A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain #1)(50)

“Sure,” he grunts. “Unless you’d rather have me do it. If you don’t want to deal with him.”

“I deal with him all the time. Actually, I’ll stop in our office and print it out for him. He doesn’t like to look at documents on his phone, and he doesn’t bring his laptop home in the evenings. It’s a deal he has with Melody. No work after supper.”

“Wow.”

“I know. He’s a new man these days. I’m sorry you didn’t get that version of him.”

Reed’s eyes are steady on the snowy road. “You know, I once did. Right up until the moment I didn’t.” He puts on the blinker for the turn up Old Mine Road. “Where do you want me to drop you?”

“Let’s just put the car back in the employee lot. I really need to change out of this skirt and into dry clothes.”

“I’ll bet.” He gives me a quick smile before returning his attention to the winding road. “Thanks for being a trouper. Tell you what—I’ll sweet talk that bartender friend of yours into giving us a bottle of wine and then take it up to the suite and open it.”

“You can try,” I say with a laugh, wondering what Halley will say to that request. “Tell her it’s for me so she doesn’t pour salt into it.”

“Good tip. Maybe I’ll order us another pizza.”

“You and your pizza.”

His chuckle is low and dirty as he hits the power button on my car’s radio.

My most recent playlist starts up automatically, and, whoops, it’s a selection of music from our college era. The song is “I Will Wait” by Mumford and Sons, which played on heavy rotation during our senior year. We probably had sex to this song a dozen times.

Reed doesn’t say anything about my musical choices, thankfully. We drive on in silence, but the car feels cozy even as the snow flies outside our windows.

Sitting next to him makes me feel irrationally happy. Emphasis on irrational.

Reed and I have no future. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Madigan Mountain now. Everything in my life is suddenly uncertain. Even the snowy road is potentially hazardous.

But with Reed humming along to the radio, his strong hands at two and ten on the wheel, I feel as safe as I’ve ever been.





A half an hour later, I’ve got that printout for Mark, and I’ve changed into jeans and a comfortable sweater. And, fine, in a burst of optimism—or foolishness, depending on your worldview—I may have put on some very nice lingerie and tucked my toothbrush and a clean T-shirt into my shoulder bag. Just in case I end up spending the night in Reed’s hotel room.

But first, I stop at the Madigans’ A-frame family home and knock on the door.

Mark answers the door in flannel pants, a Patterson thriller tucked under his arm, and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. “Evening, Ava. Is everything okay?”

“Yes and no,” I say as he steps back to let me in. “Reed and I made a discovery, and I wanted you to see it.”

“Would you like to sit down?” Melody asks from a chair by the fireplace. “I could put the kettle on.”

“No thank you. I just need to give you this photo of a presentation that the Sharpes were giving to Block tonight. They have a huge development planned in town. And it looks like they want to erase the Madigan name off the resort entirely.”

Melody makes a noise of surprise, but Mark growls. “Goddamn it, Reed. He just had to stick his nose in.”

“Mark,” Melody gasps.

Her husband looks down at the page I’ve handed him, a grim expression on his face. “This is grotesque.”

“Exactly,” I quickly agree.

He sighs. “All right. Thank you for bringing this by. But Ava?”

“Yes?” My hand is already on the doorknob. Reed was right—it sucks to be the bearer of difficult news.

“Please don’t breathe a word of this to anyone. If the town gets wind of this, it could tank my sale agreement with the Sharpes.”

“Okay,” I say slowly. And now I’m both confused and a little offended. “I would never tell anyone your private business. I never have.”

He rubs his forehead. It’s a gesture that he shares with his son. “I know, Ava. Sorry. This is just stressful. I hope Reed doesn’t have any foolish ideas about confronting the Sharpes.”

“No,” I say quickly, giving my head a shake. “He said it made sense to play it cool. No reason to let on that we know what they’re up to.”

“Right.” His voice is gruff. “I need to do some thinking.”

“Of course. Reed has some good ideas…”

“I just bet he does,” he grumbles. “Night, Ava. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

After bidding Melody a good night, too, I step outside and close the door behind me. Then I force myself to take a deep breath. Okay, that wasn’t a great conversation. He was so prickly.

Then again, I’d just delivered some terrible news. The men he’d chosen to carry on his legacy were obviously dishonest about their intentions.

He’s hurting, I remind myself. He needs time to get his head around this.

I shoulder my bag and head for the hotel, which is lit up brightly against the falling snow. I quicken my steps.