A Cowboy at Heart, page 8
“Why’s that?”
“You’re from here?”
“Sort of. My mom and dad grew up in town, so I’ve spent a lot of time in Telluride with my grandparents. I grew up in Denver, though, really.”
“The other night. Why did you hide from Westgate? You obviously know him.” Trey asked the question with his usual quiet directness, but something about his voice, and how he asked, was different. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but there it was, right in front of her.
“I—” Why had she hidden from Lance...really? She’d nearly convinced herself it was because Lance had always been a jerk, and she hadn’t wanted to deal with him. But if she were truly honest with herself, her pride had gotten in the way.
If they had talked, Lance would have asked her about her life. And while he stood there in his fancy jacket, wearing the imported wing tips, and sporting a high-end salon haircut, she’d have had to admit that yes, she was working full-time in the bar now, and yes, she’d lost her dream job in Denver.
Humiliation was not her favorite outfit.
She moved over to the coffee maker and refilled her cup, lifting the pot in the air toward him. He shook his head and waited while she sat back down on the old chrome kitchen chair and leaned her elbows on the table, her chin in her palms. “Guess I’m a chicken.”
Trey frowned and carefully leaned against the counter, crossing his ankles.
“This from the woman I found searching through a smelly Dumpster, who’s apparently friendly with both the sheriff and the former mayor? Who avoids drunks in the bar like a pro and stands up for everyone but herself? You are far from a chicken.”
That was the longest speech she’d ever heard him make. She stared at him. “That’s not courage, that’s just...determination.”
“Well, whatever it is, keep it up.” He pushed away from the counter, grabbed his coat from the chair. He’d left the Stetson by the door and now he settled it on his head. “I’d better get going. We’ve got a bar to open in an hour, and I haven’t even started working on that sink.”
“Sorry I interrupted your work.”
He laughed and she smiled in response. Still a nice sound. “It’s kept for a few months now. Another day or two won’t matter. See you later?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
He headed to the door, then stopped, his hand resting on the knob. “Thanks for lunch. Maybe we can do it again sometime.”
Without another word, Trey yanked open the door and stepped out into the cold.
Through the window in the door, she watched him walk away, and suddenly realized he’d never answered her question about where he was from.
Those boots were a dead giveaway that he hadn’t come from any city. The leather was too worn, his gait too comfortable in them.
At the end of the walk, he turned up his collar and lifted his face up to the sky. He might not be from here, but he was certainly at home here in the snowy mountains.
Still, it was odd that he seemed to avoid any questions about his past or where he was from. It reminded her of her history with Robert. And just one of the many reasons why she should let Trey Haymaker walk away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
SKIING HAD ALWAYS helped Trey clear his head. At least it had in the past, and was part of why he’d moved to Telluride. It required concentration on just one thing—his body. How it moved. How the equipment worked with that movement. What the mountain felt like beneath his skis. How he made sure he didn’t end up on his back in the snow. Full focus and concentration on nothing else.
The only downtime to think was on the lift, and if he was lucky, those minutes were filled with inane small talk with a stranger. It was distracting and safe. And lasted only a short while.
Then he was back on the slopes, fighting gravity and winning his war against his troubles 90 percent of the time.
He’d fixed the sink—without having to call Lee for help, thank you very much. Today his relief bartender was opening the bar. Rick worked ski patrol most of the winter, but picked up a shift here and there for Trey. He’d gladly taken the hours when Trey called him.
Working last night with Lisa had been difficult. Only because his parting words after she’d made him brunch kept echoing around in his head.
Leaping off the ski lift, he moved to the side of the run. He’d been skiing since almost the same time as he’d started to walk. Learning to slide down the side of a mountain, with nothing to stop him, had been his first taste of freedom and speed. Back in Texas, he’d found that adrenaline rush on the back of a fast horse, and then later behind the wheel of a car. Flat, straight stretches of highway had been his addiction.
Now, just before noon, Trey stood at the top of the slope. The crowds were light. The powder was thick after last night’s storm. He let the pair who’d gotten off the lift behind him move ahead. He wanted to enjoy the view from here and not worry about where others were. He was only going to get a couple more runs in before he had to head to work. He wanted to enjoy them.
Wanted to wipe his mind clean.
Trey closed his eyes for an instant, drawing in a deep, burning-cold breath, then let it out in a white cloud. He should see darkness behind his eyelids, but instead he saw her. Lisa had somehow leaped, full of life, into his mind, shattering the calm. He put his poles hard into the snow and shoved off.
What was wrong with him? Trey let the cold air wash over him, hoping it would knock some sense into him.
Swoosh. The sharp edges of his skis cut through the powder, sending a white plume out behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the sun catch the crystals before they fell back to earth.
The icy wind kissed his face and slipped through his hair. He should have worn a hat. But this felt too good and blew out the cobwebs in his mind.
But even with the demands of the mountain beneath his feet, he couldn’t escape his thoughts of Lisa.
