Just Say Maybe: A Thistle Bend Novel (2 page)

“You’re right.” She shrugged. “It’s not smashed.” Along the way back, she picked up his sunglasses and scrunched her nose. “But these are.”

He shaded his eyes with his hand, giving himself the chance to totally check her out as she walked toward him. A tad taller than average, lean and fit, with compact curves and a little sway in her step—a sweet blend of athletic and feminine, with a shot of super-sexy. Despite the low-fifties temperature, heat surged through Bryce and sweat prickled on his skin.

“But it’s dead.” She handed him the phone and the cracked sunglasses.

Bryce slid the sunglasses into a cargo pocket on his shorts and focused on the phone. Pushing the power button, he brought it to life, a recent photo of a brilliant Costa Rican sunset on his home screen. A touch of his thumb brought up his icons, and he held the phone out to show Holly. “Good as new.”

She cupped her hand behind his, pulling it closer and turning it to get the glare off the screen. Bryce tensed at her touch, aware of the softness of her skin, the pressure of her fingertips.

Holly shook her head, an amused smile on her face. “You got so freakin’ lucky.” She plucked the phone from him and pulled her hand from his. “There’s an app you can get for updated trail conditions,” she said, busy tapping the screen. Within moments she handed him the phone. “Off you go, Bryce.” She stepped aside, clearing the path before him. “Happy trails.”

He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows rising along with his heart rate as he read the contact information she’d typed in.

Holly—The Elusive Perfect 10

A winking smiley-face emoji followed, as did the most exciting combination of ten digits he might’ve ever seen.

Bryce’s heart surged. “Definitely the best fall I’ve ever taken,” he said, shamelessly flirting. He slipped the phone into his pocket and leveled a gaze on her as electric as the bright blue sky. “Maybe I don’t need any more practice.”

Leaving her smiling, he pedaled off, churning up dust from the trail, and feeling like a badass movie hero.

Holly Birdsong swiveled her chair to face the large picture window in her second-floor law office on Snowberry Street. She’d strategically placed her desk so she had a view of the intersection of Snowberry and Larkspur Avenue, the charming main street of Thistle Bend. It was a prime location amidst colorful, movie-set-worthy Western-style buildings—most left over from the early mining days and lovingly restored and repurposed. Planters made of timber flanked the sidewalks, billowing with early season wildflowers in red, yellow, purple, and pink, with new blooms popping out every day.

Holly had also scored a view of majestic Paintbrush Peak in the near distance. She’d squandered plenty of time at her desk distracted by the rugged beauty of the mountain, and by watching friends, neighbors, and tourists come and go on the streets and in the shops below. But thoughts of someone else had preoccupied her today.

Bryce…

Is he still in the area?

Will he call?

Is he even single?

It had been less than twenty-four hours since she’d met him, and she’d thought of little else.

“I can’t believe you put your number in his phone,” her friend Lindsey said. She sat on the edge of one of a pair of taupe suede chairs in front of Holly’s desk. Her green eyes stayed wide and layers of her blond hair fell in front of her shoulders as she took a sip of limeade—finally back on the menu at Calypso Coffee after a long winter of lattes, hot chocolate, and snow up to the windows. Lindsey had dropped in with limeades for them both, continuing a tradition Holly had begun a year ago when Lindsey was new in town and starting her job bringing the Thistle Bend Mountain Heritage Museum to life. “I mean, you have your
policy.
” Lindsey made quotation marks with her fingers.

“I know—never mix it up with the tourists.” Holly regretted her former vehemence about the rule now that she wanted to break it with Bryce.

But you have your policy for a reason.

Lindsey furrowed her brow. “Where did that even come from?”

Holly shook her head. “Must we go there?”

“Yes, we must.” Lindsey scooted back in the chair, straightened her chambray shirtdress, and crossed her legs as if she was settling in for quite a tale.

Holly took a slug of her limeade, puckering her lips as she savored its tart sweetness. “I grew up in Thistle Bend. I’ve lived here my entire life except for my years in college and law school.”

“That’s not new information. Skip to the juicy part because I’m a hundred percent sure there is one,” Lindsey teased. “So you came back to town right after you got your law degree…”

“Single and seriously sure that the odds of finding romance with the men I knew in Thistle Bend were critically low.”

Lindsey raised her cup to Holly. “Population 1519. I’ll never forget the sinking feeling I got the day I pulled into town with everything I owned in that rickety old U-Haul and saw that sign.”

“But I figured there’d be tourists coming to the resort at Paintbrush Peak year-round. You know, skiers, snowboarders, mountain bikers. And other men showing up to hike or hunt or go fly-fishing. Manly kind of guys that are just my type.”

“Like what’s-his-name that you met up on Wild Rose Ridge?”

“Yep.” A smile stretched across Holly’s face before she could stop it. “Like Bryce. Tall and tan. Buff and kinda blond. Green-eyed and gorgeous.” Of course she was attracted to his looks, but it was more than that. She liked his personality, too. He’d come across as smart and playful, and there was that moment before he rode away when she’d swear they’d connected somehow. “He just seemed to get me.”

