In Too Deep Page 3

  And yes, maybe that helped her justify keeping Sky to herself, rather than sharing her with the DNA that had fathered her. So what? She’d given Sky a pretty good life, not that Sky appreciated it.

  She knocked on the door of room one-twenty.

  Marvin welcomed them with a smile.

  Trigg was there, standing by the window in the small living-dining area, arms crossed. His back was the inverted triangle that weakened every woman’s knees in biological response to male strength. He had a really nice butt in jeans that cupped his muscled cheeks rather than drooping off his ass the way so many men wore them. They made his strong thighs look like tree trunks. Solid and touch-worthy.

  Not that she wanted to caress his thighs. She was stress-ovulating or something. Deprivation had her in its grip. She hardly ever dated, especially lately. She was a normal woman who sometimes reacted to hot men. A late bloomer with a backlog of oats begging to be sown. That’s all.

  He turned and she averted her gaze to the saloon doors in an archway that partially hid the bedroom, but she felt his gaze linger on her cheeks. Her active imagination had her fearing he had read her thoughts and she grew hot. Blushed.

  “This is nice,” she said, forcing herself to scan the suite. It didn’t feel like a hotel in here. It was homey with family photos and furniture that looked like it had been chosen with care, nothing made in bulk. It smelled like potpourri and exotic food.

  A woman of fifty-something rose from the love seat and smiled, but in a way that was a polite welcome to strangers, not like a grandma whose favorite grandchild had just arrived.

  Not that Wren knew what that looked like, but she had hoped for something like it for Sky.

  “Vivien.” Marvin set his hand behind the woman’s shoulder. “This is Skylar and her aunt, Wren.”

  Vivien’s handshake was a firm grasp in a cool, but ultra-soft hand. She wore flashy rings that Wren imagined were real gemstones, not costume. Her hair was white blonde and cut in a sophisticated, windswept style that perfectly framed her elegantly made-up face. She was tall and trim and wore crisp navy-blue slacks with a coral sweater that had a neckline low enough to reveal the chain of intricate links and sparkling stones hanging into her cleavage.

  She didn’t look like anyone’s grandmother. She looked like she edited a fashion magazine. Wren had the feeling that was exactly what she intended.

  “This has been such a surprise. But a good one,” Vivien said.

  What an obvious prevarication.

  Vivien kept most of her focus on Sky. Her sharp blue eyes took in Sky’s sullen expression, her sloppy hoodie with the homemade thumbholes in the cuffs, and the jeans with the mechanically distressed threadbare patches down the tops of her thighs.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” Wren said, nudging Sky.

  “Hi,” Sky mumbled.

  Vivien’s smile didn’t falter, but what little warmth that had existed in her smile frosted over with dismay.

  Wren glanced at Trigg, hoping for intervention or guidance.

  She caught him looking straight at her. His gaze skipped away when hers met his.

  Her heart swooped in the same direction, bouncing off the window like a bird, then sat there stunned. Why? She didn’t care if he was looking at her or what he was thinking.

  What had he been thinking?

  The dog slobbered on your leg.

  Ugh. She wasn’t going there again.

  Even so, the heat of sexual awareness trickled through her in a relentless stream, heavily laced with annoyance at herself for feeling like this.

  “Let’s sit,” Vivien invited. “The chef is test-driving menu items for the wedding. You can tell me what you think. There’s a lot to talk about, but where to start?”

  “Indeed.” Marvin held Vivien’s chair.

  Trigg moved to hold a chair for Wren, which had never been done for her. It made her feel awkward and clumsy.

  Sky sent her a WTF look as she went to the chairs on the far side of the table and pulled one out for herself. After a brief pause where Trigg seemed to weigh his options, he took the seat next to Wren’s.

  “Glory wants us to start without her,” Marvin said. “She’ll join us as soon as she can. She wants to walk down to the base with you.”

  They knew what they were doing after lunch, then. Wren didn’t look at Sky, but felt her glare like an infrared lamp set an inch off her face.

