Page 39 of Heartbreaker

I inhale again.

It’s not the same ashere.

I unbuckle and hop out, moving over to the porch of the main house to meet Dave, who runs the place.

I’ll grab the keys for both cabins—a pair that’s farthest away from the rest—and get everything ready for Jade when her driver drops her off.

She’s busier than I am, Hollywood wanting their piece of her now that she’s the hottest thing on the planet, and she’s still struggling to find the balance of yes and no.

Of course, for me that default is set at no andmoreno.

Easier that way.

“Royal,” Dave says, extending his hand for me to shake.

I do, even as I hate the reminder of my accident.

Dulled sensation, fingers that struggle to work, far too much focus to complete a simple task I never used to think about.

“Good to see you,” I tell him before I pull back. “I appreciate the favor. I know this place is booked up this time of year.”

A shrug of his flannel-covered shoulders.

This is a man who thrives in the outdoors, who hikes and snowboards and boats, who chops wood and scares off bears with only his bare—no pun intended—hands and shovels driveways.

He’s not afraid of hard work, is down to earth, and lives a simple life.

And running this place helps him keep doing that.

Especially now that he caters to the wealthy.

“I’m just glad we had that cancelation and could accommodate you.” He claps me on the shoulder. “You know I love having you here.”

I smirk. “Just not enough to kick out another paying customer.”

He taps his nose. “Got it in one.” A tilt of his head to the door of the main house. “I’ll just run in for the key. Want a cup of coffee for the road?”

“Just the keys,” I tell him.

He nods and disappears inside, the door slamming behind him.

I turn to soak in the view of the valley, the granite mountains and the rows and rows of pine trees. The lake that draws everyone in, the narrow stretch of beach that’s not, by any stretch of the imagination, warm, even in the middle of summer.

The door opens behind me, and I rotate back to face Dave as he comes out with an envelope and keys.

“I warned your assistant when she called to make the reservation, that there’s a big storm coming in. It might take a few days for the roads to be cleared enough to get back to the airport.”

I look up, see that the sky is a dark gray and, yeah, the air’s cool enough to indicate snow, but everything’s so carefully manicured here—trails designed to look natural, but someone would have to be a complete idiot to not be able to follow, along with heated driveways and carefully sloped roads—that I’ve never felt anything but safe and comfortable.

A little snow?

All the better.

It means more people will stay away.

And a few days is perfect—make some music, scratch this perpetual itch that Jade has created in me, and go back to normal.

“We’ll have power, though,” he says, “every cabin has a generator if the lines go down and plenty of firewood. I even checked that the cabin’s fireplaces were ready to roll.”