Helping her with the window and letting her fix them a meal had been a mistake. He’d thoroughly enjoyed himself—that wasn’t the point. The problem was that he’d enjoyed himself...and wanted more.
Moguls rose up on the slope, and he nearly stumbled. How many times had he taken this slope? Too many to make that kind of miscalculation. Catching himself, he focused and took them with the skill he’d worked years to achieve.
Flowing with the terrain, bending, straightening and leaning when needed, he raced down the mountain. He tasted the frosty snow and relished the scattering of flakes on his skin.
An instant later, as Trey neared the next turn on the manicured slope, a figure barreled past him. A man Trey hadn’t seen up top, dressed all in black, cut too close. Trey might enjoy adventure and adrenaline, but he wasn’t an idiot. Dodging the man’s next pass, Trey slowed, letting the man go ahead. Watching him descend, Trey didn’t think the other man looked out of control, but that pass had been too close.
What was going on? He stopped at the edge of the hill, near the tree line. Standing there, his poles planted in the snow, Trey waited, watching. The black-clad figure wound his way through the mogul field with clear expertise.
He’d have admired the guy’s skill, if he hadn’t nearly sent Trey flying into the trees. The danger of that made Trey shudder.
Once he was certain the man was long gone, Trey shoved off again and headed down. He slowed his normal speed. His concentration was off, and he didn’t dare risk a fall.
The trail wound down the side of the mountain, and just as he reached the final, major turn, Trey saw the dark-clad figure near the tree line. The stranger executed a fast turn and pulled to a stop.
Was the guy resting, or waiting for someone? For him? Trey wasn’t interested in playing cat and mouse, but he hesitated to pass the guy. Darn. He had neither the time nor the desire to deal with stupidity.
Shaking off his uncharacteristic paranoia, Trey headed for the last turn. He’d make this his final run for the day and head to the bar from here.
He’d just come up even with the guy when Trey saw him push off. What the—?
This time, he didn’t come toward Trey, but kept pace with him. Trey didn’t race. That was stupid and dangerous, especially on slopes where other skiers could come out of nowhere. But there wasn’t anyone around, and the guy wasn’t backing off.
Fine. Let’s get this over with. Trey pushed harder and bent lower toward the terrain. He knew this hill and easily pulled ahead. He tamped down the adrenaline rush that tasted sweet. He pulled his focus in tight, letting the glide of the skis, and the feel of the cold air rushing past his face, be all that registered.
Focus.
Something hard, solid—a person—hit him in the side. His balance and focus gone, Trey tumbled. Even though fresh powder lay on top of the run, the snowpack beneath was hard as a frozen rock. His shoulder hit first, then his hip, then finally his skis snapped loose. He came to a sudden and painful halt just feet from the ponderosa pines.
Sucking in the frigid air hurt. He didn’t think anything was broken, but he couldn’t be sure. There were going to be plenty of bruises to investigate later. “Darn,” he said aloud and heard it echo back at him from the deserted slope.
He sat there for several minutes, though, making sure there weren’t any injuries he’d missed. Finally, once he’d caught his breath, he reached for his skis. Stepping back into them, he finished the run without incident. And without any company. Where had the guy gone?
At the bottom of the slope, people were moving everywhere, their voices loud, their faces unfamiliar. Half of them wore dark clothing.
He’d never be able to pick the guy out.
His taste for the slopes tainted, Trey took off his skis and propped them on his shoulder. It ached from his fall, and he made a mental note to take some pain meds once he got to the bar.
Hyperalert, he made his way the short distance to the bar. His cowboy boots were in the back room, and he hustled to get the ski boots off. Finally, in street clothes again and with his cowboy boots on, he sat and took a breath.
He’d been skiing long enough to know the rules of the slopes—to give other skiers space and respect. He’d never had anyone challenge or target him that way before.
Who was he? He recalled the men in the alley the other night and was sure it wasn’t either of them. They’d been older. This was a much younger, thinner, more agile man. Someone who moved easily on the slopes.
Those two would have struggled on the demanding ski slopes. But was it because of them? Someone they knew?
Shaking his head, Trey stood and headed into the office. The bottle of painkillers he kept in the desk drawer rattled as he pulled it out. Usually he took them after too many hours of bookkeeping, or from standing behind the bar on an especially busy night.
Not because the slopes had been too rough.
On the plus side, at least he’d forgotten about Lisa for a while.
* * *
A WEEK HAD passed since Lisa had driven into Telluride. She had yet to hear from her grandfather, and she’d only made it to the library twice to check her email and do any job hunting.
At this rate, she’d be here permanently.
Dread and disappointment threatened to take over, and she wasn’t sure what to do. She wasn’t even sure if there was anything she could do.
So, just like every other day, she trudged through the snow and headed in to work. The routine was starting to feel comfortable and safe.
Her shift started light, and while the ski crowd would be in later, she was glad for the reprieve. Still, she hustled. Trey wasn’t in yet, so Rick was behind the bar. Gabe was in the kitchen, and she ran back and forth, though thankfully she wasn’t running as much as walking today.
