Page 6 of Worth the Rush
“You got it,” he says, grabbing a glass from behind the counter. I glance around as he gets my beer and sets it in front of me, then moves on to someone else.
I thank him and turn to spot Colt in the corner chatting with a giggling brunette. He waves at me, motioning for me to come over. It’s not a surprise to find him in the bar, seeing as he spends most evenings here and his uncle owns the place. It’s even less of a surprise to find him here chatting with a beautiful woman. Colt likes women, and women like him. I shake my head a little and feel cold air at my back as I wave back at him. I lift my glass to my lips, feeling the slight burn of hops hit my tongue.
I hear the scrape of a stool down the bar from mine and look over. I almost choke on my beer. I’ve seen quite a few beautiful women before. I’ve been with plenty of them. I like women, and I like sex. If they’re game to keep it casual, then we’re both going to get a lot out of the exchange. The woman sitting on the stool to my left, though? She’s stunning. An absolute smoke show. With her cute little nose stuck so high in the air like she’s looking down on everyone around her, and the rigid set of her back, she looks like she should be sitting on a throne. Then she speaks.
“Can I get a vodka tonic with lime when you get a minute, please?” she asks in a raspy voice that makes that drink order the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
I wasn’t looking for anything other than a beer tonight, but now that I’ve seen the woman sitting next to me, you’ll be hard-pressed to find me looking at anything else for the rest of the night.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
That seems to be a running theme in my life. A cycle I can’t break. One I can spot coming from a mile away but am destined to repeat. Two weeks ago, I was sitting in the sun on the Southern California coast. Well, I wasn’t sitting exactly. More likeloungingon the beach. I’d had a little too much champagne to drink that I’d spent a little too much money on.
After my ex-husband of less than a year announced his new engagement a month ago, I’m embarrassed to say I went a little off the rails. Likecrash Daddy’s boatoff the rails. I mentally wince, thinking about that night. What's worse is, it’s not because I’m still in love with him or anything. In fact, I would go as far as to say I wasneverin love with him. Our marriage wasn’t really so much a romantic entanglement as it was a business deal. No, it was because he announced his engagement toher. Margot Moreau; stunning, long legs, cool haircut,French, seems super sweet to your face and then sleeps with your husband, bitch.What a piece of shit. The both of them, but Noah? Noah James could fall off the face of the earth, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash. I built a five-inch thick, reinforced concrete wall around myself, but somehow it still stung. The human condition is fascinating.
I’ve never given much thought to how my life would go. In the state of Colorado, under a constant cover of clouds and snow, there is a small mountain town named Silverthorne. With a population of 4,769.Okay, someone has to take away my access to Twilight.I think it’s safe to say I’ll stick out like a redhead in a snowstorm. Which is exactly what I am at the moment, so that’s not even a metaphor. The wind picks up again, and I can’t see out my windshield.Shit.Snow. Snow. More fucking snow. It’s everywhere. There’s no getting away from it. It’s been coming down steadily from the moment I landed in Denver. Thankfully, for just a few moments, the flurries start to slow, and the faint glow of civilization I’ve been heading toward for the last thirty minutes is getting brighter and closer.
The Edgemont Ski Resort and Lodge, my purgatory, will have to wait a little longer. There’s no way I’m making it up the mountain in this. It’s already dark and as careless as I am with my own life sometimes, I won’t risk somebody else’s trying to make it to the top of a mountain in the middle of a snowstorm. I think back to the conversation I had with my father a few days ago.
“If you think you can continue on the way you’re going and then waltz into,”—I have neverwaltzedinto anything in my life. I am not a good dancer, despite the many lessons I’ve been subjected to—“being the CEO of my company, you are sorelymistaken, Ivy.”I can still hear the disappointment and contempt in his voice. It’s not hard to detect when that’s all you’ve heard your entire life.
It’s always been the plan that one day, I would take over our family business. I’d move back home and take my place on the board for Rutherford Industries, specifically as a creative head in our new branding. Since my small stint on the other side of responsible the past month, Sullivan Rutherford has decided I need to “gain some first-hand experience”before handing over the proverbial reins. Really, I think he would find any excuse to keep me away from the business. Away from him…but I’ve had my eyes set on this job and the life that comes with it for too long to give it up now.
Focus, Ivy.I don’t have time to dwell on my personal issues. There are more urgent ones at present. Like not sliding my shiny new parting gift, which was parked and waiting for me at the airport, into a ditch. And how I’m going to create two new streams of revenue over the next three months so I can leave this place. I need to get back home. Back to my life. This is just an unfortunate stepping stone to get me where I’m meant to be.
Silverthorne looms before me. It’s hard to see it fully with the conditions being what they are—it’s the middle of the night and snowing. What was supposed to be a scenic drive from the airport this afternoon turned treacherous because of my flight delays. Having grown up in Northern California, I’ve driven in the snow before. This is different though. This is a blizzard. Or, well, it feels like one. I feel my throat tighten.Do not cry. Do not cry.I can’t afford anything else obscuring my vision right now.
