A Little Too Late (Madigan Mountain)

AVA

When my alarm goes off at eight, I’m naked and pancaked against Reed’s muscular back.

My eyes fly open. I roll over at top speed and shut off the phone’s angry squall. Then I slide out of the bed and look down at my ex, who’s still sleeping.

Jesus lord. I had an all-nighter with Reed Madigan just like the old days.

Except it’s not the old days anymore. I have a resort to run, and the Sharpes are still here. There’s snow in the forecast, and it’s opening weekend.

I slip out of the room to shower. I catch a look at myself in the bathroom mirror and see a rat’s nest for hair and circles under my eyes.

Good grief. What was I thinking?

“Are you okay, Ava?” Callie asks as I unpack the first box of LED candles an hour later. We’ve gathered in her living room to assemble the lanterns we need for opening night. “You look hungover,” she presses.

“I’m just tired,” I mutter.

My friends exchange glances.

“Drink this,” Raven says, pouring me a cup of coffee from Callie’s carafe. “And have a muffin. Then we’re going to talk.”

Oh boy. I’ve only been here for five minutes, and my friends are already sniffing for a story. They want to know what happened last night after they left Reed and me alone.

A disaster, that’s what. I’ve made a horrible mistake.

“I thought you’d be in meetings all day,” Raven says as she deposits a bakery bag from our favorite shop in town—Black Diamond Coffee—onto Callie’s coffee table. “Aren’t your business guys still here?”

“They are,” I admit. “And while I need the face time with them, today is legal review day. They’re going to spend hours talking about transferring the ninety-nine-year lease for the skiable terrain. I’m not a lawyer, so it would be hard to sit there all day and pretend to be relevant.”

“You are relevant,” Callie insists, setting a stack of plates and a pile of napkins down beside the bakery bag. “You run this place.”

“In a hands-on way, yes, but I don’t write the leasehold contracts. Thank God. Now, speaking of hands-on, after we stuff muffins in our faces, we have forty torches to assemble. I brought the paper, the punches, and the scissors. Be careful not to cut yourself, Callie.”

“That was one time. And you’re changing the subject.” Callie takes a bite of her muffin and watches me intently. “Did Reed go to the meetings?”

It’s such a clumsy attempt to bring up Reed that I practically roll my eyes. “I think so.” I retrieve a muffin from the bag and take a big bite.

Reed did, in fact, go to the legal review meeting, after a goodbye kiss that ranked a seven on the Richter scale. I’m doing my best to act like my normal self right now, but it’s a struggle. My head isn’t in the game this morning. It’s back in bed with Reed.

Last night was outrageous. We were up for hours, reprising the same kind of urgent, sweaty sex we’d had when we were young.

Now I feel exhausted and vulnerable. And my friends are circling like seagulls.

“Did you two fool around?” Raven asks. “We’re dying, here.”

I’m saved from answering as the door is flung open to admit Halley. “Oooh, Black Diamond muffins? Got an extra one?”

“Maybe,” Raven says. “But only if you help us set up the candle torches. And help us interrogate Ava.”

Halley winces as she removes her coat. “Go easy on Ava. Hardy just told me that Reed’s girlfriend flew in last night, and Reed sent her luggage up to the Vista Suite.”

“What?” Raven gasps as all eyes turn to me.

“God, Ava, are you okay?” Callie squeaks.

I groan into my coffee cup, because mountain gossip is swift and brutal. This place is like a small town on meth. “Guys, I haven’t even processed everything that’s happened to me in the last seventy-two hours. This kind of attention doesn’t give me any space to get my thoughts in order.”

“But I need to know whether to accidentally pour too much bitters into his drinks,” Halley insists.

I sigh. “In the first place, you shouldn’t listen to gossip. I mean—Hardy’s facts are essentially correct, except he missed the part where Reed’s ex stayed in the Vista Suite alone while Reed stayed with me.”

A happy gasp escapes from the crew. “That’s why you look so exhausted!” Callie shrieks. “You were up all night having wild monkey sex with the second hottest Madigan!”

My face bums brightly, but I seize on this opportunity to change the subject. “Second hottest? Who’s in first place?”

“Weston,” Callie says with a shrug. “I met him once, the night before he left the mountain. That man is scorching.”

“Let’s get back to the monkey sex,” Halley says. “I thought you were hungover, but now I think you’re just tired.”

“I do feel hungover,” I admit. “I have the same spacy head and muzzy thoughts that too much of an intoxicating substance can bring you.”

“Except the intoxicating substance, in this case, is Reed Madigan?” Raven asks.

“Right,” I say quietly. “He has always been my biggest weakness. I let myself get swept away by him again last night. At the time, it all seemed big and important. As if closure was a thing I could ever have.”

“He’s still your guy,” Raven says gently. “You never got over him.”

“Hey—it’s not that I don’t want to. At least we’ve finally aired some things out. We’ve talked a lot.”

“In between rounds.” Halley snickers. “How’s his stamina?”

“Oh, geez.” I drop my face in my hands. “That would be TMI.”

Everyone laughs, and I might as well accept that my face is going to be permanently stained this shade of pink. Reed’s stamina is still as top notch as it had been when he was a twenty-two-year-old athlete. And my acting skills aren’t great. “The next time we’re in the same room together, I’ll probably start drooling on myself.”

“And when will that be?” Callie asks. “After the Madigans sign the sale agreement, is Reed going back to California?”

