Love Fast

I take my morning coffee to the porch, breathing in the crisp Colorado air. I need to pick up some more clothes today, and I also need to take the cat into the vet. I’d walk if it was just me, but given my new feline friend, I’ve ordered a cab.

I glance over at Byron’s cabin. I haven’t seen him since our conversation on the steps. His truck is gone by the time I wake up in the morning, and I’m in bed every night when I hear him pull up. It doesn’t mean I’ve done anything but think about him every moment since. More than once I’ve managed to convince myself that the connection we seem to share is worth pursuing. Then I remember he’s my boss, the owner of the Colorado Club—and I remember why I need to keep away from him. It’s a frustrating cycle of hope and disappointment.

I need to shake it off. Reboot. Move forward.

I need to get on with my day off. I have a cat to take care of. Part of me is hoping the vet will have details about an owner missing this kitty. Next week, I’ll be moving into staff housing, where pets are strictly prohibited. Another part of me hopes I get to keep her for a few more days.

“Come on. You need to get into your pet carrier so I can take you to the vet,” I say, like she can really understand me. “Please, Fluffball.” I’ve been trying out different names. She certainly looks like a fluffball. But I’m not sure the name suits her. She’s more Athena than Titania.

She looks at me and then sits down exactly where she is and begins to lick her front paw. It’s like she’s telling me to fuck all the way off. I can’t blame her. I’m asking her to step into a plastic prison. She has no idea whether she’ll ever get out. Why would she willingly do that? I’ll figure it out once I’ve had my coffee.

A couple of sips into my drink, Fluffball/Snowy/Athena stops licking, looks at me, and saunters off in the direction of the cat carrier. I’m half expecting her to strike a match and burn the thing to the ground, but instead, she sniffs around the entrance and then heads inside, curling up into a ball as if it’s her favorite place in the world.

If only every part of my life was that easy.

As if the universe wants to make sure I understand that is absolutely not an option, my phone vibrates with a text. A sense of dread shivers down my spine—a response that’s starting to feel remarkably familiar whenever an alert arrives.

I’m going to take my wins while I can still get them, so I set down my coffee and lean forward to close the door on the cat carrier. “I’m going to take you into town to see if we can find your owner, Athena.” Maybe that name will stick. She certainly has the attitude of a Greek goddess of war. When I take her to the vet, she’ll probably be registered as Fluffy Bumpkins. And if she is, that’s probably why she ran away from home in the first place.

The cab pulls up, so I abandon my coffee and head into town.

In a couple minutes, we’re pulling up in front of the vet. I recognize the woman behind the reception desk. She was the person who came into Snail Trail when I was there on my first morning in Star Falls—the woman with red hair who was being taken advantage of. Donna, I think. I explain that I’ve made an appointment to see if the cat is microchipped.

“No problem,” she says. “I can help you with that.” She narrows her eyes at me. “You’re not from around here, are you? But I’ve seen you before.”

“From Snail Trail.”

Her face breaks into a grin. “The girl in the wedding dress. How could I forget? And you got that coat,” she says, nodding at my black puffer coat, also known as my most favorite purchase ever. “I’m Donna.”

“I remember,” I say. Then, pointing to myself, “Rosey.”

“And now you have a cat,” she says. “Looks like you’re settling in nicely.”

“It’s not mine. She just turned up outside the cabin I’m staying in.”

“Maybe.” Her eyes twinkle, but I’m not quite sure what she means. “Let’s see.” She turns back to her computer. “We keep a register of missing pets.” She clicks away at the screen. “Nope. Not on here,” she says. “We’ll check her for a chip, but honestly, owners that have chipped their animals usually register them as missing as well. And I don’t recognize her. We usually get to know our patients pretty well here.”

She opens her desk drawer and pulls out what looks like a remote control. “She seems pretty sedate.” She glances at me, and I wince.

She laughs and pulls open the door. “Hey, kitty cat. Can I scan you, please?” She doesn’t make a move to try and pull Athena out of the carrier. It’s the right decision. She might lose a hand or at least a finger.

“So you’re staying at Mike and Beth’s cabins?” she asks. “I thought they were fully booked, just like the rest of town.”

“Yeah, I managed to get in. How did you know that’s where I was staying?”

“Oh, you know, small town and all.”

The girl who arrived in town in a wedding dress. I’m never going to escape that particular label. Part of me wonders whether I should move on. I didn’t arrive in town expecting Star Falls to be my new home. I just wanted a bed for the night, but the fact that I’ve been able to get a job and a place to live is more than I have back in Oregon. It doesn’t make much sense to leave right now.

“I’ll be moving up the mountain next week,” I say.

“Oh, you got a job in the Colorado Club?”noveldrama

“Yeah, I’m a waitress there. Or I’m going to be. I’m still training.”

“I hear the training is brutal. There are tests and everything, right?”

“They’re very thorough. They want you to be able to deal with any request from a member. You have to know the Club inside out.”

“It’s beautiful up there, huh? I know it’s not finished, but like, it’s super nice.”

