. One of the corners broke off, but the rest of the sheet stayed intact, nails down.

“We nailed it,” Holly quipped.

Bryce shook his head. “You did not just say that.”

She raised her chin, laughter dancing in her eyes. “Take a lesson, mister. That was a 9.7 right there. We lost a corner, but we stuck the landing.”

Bryce needed a lesson all right. She might just be the elusive perfect ten she’d teased about—emphasis on elusive—and he was working overtime trying to entice her.

He glanced over the rail, a playful smirk on his face. “Got it.”

“Excellent.”

He shook his head, playing along. “I’m going to pull the plywood off these windows, then do what I can for the ones in the bedroom.” He gestured toward the large bedroom window that bordered the balcony. “Since that window doesn’t open, the best I’ll probably be able to do is pry the wood away with a hammer and splinter it with the maul.”

“We’ll make do. It’s already so much better than it was—now we have a clear view of things.”

Bryce pressed his lips together tightly. “In one sense.” He gazed into the suite, realizing that removing the plywood was the easy part. Facing what was in there might be much harder. “I can’t keep asking George for the keys, so we have to get all the information we can today.” Conflicted over whether they’d be compromising a crime scene, he caught her gaze and asked, “You think I’m doing the right thing here, or should I have reported this to the police?” It struck him how much her opinion really mattered to him—how much
she
was beginning to matter to him.

Holly furrowed her brow and blinked a couple of times, seeming to give his question serious thought. “It’s hard for me to say. I’m not as close to it all as you are.”

He took her gloved hand in his. “Close enough to get burned if something goes wrong.” His stomach clenched. “If there’s any truth to the rumor you told me, something serious could’ve gone down here.”

“If we come to that conclusion, then we’ll notify the police.” She squeezed his hand. “Let’s check out these rooms and see what we find.”

With her heart still beating in fast-forward from her close encounter with Bryce, Holly headed into the suite, confused by her own reactions. Why had she suggested that they get back to work when things had started to heat up between them?

And felt so right…

Clearly he wanted her, too. His response to her had been apparent—so sexy and virile that she’d nearly given in and kept going.

Just like I did with Max.

She knew better…But she wanted to be with Bryce, to get to know him, to feel the strength of his rugged body.

And that’s the danger of it.

He was everything she might want—masculine and magnetic, yet not overly into himself. Open and sensitive, but with a rough, irresistible edge. She suspected there was even more that would attract her to Bryce if she’d give herself a chance to dig deeper. Get closer. But he didn’t live in Thistle Bend full time, and she couldn’t imagine he was going to—not with a lodge in Costa Rica, too. If anything developed between them, the best she would get from him was part time.

Even so, her body urged her to go with the connection they clearly had with each other, enjoy whatever came from it, and move on afterward if nothing real materialized. But her heart was still bruised from falling for Max so hard and so quickly. No way could she take a risk like that again. Holly had been hurt over their breakup way longer than they’d even been together. She knew what bad could come from going all in too soon.

Best not to go in at all.

But she’d blown that yesterday with her oh-so-sexy first kiss with Bryce. Any idea she’d had of resisting him in that moment had vanished with the feathery brush of his lips. She’d loved the feel of his mouth on hers, the scratch of his whiskers, the sweep of his tongue. It had been enough to keep her awake most of the night, and to entice her to come back to the lodge today. Then she’d stepped out on the balcony, into his arms, and been enticed with another sizzling kiss. Holly knew well enough where kisses like that one promised to lead, and she’d fought the urge to give in and go there.

Heat rose in her face as she replayed the sweet sensations in her mind, losing herself in the anticipation of being with him.

The clutch of his hand at her back.

The touch of his hands on her skin.

The slip of his finger beneath her bra strap.

Despite all the real concerns she should have, all she wanted was more. But could she allow herself to let go? Any involvement with him would likely be temporary,
and
he was buying the lodge. Holly already dreaded the talk she had to have with her grandpa about the lodge coming back into their lives. She couldn’t fathom telling him that, aside from its next owner being her client, she was also interested in him romantically.

Outside on the balcony, Bryce worked to pry the plywood from the window, his flannel shirt pulling across his sturdy shoulders, a determined look on his scruffy face. Despite her sternest warnings, she tensed with desire for him. She swallowed hard, conflicted. How many guys like Bryce was she going to meet in Thistle Bend?

Holly kneeled next to the end table adjacent to the couch, coming face-to-face with the sepia-toned portrait of the familiar-looking man she had yet to identify. She’d meant to ask Lindsey about him. But after Lindsey busted her over kissing Bryce, their conversation had become all about the pros and cons of getting involved with him.

