so in the end, Doug had sold Scott both businesses for next to nothing and had died a week later exactly the way he’d wanted—lying in the sunshine on a beach in Mexico.
At first, Scott hadn’t planned to do much with the resort, instead focusing on fixing up and painting the cargo plane with a new company logo—Scott’s On-Time Delivery, specializing in any kind of pickup or drop-off service the residents of Big Bear needed. Doug’s former customers had been happy to rehire Scott, and he’d easily secured several new regular customers, including a few restaurants near the ski resort and a heavy-machinery repair place in town. Within months, he was doing okay.
But then his brother had visited over the holidays and suggested that he flip the resort for a profit. The place had been closed for a couple of years, but had once been a prime vacation property.
At the time, it sounded easy enough—a fresh coat of paint, some updated fixtures, nice decorative lighting and paintings for the walls...but it had quickly turned into a nightmare renovation project when he discovered a leaky pipe on the third floor had caused water damage to the two floors below it. The electrical wasn’t up to code and the roof was ready to cave in at any moment. Half a million dollars later, the resort was barely recognizable as the same run-down place that had been closed and forgotten for years, but Scott was also so far in the red, he couldn’t let the place go for any less than what he’d paid.
Fix it up and sell it, Derek had said. As if things were that simple. Then again, luck had always been on his older brother’s side. Scott’s own luck consisted of bad and worse, so a year later, all he had was a struggling resort that he didn’t want and not enough time to grow the cargo delivery business that had been his ultimate goal.
He sighed as San Francisco came into view.
And now his brother wanted to use the resort to make the biggest mistake of his life. Scott might not be able to talk Derek out of the wedding, but he didn’t have to host it at his resort.
AS SHE TURNED her Escalade onto Highway 330 later that afternoon, Kate was still fuming. What a rude, arrogant man Scott Dillon was. He’d actually hung up on her. After refusing to host his own brother’s wedding? Well, he might be able to hang up a phone or hide himself away with an unlocatable email address and no Facebook or Twitter accounts, but he couldn’t ignore her when she was standing right in front of him.
Though it had been more determined annoyance than common sense that had driven her to leave her office and head to Big Bear. She wished she’d at least gone home and packed an overnight bag. And now, as she made her way farther north, the tiny snowflakes grew heavier and her windshield wipers struggled to keep up. She wondered if maybe she was acting...a tad desperate?
She was desperate. This wedding was happening in six weeks...in Big Bear...at this resort if it killed her. And it actually might, she thought, wide-eyed, as a large transport truck approached in the opposite lane on the slippery hill.
She gripped the steering wheel and closed her eyes briefly after the vehicle passed.
Her cell phone rang, making her jump after her imagined head-on collision. She cursed to herself, quickly glancing toward the display panel on her dash. Her stomach turned when she saw the number flashing on the screen underneath the name Fuck-head.
She hit the do not answer button on her steering wheel. What the hell did Cooper want? Unfortunately, she knew exactly what he wanted, and it was her own stupid fault. She gripped the steering wheel. How had she been so stupid to have angry, passionate, impromptu sex with her ex-fiancé the week before?
Because she’d been lonely, more than a little drunk and had just lost a big client. And she’d stupidly thought that “coming by to get a few things” he’d left in the garage when he’d moved out was a genuine retrieval mission and not a lame excuse to see her.
The moment she’d opened her front door instead of just allowing him access to the garage, she knew she was in trouble. He’d still been in his police uniform, looking nervous but even more gorgeous than ever, and she hadn’t been able to find the strength to push him away when he’d hugged her. “You look amazing,” he’d said.
In actual fact she’d had mascara-stained cheeks, her hair a tangled mess, wearing an old football jersey, but she’d accepted the words and had clung to him a little longer than was safe.
“I’m sorry, Kate, so sorry,” he’d whispered in her hair. The same words that he’d said repeatedly to her voice mail and in emails for the last ten months. Words that had once been hollow, meaningless, suddenly became fact, a solid reason to avoid listening to common sense as she’d dragged him inside.
His mouth had found hers in an instant, and from there, clothing had been discarded, caution had been abandoned and any sense didn’t have a chance. They’d had sex in the living room, the kitchen, in the shower and on the bed that they’d once shared. It had been great sex—promising, uplifting, rejuvenating...until he was still there the following morning when she’d woken up hungover, regretful and ashamed.
She groaned now at the memory of his face as she’d tossed his boots outside and shoved him through the door. The night had been her fault, her mistake. One she didn’t dare repeat. Did she still love him? Maybe a part of her did—the part that didn’t remember so vividly what it had felt like to dismantle her own wedding before it had occurred. But mostly not. He’d simply caught her at a moment of vulnerability. Which would not be happening again, especially since she’d couriered all of his remaining things to his apartment the next weekend. No more excuses.
A sign to the right of the road caught her eye, and she slowed her speed to peer through the snow. Chain-Up Area, 2 Miles. Chain-up area? What was that? Sounded kind of like spicy erotica, she mused. Which maybe she’d been reading too much of lately.
Two miles ahead, she noticed several cars in the pull-out area, their drivers putting chains on their tires. Ah...that made sense. She bit her lip. Was she supposed to do that? Did she even have chains in the vehicle? Did they come with it? She didn’t think so. Surely the Escalade could handle the snow.
Fifteen miles later, however, she was starting to panic. The snow was even heavier now and falling fast, and the road beneath her tires felt like a sheet of glass. Car horns honked behind her as she slowly crept along the mountainside, continuing her trek north. What the hell had she been thinking to come up here? She’d been to Big Bear once, when her parents were still alive, but that had been in the fall, before the snow and icy conditions set in, and she hadn’t remembered the drive being so winding and dangerous.
When the sign for the Snow Summit resort appeared, she released a deep breath. Thank God, she’d made it—her last thought before the vehicle hit a section of black ice and spun into the opposite lane.
Panicked, she pumped the brakes, which only made the spiraling worse, and as she struggled to regain control of the wheel, the car landed in the deep ditch on the side of the road.
Great, just great. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the seat and forced a deep breath. This was nothing. She wasn’t hurt. She hadn’t hurt anyone... She could handle this.
A tap on the glass a second later made her jump, and her eyes flew open. A man stood beside her car, dressed in a heavy winter coat, hat and gloves. He motioned for her to roll down the window.
She hesitated, but hell, she was stuck in a ditch. Chances were he was more help than