Super nice is the most lukewarm description of all time. The Club is more like a palace in the mountains. “I haven’t seen any of the cabins or chalets yet, but the communal areas are… amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it. Carpets so deep you could twist your ankle in them, light fixtures twice my height. Fresh flowers on every surface. It’s beautiful.”

Donna searches my face like she’s willing me to say more. She lowers her voice to a whisper, even though there’s no one in the waiting room. “Every time I have a bad day here, I think about applying. I hear there are a lot of people from out of town there, though. I don’t know how I’d feel surrounded by people I don’t know.”

“I guess you’d get to know them.”

“You’re right,” she says enthusiastically. She switches on the contraption she has in her hand, just as Athena decides to exit her carrier.

Donna has the feline touch, because Athena sidles up to her like she’s catnip. Donna strokes and fusses over the cat while she runs the tracker over her body several times. “You’re so beautiful,” she says. “But no one’s looking for you. I think you found yourself a new momma.” She smiles at me. “I can put her details down on our register so if someone does come looking, we can call you. It could be that her owners have gone off on a vacation and she’s feeling a bit lonely. It’s just odd, because I don’t recognize her.”

“I can’t keep her,” I say. “I’m moving into staff housing at the Club next week. They don’t allow pets.”

“We could take her, but if we couldn’t find a home for her, we’d have to…” She drags a finger across her neck, like Athena is destined for beheading.

I take a physical step back. “Come on, Athena. Back in your carrier.”

“Maybe put up some found posters around town?” she suggests. “And stop by at the diner and let them know. The post office, too. And the market. All around town, really. Ask around. If someone’s lost a cat, people will be talking about it.”

Athena steps back into the carrier and takes a seat. I shut the door before any heads can roll.

Donna takes my cellphone and taps away at the computer—presumably, Athena is now on the lost and found register.

“See you again,” she says. “Maybe up at the Colorado Club.” She smiles wide, and then holds her finger over her mouth, like it’s a secret.

After I exit the vet’s office, I look up and down Main Street, trying to orient myself. Last time I was here, I was only focused on getting out of my wedding dress. I didn’t bother figuring out the lay of the land. When I see a sign for pancakes, my stomach starts to rumble. It’s fate, just like everything else since the bus dropped me off.

The Galaxy Diner is as cute as can be. The floors are black-and-white checkered tile and the chairs are cherry red. There are booths by the window and tables in the center of the restaurant. It’s not busy, but a handful of patrons are scattered through the space, enjoying waffles and coffee and whatever that delicious smell is…

“Take a seat,” a woman with a pencil in her hair calls over the counter. “I’ll be over in a second.”

I slide the cat carrier into a booth and follow it. “Be a good cat,” I whisper. “I don’t want to get thrown out before I get coffee and pancakes.”

Athena gets the memo because I don’t even get a meow in response.

I glance up at the ceiling and see lots of different-colored spheres hanging from the ceiling. I guess that’s what gives the diner its name.

Rachel, if the name embroidered on her shirt is accurate, comes over, takes the pencil from her hair and asks for my order. I scan the menu and realize I’ve never ordered my own food at a restaurant, let alone dined on my own. Frank always ordered for me if we went out, and the two times we went out to eat as a family, Mom ordered for all of us.

“Are the waffles good?” I ask.

“They’re great,” Rachel replies.

“Maybe the pancakes…” I’m not sure. I could just do eggs. “What’s the chef’s specialty?”

Rachel narrows her eyes like she’s not quite sure what I’m asking her. “The pancakes are good,” she says. “And the waffles. It’s all good.”

I chew on the inside of my cheek. As I’m deciding, the bell over the door chimes. When I glance up, I lock eyes with Byron.

My breath catches, and I pull off my scarf, suddenly too hot. He was the last person I was expecting to see here. His hands are shoved in his dark blue jeans, his navy sweater fitted close to his torso. He looks even more handsome in the natural light of the diner’s huge windows. Shouldn’t he be at the Colorado Club, doing things owners of billionaire retreats do?

“I’ll take the pancakes,” I say, and hand her back the menu, unable to tear my eyes from Byron.

It occurs to me that he might be looking for me. Before I can second-guess myself, I smile at the thought. “Hey,” I mouth.

He nods at me and heads to the counter, sliding onto a stool.

I glance back at Rachel, who’s looking between me and Byron. “Syrup and butter on the side, please. And a cappuccino.” Athena is going to have to carry me home.

“You want bacon?” Rachel asks. “Hash browns?”

“Just the one diabetic coma this morning, thanks.” The truth is, I’m all maxed out on decision-making. Choosing pancakes was hard enough.

She shrugs. “You betcha.”

She turns, swiping Byron over the head with her pad of paper as she passes him.

“Rachel,” he mutters in response.

“Heard you were back in town.” She rounds the counter.

“You heard right.”

“It’s been a while.”

He sighs and ignores her comment. “Can I get a coffee and some scrambled eggs?”

He seems grumpy this morning. Maybe I should leave him alone, but I feel like I should ask if he wants to come sit with me and Athena. He’s my neighbor and my boss; I don’t like the idea that he’s in a bad mood and doesn’t have anyone to talk with about what’s bothering him.