  The food was intricate and intriguing. There were little ramekins with a couple of bites of chicken, a julienne of red pepper and a leaf of cilantro. Also pastry shells with a fat prawn on top of some kind of slaw, salmon mousse piped onto black crackers, stuffed cherry tomatoes—seriously, who had time to stuff something that small with a dollop of cream cheese? Fine for a half-dozen people, but there would be two hundred at the wedding. Was the chef serious?

  She helped herself to one of everything, even the sushi roll made with purple rice.

  “Skylar, we’ve been discussing ways to keep you amused this summer while your aunt and, uh, Trigg are working,” Marvin said. “What sort of things do you enjoy?”

  Sky shrugged. “The mall.”

  “Sky has make-up classes she’ll be doing online,” Wren said.

  Sky widened her eyes, appalled.

  What? Wren sent back. It’s true.

  Trigg’s arm brushed hers, making a zing go through her sharp enough that Wren jerked away. He was a lefty and she was righty. Their elbows were dueling.

  Now his sleeve of tattoos drew her attention. They were nature scenes with waterfalls and evergreen trees and mountains. He smelled like fresh air and earth and cedar with a hint of something even more elemental. Something masculine and potent.

  She so didn’t want to be this attuned to him, but couldn’t help it when the only sound was everyone trying to swallow tension. She would probably feel the heat off his body if she wasn’t throwing off her own premature hot flash of anxiety.

  “These are excellent,” Wren said of a crab cake, trying to force normalcy. “All of this food is really beautiful.”

  Sky was cautiously nibbling the point off a samosa. She had one spiral sandwich on her plate and a look of mistrust on her face.

  “Jacques arrived a week ago to stay through the wedding and elevate our menu for the summer. We’re hoping he’ll stay into the winter. We have two very competent cooks, but the lunch and evening fare needs to meet the expectations of the clientele we intend to attract.”

  “I can’t imagine what a job it’s been to plan such a big wedding.”

  “Amid ongoing renovations,” Marvin interjected.

  “At the time, we thought July would be Trigg’s only opportunity to attend. Rolf and Glory didn’t want to wait, either. Rolf is Trigg’s older brother,” Vivien informed Sky.

  Sky met Vivien’s direct gaze. “I know.”

  They held the stare. And held it.

  Wren said, “Marvin mentioned you’re not expecting Sky to call you ‘Grandma.’ What would you prefer?”

  “Vivien.” Vivien cut a cherry tomato in half and left one side on her plate while she ate the other. “Of course.”

  “And…?” Wren looked at Trigg. Damn, he was close. His shoulders and chest and bare biceps filled up her vision, eclipsing Marvin and everything else on that side of the room. Everything, really. He was a lot of powerful man sitting there reeking sex appeal all over the place.

  “Trigg?” he suggested, voice dry, and he held her gaze long enough for it to make her chest feel tight.

  What a freaking nightmare. She jerked her gaze back to Sky.

  Sky flicked her gaze to each face in turn, then looked at her mostly untouched plate.

  Wren bit back a sigh. Sky didn’t have her ability to withstand hostile undercurrents strong as a riptide. That was a good thing. The only way to develop the muscles to endure this level of examination and judgment was to spend years living it.

  She felt sorry for her niece anyway. I tried to spare you, she telegraphed.
>
  “This is quite a change from being a dental receptionist,” Vivien remarked. “Are you looking forward to something new?” Vivien slid a morsel of chicken into her mouth.

  Wren knew when she was being weighed and measured and found lacking. Her passive-aggressive streak gathered itself. Two of the dentists in her office had cried when she left. The one she detested had offered to double her salary. She made herself reliable and indispensible out of spite and she never let anyone see her suffer.

  “The work isn’t that different. Clients in both situations want their experience to be painless and professional. I’ll do my part to facilitate that.” She turned to Marvin. “I read online that the resort will be a training facility for elite athletes, but I wasn’t clear on whether you owned the lodge before the Johanssons began rebuilding it?”

  His gray brows were bushy and expressive, an entertainment all on their own as they quirked into delight at being pulled into the conversation.

