Unexpectedly Hers (Sterling Canyon Book 3) Read online

  Wyatt had been celebrating his victory when she’d spotted him in the bar. Targeted him, truthfully. Carefree, happy, drunk Wyatt—young and proud and on the prowl. He’d been the perfect man for her singular one-night stand. And they’d had quite a night, until she’d woken at five o’clock and ducked out of his hotel room without a trace.

  But she couldn’t quite regret it because that night had given life to a story, and naturally, Wyatt’s image—and certain other things—remained the inspiration for her hero’s character. For three years, she’d thought of him as Dallas. Thought, fantasized, spent way too much time filling Pinterest boards with his image . . .

  Wyatt now turned those greenish-brown eyes her way and smiled at her—the kind of smile he’d give a friend’s little sister. Her hot cheeks meant her fair skin had turned almost as red as her hair.

  “Good morning. I’m Wyatt.” Wyatt stepped aside to make room for a young guy with a cane wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. Wyatt patiently followed him to the check-in desk. “This is my brother, Ryder, and that’s the film crew, Jim, Buddy, and Mari. Looks like we’ve all descended at once.”

  Emma remembered briefly seeing Ryder that night in Aspen. He’d been an up-and-coming snowboarder, although he hadn’t hit the podium. Sadly, the following year he’d finally made headlines when a snowboarding accident caused a traumatic brain injury. She’d read that Wyatt had left competition to help his family, and that Ryder had spent a few months in the hospital following his accident.

  Looking at Ryder now, she sensed he hadn’t fully recovered—physically or otherwise. A pang of empathy for the brothers settled in her chest.

  But surely neither he nor Wyatt would connect her to Alexa, assuming Wyatt even remembered that night. No doubt he’d had many such meaningless encounters on the competition circuit.

  For the briefest moment, sadness gripped her, forcing her to acknowledge that a major turning point in her small life had been a mere blip in Wyatt’s. She shook off the wistful musing before anyone noticed.

  “Welcome,” Emma said, her gaze roaming the group without making direct eye contact with Wyatt. “We’re so glad to have you. I’ll be at your disposal during your stay, so anything you need, just ask.”

  Wyatt playfully cocked an eyebrow and smiled, this time a little less brotherly. A memory of him wearing that identical look—and nothing else—passed through her mind and shot straight to her girly parts. Goodness, his look had made her innocent statement somehow sound naughty. How on earth would she survive an entire month living under the same roof with Dallas, er, Wyatt, without giving away her identity?

  The statuesque blonde, dressed entirely in black, approached the desk. “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you in person. I’m Mari.”

  Emma shook Mari’s hand, thankful for a distraction. “Oh, you must be the director who spoke with my mother. Unfortunately, you just missed her. I’ll be the one taking care of you while you’re here.”

  While Emma spoke with Mari, Wyatt’s lazy gaze ogled her body, unnerving her. Thank God she’d thrown on a bulky sweater. He might be hot as heck and the perfect sexual fantasy, but a man like him—a player like her dad, obsessed with fame—wasn’t the kind of man she wanted or trusted.

  “I know we’re a bit early, but are the rooms ready? You should have all the credit card information and other things. All we need now are the keys.” Mari said. “We’d like to unpack and then get some things set up.”

  “Of course.” Emma averted her gaze again and focused on Ryder. His injuries and cane might make the old stairs a bit of a hazard. “We have a lovely room with a park view here on the main floor for you, Ryder.”

  “Fine,” came Ryder’s lifeless reply.

  Wyatt leaned close to his brother’s ear. “How about a ‘thank you,’ bro’?”

  “Oh, no, please. I’m sure you’re all travel-weary.” Emma glanced at the clock and then the door, expecting to see Andy walk through it. She snatched a handful of keys and handed them out. “Everyone else will be on the second floor. I typically serve breakfast from six to eight, lunch from noon to two, and dinner at six thirty. If there are allergies, intolerances, or just things you don’t like to eat, please let me know.”

