Up to Snow Good - Kelly Collins Page 0,11
big dream, and little chance of pulling it off.
Ruthie appeared to ponder the idea, shrugging as she popped the rolls into the other oven. “There’s always a way, child.” Ruthie gave Lauren a little kiss on the cheek and turned her around to usher her out of the kitchen with a swat from a dish towel.
For the next few hours, Lauren stood behind the registration desk daydreaming about old-world Santas, gingerbread houses, and pretty iced cookies in the shapes of trees and snowmen.
Was it possible to transform the lodge into a winter wonderland minus the winter? She didn’t know, but it was the best idea yet.
Chapter Nine
Max
Max drove away from the lodge with a heavy heart. Built to be a place of joy and comfort, it had become a prison for its owner. Lauren struck him as a damsel in distress in some ivory tower, in desperate need of rescue, and of love.
He didn’t see himself as her saving grace or her knight in shining armor. If anything, he was an emissary of the fire-breathing dragon that would burn her castle to the ground.
Looking back on his visit, the place wasn’t what it used to be, and it probably never would be again. The floors needed refinishing, the furniture replaced, and there was no doubt in his mind that the guest rooms had the same green-checked curtains from a decade ago.
Despite what had to be an endless list of faults, there was bound to be some sentimental attachment that would keep her there even if she would be better off letting it go.
He tried to convince himself that it might be worse to lock herself up with all those memories. A fresh start might be exactly what she needed. Further thought only assured him she needed a change.
That big, musty old place was no life for a vibrant young woman. She should run a thriving little café and live in a nice condo, something befitting a modern woman, a person with a future and not just a sad past.
He nodded to himself, reassured that she needed him, and she needed change, even if she failed to see that at first.
What was important now was to convince his pop to offer her a lucrative deal. How to sell that to his cheap-ass dad was the next hurdle. Treating Lauren fairly was a must.
The sun cut through the clouds, and a sharp glare stabbed his eyes. The barren landscape lacked the green of spring and the white of winter. Moss Creek was a place without a season.
He drove to the house with a feeling of trepidation. His stomach turned with a nervousness he always had when he was about to give his father unpleasant news.
Ten minutes later, in his father’s study, Max’s expectations were received as expected—with anger.
“You didn’t even make the offer?” His father grumbled.
“It wasn’t the right time. How is it going to look if I show up with a lowball offer right when she’s at her worst?” He hated being in this position at all. He always found himself as the middleman, and it wasn’t a job he loved. Somehow, he was always stuck between a rock and a hard place, which was usually his father’s bad and worse decisions.
“How’s it going to look if somebody else makes an offer first?”
His father had a point, and it was always better to challenge him indirectly, so he nodded in agreement. “I get why you’re concerned, but I don’t think that will be a problem.”
Pop looked him over, grimacing before he jammed a Cuban into his mouth, and pulled his cheeks in to stoke the burning ember. Through a puff of smoke, he said, “Then what’s the problem?”
“There isn’t one, it’s all under control.”
He nodded, but his snarl held fast. “That had better be true, Max.” After a prolonged pause, he went on, “You’re not kids anymore. Don’t let your childhood crush ruin our business deals.”
“Childhood? Pop, c’mon.” The first time he and Lauren made love, he didn’t feel like a child. He felt like a man who could give her anything from pleasure to a nice life. He was wrong.
“Don’t give me that. She’s not at all unattractive, and I’m not so old that I can’t see it, but that will not happen, not then and not now. Those bridges were lit on fire long ago.”
Max didn’t need a reminder, and he wouldn’t tell his father he was trying to build them again, plank by plank. “I know how you