And now he wanted to fix her.
A different type of woman might have been tempted. Maybe she was, too...a little.
But she knew some things couldn’t be fixed.
“Thanks, but I’ve been fixing myself since I was thirteen years old so I’ve had plenty of practice. Good night, Jackson.” She ducked under his arm and stomped over temptation into the warmth of the cabin.
* * *
I’VE BEEN FIXING myself since I was thirteen years old.
He wondered what she’d been fixing.
Whatever it was, something or someone had upset her tonight.
Jackson turned up his collar against the cold and took a long, last look at the closed door before crunching through the snow back to his car.
Maybe it was just being here.
Maybe it had finally hit her that in her eagerness for the business, she’d volunteered to give up her Christmas. Maybe seeing his family had made her think of hers. Maybe she was homesick.
It could have been any number of things, none of which were his business.
Ignoring the powerful urge to make it his business, Jackson reversed out of the parking spot and drove back down the track that led to the main lodge. He was guessing his brother would be there, and he was right.
Tyler was seated at the bar, entertaining a group of guests with stories of bear encounters and downhill daring. Spying Jackson, he threw a remark at the group that had them laughing, then made his excuses and joined his brother.
“You look as if you need a drink, and I guess I owe you one.”
“One? You owe me at least a hundred.”
Tyler reached across the bar and snagged a couple of beers. “So did you drive her back to the airport?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because when she stumbled out of the kitchen she didn’t look like she was planning on staying around.”
Jackson closed his hand around the beer. “Does she seem like a quitter to you?”
“No. Anyone who can still be talking business while Mom is forcing food on them and Grams is trying to wrap them in lurid green is definitely not a quitter. But she seemed serious about her job and anyone like that isn’t going to last five minutes in this place.”
“Thanks.”
“You don’t count. You’re tied here by blood and a guilty conscience.” Tyler glanced over his shoulder as the door swung open letting in freezing air, a flurry of snow and another group of tourists. “So if she isn’t on her way back to New York, where is she? The least you could have done was invite her for a drink. God knows, if she’s working for this family she’s going to need one.”
Jackson wondered how his brother knew about the guilty conscience. It wasn’t something he’d talked about. “I offered. She wanted to go back to the cabin and do some work. Talking of which...” He leaned across to the bar and called Pete over. “Can you send a pizza over to cabin ten please?”
“Toppings?”
Jackson glanced at Tyler for inspiration. “What do Brits like on their pizza?”
“How do I know? Stick to cheese. She might be vegetarian. She looked stressed enough to be one. Although, come to think of it she looked the way we all look after an evening with the O’Neils. My advice? Hold the pizza and send over whiskey.”
“Cheese and tomato.” Jackson dug out his wallet and handed over a note.
“Why are you paying when you own the place?”
“Because I want the books to balance.”