  Mari’s brows snapped together. “I sent a very specific list of things we’d need, including a meal schedule, specific dietary needs to suit Wyatt’s training schedule, a therapist for Ryder, a private yoga instructor, and so on. Your mother assured me Wyatt would have everything he needed.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Of course we’ll accommodate all of your requests.” Emma felt another flush race to her face. Hopefully she’d pull it all together before lunch.

  “Wyatt requested someplace private and quiet, so we’re here,” Mari glanced around disapprovingly, “for four weeks. I certainly hope we haven’t made a mistake.”

  “I promise I’ll meet all of your demands. Anticipate them, even,” Emma added with a ready smile, hoping to soothe her. Emma’d spent most of her life accommodating the demands of others in order to keep things running smoothly. She much preferred peace and harmony to confrontation. “Including the privacy I assume you want,” she finished.

  Thankfully, Andy walked in at that moment, paying no immediate notice to the guests. “Hey, Em. I need to get the ice off that walkway.” Then his gaze fell on the small group. “But I can take the bags first.”

  Andy’s twin sister, Avery, had been one of Emma’s best friends since kindergarten. There had been a brief period when Emma had had a little crush on Andy, but like with the other guys in her long history of unrequited crushes, it had more or less passed. He might as well be her brother, too. As such, when his drunk driving accident last winter cost him his job as a ski pro, she’d hired him to help her around the inn.

  “Everyone, this is Andy. Andy, this is—” Emma began.

  “Holy shit! You’re Wyatt Lawson.” Andy’s eyes twinkled and his jaw dropped. “Dude, you’re awesome. What the hell are you doing in Sterling Canyon?”

  “Andy, I think Mr. Lawson would like some privacy.” Emma shot him a “back-off” look.

  “It’s cool.” Wyatt waved at Andy. “I’m here to train.”

  “Gentlemen, we really need to keep to a schedule. We have a lot of ground to cover today to set things up,” Mari broke in, laying her hand on Wyatt’s arm, effectively yanking him away from Andy. “If you could please see our bags to our rooms, that would be perfect. We’ll leave the cameras and other equipment down here.” Then she addressed the film crew. “Let’s meet in the front parlor in an hour to go over the shooting schedule and get some establishing shots.”

  Andy winked at Emma. “This is gonna be the best month ever.”

  Wyatt glanced at his brother while uttering, “It better be.”

  “Andy, could you please see Ryder to Room 101 while I take the others upstairs?” Emma asked. “Then you can come grab these other bags and bring them to their rooms.”

  “No problem.” Andy took the key and slowly went off with Ryder. In the meantime, Mari and the cameramen had already headed upstairs, leaving Emma alone with Wyatt, who appeared lost in thought as he watched his brother walk off.

  “Shall we?” Emma gestured toward the stairs.

  She should be worried about Mari’s demands. But with Wyatt on her heels, all she could think about was whether or not her butt looked okay in her sweatpants. Good grief, she was her father’s daughter, which meant she was in trouble.

  Wyatt had chosen Sterling Canyon as the training location for his return to competition because its off-the-beaten-path location would likely make it more private. He needed a distraction-free environment. The enormity of his task left no room for complications—or women, which tended to be the same thing.

  Normally he wouldn’t notice a girl like Emma. Buried beneath such boxy clothes, he could barely make out her figure. At least, not until he followed her up the stairs and got a perfect view of her heart-shaped ass.

&nbs
p; He’d always liked red hair, too, although she’d pulled hers into some kind of knot, so he couldn’t tell if it was straight or wavy, shoulder- or waist-length. Not that it mattered.

  Yet it did. Why’d she stiffen whenever he caught her eye? Unlike other women who threw themselves at him, this one seemed almost determined to repel him. He should let her keep her distance so he could maintain his priorities.

  Nothing like the pressure of a film crew documenting his every move—and potential mistakes—to keep him focused. He needed to stay focused if he wanted to achieve his goals without ending up in a hospital bed like his brother had.

  The very thought sent a shiver down his spine.

  “Is it too cold in here?” Emma asked, apparently having noticed his reaction. For a second, he caught a glimpse of something warmer shining through.

