A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(45)

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. But every time Reed and I are near each other, I lose my head a little more.

With my skittish heart pounding, I unlock the door.





CHAPTER 22




YOU CONTROL THIS THING?





REED

As soon as Ava unlocks the offices, I pass her desk and enter my father’s office.

She follows me. “What could you possibly need in here?”

I don’t answer the question. Not yet, anyway. Dad’s laptop is on his desk, and on its underside, I find one of those stick-on tracking devices that help people retrieve lost items. I wedge my thumbnail under the tile-shaped tracker and peel it off the metal surface.

“Reed! What are you doing?”

“You control this thing, right?”

“I maintain the account, if that’s what you’re asking. But don’t steal that, Reed. We need that thing.”

“I’m not stealing it, I’m borrowing it. You’ll have it back tomorrow. Thanks,” I say as if it’s settled.

“Reed! Are you going to explain? I’m worried.”

“You’ll see. I just need to keep track of something. Will this thing run out of batteries?”

Slowly, she shakes her head. “Probably not.”

“Awesome.” I slip it into my pocket and head for the lobby.

“Hey, wait up,” she says.

“Let me just take care of this?” I beg. “I don’t want to implicate you.”

“What?” Ava hurries after me, as I feared she would. “Reed, you’re scaring me.”

“Don’t be scared.” I catch her hand in mine. “Hey, look at this crowd.” The lobby is filling up with travelers in ski jackets, snow in their hair. It’s Friday night on opening weekend, and the air that blows through the lobby doors smells like snow.

I’d forgotten this buzz of excitement that happens when the season begins. The hum of anticipation used to send me off to sharpen my skis on the workbench in the ski shop. The place would be full of seasonal workers tuning up the rental skis, blasting music, and arguing about whose turn it was to pay for beer.

Pushing those memories aside, I look for the bellhop who’d taken my keys. He’s not back yet. He must still be fetching my car or parking someone else’s.

I take a look at Ava, who’s watching me with a wary expression. “What are you playing at?” She’s wearing a red suit, a snowy blouse, and demure pearl earrings. She looks like a sexy office angel.

A pissed-off angel. If that’s a thing.

The elevator dings, and all the Sharpes exit it. Crap. I’m running out of time. “Where are the bellhops?” I whisper. “Are you sure this place is adequately staffed?”

Ava gives me a glare that could start a forest fire. She steps up to the doors, and they part for her automatically. “Hardy! Who’s bringing around Reed’s SUV?”

“It’s coming, ma’am,” he says, strolling into view, holding a snow shovel. The kid is out there scraping the first dusting of snow off the sidewalk already, proving that the place really is well run.

The SUV rolls up a half second later, just as the Sharpes reach the door.

“Perfect!” I say, clapping my hands together. “Right this way, guys. The keys are in it.” All I need is a reason to open one of the doors and drop the tracker. “Hey—you’ll need a shovel, just in case you have to dig out the car. Can’t be too careful.”

I step up to the bellhop and remove the shovel from his hands. He blinks at me, surprised, but he doesn’t argue. I open the SUV’s hatch, place the shovel inside, and then I discreetly sneak the tracker under the shovel.

“Have a great evening! Take care in the snow.”

I slam the hatch and step away from the car. Then I give the Sharpes a wave and head back inside the hotel.

Naturally, Ava is right on my heels. “What the hell did you just do?” she whisper shouts as I head for the elevator. “You’re stalking them now?”

“That’s too strong a word,” I insist. “It’s my version of due diligence.”

“You don’t think they’re going to dinner in Denver?” she asks. “Why would they lie about that?”

“No idea. Do you have the tracking app on your phone?”

She scowls. “Who wants to know?”

The elevator door slides open, and I sweep a hand forward, ushering her into the car.

She glares at me for a beat before stepping inside. “When did you become paranoid and cynical, Reed? The guy I knew in college wasn’t either of those things.”

“They teach it at business school. Let’s check out this Colorado Suite you put me in. How’s the room service menu these days?”

She blinks. “What? Why?”

“Because I feel like some refreshments while I wait to see what our suitors are up to. Got any favorite dishes?”

“The artichoke dip.”

“Ooh, good pick. Wine? Bottle of moonshine?”

She shudders, and I laugh.

The elevator doors part, and Ava points out the door to my new hotel room. But she doesn’t look entirely happy about it.

I scan the key card, and when I open the door, I see Sheila sitting on the sofa, her feet up on the footstool, the fire crackling before her. “Something wrong with your room?” I ask.