Marriage on Her Mind

“A two-story outhouse?” Was he pulling her leg? Playing the new girl for a fool?

But his expression was perfectly serious. “If you think about it, it makes sense. When the snow gets too deep to dig down to the outhouse, you move the facilities upstairs. It’s on the National Register of Historic Places.”

Okaaay.

“Bedroom and bathroom are back here….” He showed her the pink-tiled bathroom, with its chain-operated toilet and claw-foot tub, and a bedroom furnished with a massive white iron bed and an oak dresser with a wavy glass mirror. “Are these antiques?” she asked, running her hand along the smooth wood of the dresser. She knew women in Chicago who paid big bucks to furnish rooms in such quaint style.

“Probably.” He shrugged. “It all was here when I moved in.” He led the way back into the main room. “Phone’s on the wall by the kitchen.” He pointed to the black plastic princess model mounted on the wall. “We just got satellite last year, so you’re in luck.” He picked up the remote and aimed it at the television on a stand in the corner opposite the woodstove. “Until last year we had our choice of three stations—and none of them came in well.” He switched the TV off. “Of course, you’ll probably be too busy to watch much TV, anyway.”

“Is the chamber of commerce that busy?” she asked. She knew Crested Butte was a tourist town, but she hadn’t imagined the workload would be so heavy she’d have no leisure time.

“They’re busy, but what I meant is there’s always something going on in town—parties and things. It’s a really happening place.”

“Oh. Well, I’m really not much for parties.” She had had enough of the social whirlwind back in Chicago. She’d looked forward to evenings that didn’t require dressing up, making small talk or smiling until her face hurt. She picked up a red velvet pillow from the sofa and smoothed her hand along the fringe around its edges. “I guess I’m more of a homebody.” At least, she wanted the opportunity to be a homebody. How could she figure out what she wanted to do with her life if she didn’t try out new things?

“You won’t be staying home much around here,” Max said. “People around here will find a way to get you involved. You’ll see.”

Clearly, he was one of those people who couldn’t understand that some people preferred to keep a low profile. The whole reason she’d come to this burg on the backside of nowhere was to stay in the background. But really, that was none of his business, was it? She merely nodded politely. “The place looks great,” she said. “Thanks.”

“It’s nice to have a neighbor again,” he said, offering her another of his brilliant smiles. She had trouble breathing when he looked at her that way…. Get a grip, she ordered herself.

“Let me help you with your stuff,” he said.

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary. There really isn’t much….”

But he and Molly were already halfway down the hall. Casey followed him out to her car, where he hefted a box of books, and a suitcase from the back. She grabbed the dress bag that had taken up a large portion of the back of the car. It rustled like a sack of dry leaves as she folded it over her arm.

“What’s in there?” Max asked as she followed him up the stairs. “Some kind of ball gown or something?”

“Um, something.” She absolutely didn’t want to talk about the contents of the bag with Mr. Gorgeous.

They deposited their loads and returned to the car, where Max grabbed more boxes. “You don’t have a bike,” he said as she followed him up the stairs again, carrying the ficus.

“No, I don’t.”

“You’ll need one. Don’t worry. I’ll ask around and find you a good deal.”

“Why do I need a bike?” she asked. “Heather said I could walk to work, and I have my car for longer trips.”

“Do you want to spend the winter digging your car out of drifts and the summer fighting tourist traffic?” He set the boxes just inside her door, then turned to take the plant from her. “A bike will be much easier. Plus, C.B. has some awesome trails you’ll want to check out.”

She should have been annoyed that he was so quick to orchestrate her life for her, but these announcements were delivered with such sincerity that she found it hard to object. “Thanks. Maybe I will get a bike. After I’ve had a chance to settle in more.” She could add bike riding to her list of new experiences.

The sound of distant bells floated up to them. “Guess I have a customer,” Max said. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Yeah. And I’d better start unpacking.” She looked around at the stacks of boxes. “Thanks for all your help.”

“No problem. See you soon.”