  “Maybe a touch,” he lied. Glancing around, he noticed a bunch of Native American artifacts. Although clean, everything about the place looked old and run-down. At first glance, he’d have said Emma, with her absence of makeup and oversize clothing, perfectly matched the surroundings. But on closer inspection, a little spark of something glimmered from her lively green eyes. And Wyatt had never been one to discriminate against older chicks.

  Out of nowhere, Emma let loose a whopper of a sneeze, then promptly flushed. “Excuse me.”

  “Bless you.” He grinned as a piece of trivia popped into place, as usual. “Did you know that people exhale at up to one hundred miles per hour when they sneeze? It’s why they can’t keep their eyes open.”

  Oddly, she smiled with a faraway look in her eyes and murmured something about his trivia quirk. Intent on chipping away at her armor, he asked, “I suppose you live here?”

  Just like that, her starchy demeanor returned. “You mean here, at the inn?”

  He grinned, wanting another peek beneath the surface, and if possible, beneath her ugly sweater. “Mmm hmmm.”

  “Yes, on the third floor.” She cocked her head. “Why?”

  “Making sure you’ll be nearby twenty-four seven. You never know if I might need you for something.” He’d purposely lowered his voice and leaned closer to see how she’d respond to subtle flirtation.

  Her shoulders pulled back, her eyes avoided his gaze. “I’m at your beck and call.” She blushed again, clearly having not considered the innuendo in her words until they’d tumbled out.

  Her bashful manner surprised Wyatt, who hadn’t met a shy woman in years. He found her attitude refreshing . . . and challenging. He’d always had a hard time backing down from a challenge.

  She finally, if briefly, made eye contact and then handed him the key to his room. “Shall I wait to make sure you like your room?”

  “I’m sure it’s fine.” He noticed a light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. A cute nose. Thin and straight, perhaps a little on the small side. He repressed the urge to touch it, as well as the urge to stare at her full lips. Shit, he had to stop. He might be a healthy twenty-five-year-old guy who’d gone too long without sex lately, but he couldn’t let his dick hijack his goals.

  “There are extra blankets in the closet.” She nodded tersely, punctuating her thought. “Sometimes the old windows can be a little drafty when the wind kicks up.”

  “If it gets too cold, I might need something more than an extra blanket to keep me warm.” Okay, so his dick didn’t give a shit about his goals, although he didn’t have any real intention of pursuing Emma. He’d pushed because he had to get some reaction from Miss Prim and Proper.

  She snorted. “Mari seems intent on satisfying your every whim, so I doubt you’ll have to go far to get what you need. Now if you’ll excuse me, I really must get to work.”

  She turned, scurrying away like a mouse that’d just been spooked by a tiger. He watched her trot down the stairs before he went into his room and collapsed across the bed.

  Scrubbing his face with his hands, he thought about the task at hand. He had much to accomplish. Much to prove. Much to make up for.

  Ryder’s healthcare costs had pretty much wiped out the bulk of Wyatt’s former wealth. His mom’s arthritis left her unable to hold a full-time job, either. Wyatt had to win back his former sponsors, because he never wanted his family to return to the days of his youth, when food stamps barely fed him and wearing shoes with holes in their soles was a way of life. When he’d had so little power.

  This comeback plan was his last-ditch attempt to right the ship and erase the condemnation he’d seen in his mother’s eyes every day since Ryder had nearly died. Even more critical was helping his brother learn to enjoy life again. They’d loved working together in the past, so having Ryder with him now should be the ticket. Ryder’s help should also ensure that Wyatt made a big splash in the qualifiers. He needed to get past his own mental hurdles regarding the transition—from man-made, groomed slopestyle courses to the unpredictable freeriding terrain—pronto.

  Hopefully a twenty-minute catnap would prepare him for dealing with Mari. He usually flirted because ladies liked it, and it made him feel more comfortable. With Mari, he couldn’t afford for her to think of him as the party boy of yesteryear. He had to train without falling into his old patterns with women.

  With his eyes closed, the first thing that popped into his mind was the image of Emma’s ass swaying side to side as she climbed those stairs. He smiled in spite of himself and drifted into oblivion.