“Your mountain man sounds irresistible, but you’re ducking the story that drove you to swear not to mix with guys like him.” Lindsey lifted her eyebrows and gave Holly a pointed look.

They’d been friends for a year now and, so far, Holly had managed to avoid sharing that story. She bowed her head and sighed, toying with the ties at the neckline of her poet’s blouse. “There was a guy a couple of years ago…Max, a restaurateur from Charlotte. I literally ran into him on the slopes when I was snowboarding. Figured the least I could do was buy him a drink for plowing him down nearly flat.”

Lindsey chuckled.

“So there I was with this guy who looked like he’d just come from a photo shoot for an extreme-sports ad—all tousled dark hair and big brown eyes.” Holly figured she needed to tell this story quickly before she got buried by an avalanche of heart-wrenching memories. “We had drinks, we talked, we laughed.” She met Lindsey’s gaze with an I-can’t-believe-I’m-admitting-this look in her eyes. “And we ended up in bed in his swanky slope-side condo.”

“No way!” Lindsey slapped her hand over her mouth. “I can’t imagine you having a one-night stand.”

“I know, right? The whole thing was totally out of character for me.” Holly shrugged. “But he was so…everything. And it wasn’t just a one-nighter. It was two weeks of snowboarding and dinners by the fire and three a.m. promises that I was more than a vacation fling.” She pressed her lips together tightly, remembering how right it had felt to sleep in Max’s arms.

“Oh no,” Lindsey said. “I don’t think I’m gonna like what’s coming next.”

“Turns out he wasn’t lying. He went back to Charlotte, and kept in close touch—calls, texts, video chats, all of that. I even visited him for a week, which was just as amazing as the ones we had here. Met his family and everything. But that turned out to be part of the problem.”

Lindsey held up her hand, palm out. “Don’t tell me—his mother was a beast and you couldn’t imagine ever being in the same room with her again, much less becoming her daughter-in-law.”

Holly grinned. “Maybe that would’ve made things easier. Max’s family was as awesome as he is. Friendly and kind. They’d lived in Charlotte for years and ran hugely successful restaurants together. Max loved it.”

“So what was the issue?”

“He wanted me to move there, but I couldn’t.” Holly stared out at the flower boxes. “I have roots here that go soul-deep…and an established law practice. This community is like a big family. Look how quickly they came to love you.”

“Even when I didn’t want to be here myself,” Lindsey said.

“And I wouldn’t leave my grandpa no matter what. He’s done so much for me. I want to be here for him, especially now that he’s getting older.” She lifted her shoulders and let them drop. “But I still have that picket-fence dream. I’d love to find a guy to share it with—in Thistle Bend. I want to stay here forever, just like Max wanted to stay in Charlotte.”

A sturdy rap sounded on the open office door. Holly and Lindsey jerked their heads toward the noise as a crazy-good-looking man stepped into the doorway—definitely not a local because Holly would’ve recognized him. Standing tall and sturdy-shouldered, he wore a plaid shirt with the sleeves turned up, a nice pair of jeans, and cowboy boots that looked nearly new. The sun had streaked his longish light brown hair with blond, and a shadow of scruff darkened his face.

Holly’s heart jumped into her throat.

Bryce?

How had he found her there?

“Hello, ladies.” He quickly scanned the office then focused on a business card he held in his hand. “I’m looking for H. G. Birdsong.” He glanced at the closed door that led to Holly’s conference room, where her part-time administrative assistant had a desk. “Does he happen to be in?”

Holly recognized his voice as it poured over her like melted caramel. Rich and sweet and tempting.

Definitely Bryce.

Lindsey faced Holly, her back to him, eyebrows raised, lips forming an O.

Holly fought to keep her expression neutral. She tugged in a breath and stood, hoping like heck that the last time she absently combed her fingers through her hair she’d left it looking halfway decent. “I’m H. G. Birdsong.”

Lindsey turned to catch Bryce’s reaction. As much as Holly appreciated her visit and the limeade, she wished there was no one to witness this awkward moment. Clearly he hadn’t come to see her because he liked her. He hadn’t even known he would find her there.

Bryce set his gaze on her, tipped his head, and narrowed his eyes. “Holly?”

She nodded slowly.

“You’re a real estate lawyer?”

“Yep.”

“Sorry.” He examined the business card again. “I just assumed H.G. was a man.”

“I had my name printed like that on purpose. Locals know me and trust my work, but lots of tourists and newcomers buy property here. As sad as it is, the idea of working with a female lawyer doesn’t appeal to some of them, but if I can get them into my office…”

“Your apparent intellect and charm win them over?” He winked.

Heat rose in Holly’s cheeks as she struggled to resist his flattery. “Something like that.”

He held her gaze for a long moment.

