Chapter Twenty-three
Every time Morgan thought she’d found the sweet spot in her workout routine, Jen devised some new form of torture.
Today’s pyramid of dead lifts, kickbacks, military presses, and biceps curls in the goddess position ranked as the worst yet.
She sweated her way to the top of the pyramid, indulged her inner camel in a thirty-second—all Jen allowed—water break, then did her best not to weep her way down again.
Getting strong, she lectured herself. Getting strong enough to punch Rozwell in the throat. And after the last vicious rep, she set down the weights.
But did it end there? No, it did not.
She suffered through twelve agonizing minutes of core with crunches, bicycles, the detested inchworm, and more until her abs burned along with the rest of her.
Breathless, limp, done, she lay on the mat, eyes closed. “When will I stop hating it?”
Helpfully, Jen tossed her a gym towel. “Why are you doing it?”
Behind her lids, Morgan’s eyes rolled. “To get strong, be strong, stay strong.”
“And it’s working. You’ve doubled your weights and reps since you started. Packing some nice guns these days.”
Morgan turned her head, opened one eye. With it she studied her arms. “Sort of.”
“Very nice guns for your frame and body type. Now hydrate and stretch.” Smiling, Jen held out a hand. “Body by Jen. I’m liking what I see here.”
Morgan clasped hands, groaned her way to her feet. “This body by Jen feels like it’s been pounded with a thousand tiny hammers.”
“Hydrate and stretch,” Jen repeated, “and it won’t. You’ve come a long way. Keep it up. Hey, Nell.”
“Jen. I’ve got a free hour.”
“And the world shudders on its axis.”
“I know, right?” In her black shorts and tank, Nell grabbed a pair of fifteen-pound weights. “I’m squeezing in some fun.”
She took her stance, started with a swimmer’s press, and sent Morgan a look. “You look like you’ve finished the fun.”
“I’m done. Done in. She’s a monster.”
“I wear the badge with pride. Stretch,” Jen said again, her beaded braids swaying as she walked away to find another victim.
Morgan started her stretches and scowled at Nell in the mirror wall. “Show-off.”
“A badge I wear with pride. I was hoping to run into you before your shift. Mom just told me the Friedman event, that’s Sunday, wants another bar.”
“They already have two.”
“And now they want three. One for mixed drinks, and instead of the second for wine, beer, and soft drinks, they want to split that. One soft bar, one wine and beer bar.”
“I’ll ask Bailey to take it.”
Smoothly, Nell switched to Crazy Eights. “Is she ready?”
“More than for a wine and beer bar. It’s a good way for her to solo at an event. I’ll let you know. If she can’t take it, I’ll see if Nick wants it, or can switch shifts with me and I’ll take it. Becs has her Friday night art class, and I wouldn’t ask her to miss it unless we’re stuck. Tricia’s on vacation until Saturday.”
“I’ll leave it to you. How are you?”
With her hands clasped behind her back, Morgan drew them down and let out a sound that signaled relief. “I think my bones are burning.”
“Keep stretching, and that’s not what I meant.”
“I haven’t heard anything for a couple of days. The last I did, they found the car he stole when he dumped the first one at the airport in Omaha. He ditched that—he’d switched the plates—at a truck stop in South Dakota. They think he might’ve gotten a ride from there, heading west, as they had a possible sighting in Wyoming they were going to follow up on.”
“So he’s still running, and in the opposite direction from here. That’s a good thing.”
“I’m trying to think of it that way.”
“I’d try that, too. I don’t know if I’d succeed.” Switching to twelve pounders, Nell started triceps extensions. “How’s the new security system working out?”
“The ladies love it. Go figure.” As she stretched her own triceps, Morgan had to admit—as usual—the burn had turned to warmth, and her fatigue to smugness. “They baked Miles a damn cherry pie.”
“I love cherry pie. He did not share. It was intrusive of him, Morgan. Miles doesn’t intrude unless his feelings outweigh his pretty rigid sense of stay-out-of-it.”
“I get that. And along that line, how are you doing with your triangle?”
“I have a triangle?”
“You, Jake, Miles.”
With a laugh, Nell set down the lighter weights. “I’m doing my best to enjoy one, ignore the other. And along that line, why don’t we all go out to dinner, make it a foursome? Maybe next Sunday night when you’re off.”
“Oh.” After rolling her shoulders, Morgan lowered into a runner’s stretch. When Nell picked up the heavier weight again for another set of shoulder presses, Morgan wondered how Nell could lift steady without breaking a sweat. “Wouldn’t that be a little awkward?”
“I don’t think so. I think it would be good for Miles to see me and Jake as a couple.”
“Are you?”