“Yes,” I say with evident misery. “He has a whole life there. And I’m finally going to run this place, like I’ve wanted to.”

My friends are quiet for a moment. Callie picks up one of the cute little paper bags I’ve brought to make the torches. She picks up the punch and starts making holes in the bag for the light to shine through.

We do this every year—we ski down the mountain in formation on opening weekend with resort guests watching our lit up-parade. The high school band plays, and there’s hot cider and cocoa and wood-fired pizza. It’s one of the mountain rituals I’ve come to love.

But Reed wants no part of it anymore. He hasn’t wavered on that point. Soon he’ll go back to California, and that’s all there is to it.

Later that morning, the front desk gets a weekend cancelation for a top-tier room—the Colorado Suite. I quickly reserve it under Reed’s name.

When I text him the news, he replies: Trying to get rid of me?

I just thought you might want your space. And, yup, I’m a coward. It’s me who probably needs a quiet moment alone to freak out. Spending time with Reed has put me into an emotional tailspin, and I don’t know how to get out.

I need to figure it out soon, because I can’t avoid the afternoon human resources meeting with the Sharpes. They need to see me as a manager.

I slip in just as the meeting is starting. Reed lifts his handsome face and gives me a wink as I make my hasty entrance.

An actual wink. I feel my face heating up already.

Thankfully, there’s a seat available next to Mark where I’m not in Reed’s line of sight. I sit down, my face impassive. The HR talk should be a dull topic, but Brian, our HR manager, does a great job of keeping things moving. He’s titled his presentation: How to Hire and Manage 1500 Seasonal Workers Without Losing Your Mind.

It’s a sharp presentation. His slides describe how the mountain uses an international work force to run the lifts, sharpen the skis, babysit the kiddos, teach them to ski, pour the cocoa, and a hundred other jobs.

“Never a dull day around this lot,” Brian says in his cute Aussie accent. “But there’s always something borking up our plans. Like, I hear we’re getting a foot of snow tonight.”

There’s a murmur of agreement as all eyes drift toward the window where the first fat flakes are already falling.

Then, to my pleasant surprise, Grandpa Sharpe cuts the meeting short, even though it’s only four thirty. “Can we call it a day, kids? We three have a dinner reservation in Denver.”

“Denver,” Mark repeats. “I know seventy miles doesn’t sound like a big drive to a Texan, but do you have a four-wheel-drive vehicle? It’s supposed to snow all evening, and I’m a little worried about your return trip.”

“That may be an issue,” Trey announces, looking up from his phone. “The driver I hired canceled, and I’m trying Uber now.”

Uber to Denver? I hold back my snort. Not likely.

“What we need is a helipad,” Grandpa Sharpe announces with a chuckle. “Problem solved.”

“If we had one, we’d use it for ski trips more than business dinners,” Mark says. “I know just where I’d put the helipad. If only I knew a helicopter pilot.” He and Reed share a glance, and Reed rolls his eyes.

Reed’s younger brother, Weston, is a helicopter pilot, of course. But the middle Madigan son has just as little interest in visiting the mountain as his brothers.

“Is that a trend? Skiing from a helicopter?” Grandpa Sharpe asks.

“Hell yes,” I say. “Adventurous skiers love to access terrain they can’t reach from a ski lift. Untracked powder is excellent skiing, as well as a big ego boost.”

“Write that down,” Grandpa says, nudging his grandson.

“Yessir!”

“Tell you what,” Reed says. “Let me lend you guys my rental SUV. It has studded snow tires—I asked for those when I saw the forecast.”

The middle Sharpe regards him with surprise. “That is mighty kind. We might just take you up on it.”

“You should,” Reed says grandly. Then he actually smiles. “I’ve been difficult this week. Let me make it up to you. I don’t need the car tonight, but it’s all gassed up and just sitting in the parking lot.”

“I like it,” Trey says. “I’ll drive the thing myself.”

“Perfect,” Reed says. “And if you don’t like the road conditions, just stay overnight in Denver. Better safe than sorry.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll make it back,” Grandpa says. “But we’ll take you up on that car.”

“Let me get the keys.” Reed rises. “Ava, could you let me into your office?”

“Of course.” I jump up.

“I need to run up to my room,” the middle Sharpe says. “Trey, get the keys? Meet us out front?”

“Sure, Papa. Take your time.”

I follow Reed out of the room, feeling wary. If he wants to talk about last night, I don’t even know what I’ll find to say.

Luckily, he’s not in a talkative mood. I follow his quick footsteps toward the front doors, where he asks Hardy to bring the car around. Then we reverse course and walk back toward the office wing.

“It’s really nice of you to lend them your car,” I say as we fall into step beside each other. “I don’t know why they’d want to go all the way to Denver for dinner, anyway.”

“Neither do I,” Reed says darkly. “But I intend to find out.”

“Wait.” I skid to a halt on the slate tiles in front of the office. “What do you mean? What are you up to?”

“I think these guys lie,” Reed says. “But maybe they’ll prove me wrong.”

“How will they do that?” I press.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Fuck, don’t answer that. Just please unlock the door. I promise to explain, but I’m in a hurry, here.”

We’re locked in a stare down, and my heart gives an unwelcome shimmy. He’s standing so close to me that I can smell his aftershave. I can sense the heat of his body through his cotton shirt.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore. But every time Reed and I are near each other, I lose my head a little more.

With my skittish heart pounding, I unlock the door.