It seemed to Casey that Max took some of the air out of the room when he left. Either that or the altitude was responsible for her light-headedness. She sank onto the sofa and hugged the red velvet pillow to her chest. Dragons, two-story outhouses and pink snowboard shops? She’d said she wanted to live someplace different, but she’d never imagined a place like this existed outside of Lewis Carroll novels. Of course, no one she knew in Chicago could have imagined a place like this, either—and they certainly wouldn’t suspect that one of the newest members of the Junior League was now living here. Frankly, she was a little stunned herself.

She carried the dress bag into the bedroom and hung it in the closet. She had to stuff it in, it was so large. Feeling guilty, she carefully lowered the zipper on the bag and admired the confection of ivory satin and lace within. So maybe bringing her wedding dress with her to Crested Butte hadn’t been such a great idea. It wasn’t as if the dress was much good without a groom. But she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of leaving the dress behind. She’d picked it out herself—over her mother’s objections—and she knew if she abandoned it her mother would burn it or donate it to charity or something before Casey was even across the state line.

She zipped up the bag and pushed it to the very back of the closet. She had no plans to wear the dress anytime soon, but it made her feel better knowing it was there. The dress was a kind of symbol—proof of the one time in her life that she’d refused to listen to what everyone else wanted her to do and instead had gone after what she wanted.

The dress had been the first step. Buying it had proved she could stand up for herself and live her own life.

Coming here to Crested Butte was another big step. Maybe the town wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but she’d deal with it. Casey Jernigan, Chicago socialite, was no more. Casey Jernigan, mystery woman, waited in the wings. The part of Casey that wasn’t shaking in her shoes at the prospect could hardly wait to see what this new, improved version of herself looked like.

MAX’S FRIEND HAGAN ANSDAR was waiting at the front counter. The tall blonde in the Crested Butte Resort Ski Patrol uniform was rubbing his head and wincing. “You should have a warning sign on that door,” he said in a heavy Norwegian accent. “I almost give myself a concussion.”

“You need to remember that Victorian doorways weren’t built for six-foot-four Norsemen,” Max said. He fed another stick of wood into the stove behind the counter and shut the iron door. “Anything exciting happen on patrol today?”

“I met two girls from Austin who are on vacation. One of them broke the binding on her snowboard and I told her I would be happy to repair it for her.”

Max shook his head. “It’s criminal, the way women fall all over you, just because you wear that uniform and have an accent.”

“I told you before. Volunteer for patrol and you can have all the women you want following you around.” Hagan grinned.

“Except those aren’t the kind of women I want.” He held out his hand. “Let me see the binding.”

Hagan fished a strip of plastic out of his pocket and handed it over. “How do you know these women aren’t the ones you want if you haven’t even met them?” he asked.

“Because they’re tourists.” He examined the piece of binding and frowned. “This has been cut.”

“No!” Hagan leaned closer.

Max pointed to the neatly severed edge. “My guess is she decided she wanted the big strong ski-patrol guy to rescue her, so she sliced through the binding strap with a pocketknife.”

“That wasn’t very smart,” Hagan said.

Max grinned. “I don’t know. She got what she wanted, didn’t she?” He turned to the shelf behind him and pulled down a box. “Here’s a new strap. You can install it when you see her again.”

“Tonight.” Hagan grinned. “She is really hot.”

“They all are, buddy. And you’re welcome to ’em.”

Hagan handed over his credit card and leaned against the counter. “I think tourists are the perfect dates. I see them a few times, then they leave town. No messy relationship problems.”

“That’s because you don’t really have a relationship.” Max rang up the sale and returned Hagan’s card and the charge slip. “People on vacation aren’t really themselves. You don’t know these women. You just know how they act away from home.”

“That’s all I need to know,” Hagan said. “And you are one to talk. When was the last time you dated anyone?”

“I go out with women every night,” Max said.

Hagan shook his head. “Not groups of friends, men and women. I mean a date. You and one woman. How long?”

Max stuck the charge slip in the cash drawer and slammed it shut. “A while. You know how it is in C.B.—there are more of us than there are of them.” In fact, single men outnumbered single women almost two to one.