“I think we’re cautiously approaching that destination. I can set it up, keep it casual.”
“Have Miles grill,” Morgan suggested. “He likes to, and it’s not only casual, it fits the dynamics. Friends and family.”
“That’s brilliant. I should’ve thought of it.”
“Maybe ask Liam to join with a date. That turns the triangle into a hexagon. I think.”
“Really brilliant. I’ll set it up.”
“Let me know. Now I’m done with this hellhole for another day. Listen, when you have time, drop by Après. I have a couple of candidates for the fall specials to run by you.”
“I’ll do that. Keep the ideas coming, Morgan.”
“I’ve got an endless supply.”
She headed out, deeply considered the elevator rather than the steps. And weighing guilt against convenience, turned toward the steps.
Miles came down them.
“Is Nell in the fitness center?”
“Showing off with her fifteen-pound weights.”
“Good. I need to go over something with her, and she’d have blown me off if I texted while she’s lifting.” He angled his head, studied her with those amber eyes. “You look good.”
“Are you serious?”
“Almost always. You’re kind of rosy and dewy.”
“It’s called sweat.”
“It looks good on you.”
To her complete surprise, he moved in, cupped her chin, and kissed her. A long and serious kiss.
“Really good. I need to catch Nell.”
He strode off, leaving her standing at the base of the stairs, holding her gym bag. And within the eyeline of the spa check-in staff, who pretended not to notice.
Morgan spent most of Friday afternoon working in the garden with her ladies. A brief storm the night before had the weeds pulling up like butter—and reminded her how the blasts of thunder had waked her in Miles’s bed.
And how the two of them had rolled together like that thunder even after the storm passed. She glanced over, watching her mother deadhead roses. How she hummed to herself as she worked, how content she seemed.
As if those years of uprooting, moving, searching had all come together here. This time, this place.
Swiping sweat from her forehead, Morgan sat back on her heels. “How does it feel to be Audrey Nash again?”
“Just right. I guess Albright never really fit me—or I didn’t fit Albright. Who knew it could be so easy to take back what was mine all along?”
Now she glanced over. “You did. How does it feel to be Morgan Nash?”
“Like I’ve closed an old door and opened a new one. I didn’t expect that, not really. Like I didn’t expect to be happy here.”
“Oh, Morgan.”
“I came because I had to, and that first night, Mom, everything in me felt so dark and hopeless, sort of frozen in place, just like the winter. Now, moving toward the end of summer, it’s the opposite. I’m heading toward thirty and living in my grandmother’s house, but I feel light and hope and movement. These past months have shown me who you are, who Gram is, and who I am. I like who we are, we Nash women.”
“So do I.”
“Time for a break,” Olivia called out as she carried a pitcher of sun tea to the patio table. “That sun’s fierce, and no complaints, because winter’s long and cold. But it’s fierce. Time for a break.”
“I hear that.”
Morgan started over while Olivia set her hands on her hips. “I don’t think this yard has ever looked better. The things you added, Morgan, brighten up the bright. I’m going to take time to sit and enjoy it while it lasts.”
Audrey sat, pulled off her hat, and fanned herself with it. “No complaints, but whew! We’re due for another storm tonight, and this one might cool things off a bit.”
Morgan thought of storms, and Miles, and smiled as she poured tea.
“I like a good storm. I wouldn’t mind it cooling off a little. Miles said to bring my hiking boots tonight.”
“You haven’t really taken the time to hike. You always liked going with Pa.” Audrey took the glass of tea, rubbed its cold surface over her cheek before drinking. “I’m glad you’re doing something fun, something that isn’t work—even gardening’s work.”
“I have a suspicion Morgan and Miles find something to do that’s not work. And,” Olivia added, “I bet it’s not a frisky game of gin rummy.”
“Besides that,” Audrey said with a laugh. “It’s important to have shared interests when you’re with someone. Besides that,” she said again before Olivia could speak.
“I made a mistake there. You and Dad didn’t. You shared so many things. The Colonel and I, well, we just didn’t. Morgan and Miles share interests. Gardening, the resort, they both like dogs, and now hiking. And you’re having your first dinner party as a couple on Sunday.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it a dinner party.”
“It’s dinner, and you’ll have fun.”
“I feel like I’m deserting both of you, spending so much of my weekends over at his house.”
“Don’t be silly.” Olivia waved that away. “Your mother and I like knowing you’re with a good man. And you need to spend time with people your own age. Make friends. Friends are part of the roots, too, baby, and keep what grows happy and healthy.”
“Mom and I have our monthly book club, yoga classes, the shop, now the café. It’s fun to grab lunch with a girlfriend. We both make time for that.”