An older couple came in for a warm lunch. She chatted with them and was happy to share information about the local history and some of the tourist sites they might like.
They had driven up from Denver and were scheduled to see the new retirement village later in the afternoon. “I’m sure you haven’t checked it out,” the man said with a smile, “But I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”
“Oh, I have.” Lisa forced herself to smile. It wasn’t their fault the developer had been a jerk to her when they were kids. “Enjoy your visit,” she said as she took their payment to the register.
Few people wrote checks these days. Since she’d started working here, this was the first one she’d taken. Trey hadn’t explained anything about how he wanted them handled. She’d written down their phone number and driver’s license info. She hoped it was enough.
The cash register was old, and when the drawer popped open, she wasn’t even sure where to put the check. The coin tray lifted up easily and she figured she’d put it under that. She needed to remember to tell Trey that she’d put it there, or his deposit would be off at the end of the shift.
She was surprised to find a couple of other pieces of paper under the tray. Maybe she should look and see if there was info she’d missed on the check. Reaching in, she pulled the papers out. They weren’t checks.
The papers were old. The word telegram was printed across one of them. She’d never seen a real one before. The words looked like they’d been written on an old typewriter. The names were familiar, and she frowned, trying to place them. From the last name, it had to be someone in her family. Was that her great-grandparents?
The other page was a hand-drawn map. It was rough and hard to understand. She recognized a couple of the landmarks, so she knew it was a drawing of an area around here.
The screen door squealed open then, and Trey came in. Startled, she shoved her hands and the papers into her apron pocket. All her thoughts ceased as he came through the kitchen and toward the bar.
He’d been skiing. He said he tried to take a run or two before he came in each day. His face was sun- and wind-kissed, and his hair had been ruffled by that same breeze. Her fingers itched to mimic the wind.
His ski jacket made his shoulders seem wider... She tore her gaze away.
“Hello, Trey,” she said.
“Hey, boss,” Rick called out as he finished the drinks she needed to deliver. Trey mumbled something that could be hello or goodbye—she couldn’t tell—as he headed to the office, his steps heavy and loud.
“That’s your problem,” she whispered to herself, thankful the bar was loud enough to cover her words. “Boss. Think boss,” she said, trying valiantly to get the image of his broad shoulders out of her brain—and failing.
* * *
SHUTTING OUT THE events on the slopes, Trey got through the rest of his shift. Like every other night, he pulled open the cash drawer and lifted the change tray to count down.
Hap had called earlier and asked if he still had the map and telegram, or if he’d thrown them away as he’d asked. Not that Trey had any intention of giving them to him, but the guy did own the place. He could come in here anytime, though Trey would probably hear him, and that blasted walker. Still, Trey decided to put them someplace else, someplace safer.
They belonged to Win, and that was who he intended to give them to.
Except they were gone. He cursed. Setting the coin tray on the counter, he bent down to look deeper in the drawer. Maybe the papers had gotten caught and pulled back behind the drawer. No sign of them there. He checked around the register. Under the counter. Even reached for the trash can, sifting through the receipts and papers he’d tossed in there during his shift. Nowhere.
“Looking for something?” Lisa’s voice startled him.
He spun around to find her standing there, a couple of pieces of yellowed paper in her hand. “Yeah.” He put the change tray back. “But you know that.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the bar.
She lifted the telegram and the map a bit higher. “These aren’t checks.”
“Nope. A customer left those. I put them there for safekeeping until he comes back to get them.”
“By customer, you mean my grandfather?”
He looked harder at her and nodded once. “Yes, though Hap was the one who brought them in.” He took the telegram and map from her fingers and returned them to the register. “They told me to throw them in the trash. I figure Win might change his mind.”
“Trash?” That got her attention. “When?”
“A while ago. The night I met you, actually.”
“That’s what Sam was searching for!” Lisa reached past him and pulled the papers out again, examining them more closely. “This is it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s how I ended up in the Dumpster.” She pointed to the back alley. “I was in my hotel room and saw Sam digging through the trash. This—” she shook the pages until they made a crackling sound “—this had to be what he was looking for.”
“Could be.” Trey wasn’t sure how much he should tell her—but what if she knew more about the treasure Win had hinted at? “Does anything about it seem familiar?” He’d leave it open, see what she’d volunteer.
“No. But I recognize the names.”
“You should. They’re your family.” She nodded as she reread the old words.
Trey took his time looking at the map over her shoulder. He fought to focus on the page, struggling as the faint perfume she wore reached out and teased him, whispered for him to notice her.
Lisa turned around then, and for an instant, they were within breath-sharing distance. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide, that darn perfume weaving around him.
He didn’t look away. Neither did she. Time froze.
Suddenly, Lisa stepped away, breaking the spell and the connection. Trey cleared his throat and took his own steps back away from her. Maybe he’d imagined it.
Mental eye rolls were starting to become too much a part of his day.
