“No one eats my food until I get mine.”
He arched a brow. “Should I tell Nick to put more men on the job?”
“You joke when I’m holding a knife on you?”
He lifted his hands in surrender, and she jerked her chin toward the door. “Stone has a group that needs a guide to take them ice picking up Tenneman Falls. You’re it.”
“I know. He just paged me out of bed.”
“Oh, boo-hoo.” She kicked him out of the kitchen, then sagged against the counter. Her life was out of control.
Her love life was out of control.
Her marriage…
Dammit. She’d always known this would happen, that she’d somehow muck everything up, because like the rest of the Wilders, she was always on a hell-bent mission to self-destruct her own happiness. It pissed her off. She slammed the knife into another tomato.
She could blame her mother and father, the alcoholic misfits who’d had no right having children. Or she could blame a system that let kids suffer.
But since she’d so adamantly refused to let Cam be a product of his environment, she knew she couldn’t very well do it either. So she’d raised herself, so what. And so when she’d finished that, she’d raised Cam, too, and then she’d gone out and gotten herself the life she wanted.
The end.
Only she’d still managed to continue the cycle and destroy that life, because apparently some of her parents’ genes lived deep inside her. God, that royally pissed her off. She grabbed a few green peppers and slammed her knife into those as well.
She really missed having a man in her bed to ease some of this tension. She missed having someone hold her close, someone to make her laugh, make her purr.
Warm her feet.
She missed waking up knowing she could have a quickie if she wanted. She missed cooking for someone who was hers, heart and soul.
She missed the skinny lug, dammit, missed everything about him. He really had some nerve taking this divorce thing so seriously.
Okay, that was her fault too. She’d pushed for it. Pushed and pushed, only wanting him to push back, even once.
She shoved the peppers aside and looked for something else, but there was nothing but his coat hanging on the hook by the back door, reminding her that he was here, within touch, and yet untouchable.
They really had stopped seeing each other, and God, that hurt. But dammit, she was turning forty, not dying. She wanted romance. She wanted to be wooed. Was that so wrong? Had she grown unattractive? Somehow lost her sex appeal? She looked down at her new clothes. No. She had it going on, and she needed him to see that, now.
Right now.
She washed her hands, grabbed Nick’s spare coat, jammed on a knit hat, and headed out. It was snowing, natch, and she sank into the fresh snow as she headed around the back of the lodge to the equipment garage.
The side door was locked. She glanced at the KNOCK FIRST sign, but the compressor was on, not to mention Nick was probably wearing his iPod blasting at decibels uncharted, so knocking wouldn’t do her any good. She trudged through the snow to the front of the garage, punched in the key code, and waited as the electric garage door began to lift.
Just as it did, a gust of wind blew up, knocking some branches of the trees above her. They completely unloaded, dumping snow on her head. “Perfect,” she muttered, swiping her face. When she could see again, Nick stood there in the opened garage door, hands on his hips, glaring at her. He wore threadbare jeans and a Cal sweatshirt shoved up to the elbows. He looked rumpled, edgy, temperamental, and dammit, sexy. “I was painting,” he grated out. “Until you open the door without so much as a knock, sending snow and gook and stuff inside, and now I’ll have to start over.”
She blinked more snow from her eyelashes as she mentally erased sexy from the list because she refused to be attracted to a complete ass. “Well, excuse me for trying to-”
“What? For trying to what? Ruin my day? You need to yell at me some more? Ignore me? What? What was it that couldn’t wait until I was done that you had to barge in here without knocking and ruin the paint job?”
Well, dammit. She was going to lose it. She recognized the tell-tale signs easily enough-burning throat, stinging eyes, tickle in her nose.
But hell if she’d cry in front of this unfeeling, unsentimental bastard. “Sign the damn papers!” And with that, she whirled away, heading back toward the lodge, where she was going to make a big batch of brownies and eat every single one in celebration of her impending divorce.
For two days, Katie pretty much smiled through her work. She couldn’t think, not with all the glowing she was doing. Mostly nothing distracted her from numbers. Mostly, numbers were the only thing that had ever made sense in her world.
And then she’d come to Wilder Adventures.
Met Cam.
Fell for Cam.
Slept with Cam.
Okay, so there’d been no sleeping involved, and she knew damn well that in his mind, what they’d done had been nothing more than a relieving of the tension.
But he was wrong.
It’d been more.
Far more.
She’d been here for three weeks, three of the best weeks of her life, thanks to a certain sexy guy who’d shown up on her doorstep two nights ago and taken her to heaven and back with his body. She could use a few more nights like that, but he’d taken a trip to Tenneman Falls.
She’d hoped to spend more time with him before she left, but that time was running short. Maybe she should wish on another falling star… Laughing at herself, she picked up the deposit bag and headed for the bank. Her car handled itself just fine on the clear roads, though when she got into Wishful, she couldn’t park in front of the bank because of a huge mountain of pushed snow. Instead, she had to park in front of Wishful Delights, from which came the most delicious scent. She resisted, barely.
When she came out of the bank, she told herself not to inhale, but then she saw her flat tire. She crouched down to take a closer look. She’d run over a pair of pliers, which were now sticking out of the rubber. “Only me.” She opened her trunk and eyed first the spare tire, then what she was wearing, a white sweater.
This was going to suck golf balls.
“Looks like someone’s having a bad day.”
Turning, she faced Serena. The tall, willowy brunette wore skinny black trousers and a black angora sweater that emphasized her gorgeous figure and face. It didn’t escape Katie that the two of them looked like night and day. “You could say that.”
“Maybe you’ve got bad karma. You know, from the other night when you took that moonlit snowshoe hike and almost got knocked off the cliff.”
Katie blinked. “How do you know that?”
“Small town, remember?” Serena laughed, a low and husky sound that would attract any man with a pulse. “But it worked out for you. After all, you and Cam ended up alone on that mountain. I assume you slept with him.”
Katie felt her brow shoot up so far it probably vanished into her hair. “What?”
“Yeah, Nick told Annie.”
“And Annie told you?”
“We’re friends.”
“Annie told you I slept with Cam,” Katie repeated, feeling more betrayed than she’d have thought possible.
“No. I said I assumed that part. Annie told me you almost fell. She was quite pissed on your behalf, actually. Annie doesn’t show it much, but she’s a softie for those in her circle, and you are in her circle. So I was right? The Cam thing? You and him, bumping nasties?”
Katie let out a mirthless laugh. What else could she do? “You know what assuming gets you, right?”
“Uh-huh. It makes me a bitch.” Serena shrugged. “I can live with that.” She looked at Katie’s flat tire. “I’m pretty sure the odds of that are astronomical.”
“Did you do this?”
“Hey, I’m a bitch but not a vindictive one. I can get a tire changed, though.” She smiled. “If asked nicely.”