A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(15)

It’s so familiar I feel as though I’ve just chugged a cocktail of sadness and longing. Memories are damn potent.

But Ava looks like she’s ready to spit fire at me. I deserve that.

The least I can do is say so. “Ava, I’m sorry,” I say gently. “I’m sorry for every dumbass thing I did when I was twenty-two.”

Her eyes widen dramatically, and I don’t miss the pain that slashes through them.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, I can’t make you. But you’re stuck with me for a few days. I’m sorry about that, too.”

Her pretty mouth opens and closes, as if she has no idea what to do with this bit of pure honesty.

So I reach past her, open the door, and walk into the room.





CHAPTER 8




THE RICH KID FROM COLORADO





AVA Reed Madigan just apologized to me. After a decade of silence, he apologized. Now he’s taking a seat by the window like he belongs here.

And I’m so mad I could break things. Like his face, for starters.

On shaky knees, I walk into the Evergreen Room and sit down in the first chair I see. Robotically, I pull out my laptop out of my shoulder bag and set it on the table. I open it and then stare at the screen with unseeing eyes.

What am I supposed to do now? I can’t do my job with Reed lurking in my consciousness. For the first time in years, he’s living rent free in my head. And that was before he blindsided me with an apology.

I don’t want to travel back in time. I don’t want to think about how devastating our breakup was to me. That man wrecked me. I can’t deal with him and think straight at the same time. It’s just impossible. The best I can manage to do right now is pick up my coffee cup and take a deep pull.

I need to focus. I need Reed Madigan gone.

But now he’s propping up his own laptop on the deep windowsill. Then he pulls out his phone and makes a call.

I eavesdrop. Not like he’s making it difficult.

“Good morning, Sheila,” he says in a warm voice.

And all the air is sucked right out of my body again. Who’s Sheila?

“Before you bombard me with the day’s updates, I need to tell you we’ve had a sudden change of plans.”

I hear a high-pitched reaction coming from his phone, but I can’t make out the words.

“Now, hang on,” he says. “Shouldn’t you wait for details before you threaten me with bodily harm? Have you ever been to Colorado? I could use your help here. So unless you hate the idea of fresh air and mountain views, please book yourself a flight to Denver. And I have an assignment for you while you’re on the plane.”

That’s when I remember to breathe. Sheila must be his assistant. Thank God, because if Reed’s girlfriend or fiancée turned up this evening, I think my head would pop right off. The only thing worse than trying to forget all the times your ex made you the center of his world is remembering them while he’s holding hands with some other woman.

I’m sure Reed’s girlfriend exists. I just don’t want to meet her.

“And while you’re airborne,” he says, “I need you to pull any numbers you can find on the recent sale of ski resorts. There won’t be many. After that, look for sales of resort hotels in ski locations, sorted by the size of the property. Room count or bed count—whatever metric hotels use. Note the proximity to a ski lift. And then check LinkedIn to see if I know anybody who buys and sells hotels.”

Sheila speaks rapidly for a moment, and then Reed responds, “Yeah, just a spreadsheet. It doesn’t have to look pretty. Landing at four thirty? Awesome. Grab that seat before it’s gone. I’ll send you the name of a taxi company who can pick you up at the airport. Put all your travel on my personal card, by the way. And we have to find you a room. I hear it’s tight. I can go and beg the front desk, but—”

Oh no. If his assistant is looking at the resort website right now, I’m so screwed.

“Really,” he says slowly. “You found a room right on Madigan Mountain? You don’t say.” His eyes cut over to me, and his gaze is accusatory.

Shit!

“Awesome, Sheila. Go ahead and book it through the weekend if you want. I heard it’s going to snow. Do you ski? Cool. Hey—while you’re in there, book a room for me. Do you see any suites?”

Oh God. I want to die. Immediately.

“The newly renovated Vista Suite? Sounds magical. Yeah, give me that one.” He gives me another sideways glance.

And I give up on even pretending to work. This is a disaster. I just drink my coffee and openly listen to his conversation. I hope he won’t tattle on me to his father. This is going to be so embarrassing.

“Okay, good. Now hit me with your nagging. Who’s on my call sheet today?” He pulls a pen and a tidy little Moleskine notebook out of his messenger bag and starts scribbling. “Right. Yup. Uh… no, I actually forgot to call Harper. There’s a lot going on here…” He suddenly holds the phone away from his ear, and I hear the tinny sound of a woman yelling at him. “Christ,” he murmurs. When the shouting quiets down, he puts the phone against his ear again. “Okay, I know. I’m an asshole. I will call her right after I hang up with you.” He actually drops his pen and puts his hand against his heart. “I solemnly swear.”