Page 49 of The Last Resort
When the pain under his ribs eventually subsided, Matthew cracked open the door of his room, listening before venturing out onto the landing. From where he stood at the top of the stairs leading down to the lobby, he could see into the parking lot out front. The big green Ford Bronco he’d spotted a little while earlier was gone.
We’re alone now.
She could murder him and there wouldn’t be any witnesses. Matthew pushed the ridiculous notion away. Rachel was angry with him, and rightly so. He’d kept the truth of his identity from her.
But it’s not as if I’m some billionaire crime fighter with a secret cave full of weapons. I’m just a hotel developer, so it’s not that big a secret.
He made his way to the nearby kitchen. Coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich always made him feel better. The resort’s kitchen had been stripped of most of its commercial appliances, leaving only the fittings such as sinks and a grill. The walk-in cool room still worked, and he’d stored some fresh fruit and milk inside it. Just because they were staying at the old lodge didn’t mean they had to completely rough it.
Matthew fired up the grill and got to work making a sandwich. He was in the cool room grabbing butter when a familiar voice reached his ears. “That had better not be my Monterey Jack you’ve put in that sandwich.”
He gritted his teeth. She was still in a pissy mood. Picking up the stick of butter, Matthew made his way back into the kitchen, closing the cool room door behind him. He sauntered over to where his sandwich lay on the stainless steelcounter top. “I wouldn’t be so crass as to use Monterey Jack in a cheese melt. That’s strictly for nachos. This is imported Gruyere, which costs fifteen dollars an ounce. So, if anyone’s going to be protective of their cheese, it’s me.”
She grumbled something about billionaire extravagance, but Matthew chose to ignore it. Rachel was making herself a cup of coffee using the machine he’d purchased from the same high end grocery store where he’d bought his supplies earlier on. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “And those are my coffee pods.”
She softly swore then went to step away from her half-filled cup. As she did, Matthew lay a hand on Rachel’s arm. Her whole body stiffened. He’d never made a woman so wound up, so angry. “Please, Rachel. Make the coffee. You can use the machine anytime. In fact, feel free to use anything that’s mine in the kitchen. Including the food.”
“And what do you want in return?”
This was a side of her he hadn’t encountered before. Then again, until late yesterday, she’d thought of him as a hotel accountant, not a billionaire developer. And he’d thought she worked in a gift store, not as a commercial architect looking to lock horns with him over this project.
“I want us to call a truce. Staying angry at each other will prevent us from creating a new proposal together, and that’s the only way we’ll make it out of here and get what we both want.”
“What have you got to be angry with me about? You’re the greedy developer, not me,” she huffed.
“Apart from you assaulting me a little while ago, I would say I have plenty to be annoyed about. How about the fact that you lied about why you’re in Aspen. And you took apart my model in the meeting, then encouraged other people to steal more pieces. That was a fifteen-thousand-dollar custom built design model.”
She broke my toy and didn’t bother to apologize.
Rachel picked up her mug of coffee and carried it over to the nearby sink. She tipped the contents out, then washed the cup. “I didn’t lie to you about why I’m here. I told you it was to make a fresh start, and that’s the honest truth. And anyone who spends that sort of money on an initial design proposal deserves to have it broken up. The locals didn’t steal the bits they took, they left you money. Keep your coffee pods Matthew. TheManhattan Escapeeis on Uber eats. I’ll get my coffee from them.”
She marched out of the kitchen, leaving Matthew alone with his sandwich. Not even outrageously expensive Swiss cheese could solve this situation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
When she finally did manage to get a weak cell signal, Rachel was gutted to discover thatTheManhattan Escapeedidn’t deliver this far out of town. And trying to book an Uber was problematic. No sooner had she booked a driver, then they cancelled. Apparently, no one in Aspen wanted to get involved in the drama which was unfolding at the Green Tree Resort.
I bet they’d watch it if it was streamed on Netflix.
Rachel got the distinct impression that she and Matthew had been put in some sort of virtual time out by the rest of the local population. Sent to their rooms. And the only way they were going to be allowed out of them was after they’d come up with a workable solution for the future of the ski lodge.
Which left her either going without coffee or eating a large helping of humble pie. Before Google maps fizzed out, it had happily informed her that in the current icy conditions, it was a dangerous three hour round trip on foot to the nearest coffee shop. She was left with little choice. “Damn.”
When she knocked on Matthew’s door he didn’t answer.Her treasonous lust-filled body was doing its best to convince her that if she happened to find him in a state of delicious nakedness it wasn’t anything she hadn’t already seen and touched. Had enjoyed. And would most certainly like to enjoy touching again.
Stop it.
Her wants and needs were still battling it out as she stepped back from the door. There was only room for one hypocrite in this ski lodge.
Memories of Matthew and the nights she’d spent in his arms had Rachel forgetting all about coffee and going in search of a blast of cold, icy air.
She found him outside, sitting on an old log which had been cut and fashioned into a bench. Matthew was on the phone. He quickly ended his call the moment he saw her.
“You don’t have to hide your evil plans from me, Matthew Royal. Or have you forgotten we are meant to be working together on this project.”
He tucked his phone into his thick winter jacket. “That was my mother. We have a wedding in the family soon and she was just making certain that my passport was in order.”
Way to go, Rachel.
