Page 4 of The Route to You

He ripped the dried glue from his foot and sucked in a breath with a hiss, then examined the spine-covered glue. Well, at least it worked. Landing on the sand might not have helped with the spines on his backside, though.

Digging his toes into the sand, he stood and wrapped the comforter around him as the roar of an ATV approached. Davy. Her long black braid shone in the sun as she bounced toward him. She came to a stop a few feet away, a grim look on her face as she gave him a once-over.

“This is not where I left you.”

She hopped off the ATV and started toward him, cell phone in hand.

“Long story.” He nodded toward the phone. “You get my sister?”

Davy nodded and extended the phone toward him. “She’s on mute.”

Kyle took it and pressed the mute button, squinting as he looked back toward the trailer. Sunlight bounced off it, blinding him. “Hey . . . which of my darling sisters is trying to reach me in the middle of nowhere?”

A sniff came through the other side, grounding him. “Kyle, it’s Elle.” Her voice sounded thin and tired.

Sad.

He stiffened. “Elle, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Gran.” Elle cleared her throat, her voice sounding more distant by the second. “She’s . . . she’s gone.”

2

KYLE

The lobby of the Greyrock Hotel in Vail sparkled so brightly that Kyle slowed as he entered it, considering going back to remove his shoes. Or apologize to someone for walking on the floor.

A floral scent hung in the air . . . and was that a string quartet over by the white sofas that he’d never dare to sit on?

“Champagne?” a woman in a crisp uniform asked, appearing at his elbow with a tray of filled flutes.

He took one out of reflex and had a sip, letting his gaze travel around the crowd of elegantly dressed people milling through the lobby like they all belonged to the same, very shiny, species.

Hopefully, this was all for the wedding, because he’d never felt so out of place in his life.

Which was saying something, considering he’d once filmed an episode in an Amazon jungle village wearing a loincloth.

But this, compared to the little cabin he’d rented a few miles outside of town—a place that didn’t even come with sheets for the twin bed—contrasted starkly.

Still, the cabin fit the bill for what he needed: something isolated, surrounded by nature, and, most importantly, available. Not the easiest thing to find at the last minute in the mountains of Colorado in January when ski season was in full, merciless swing.

Normally, in January, he liked to take a break to visit La Hacienda Tropical in Costa Rica, owned by his brother-in-law, Callum Scott. Callum’s sister, Isla, had run the boutique inn for years and always made space for him, even if it meant sticking him in her old childhood bedroom at her mom’s house on the property. And he loved surfing.

But after Granny’s funeral, the last thing he needed was to add fuel to the idea that he was just an irresponsible bachelor living a “party lifestyle” and not making time for his family, which was what Dad had accused him of when he’d seen those pictures online of him bare-assed on the sand of the Mojave. Plus, he needed to stick around for this wedding with Davy.

And the job Granny left me in her will.

His jaw clenched and he focused on the bubbles making their way up the side of his glass, letting them willfully distract him.

Davy had told him to meet her here at six. Maybe he should text her and let her know he’d arrived before someone tried to talk to him.

This was . . . intense. High profile. Davy had said he should be prepared to show his ID at the door to security, get his name crossed off a guest list, then go through a metal detector, but he hadn’t really taken her seriously, thinking it was just another exaggeration on her part. Plus, he hadn’t truly paid attention to Davy’s email about the wedding.

Big mistake, because it’d all been true. This wasn’t just an ordinary wedding.

And, he didn’t want to stare, but he was almost positive the guy standing ten feet away was someone famous he should recognize.

Had he dressed well enough for this rehearsal dinner? He’d saved his best suit for the wedding and now he was beginning to think he should have just worn it two nights in a row and committed to the lie that he had anything worth wearing.