She looked away and glanced at Lindsey, who was watching curiously. “Lindsey Simms, this is Bryce…”

“Bennett.” Bryce stepped over to Lindsey and shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Lindsey said. She glanced over her shoulder and gave Holly a wide-eyed look.

Holly smiled.

Told you he was smokin’ hot!

“Likewise.” Bryce dipped his chin.

“I met Bryce up on Wild Rose Ridge yesterday,” Holly said, as if Lindsey didn’t already know.

“Totally by accident,” he joked. “The same way I found you here when I came looking for H. G. Birdsong.”

It wasn’t lost on Holly that he hadn’t been interested in finding her simply by clicking on her contact information and calling or texting.

Lindsey checked her watch. “Oh, man, lunch hour is darn near over. I really need to go.” She picked up her limeade from the low table between the chairs and headed toward the door, stepping behind Bryce. “That way you two can get down to business.” She faced Holly, winked, and dashed out the door.

Holly took a bolstering breath. “So, you’re looking for a real estate lawyer?” She worked to keep her tone all business but…

Is he moving to Thistle Bend?

The flutter in her stomach told her she hoped so more than she’d like to admit.

Bryce stepped next to the chairs in front of Holly’s desk, fully focused on her. “Sorry it took me a second to recognize you. I wasn’t expecting…I mean, your hair is loose and you’re not dressed in hiking gear.”

“It took me a little while to place you, too,” Holly said, although she’d been pretty certain who he was the moment he’d stepped into the doorway. She gave him a wisp of a smile. “Your entrance wasn’t nearly as grand this time.”

He put his hand over his mouth and dragged it down his scruffy chin, revealing a sheepish grin and a flash of gleaming white teeth. “A guy only gets one chance to make a first impression. I had to make the most of it.”

“Want to sit?” she asked. Her nerves knotted as if she’d just asked him on a date—after he’d pretty much rejected her already. “That is, if you’re okay doing business with a female attorney.”

He sat in the nearest chair, and propped his ankle on the opposite knee, giving her a closer look at his high-quality cowboy boots. “I think I can handle it.”

But Holly wasn’t sure she could. Her heart raced as if she’d chugged a six-pack of energy drinks. Her brain knew better than to get worked up over Bryce, but her body hadn’t gotten the message. Feeling self-conscious standing, she sat and swiveled her chair to face him.

“As long as you’re good with commercial real estate closings,” Bryce said.

So maybe he wasn’t moving to Thistle Bend. He wouldn’t be the first absentee commercial property owner to have a management company handle the in-town work.

“I think I can handle it,” she said lightly, mirroring his words and confidence.

He nodded, his mouth quirked up at one corner. “Perfect. The broker said you were the best around.”

Holly brightened. “You must be working with George,” she said. George and Peggy Allred had been Holly’s first clients after she opened her practice in Thistle Bend. While reviewing the closing documents for their dream house, Holly had discovered a significant overcharge on their title fee and saved them quite a sum of money. George had been sending her business ever since. She made a mental note to buy him a beer the next time she saw him at the High Country Pub.

“Nice guy.” Bryce smoothed his long fingers back and forth over the suede upholstery on the arm of the chair, distracting her. “Hell of a scrapper. The seller was a killer negotiator, but we finally agreed on a price.”

Holly ticked through an inventory of the local commercial properties for sale, trying to match his description with the people she knew who had listed them. Those she could think of didn’t strike her as tough negotiators. But then there was…A chill ran through her and goose bumps rose on her arms. “You’re buying the abandoned Lodge at Wild Rose Ridge?”

Bryce tucked his chin, eyebrows lowered. “Wow. You’re not only good—you’re clairvoyant.”

If only…Then she would know what he really thought of her and her ridiculous entry in his contact list calling herself “the elusive perfect ten.” She’d done it in good fun but…

What was I thinking?

Honestly, she hadn’t been. A serious hormone surge had hijacked her common sense, taken control of her fingers, and typed. Hadn’t she just recounted to Lindsey the out-of-character incident that had happened between her and Max the day she met him? And look how that had turned out.

“I’m hardly clairvoyant,” she said. “You had to negotiate with the bank, and they’re desperate to get as much money as possible for the foreclosed lodge. Most anyone in town could’ve guessed what property you’re buying, and told you how fortunate you are not to have to deal with the guy who defaulted on the loan.”

Bryce winced at her tone. “No love lost there?”

“Let’s just say that Adam Evanston started blazing a trail of wretchedness the moment he came to Thistle Bend.”

“I’ve heard a few things about that.”

“If you stick around a while, you’ll hear a lot more. People in Thistle Bend might be quirky, but we’re the kindest-hearted folks you’ll ever meet. Fun and friendly and forgiving. But I’d venture to say that no one cares a whit for Adam Evanston, and that’s being generous.” Holly debated whether to tell Bryce about the agony that man had caused her family—particularly her grandparents. But there was no need to relive the pain of the past, and no reason to reveal anything personal to Bryce.