Steam (Homecoming Hearts #4)(11)

“Blimey,” he said once he could speak again. “Well, I guess I know what to do if I don’t find Mr. Right.”

But Maeve shook her head, her expression a little more serious. “Don’t you worry. A nice boy like you? You’ll be just fine,” she assured him. “But some time alone up here will no doubt do you good.”

Ashby wasn’t so sure. Aside from his wealth and the looks he was born with, deep down he suspected Gordon was right. He was pretty unremarkable.

“I thought I might try finding myself,” he admitted sheepishly. Maybe he would have something of substance if he looked hard enough.

But Maeve raised an eyebrow at him. “Hell yeah. You do that, baby.”

“This didn’t seem like the kind of place that drew a young crowd,” Ashby said. “I was hoping to avoid a party scene.”

Maeve sighed. “Yep, nothing exciting ever happens around here. You’ll be safe.”

She sounded sad. It was probably a little dull if this was your job. Considering how far away the towns were and how much she’d already drunk, Ashby wondered if she lived onsite, too.

Selfishly, safe, dull and a lack of men were exactly what he wanted. But maybe he could make a friend or two while he was here.

He held his glass up again for her to clink once more. “Here’s to a good holiday,” he said. “And new friends.”

They tapped glasses. “I’ll drink to that,” said Maeve with a wink.





5





Trent





Trent looked down at the large St. Bernard puppy squirming on his lap in the cab and wondered for the hundredth time if this wasn’t the worst idea he had ever had. Over the years, Trent had indulged in some truly spectacularly bad ideas. But this could possibly make the top ten.

The puppy was wriggling and wagging his tail and licking Trent’s hand like he had never been happier in his whole, short life. “How could I think you’re a bad idea?” Trent mumbled into the little dude’s fur. Or, not-so-little. He weighed more than Trent’s luggage, he was almost certain.

Trent took a breath and reminded himself again that the fact that there had been a St. Bernard breeder in Jackson, Wyoming, with a litter ready to go and just one pup left the very week Trent had come home, was a sign from the universe he wasn’t willing to ignore. Even if this was a dumb idea, the stars had aligned for him and there was no going back now.

He looked out at the weak midday sunshine reflecting blindingly off the endless fucking snow and sighed. The only good thing about this weather was that it meant snowboarding, something Trent intended to do a lot of while he was here. The resort didn’t have a gym, so he was going to struggle to stay in shape during his stay. The best he’d been able to do was order a set of weights for his cabin.

His dad knew he was coming. Trent suspected that Barry had phoned Trenton James Charles Sr. in the couple of days it had taken Trent to fly out here and smoothed the way. Or tried to, at least. But in any case, Trent’s dad had emailed him to let him know that the resort had a staff cabin he could rent for a reduced rate. Trent had wanted to write back and say he could afford the full rate, because he didn’t want to come across as taking advantage. But he knew that kind of offer would be perceived as ungrateful.

He’d wanted some kind of peace offering to go to his dad with, though. Hence, the crazy idea of the puppy.

Trent looked down at the not-so-little guy and chewed his lip. He deliberately hadn’t been back to the resort since the accident. He knew his dad was mad at him for that, but what could Trent do to make it better? He’d need a time machine to be able to say goodbye to his mom, and the longer he left it with his dad, the more awkward it became.

Two years was a fairly long time. Trent wasn’t sure what he was even going to say when he saw his dad again. But he’d have to figure it out soon.

They were pulling up to the resort.

When Trent had been growing up, they’d lived in one of the actual towns about a forty-minute drive away. But when he’d left home at eighteen to chase his fame and fortune, his folks had quit their losses and moved into the staff accommodation. After over a decade here, Trent knew his dad felt like this was his home more than anywhere else had ever been. He loved the Grand Resort. More than he loved his son, Trent was almost certain.

Trent had never been all that close with his parents, but they’d gotten along as much as possible with Trent being such a rebellious teen. They had at least tried to understand how stifling he’d found small-town life. Trent was meant for the big wide world, not Buttfuck, Nowhere, Wyoming. He had been happy for them to leave his childhood home as soon as he flew the nest. The resort was their home, their family.

Trent glowered at the shabby front entrance. It hadn’t looked so dilapidated before. But it seemed appropriate to him. After all, this place had taken his mom from them all.

He didn’t understand how his dad could stay here for two years with all those memories haunting him. But he had. Trent couldn’t help but feel like his dad had forgiven the resort far quicker than he had Trent.

“Thanks, man,” he muttered to the cab driver as he paid him.

He let the chubby puppy down in the snow where he immediately started tugging at his leash, attacking the powder with tiny growls as he pounced and dug a few holes. Trent looped the end of the leash over his wrist, then picked up his two bags to take them toward the front door. Despite wearing sunglasses, Trent still squinted up at the lodge. Wow, the place had really gone downhill. What had happened?