  Chapter Two

  Wyatt woke from his nap, momentarily confused by his surroundings. Branches tapped against the antique window at the corner of his room. He stood, stretching with a yawn, as he took a minute to observe his temporary home.

  The room contained timeworn furniture and assorted knickknacks, including a cross on the wall near the bed. Perhaps he should pray for a guardian angel to help him conquer “big mountain” competitions. He could use all the help he could get, and it had been a while since he’d prayed for anything. After all the prayers he’d offered on his brother’s behalf, he’d figured other people needed God’s attention for a while.

  His phone alarm beeped, reminding him that Mari would be waiting downstairs. Did she have his interests at heart? Last time he’d trusted a journalist, she’d betrayed him and reprinted things out of context. Made him look and sound like a misogynistic asshole with an ego the size of Montana. Neither was true, not that the public believed him.

  He went to the bathroom to splash water on his face and laughed when he saw the old-fashioned separate hot and cold spigots. Between the cross and the antiquated inn, no wonder Emma and her straitlaced attitude seemed to come from some other era.

  He patted his face dry and finger-combed his wavy locks, then jogged down the creaky stairs. The parlor was still empty, so Wyatt went to fetch a bottle of water. He wandered through the dining hall—a cozy paneled room with four round tables—into the kitchen.

  Emma’s space, he thought. Like the rest of the inn, it looked tired. The stainless steel industrial appliances appeared newer, but the yellowing, unadorned oak cabinetry didn’t, nor did the checkerboard vinyl flooring. At least the large window above the huge sink let in ample natural light.

  God, he’d hate to be stuck inside cooking for and cleaning up after people. Such a lonely, stifling way to spend day after day. What made her choose this life? Shaking away the stray thought, he grabbed a water bottle and closed the refrigerator.

  On his way out, he heard a shuffling noise and humming coming from around the corner. Then a feminine voice broke into the chains-and-whips refrain of Rihanna’s “S&M.” It must be Emma, although that would be the very last song he’d imagine her liking. Intrigued, he crept around the corner and peered into a sizable walk-in pantry to find Emma—back turned to him—dancing while taking inventory.

  His brain simultaneously took in a few things. One, Emma had the music turned up so loud that, even from a distance, he could hear the tinny beat pulsing from her earbuds. Two, it had been ages since he’d seen anything as erotic as
the contrast between her prudishness and the sensual swivel of her ass as she danced by herself. And three, if he closed the door, this pantry would become a dark, private cocoon.

  A smile tugged at his mouth. Before he even considered the consequences, he stepped behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist, and tried to dance with her.

  “Whaa!” she screeched, springing into the air like the cats in those cucumber Vines. Adrenaline gripped her hard, as evidenced by the tremble rippling down her body.

  “Sorry!” Unable to help himself, he chuckled. “Really sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She yanked the earbuds from her ears. Her indignant expression somehow made her look sexy, despite that hideous sweater. Damn if he didn’t want to grab her by that stupid knot in her hair and kiss her. Who knew? Underneath the ugly clothes and prudish attitude, she might be a little bit fun. Might even yield to him and enjoy things like handcuffs and other sex games.

  Then, like a chameleon, she transformed before his eyes, shuttering her emotions and resuming control over herself. He admired control. Ruthlessly strove for it in his own life, although not always with success, as his impulsive attempt to dance with her just proved.

  She smoothed the stray hairs from her face and shooed him out of the pantry. “I assume you didn’t come to the kitchen to dance. What do you need?”

  So businesslike. But now he knew better. Then again, it didn’t matter. He couldn’t indulge his curiosity. Shit, he had to meet with Mari. He had to train!

  “Just this.” He held up the water bottle. “I heard singing, though, so I came to investigate.” And because he wanted to provoke her, he added, “Interesting song choice.”

  Oh, too easy. A streak of red rushed to her cheeks. He wondered how easily he might be able to make other parts of her body turn pink, too? Stop it. Apparently it took no encouragement to provoke him into flirting with Emma. Something about her weakened his control.

  “Well, then, now that you’ve uncovered the big mystery, I assume you have a schedule to keep, as do I.” She folded her arms in front of her body and offered him an ever-so-polite yet placating smile.