“And tomorrow afternoon we’re heading over to Tom and Ida’s potluck cookout. Where we’ll eat too much and gossip the day away.” Olivia sighed with pleasure. “We’re not old fogies yet who need looking after.”
“And we have the magic doorbell. I love that thing.”
Shaking her head, Morgan glanced at the back door camera. “I know. I don’t understand it, but I know you do.”
Spreading her hands, Audrey smiled at Morgan. “I got an alert last week and watched FedEx deliver a package to the front door. It’s like a secret window.”
“The sun’s fierce, the gardens are beautiful, that damn frog makes me smile every time I look at it, and we’re all going to get our party on. That’s a good deal, girls. Let’s embrace it.”
Morgan promised herself to do just that. Embrace it.
On a busy Friday night at Après, she enjoyed the work, the crowd, and looked forward to a Saturday hike, a Sunday gathering.
“We’re going to switch, Bailey.”
“Sorry, what?”
“I’ll take the backbar.”
“Oh, but—”
“I’m right here if you need help, but let’s see how it goes for an hour.”
“Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t say so if I weren’t.” Morgan nudged her forward, stepped back. “You’ve got the stick.”
And she did fine, just fine, so Morgan let the hour run to ninety minutes.
“That’s the way it’s done.”
“I forgot to be nervous.”
“You’ve only got a few weeks left before you go back to school, so let’s have you do two hours for your next shift with me. Now take a break. You earned it.”
Satisfying, she thought as she filled orders. Satisfying to teach somebody how to do a job, and do it well. Not for a career, not in Bailey’s case, but to earn a solid paycheck until she forged that career.
“You let her handle it.” Opal stopped by the bar. “You got out of her way and let her handle it. When I’m wrong about somebody or something, I say so right out loud. I had you wrong.”
“There might’ve been some of that on both sides.”
“Yeah, might’ve been. Two summer specials, fizzy water on ice, double Bombay tonic.”
“Coming right up.”
“I’ve got a nephew just turned twenty-one. He’s working in the Lodge kitchen the last six, seven months. Doesn’t much like it, but he works. If he wanted to train at the bar, would you take him on?”
“If Nell approves the change, I’ll take him on.”
“Good.”
She didn’t expect to see Miles until she got to his house, but he walked in at closing.
“Worked late.”
“I’ll say.”
“We’ll get your bag out of your car. You can ride with me.”
“Then my car’s here where I’m not.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow. You’ve got your hiking boots?”
“As requested.” She shut off the lights on what she considered an excellent shift. “I got a call from a friend today,” she told him as they walked out.
“Oh.”
“Sam. He and Nina … they’d gotten serious. He loved her, was on the brink of asking her to move in with him when it all happened.”
She stopped at her car, took out her bag.
“You’ve kept in touch?”
“Yeah, and he has dinner with Nina’s family at least once a month. He wanted me to know he’s met someone.”
In his car, he waited until she’d strapped in. “Is that a problem for you?”
“No. God, no. He’s been seeing her for a couple of months now, and it’s, well, gotten serious. So he wanted me to know. He’s a really good guy, Miles. I’m happy for him. It’s been nearly a year and a half—that hit me. It feels longer in some ways, then in others like yesterday. Her name’s Henna. She’s a paralegal. She has a cat named Suzie she spoils, likes old movies—like, really old black-and-white movies—and reading thrillers.”
“A lot of information,” Miles commented.
“Once he got my initial reaction he really went on and on about her. So I’m happy for him. Oh, she also skis, so he’s going to bring her up here next winter, stay at the resort, introduce us. God, I hope I like her. I’ll fake it if I don’t, but I hope I do.”
“You’re predisposed to like her, so unless she’s not anything like what he told you, you’ll like her. Any problems tonight?”
“The opposite of problems.” How she loved these late-night drives through the quiet dark while the world slept. The air blowing in the open windows, an owl calling somewhere deep in the trees.
“A busy summer Friday night,” she continued. “I took the backbar with Bailey for about an hour and a half, and she handled it. Oh, and I had my first repeater—I mean for me. This couple who stayed at the resort last March, back for a week with their son, his wife, and their two grandkids.”
“You remembered them?”
“Their faces. I blanked on the names, but I got the faces, so enough to say welcome back. And since they charged the drinks to the room, I could look up the names. James—Jim—and Tracey Lowe.”
“They’ve been coming twice a year since their son—that’s Manning—was in college. Manning met his wife, Gwen, at the resort on one of their summer trips. They got married here—sentimental. Their kids are Flynn—must be around six—and Haley, about four.”
As he pulled into the drive, she shook her head. “And I think I bank data. I got some of that when they came in for their nightcap.”
“The resort runs on loyalty and personalized service. The Lowes have been twice-a-year guests since I was in high school.”
