Cowboys & Angels. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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“Then why didn’t she identify herself when she hauled your ass to the hospital? Something’s not adding up here.”
“I know, and I mean to get to the bottom of that. But the main issue is her principles. She doesn’t believe resort employees should get involved with resort guests.”
Watkins nodded. “She must be a sensible woman, then. You can’t have that kind of thing in a fancy establishment like this. You need to respect her wishes on that.”
“I will. And I do. But don’t you think this is a special case? She saved my life. And she likes me. I hate to waste time on rules and regulations in this situation.”
Watkins smiled. “You’re talking about four days, right?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“It’s not a long time, son. I know at your age it seems forever, but trust me, those four days will go by fast.”
“I suppose.” Once again, Trey didn’t agree with Watkins. After eight months of searching for his mystery woman, he’d finally found her, and she was wonderful. He was eager to explore the possibilities, and they’d both be staying under the same roof, so to speak. He couldn’t imagine how time spent that way would go by fast.
“You don’t believe me.” Watkins clapped a hand on his shoulder. “That’s okay. But don’t go back to your room and stare at the ceiling all night. Get your guitar and come down for a drink. I know these guys who are playing, and they’d probably let you sit in on a set or two. It’ll be good practice.”
“Sure, why not?” Given that his hands were tied when it came to Elle, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend the evening.
* * *
AFTER A QUICK supper in the employees’ dining room, Elle climbed the stairs to her room on the second floor of the staff’s quarters. A printout of the next day’s schedule had been left on her desk, and she picked it up. No big surprise, Trey had registered for her group lesson first thing in the morning.
She was one of three ski instructors employed by Serenity, but Annalise had been given the weekend off because these guests wouldn’t need advanced lessons. Elle and her colleague Jared could handle the Last Chance group, who were mostly all beginners.
Switching Trey to Jared’s group would make an issue out of the situation, so she’d leave the schedule as it was. But she had to smile when she noticed that Jared had all women except for a guy named Watkins, and she had all men.
Besides Trey, Elle would be working with Alex Keller, Nash Bledsoe, Jeb Branford and two of the Chance brothers, Gabe and Nick. Elle hadn’t met any of them, although she certainly recognized the names of the Chance boys. There was a third brother, Jack, but apparently he wasn’t into skiing lessons.
All the men except Alex Keller had checked the beginner box on the sign-up sheet. Alex had checked the box indicating he had some experience, which meant he might be willing to help the others. All in all, it should be a fun morning. She loved taking nonskiers and turning them into enthusiastic fans of the sport.
As she considered whether to hit the sack early to be ready for tomorrow’s activities, her cell phone chimed. For some reason, Amy, the bartender on duty tonight, was calling her. Elle picked up her phone. “Hey, Amy.”
“Unless you’re in your jammies already, you should get yourself down here.”
“I was almost in my jammies. What’s happening?”
“One of the guys from the Last Chance is performing with the band and he is hot. I know you’re a country fan. Come down and I’ll put you to work behind the bar so you’ll have an excuse to hang around.”
Elle had become enamored of country music in the past year, and hearing it live was always a treat. Besides, she didn’t feel tired enough to go to bed yet. “Thanks, I’ll be right there.” Disconnecting the phone, she ran a comb through her hair, reapplied her lipstick, popped a mint and grabbed her room key. She’d helped Amy behind the bar a few times before, and she liked the job.
On her way downstairs, she breathed in the scent of Christmas. Serenity went all-out this time of year, and she liked spending the holidays here. Each guest room door had its own fresh wreath, complete with a couple of cinnamon sticks tucked into a big red bow.
Staff members didn’t get wreaths, but they were all given small trees to decorate. Hers was sitting in a corner of her room, waiting for her to get busy with lights and ornaments. Until she did, she could enjoy the fifteen-foot blue spruce in the lobby, which sparkled with lights and elegant glass balls. Pine boughs, pinecones and festive ribbons decorated the check-in desk.
The bar opened off the lobby, so the music drifted toward her as she walked past the Christmas tree toward the heavy double doors inset with stained glass. Someone was singing in a husky baritone that tickled her nerve endings.
“Going in to hear our new star?” called Ralph from the front desk.
“Yeah, I’m told he’s pretty good. Amy is letting me help behind the bar.”
Ralph laughed. “Have fun. The women tell me he looks pretty good, too.”
“I’m just here for the music, Ralph.”
“That’s what they all say.”
As Elle grasped the brass handle and opened the door, she had a premonition about who this sexy country singer might be, but she discounted it. The universe wouldn’t be so generous as to give the bodacious Trey Wheeler a great singing voice, too.
Obviously the universe was exactly that generous. Sitting on a stool in front of the mike, strumming his guitar and crooning a solo love song, was the man she was determined to avoid, the man every woman in the room was fixated on. The rest of the band was silent, not that they would have been noticed if they had decided to play backup.
Trey’s face was shielded by the lowered brim of his hat, and he seemed completely absorbed in his music. He cradled the guitar in his lap. One booted foot rested on the floor and the other was propped on a rung of the stool. His supple fingers moved up and down the guitar’s polished neck in a sensuous dance as his voice flowed over her, intimate as a caress.
Lost in a daze of feminine appreciation, she stood motionless in the doorway. The atmosphere in the room was electric. Nobody laughed. No glasses clinked. Trey had them all in the palm of his hand.
Then he looked up, as if he’d sensed her come in, and he gazed straight into her eyes.
Her breath caught. He was no longer singing to some unidentified lover. He was singing to her. The passionate lyrics spilled from his lips with such longing that she took a step closer. His slow smile told her he’d noticed, and she halted, embarrassed by how he’d hypnotized her.
Mercifully, the song ended before Elle lost all sense of propriety. After the raucous applause died down, Trey stepped back and the band launched into a lively swing tune. Another guitarist moved up to the mike to belt out the lyrics, and Elle hurried over to the bar.
Amy, who wore her dark hair piled on top of her head, grinned at her. “Told you.”