She hadn’t aged a day in ten years. She was perhaps a bit at a disadvantage, hiding in the shrubs. Dressed in black, her flawless skin glowed like a phantom.
He was surprised she’d lasted fivewhole daysin the lighthouse.
Last night, a worried guest had approached him, asking if a hurt animal was trapped inside the stone structure accessible via a rickety bridge. With a rope strung across the bridge, the little island and building were off-limits to anyone with sense. Not that Ashley had ever concerned herself with logic.
This scheme was classic Ashley behavior. He used to find her plans fun. She livened up his days and made him look at the world from an absolutely bonkers perspective.
But that was before he’d needed to step up and take over the resort. At the time—and to the present day, if he’d done his task correctly—she had had no clue how dire the finances were. She was protected in that way, insulated from life’s reality. Her father limited her exposure to the inner workings despite bringing her on board as his apprentice. Christopher had been complicit in keeping the knowledge of the Inn’s poor finances from her. Now she wanted to push him out? After he’d not only saved the resort but reinvented and expanded it, drawing more clientele than even in its heyday? No chance.
All he had to do was wait her out. Easy. He’d been doing that since the dawn of time. While she might be brash and bold, she wasn’t particularly insightful or observant. She’d claim she suffered from harsh discipline. Never seeing the twitch in her father’s stoic smile. The man couldn’t stay mad at her and had rarely enforced her punishments.
Christopher had had a hard time with it, too. She’d had to be the one to walk away. He never could.
He’d foolishly wanted to see her at the will reading and settle everything then. For a man who prided himself on dealing with clear-cut absolutes, he’d let her twist and turn him upside down. But she hadn’t been informed of her father’s death at that time. Christopher had instructed the lawyer to find her, and then he’d waited for her return.
This morning, he’d had enough stalling. He requested a change to the day’s specials. Then he updated the website himself. And last, he opened the windows in the dining room facing the lake and turned on every fan in the kitchen. His lame excuse of proper ventilation fooled no one. But, luckily, none of the staff questioned his odd behavior or why he was in the kitchen. He used the excuse of discussing the latest menu printing concerns as a cover.
Narrowing his gaze, he refocused on the boxwoods. The neat wall of shrubs created the last vestige of civilized order before the forest full of chaotically arranged pines and aspens. Christopher couldn’t spot her.
The driver exited the hotel, passing Christopher on his way. He strode to the old pine at the end of the shrubbery row, set the bag on the ground, shouted something, and hopped into his car. Tires squealed as the car peeled out of the Inn’s driveway.
Christopher caught his breath, holding it until his lungs burned. He wanted a clearer glimpse of the one who got away. For as long as he’d drawn breath, he’d loved Ashley Hale. While he wasn’t her enemy at the moment, he wasn’t classified as her friend either. He wanted to settle the business between them so that they both won. He just hadn’t figured out how. For someone who always had a sensible solution, he really hated the current predicament.
Once again, he’d been trapped between a rock and a hard place, aka his wife and his father-in-law.
She burst out of the shrubs, branches snapping and interrupting the insects’ nightly serenade.
He winced. Her sudden movement was startling.
If her skin wasn’t a bleeding mess from scratches at risk of infection from dirt, it would be a miracle. The groundskeeper, Liam Willie, would be livid with the human-shaped broken branches. He’d sneer at every small child he spotted in the morning. Christopher would have to redirect the groundskeeper to work on the other side of the property tomorrow.
She grabbed the bag at a run and tore off around the side of the massive inn. Dressed like a thief, she raced away like she’d been caught red-handed. The clothes hugged her figure, reminding him of the feel of her in his arms.
He clenched and unclenched his hands into fists at his sides, fighting the muscle memory. He would not risk his composure in his workplace for something he could never have. Once, he’d been a fool to think he could hold her. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. The wounds from her departure still ached.
He strode back into the hotel, taking the shortcut through the lobby and out the doors to the patio. She raced over the rickety bridge, flying like a raven. For a second, he was lighter than air. More than happiness, he liked being right. Or so his actions of the last decade would proclaim on his behalf. Years ago, he’d been victorious, and for his prize, he had claimed a cold, lonely bed in a marital home that felt like a mausoleum without her nonstop singing and chattering to fill the high-ceilinged rooms.
With a shake, he focused on the present.
He’d known food would lure her out and asked the chef to add her old favorites to the menu, feigning a memory of some important guest’s preferences. He risked too much because he wanted to see her.
He strode back inside the building, nodding and smiling at the guests he passed on his way to the spiral stairwell near the kitchens. With each step, he climbed to his office in the attic and refocused on his goal. He’d taken the section in the turret for himself, liking the ability to glance north, south, or west with ease from his desk. And, because he couldn’t stay in their marital home by himself. The decision had been his biggest gamble and most successful payout.
It had been that chance that solidified Christopher’s heir apparent status. Xavier Hale knew Christopher would manage. When the time came, however, Christopher hadn’t felt prepared. Losing his father-in-law and mentor, knowing the full depths of the emotional damage that had never been reconciled between Ashley and Xavier, Christopher had ached to do the right thing. For the first time in years, however, he didn’t know what that was.
Xavier must have sensed the unease within Christopher at the prospect of taking over the Inn from Ashley and had, no doubt, included the odd stipulation to comfort Christopher in accepting what he had rightfully earned. The Inn at Loon Lake was as well-known for the gregarious and outgoing personalities of the Hale family as it was for exceptional customer service.
Christopher wanted a compromise. He could give her fifty percent of the profits, and she could start over wherever she wanted. Or she could stay and work for him. But, knowing his wife’s stubborn personality, she would balk at reporting to anyone and especially him.
Whether he liked it or not, he was trapped in a winner take all scenario.
He crossed the room to his private office, closed the door, and settled behind the large partner’s desk. With summer starting, he had enough work to remain chained here around the clock. From the corner of his eye, he saw the lighthouse in shadow. Hopefully, she remembered to ask for utensils. As a rule, they didn’t pack disposable forks with every order and gave up on plastic straws years ago. He chuckled, imagining her using the crusts of her bread to spoon every bite of scrambled egg.
She was creative and inventive. She’d find a way. Because she always did. And he couldn’t help but cheer her on, even when it was against his best interests. He’d always been a fool for her, and he couldn’t seem to change his ways.
ChapterThree
Since when did a to-go order not include a fork? Ashley used the remaining sourdough crust as a utensil, shoveling every last morsel of creamy, perfectly scrambled eggs into her mouth. Cross-legged on an air mattress with only the ambient light of her cell phone screen, she devoured her food. After every bite, she fought off a moan. She supposed giving into the sound would only add to the otherworldly atmosphere she created. Not that she’d had much success in scaring off Christopher.