  “Trigg brought me aboard. Glory and I lived in Seattle. My wife had recently passed when I met Trigg. He said he had plans for this hill, but needed someone to take on the lodge. I had always wanted to run a bed and breakfast. Glory and I came out a year ago January. We’ve come a long way since, haven’t we?”

  Trigg responded with a little snort under his breath.

  “I came out last summer,” Vivien said. “I thought this was a whim on the boys’ part, but realized they were putting down roots so I took up residence as well.”

  Boys? The man beside her was going to tear through his skin like a werewolf, he was so much compacted virility and testosterone.

  “I hadn’t worked in years,” Vivien continued. “But I’ve discovered how nice it is to stay busy and contribute.” She smiled at Marvin. “It turns out we make a good team.”

  “We do.” Marvin returned her smile with one that was tender and sincere and self-conscious, which was a sweet way of revealing exactly how deep his feelings went.

  Vivien’s expression remained more composed, which made Wren wonder how such a nice man had wound up with such a prickly woman, but her heart went, Awww anyway.

  Sky caught her eye with a half-lidded Can we go? stare.

  Wren dropped her gaze to Sky’s plate. Eat.

  Scrambled footsteps sounded right before there was a knock on the exterior door. It opened before Marvin had set his hands next to his plate to rise.

  “No, you have to stay outside,” a woman said as she weaseled through the crack. “Sit. Stay.” She finished her slither and closed the door with a big exhalation.

  Wren recognized Glory from her author photo, but rather than wearing coiffed spirals of reddish-blonde hair, she wore it in a thick ponytail of frizz at the nape of her neck. She wasn’t wearing makeup and wrinkled her freckled nose as she spoke to Trigg.

  “I thought you’d be finished eating so I brought him to walk with us.”

  “We’re almost done.” Trigg’s plate was empty and Wren only had a couple of bites left. Sky’s was still mostly untouched.

  “Hi. I’m Glory.” She came across with a big smile and offered her hand.

  Wren stood to shake. “Wren. My niece, Sky.”

  Sky didn’t get up. She only lifted her eyes. “Hi.”

  Glory took that in without reaction and pulled out the chair next to Sky. “I’m sorry I took so long. I have to get my word count in or I’ll be writing on my honeymoon. That won’t go over well at all.” She skimmed her gaze over the food and popped a cherry tomato into her mouth, then bit into a samosa and set it on her plate. “This all looks great, Vivien.” She set a plastic container with a lid next to her plate. “I promised I’d deliver some for the big guy. Don’t even,” she said with a warning point at Trigg.

  He lifted negligent brows. “Has to keep up his strength. I get it.”

  Glory rolled her eyes and started loading the container. “Are you two settling in okay? Sorry about the twin beds. Once we get the wedding over with, we can figure out something better. The staff housing should be finished by the wedding—has to be,” she corrected. “It’ll be bedrooms with a communal kitchen and living room, but if you decide that works better for you—Do you not like those?” Glory pointed at the sandwich on Sky’s plate. “Tell me now because I’m not paying for food that people won’t eat.”

  “You’re the only person not paying for this wedding.”

  “Trigg,” Vivien scolded.

  Glory narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t seem offended. She made a face of remorse at Wren. “I’ll apologize now for the wedding. Coming here has to be such a big deal for you both. Things would be chaotic enough if it was just a new job. Or just a renovation. The wedding puts it over the top. We’re consumed. I would have eloped. Dad’s the one who insisted on a big wedding.”

  “I have one daughter. I want to give you away.”

  “The surprise is that anyone would take you,” Trigg drawled. “Rolf’s never backed down from a challenge, though.”

  Glory opened her mouth and leaned in, but thought better of whatever she’d been about to say.

  “Yes?” Trigg prompted.

  “Nothing,” she said sweetly. “Is everyone done? I’m dying for a walk and Rolf has already texted he’s ready to eat his own arm.”

  *

  Glory wasn’t biting these days and it was starting to piss him off. It was like she felt sorry for him or something. Like she didn’t think he could handle a few sharp retorts. It was actually worse than if she had made some comeback about his failure as a father, which was what Trigg expected.

