She’d armed herself with a thermos of coffee and mentally prepared herself for a long drive, but even with a stop for gas, she’d made it in less than four and a half hours, delighted to arrive at the privately owned Little Teton Resort before dark.
Parking her car out front in the area marked for reception, Charity headed into the lodge to check-in. The split-log lodge, built in the late 1960s, was more practical than luxurious, but the soaring ceiling featured sturdy beams, a fragrant Christmas tree in the corner, dark green garland swags over the various doorways, and an enormous wreath with a jaunty red bow over the stacked stone fireplace. The building’s design was more utilitarian than some of the fancier lodges over the mountain in Jackson Hole, but the decorations were cheerful and inviting.
Check-in at the front desk was easy. She gave them Trisha’s name and ID Trish had given her, and the friendly reception clerk handed over a key, a map of the property, and a welcome packet for the Little Teton fam.
“There’s a welcome reception tonight for all the travel agents. The reception will be in this building upstairs in the Fireside Room.” The clerk opened the map and drew some Xs here and there, showing Charity where the Fireside Room was, and then where to park, and how to find her room as Charity wouldn’t be in the main lodge, but in Aspen Lodge, one of the adjacent buildings.
The clerk leaned forward and whispered, “You’re in my favorite building. It has the best coffee and chocolate in all of Little Teton Village. They have morning bakery items too, but they sell out quickly, so if you like a great chocolate croissant, go early.” She glanced around and then dropped her voice even lower. “And maybe best of all, Seattle sportswriter Douglas Quincy is in the Aspen Building, too, on the ground floor, and he’s gorgeous. As well as single. I know, because I asked.”
“Thank you, but no,” Charity answered with a rueful shake of her head. “I’m not looking for love. I’ve sworn off men until the new year.”
“Why?”
“Penance for making bad decisions.” Charity scooped up the paperwork and room key. “But thanks for the tip on the chocolate. Fortunately, I have not given sweets up.”
Charity headed back outside to move her car. It was dark now and lights were coming on, reflecting brightly off the freshly fallen snow. She drew a deep breath, inhaling the crisp cold air, excited to be at the Little Teton for the next five days. It had been a long time since she’d done something just for fun.
Using her map, Charity found her way to the lot behind the two-story Aspen Lodge and parked in one of the many open spaces. As she turned her engine off, she frowned as she surveyed the virtually empty parking lot. It was too quiet. Indeed, when she’d turned down the small Main Street she thought the entire ski town looked quiet. Low numbers had been a problem for the resort and that was why the Pace family had poured money into Little Teton, trying to refresh the resort and ski runs, but the word didn’t seem to have gotten out yet.
Charity swung her backpack filled with books onto her shoulders and then lugged her big suitcase out of the trunk of her old Subaru, glad no one could see her mammoth suitcase. Winter clothes and snow boots took up a lot of room and then she also wanted to bring some cute clothes for the indoor activities. Just because she was single, didn’t mean she couldn’t still feel pretty.
One of the wheels on the suitcase no longer rolled, so she half carried, half dragged the case through the snow toward the lodge entrance. Yellow lamps made everything glow and she drew a deep breath, surprisingly excited to be here.
She’d never been to Jackson Hole, or any of the resorts on this side of the Grand Tetons. It wouldn’t be hard to appear enthusiastic for the fam trip because she really did want to learn about the resort and runs. Charity was determined to take great notes back so Tricia could sell Little Teton to her customers and everyone would be happy.
The backpack straps slid down her shoulders to her arms as she wrested the suitcase over a patch of ice.
“Let me help you,” a deep male voice said from behind her, reaching an arm past her to lift the large case. “You’ve got your hands full.”
“Thank you,” she answered breathlessly, pushing the straps of the backpack up and then a tendril of hair out of her eyes to get a better look at him because first impression was, well, impressive. Second impression was just as positive. He was tall and fit and ruggedly good-looking with shaggy, dark blond hair, scruff on his square jaw, and high hard cheekbones.
“That’s a big suitcase,” he said, opening the front door and holding it for her, before following with the bag.
“A girl has to have options,” she answered with a smile, glancing around the interior. The lobby of Aspen was small, but cozy, with two sets of hunter-green leather chairs, a fire crackling in the stacked stone hearth, and a collection of pine trees in the corner covered in tiny white lights. Huge glass jars filled with candy canes and peppermints decorated the mantel while a white wooden reindeer with a green wreath around its neck filled the low coffee table.