As they walked to the door, Howl let out a trio of barks followed by his signature howl.
“Better than an alarm system, cameras included.”
“The offer to take him’s still open.”
When Miles opened the door, the dog stood, dancing in place, then rushed to Morgan.
“Did you miss me, did you? Yes, you did!” While she lavished Howl with love, Miles locked up for the night.
“Do you want anything?”
“Just this sweet dog.” And, tilting her head, gave Miles a sidelong look. “Maybe you.”
“The dog’s got his own bed.” So saying, he scooped her up, tossed her over his shoulder.
It made her laugh as Howl muttered and dashed for the steps in front of Miles. “Well, this is new.”
“Just getting you off your feet after a long shift.”
“Is that it? Most men would’ve gone for the romantic sweep instead of the over-the-shoulder.”
“I’m not most.”
“So I’ve noticed. You know, your house looks good even upside down.”
He carted her to the bedroom, where the light came from cloud-misted stars and a three-quarter moon. And dumped her on the bed, covered her with his body.
“How do you like it now?”
“I’ve grown fond of this particular view.”
As she studied him and he studied her, she ran her hands down his back, then up again.
“I like mine better.” Eyes still on hers, he brushed her mouth with the lightest kiss. “You’ve got a face.”
“I definitely have a face.”
“It’s a damn good face.” Now his mouth brushed hers, lingered a little longer. “I thought so the first time I saw it.”
“Behind the bar.”
“No, the first time. At your grandfather’s memorial.”
“Oh. I don’t think I saw you. Honestly, I’m not sure I saw anyone. It’s one big blur.”
“Everything showed on that face. The grief, the guilt, the wish you could go somewhere else, anywhere else, alone and deal with it. And I remember I wondered if I saw that because I felt exactly the same.”
He kissed her again, just a little deeper, just a little longer.
“The next time I saw that face, and that was behind the bar, I saw something else. Something under the friendly, efficient bartender.”
He switched to the pulse in her throat, pleased to feel it start to race. “I saw grit mixed with vulnerability. Just fascinating, that face. I like seeing it when I’ve got my hands on you.”
“I want your hands on me.”
He closed his over hers and used his mouth, just his mouth, to arouse.
“They’ll get there.”
He released one hand to flip open the buttons of her shirt, then slowly followed that gap down with his mouth, then roamed up again.
This time the kiss spun out and out and out until he felt her go lax.
He hadn’t taken enough time with her, he thought, not with the late nights, early mornings. Now he would.
He flipped open the front hook on her bra, the deeply cut white lace he knew she wore for him. And trailed his fingers over her, light, light, light, while his tongue skimmed over hers, while her hum of pleasure spilled into him.
And he looked as he took that time with the crisp uniform, the black and the white in disarray. With her skin trembling under his mouth and hands, aroused.
As he eased her zipper down, his mouth took her breast, but gently, gently. No rush, no hurry as his fingers slid down to tease, only to tease even as she arched up against them, even as the hum in her throat became broken sighs.
As he traveled down her, sliding those trim pants over her hips, pressing his lips to her belly, he found it unspeakably erotic to be fully dressed while he peeled those layers away from a body that shuddered with need under him.
He took her up, watching her—that face—as he met those needs. She quaked under him, shuddering, just as the first flash of lightning turned the room white, and on one of her broken sighs came his name.
Thunder followed after.
He took her over; she let him. And with surrender she found power. She could take what he gave her until the pleasure of it shook through her like the sudden gusts of wind at the windows.
Her body felt as liquid as the rain, as if she could pour through his hands if he willed it. Under those hands she rose up where the world ran hot and the air thick, then floated down to the impossibly soft and warm.
When he levered up to drag off his shirt, she pressed her hands to the hard, strong wall of his chest. There, though he took his time, such exquisite time, his heart raced.
“That face,” he murmured, and it moved her to hear his voice breathless. “I like how it looks when I’m inside you.”
“I want you inside me.”
Lightning flashed again, illuminating her as she reached for him.
He covered her, and he watched her as he slid, slowly, inside her. And held there as she flew up again, as she tightened around him.
“Miles.”
“Easy.” He murmured it as he took that exquisite time.
While the storm raged, he gave her that time, to build again, to break again.
Then he took her hands in his, took her mouth with his, so linked, joined, they broke together.
He lay over her, more content than he could remember being in the whole of his life. The storm, already passing, tossed the last drops of rain at the windows. Where lightning had flashed, moonlight returned.
From the library, the clock that had been his great-grandfather’s struck three.
He lifted his head to look down at her, and yes, saw contentment there.
“That face,” he said again, and watched her lips curve.