  He would prefer to get the ribbing over with, actually, but his mother wanted to keep all of this under the rug. He supposed that was the fair thing for Sky, but it was one more thing that grated, putting him in a surly mood.

  Which had everyone giving him a wide berth.

  They left through the exterior door. His mom and Marvin stayed back. Being outside didn’t make Trigg feel any less claustrophobic, though.

  Glory led them to the stairs that descended from the back of the building. When they reached the bottom, Murphy bounded across from the staff housing. The building was a hive, doors and windows open, music playing over the sound of power saws and drills. Half the crew was with Roadside Renovations, the company renovating the lodge. Some of the lodge’s housekeeping and other staff had been promised a cut-rate on rent if they helped with painting and other finishing work, though. The place gave off a frat-house vibe that was very much Trigg’s usual jam.

  Except he was too pissy to party. Too many things on his mind. This was real. His daughter was here, right beside him.

  Glory pointed out the path that went around the pond. “You can also go up that slope and get over to the ski hill, but make sure you talk to the guys before you go, in case they’re felling trees or something.”

  The women went single file ahead of him down the path below the deck that overlooked the pond. Glory was in the lead and waited for Wren and Sky to come even with her before starting down the lane to the base. Trigg whistled Murphy to his side.

  “I read your book,” Wren said to Glory. “I felt like a stalker since I got it purely out of curiosity about the lodge, but I really liked it. The free one of your mom’s was good, too. I haven’t had much time to read since, with the move and everything.”

  “I have tons you can borrow. What do you like, Sky?”

  Sky shrugged.

  Glory left a space of silence to invite her to say more. She didn’t.

  “Well, there’s a shelf in the lobby that I’ve stocked for guests. You’ll find some Young Adult titles there. Help yourself.”

  No response.

  Wren said, “Thank you.”

  Glory let herself fall back a half step so she could send Trigg a raised-brow look behind Wren and Sky’s backs.

  Trigg twitched a shoulder, not knowing what to make of them, either. His mom had her work cut out for her, teaching that girl her manners. He didn’t know what Wren did with her
self all day, letting Sky get away with that attitude. He’d always been a provocative little shit, but his mother always made sure he knew when to clean it up.

  “Where’s your stick? Get your stick,” Glory said to Murphy.

  The dog shot into the bushes.

  “Hey, Sky. I realize you’re too young to get a job, but I have to assemble the welcome baskets for all the rooms for the wedding,” Glory said. “If you want to help, I’ll pay you.”

  Sky’s bony shoulder came up a half inch.

  Trigg wanted to say, Come on. Smarten up.

  Wren said, “Getting her school year finished is the priority, but if she has time outside of that, it would be great for her to make some pocket money.”

  Sky swung a glower at Wren.

  Wren had a look on her face he couldn’t interpret. Not stony or angry or taking control or smug. Kind of trance-like. He almost wanted to play poker with her, but feared he’d lose his shirt.

  Strip poke? Hell, yeah.

  Shut up, dickhead.

  Glory shoulder-checked him, startling him out of his fantasy. “Did you hear what I just said? That I would pay her.”

  “What a hero, paying slave wages for child labor.”

  She kept her attention on him, smiling with rueful sympathy, making him want to shoulder-check her into the ditch.

  “I never had a sister, but if I did, I would want her to be nothing like you,” Trigg said.

  Glory let him have that one, too. Come on. Fight me.

  A truck passed them, forcing them to single-file along the edge of the lane. A minute later, they reached the base. What had been an overgrown clearing with a pile of avalanche debris eighteen months ago was now the heart of Whiskey Jack Ski Resort. Four buildings were in progress along with one of the lift lines.

  “Busy place for a Sunday,” Wren commented.

  “We had to fire our contractor last month. Took some time to hire all the new ones. We’re working weekends to make up for lost time.” And the board was shitting bricks, screaming at them to pump the brakes on all of this.

  “If you see anything with the name Basco Construction on it, a truck or a hard hat or an invoice, anything, make sure to tell one of the guys right away,” Glory said. “The police haven’t been able to prove it, but it looks like he’s behind a bunch of vandalism and thefts.”