There!I take the exit a little fast, having almost missed it, and luckily, this road will take me directly into downtownwhere my destination will be. I can’t wait to take a hot shower and curl up in a bed. I’m exhausted from more than just today. I drive down the main street and notice that it looks as picturesque as a snow globe. Lights and decorations litter the buildings and lamp posts. I check my GPS to make sure I’m in the right spot. I had to google if there would be anywhere to stay tonight. This place is the only one. And I don’t mean the only one available. I mean theonlyone. I pull into the parking spot with a sign that reads Holloway Hotel Customer Parking Only, the words barely visible, and slowly roll to a stop. I breathe a deep sigh of relief. My hands and back are sore.
I didn’t realize how tightly I was wound up until now. I look out into the dark night, squinting even though it doesn’t help. I can’t see beyond the building I’m parked in front of. Three months. I can do this. I will do this. I send a quick text to Sienna, the only friend I have who will care where I am. I’ll call my father tomorrow. I straighten my back, tug my beanie down over my ears, and step out into the freezing cold night.Fuck, that’s really cold.
Walking into the lobby, the first thing I notice is how cozy it is in here. The plush brown leather sofas have a few fuzzy cream throw pillows on them, and the amber light that’s filling the space is inviting. I look up and see a staircase with a black iron banister leading to a small sitting area that has a few shelves filled with books. Yes, it’s very cozy, and making a tally in my mind, I mark this hotel as charming. I’m not sure why I do this, but it’s something I’ve always done. A quirk I've had so long that I don’t remember when it started.
The snow that was clinging to me outside is starting to melt, and I pull my hat off. I look at the big clock on the wall. 8:47 p.m.Okay, so it’s not the middle of the night. It only feelsthat way then. There are paintings on the walls of what looks to be this building before it looked like this, perhaps in its original form. I spot another room with a lit-up bar, but no lights are on in the main area.
“Hello, welcome to the Holloway Hotel. I’m Marilyn. What can I do for you this evening?” A pleasant voice breaks through my thoughts. I turn and see an older woman standing behind the check-in desk, looking at me expectantly.
I clear my throat, not sure how my voice will sound after being alone on the road the past few hours. “Hi. I was wondering if you have any rooms available. I just got into town and was heading to The Edgemont, but…” I trail off.
“But driving up the side of the mountain in the dark during a snowstorm sounded like a bad idea?” she supplies, finishing my sentence and thoughts perfectly. I smile. She gets it.
“Exactly,” I confirm.
“Well, I do have a few rooms available, and I also commend you on not throwing common sense to the wind and deciding to ride out the storm here in town.” She beams. “Will a king room work for you?” She holds up a key. Not a key card. An actual key. That is…charming.
“That’s perfect. I would have taken a closet with a throw pillow and a towel to cover up with,” I say, accepting the key.
“Luckily for you, that won’t be necessary. Your room’s up the stairs, third floor, fourth door on the left. I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Thank you. Is there anywhere I could get a drink? I saw that there was a dining room when I came in, but it looks very dark in there. I'm praying that’s just because the vibe is really dark and moody or that there are vampires that hang out in there after a certain time of day.” I ramble off withoutthinking how strange I must seem to this complete stranger. She doesn’t know that fictional vampires are always just a thought away for me. I don’t drink very often these days, but I’m too keyed up now to sleep, and a nightcap sounds good.
Marilyn doesn’t miss a beat. “No vampires tonight; you can try back next week though. Unfortunately, we closed the dining room early because of the weather. Most of our staff has gone home. I live in town, so I volunteered to stay,” she tells me. “If you’re really needing a drink, you can go to AJ’s. It’s right across the street, and Buck will probably still have the kitchen open.” I’m not sure which part of her response trips me up the most. Her playing into my bit without so much as blinking, that there’s a bar within walking distance, or that its owner's name isBuck.I think it may be the name.
“Thank you. I think I’ll head over there before I settle in for the night.” I turn and give Marilyn a little wave.
“Tell Buck hi for me! Have a good night!” she calls as I walk toward the glass door and back out into the whiteout. I pull my hat back on my head and tug it down. Stepping off the curb, I see the bright neon sign for AJ’s. Overhead are strings of lights, and on every shop door, there seems to be a wreath, a bow, or a fully decorated Christmas tree. It’s very charming, but as adorable as it may seem, I’m not looking to fall in love with this sleepy little mountain town. I’m looking to prove myself in order to finally have something that’s mine, and no one can take it from me.
AJ’s Bar is warm, so I already like it in here. From the rustic wooden door to the stunning wooden bar top, it’s obvious it’s been crafted with care. I note the exposed brick walls and wooden floating shelves that display sports and other memorabilia. My quick survey of the room tells me this is most likely alocal hangout. Everyone here seems comfortable and familiar. I feel a small pang in my chest. I’ve never had a place like that. I’ve spent time in plenty of bars, but none that I felt comfortable in. Or with anyone I felt comfortable with.