“How did you know we kissed?” Holly had asked, her heart hammering.

Lindsey had given her a sly grin. “I didn’t until I asked, but you just confirmed it.”

“Aww,” Holly had moaned, burying her face in her hands for a moment. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”

“Surely you don’t mean Bryce, because I don’t see how you could stop yourself. Was it amazing?” Lindsey had gazed up into the ceiling, all dreamy-eyed. “It had to be.”

Beyond amazing.

Holly had wanted to say that she’d have to try it again to be certain, but the quip had stalled on her tongue. Even then she’d been discouraging herself from getting carried away over Bryce.

After their pros-and-cons debate, Lindsey had dug in on the pro side, urging Holly to “go for it”—easy for Lindsey to do since things had worked out so well for her and Carden.

But they’d had their challenges, too.

Holly pulled off the gloves Bryce had bought her and stared at them, lost in thought. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out with a sigh.

“Everything okay?”

Snapping to attention, she jerked her head up to see Bryce leaning against the doorjamb, his strong shoulders silhouetted against the blue sky. He’d removed the plywood from both of the large windows flanking the sliding glass door. “Um, sure,” she said, not even convincing herself. “Much brighter. I was just wondering if you were thinking about taking things of interest with us, just snapping photos and leaving the stuff here, or what?”

He stepped in front of the stone fireplace, came to her side, and sank down on one knee, wincing. “Knees are still kinda sore.”

“I was surprised you could even walk right after that fall you took.”

“Hurt like hell, but I was trying to impress you.” He winked.

Holly’s heart fluttered. He’d managed the perfect mix of flirty and sincere. “You did,” she said in a breathy voice that she barely recognized.

Bryce raised his eyebrows. His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, and he leaned toward her. Holly would swear he was about to kiss her again, and this time she might not find the discipline to stop whatever he started. Her pulse swished faster.

But the picture on the lower shelf of the end table caught Bryce’s attention. “What the…” He drew his head back, his brow furrowed. “Looks like we have an audience.”

Holly recalibrated herself, blinking away her disappointment. She’d been so ready for that kiss. Adrenaline seeped from her system, the battle between her body and her emotions wearing her out. She absently licked her lips as Bryce grabbed the frame, took a closer look at the photograph, and shook his head.

“Got any ideas who this guy might be?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I’m nearly certain I’ve seen that picture somewhere before—probably in the Thistle Bend Museum. Lindsey would probably know.” Holly decided not to tell him that she’d gone to the museum that morning intending to identify the man, yet she’d spent her time telling the sad story of her family and the lodge, and discussing Bryce instead. She pulled her phone from her pocket, tapped her way to the last item in her photo album, and showed it to him. “I took this picture yesterday, hoping it would spark a clearer memory when I looked at it again.”

“Wanna send it to Lindsey and see if she can identify him?”

Holly bunched her lips and set her gaze on his. “She’s going pull out all the W’s on me. Are you ready for that?”

A crease formed between his eyebrows. “The W’s?”

“Who, what, where, when, why?” Holly held up her balled hand and lifted a finger for each W. “She’ll want all the details because she’s totally into all this historic stuff. They sure got the right girl for the job when they hired her to curate the museum.”

Bryce studied the picture that he held, running his thumb along the grain of the dark wooden frame. “Can we trust her?”

Holly’s stomach clenched at the depth of worry in his tone. “Yes. I’ve never met anyone who can keep secrets like Lindsey. She and I had been friends for months before I found out about her relationship with Carden—the superhero guy she dates. By then they had been together, broken up, and gotten back together again. Any girl who can keep guy stories like that secret can certainly stay quiet about this.”

He put the picture back on the lower shelf of the table, nodded slowly, and gave her a loaded sidelong glance. “What about your guy stories? I’d be interested in those.”

Holly’s adrenaline returned with a surge. Heat radiated in her face. She lifted one shoulder in an effort to appear unaffected. “There aren’t many—none current—and they’re not that interesting.” Her heart tumbled at the thought of Max.

Gray clouds scudded across the blue sky outside, dimming the brightness in the room.

Bryce reached out, skimmed his fingertips beneath her chin, and guided her head until she faced him. “Something in your eyes tells me that one of them is still haunting you.”

Holly swallowed hard. She thought she’d been cleverly hiding her secrets from him. What else had her eyes betrayed? She grasped his hand and pulled it away from her chin, yet kept hold of it. “Don’t we all have a story like that?” she asked, hoping she’d dodged his query. But how long could she stay guarded with him, especially with the warmth and strength of his hand in hers?

Something flickered in his eyes, as if she’d hit on a sensitive subject herself.