She nodded approvingly, backpack sliding off her shoulder once more. “I wasn’t sure what to expect but this is cute.”
“You’ll like the rooms. They’ve obviously spent a lot of money trying to make it appealing and I think they’ve succeeded.”
She gave up trying to keep the backpack on her shoulder and just let it slide to her feet. “Are you here for the travel agent trip?”
“I am, but I’m not a travel agent. I’m a writer.”
So this was the sportswriter. The desk clerk had called him gorgeous, and he was. “Tricia Thorpe,” she said shyly, extending her hand.
“Douglas Quincy,” he replied, his big hand engulfing hers, fingers closing around hers.
His palm was so warm, and the touch of his skin sent a little jolt of electricity shooting up her arm. Charity quickly retracted her hand, and rubbed it on the back of her coat, trying to erase the tingling sensation. She’d have to be careful around Douglas. He was exactly what she didn’t need, not at this point in her chaotic, confusing life. “Where’s home for you?” she asked.
“Seattle, Washington.”
“Oh, then you’re the one to ask about coffee. I’ve heard there is a great coffee place in this building. Have you seen it?”
“You’ll find the little café down that hall,” he said, pointing to the left. “Elevators and rooms are to the right, and the heated pool is out the door down that little hall.”
She flashed what she hoped was a confident smile. “Great. Well, I’d better get settled.”
“You’ll be at the welcome reception?”
Her pulse sped up, double time. “See you there.”
*
Quinn watched Tricia disappear down the hallway with her massive suitcase and knapsack, her long blonde ponytail swinging.
She was pretty, really pretty, with a wide, uncertain smile and blue eyes that held more than a hint of wariness in them. Her suitcase looked as if he it hadn’t been used in a long time, and her knapsack belonged to a day hiker rather than a world traveler. Quinn suspected she didn’t get out and travel as much as her customers. If that was true, he was glad she was here. He didn’t know why, but she struck him as someone in need of a break, and maybe some fun.
Quinn hadn’t come for fun. When Peter Pace had reached out to Quinn about potentially investing in Little Teton, Quinn’s immediate thought had been no. He didn’t ski due to a clause in his contract, but it hadn’t been a huge loss as he’d liked to ski as a boy, but it had never been a passion. Baseball had always been his thing, and he’d been lucky to turn it into a lucrative career.
But after thinking about Peter’s request a bit more, Quinn at least owed Peter the opportunity to show him what he’d done in Wyoming, which was why Quinn was here now, under the name Douglas Quincy. He wanted to see if there was a way he could help, but he wouldn’t know the answer to that until he’d been here for the week.
*
That evening, Charity spotted Douglas the
moment she entered the meeting room off the main lodge’s lobby. He was the tallest person in the room, and incredibly easy on the eyes. He was also circled by a large group of women who seemed to find him utterly charming.
Charity smiled to herself and went to the beverage table to grab a bottle of water but then spotted the red and white wine and decided, a glass of red would be really lovely about now. She wasn’t exactly nervous being here, but she was out of her element.
As she sipped her wine, she glanced around the room. From the way it’d been set up, she gathered that there would be a presentation. Two rows of chairs faced a podium and screen at one end of the room, while tables of food and drink were at this end.
She snagged some of the skewered meat sticks and cheese cubes before heading toward the chairs. If Tricia was here, she’d mingle with the other agents, but Charity didn’t have Tricia’s confidence. But then, Tricia did these familiarizations all the time as hotels and airlines used the free trips as a way to show off new airplane routes or properties, and Marietta Travel might be small, but Paradise Valley was filled with wealthy people who could afford to go where they wanted, whenever they wanted.
A shadow stretched over her. She glanced up to discover the sportswriter at her side, smiling. His smile was a thing of perfection—straight white teeth, great jaw, lovely mouth.
“Are you saving this row of seats?” he asked, gesturing to her row. “Or can you spare one for me?”
She tore her gaze from his mouth up to his eyes. Those were beautiful, too. He had not been shortchanged in the looks department. “I think I can spare a chair.”
He sat down next to her and extended long, muscular legs. His legs were so long, his all-weather boots were hidden beneath the seat in front of him. “The ladies I just met are all from the West Coast, three from California, one from Oregon and another from Vancouver. They’re very excited to be here.”
“It’s certainly a cute place,” she answered.
“They hit the Ice Shack for dinner and recommended the fondue there. Actually, they raved about the cheese and a chocolate fondue.”