Chapter Two
Nash Westport’s tie flapped as he jogged up the rough-hewn steps and into the sleeping Iron Mountain Ski Resort. The lodge was built into the hillside with the entrance to the magical world of snow and ice and the restaurant on the second level. In mid-May, the kiddie hill was covered in wildflowers instead of a blanket of white, and the lifts were silent, their chairs stripped away and tucked into a shed for hibernation.
He was headed to the top level to interview with his old buddy, and hopefully savior, Rym Hoagland. He’d grown up in an apartment complex a few doors down from Rym and his mom, and the two of them had worked at the ski resort in high school. The very resort Rym now owned.
Nash trailed his fingers along the handrail, feeling the dents made by a dropped boot or a fumbled ski. He took a left at the landing and was greeted by a receptionist, whose nameplate read “Rebecca.” She blinked up at him as if startled by his appearance. “How may I help you?”
“I’m Nash Westport. I have an appointment with Rym.”
She lifted an eyebrow.
Nash cursed himself for dropping Rym’s name like they were the best of friends. Rym was a bigwig, the head honcho, a millionaire (maybe even a billionaire), and this was business—and serious business at that. He brushed his hand down the front of his tie, shaking off the feeling that he was crawling on his belly.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Hoagland is out.”
“I can take him back,” said a beautiful brunette who swooped past him, leaving behind a trail of expensive scents. She wore a pair of tight black pants and a blousy shirt. Her long hair trailed almost all the way down her back. Her eyes were tucked behind a pair of black-rimmed glasses.
“Yes, Mrs. Hoagland.”
Nash blinked. Yeah, he’d been out of the world for a while, but Rym was married? He brushed his hand down his tie again as he marched behind Mrs. Hoagland into a large office.
Behind the gigantic walnut desk was a rock wall. Antique skis were mounted on a rack above a mantel, as were some newer models. A pair of powder skis leaned against the corner. Large windows offered a view of the kiddie hill and an opportunity to check ski conditions in the winter.
Nash itched to once again experience a powder day, when thick snow blanketed the mountains, making it quiet and peaceful. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hoagland.” He held out his hand, feeling out of practice in the basic niceties that kept the business world running.
“You too, Mr. Westport. And please, call me Amber.” She settled herself into the plush leather seat behind the imposing desk, motioning for him to take the seat across from her.
“Only if you’ll call me Nash.” He did his best to form a charming smile on his lips.
She pushed aside two pens and put her palms flat on the desk. “I’m sorry Rym couldn’t be here. He’s tending to a family matter.”
“His mom? Is she sick?” Nash mentally punched himself in the face for butting in. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. It’s just, I grew up with Rym, and his mom was the only family he had, so I assumed …” He let the sentence trail off and hang there like a pair of underwear static-clinging to the back of his shirt.
“Nash.” She held up both hands. “Relax. Rym updated me on your shared history. Thank you for your concern on his mother’s behalf. Rest assured, the family is healthy.”
“That’s good news.” He glanced around the room, taking in the beautiful view out the giant windows and the distinctly masculine feel in the dark leather and iron accents.
Amber turned to the computer screen and brought it to life with a touch of her finger. She tapped several folders and his résumé appeared. “He also gave me your résumé. I have to say, I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” The information that wasn’t on the screen kept him on the edge of his seat, his back straight. He needed a new start, which was why he’d reached out to his friend. Rym knew him from before the fallout, the bad press, and the court room appearances. He’d hoped his old friend would believe he was still the guy who returned a $200 tip because he didn’t feel he’d earned it. Nash wanted to believe that about himself too, and he wanted a chance to turn that belief into knowledge. A job at the resort was below his pay grade and training, but he didn’t care. He needed to be where he felt safe again.
“It says here you were on the board of Stevens & Charles for three years. That’s quite an accomplishment for someone fresh out of college.”
He’d been young and gullible. “I saw an opportunity and I took it. As I look back, I wish I’d had more experience. I may not have taken the position if I’d been wiser to the ways of the world.” His best defense was youthful innocence, and it sounded pathetic even to him.
“Hmm.” She scanned the screen. “I’m afraid we don’t have an opening at the resort for someone with your area of expertise.”
Translation:You’re tainted and we don’t want your orange jumpsuit to rub off on us.
He stood quickly. “Thank you for your time, Amber. It was nice to meet you. And congratulations on your wedding.”
Amber stayed seated, considering him as one would a crossword puzzle. “What is it you hoped to find here? What did you really want from my husband?”
What did he have to lose? “Redemption.”
She glanced back to the screen. “I’m not sure working as a lower-level manager would have given you what you seek.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets. “No matter what you’ve heard, I’m not a crook by nature. I don’t need fame, and I want out of the spotlight. A lower-level business manager position is my version of heaven.” Well, not quite, but it would do.