“Maybe we do.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. “But I’m most interested in yours.”

The contrast of his masculine ruggedness and that gentle kiss nearly undid her. Desire to get closer to him threatened to undermine her caution. She swept her gaze over his tousled hair, his sincere green eyes, his taut quads straining beneath the faded denim of his jeans.

But I’m most interested in yours.

Right now, she was nearly willing to give up, to give in, to reveal some of herself to him. Ironically, it was a “Max” moment, which could start a similar chain of events that might again leave her hurt and empty. She bolstered herself with a deep breath and said, “There was a guy a couple of years ago—someone who was visiting here that I met and fell pretty hard for.” There was no need to tell Bryce how quickly it had happened, how she swore she’d never do that again, and how every second she spent with him chipped away at her promise.

“We did the long-distance thing for a little while and got closer—even met each other’s families. Things were good…until he asked me to move to Charlotte.” She bowed her head and shook it. “As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t do it. I was too rooted in Thistle Bend with my law practice, my family, my home. The same was true for him in Charlotte, only with his family’s business, seventeen hundred and fifty miles away—but who’s counting?” She gave Bryce a rueful smile. “I thought I’d found the one. But it wasn’t meant to be.”

No sooner was the story out of Holly’s mouth than she regretted telling it. As vague as she’d been with the details, it revealed things about her that she wasn’t sure she wanted Bryce to know. But if she was going to risk getting involved with him, at least she’d been up front about what was really important to her. Whatever happened, he couldn’t claim that she hadn’t made it clear.

Bryce met her gaze. “I’m sorry.” He leaned in at an angle that kept the bills of their caps from colliding, and touched his lips to hers. Warmth swirled through her as the tender kiss tugged at her heart. It wasn’t a come-on, or a prelude to more, just a sweet reminder that someone better suited might be out there for her.

Him.

He pulled away, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But that gives me a chance to be the superhero
you
date.”

Man, this guy had the lines and, boy, were they believable. His kisses were pretty convincing, too. Holly glanced at him demurely. “You’re off to a decent start.”

His smile broadened, his eyes glimmering with possibility.

She held his gaze a moment, feeling lighter. Glancing at the picture Bryce had replaced on the shelf, she said, “About our distinguished gentleman over there.” She pressed her finger over the power button of her phone, brought his photo back to her screen, and tipped it toward Bryce. “Should I send this to Lindsey?”

“Fire away.”

Appreciating that he trusted her judgment, Holly typed a text to Lindsey and attached the picture.

Recognize this guy?

She pressed send, and hoped Lindsey would respond quickly.

“While we’re waiting,” Bryce said, “let’s see what we can figure out about this bizarre time capsule we’ve discovered.” His tone was casual, yet Holly could tell he was forcing it.

Since they were getting things out in the open, she asked, “What do you think happened here? Why was this suite left like this and hidden away?”

He stood, wincing again, and sat at the end of the couch, his elbows propped on his knees. “I don’t have a solid guess. But the rumor you mentioned yesterday has got me a little spooked. If a woman really did disappear from here right before the place closed, then it makes sense that someone would want to hide evidence that would prove it.” He lifted his cap, swiped his hair back beneath it, and put it back on snugly. “But why not just clear this suite out like the rest of the lodge? Who would’ve known any different?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

Bryce picked up the short stack of tabloid-sized Thistle Bend weekly newspapers from the end table next to him—the ones that Holly had seen yesterday. “Come check these out with me.” He extended his hand, helping her up, and she joined him on the couch.

Holly sat close and he fanned the newspapers across their laps.

“These are all dated about five years ago, during the last months the lodge was open.” She focused on the headlines of the articles circled in that awful reddish-brown color, and figured he was doing the same.

Lodge Employees Receive Partial Pay and IOUs.

The Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge Defaults on Loan Payments.

Lodge Slated for Foreclosure.

The last paper in the stack featured the boldest headline, printed just below the masthead.

FORECLOSED—The Saga of the Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge Ends.

Beneath the headline was a grainy picture of Adam Evanston, standing in front of the lodge. As Holly leaned in for a closer look, Bryce slid the papers from his lap onto hers and stood.

“There’s a drawer full of newspapers in the bureau in the bedroom,” he said, “with the same kind of circles around articles about this place.”

Holly narrowed her eyes. “A whole drawer full? That would have to be several years of newspapers.”

Bryce strode into the bedroom. Wood squealed against wood, and he returned to the living area carrying a drawer filled with yellowed newspapers, with similar creepy reddish circles surrounding select articles, just as he’d said. He set the drawer on the large, rectangular ottoman in front of the couch.