Once again, I shove down the voice of doubt inside. I slide out of the booth and head over to Byron.

“Hey,” I say.

He flips his cell so the screen faces the counter, and turns to me. “Hey.”

“Athena and I have a lovely spot by the window if you want to join us?”

He narrows his eyes. “Athena?”

“The cat.”

“Oh yeah. For a moment there, I thought you were sharing your waffles with a Greek goddess.” His expression is blank, like he’s not trying to be funny. Is it weird that I find him hilarious?

I grin. “Uh-huh.”

He shrugs. “It’s a good name for that cat.”

“Right?”

“Look, you don’t have to invite me to join you because I’m your boss and you’re worried you pissed me off. I’m not going to have you fired.”

“The thought never occurred to me until just now, so… thanks? But for one, you need all the staff you can get. And two… I don’t believe that’s who you are.”

Something passes between us. Maybe it’s an understanding that we’re not whoever’s hurt us in the past. Maybe it’s the clarity that we’ll never be anything more than friends.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts. His words pass through me like an unexpected static shock. Apologies were never readily handed around in our family. My mother wore the fact that she never apologized like a badge of honor. “I should have been more open about who I was—you know, that I own the Club.” He’s adorably awkward and suddenly seems ten years younger than the man who walked in here.

I sigh because I’m not sure he’s done anything wrong. We had a couple of conversations and an almost-kiss. From the outside looking in, Byron never owed me anything. But maybe he feels our connection as strongly as I do, because I appreciate the apology. It feels warranted, despite the short time we’ve known each other.

“It must have been a shock. Given what you’ve been through with Frank⁠—”

“Thank you,” I say, interrupting him. There’s no point in rehashing anything. There’s a line in the sand that’s been drawn and now we can both see it—there’s no reason to make this bigger than it is. “I accept your apology.”

His blue-green eyes draw me in, and I can’t help but smile at him. Just being near Byron relaxes me, makes me more confident. I’m going to need to keep a close eye on that line in the sand.

I lift my chin toward my booth and Byron slips off his stool. We take a seat opposite each other.

“I haven’t seen you in a few days,” I say, trying to sound breezy, like maybe I saw him, maybe I didn’t. Like I haven’t been thinking about him every minute since.

“Busy,” he says. “There’s a lot going on. Like you say, we need more staff. We’re trying to finish off the staff housing and implement health and safety protocols. Avalanche and storm procedures. That kind of thing.”

“It’s a lot of responsibility,” I say. Byron always seems so cool, calm, and collected, but there’s a lot resting on his shoulders. “How come you’re not living up there? The cabin is cozy and everything, but I’m betting the chalets are a little more luxurious.”

He shrugs. “I like the cabin. My chalet isn’t ready yet. Anyway, sometimes it’s nice to get away from the… pressure. Being the boss isn’t always fun.”

My stomach dips. The boss thing is an issue for both of us, it seems.

“I’ll move up there eventually. Staff housing and the last few chalets are the priority at the moment.”

“You’re going to live in a chalet like a member?” I ask.

“Sort of.” Before I can ask what that means, he says, “Did you find out who lost the cat?”

Rachel comes back with our orders, which are basically enough to feed the town for the rest of the weekend. I think I could get full just by inhaling the scent of the stack of pancakes. Each of them is as thick as my palm and the same golden color as the jug of syrup Rachel slides onto the table.

“Eggs,” I say, nodding at Byron’s plate. He furrows his brow like he’s wondering whether there’s more to that observation, or if I just like to state the obvious. “They look good.”

“They are. Will makes the best eggs. Or at least he did fifteen years ago when I last had them.”

“You never came back? Not even to visit?”

“You were talking about the cat,” he says, ignoring my question.

“Yes, let’s change the subject again,” I say with a grin. If he doesn’t want to talk about himself, that’s fine, but I’m not going to let him think I didn’t notice. “She didn’t have a chip and no one’s called looking for her. Donna said they don’t keep lost cats, not unless…” I run a finger across my neck.

Byron bursts out laughing. “Fred’s decapitating cats now?” he asks.

“Who the hell is Fred?”

“The vet.”

“Oh, I didn’t meet him. Just the receptionist. I’m pretty sure she didn’t mean literal decapitation. At least I hope not. But the end result would be the same. Athena would be no more.”

“Wow. Brutal.”

“Right? So I need to find the owner before I move into the staff housing on Tuesday. Donna said I should make some posters and put them around town. Then tell people in the stores that I’ve found her.”

“Sounds like a good idea. If you get me a poster, I can have my assistant make copies.”

“You’d do that?”

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I’m sure Byron has bigger things to worry about than a missing cat.

“Thank you. I guess I’m going to spend the rest of the day going up and down Main Street, telling people I’ve found a cat. I need a megaphone or something.”

Byron laughs again, and I get a warm, gooey feeling inside at the thought that I’ve helped him relax. “It’s a way to meet people, I suppose.”

I shake my head. “Now I’m going to be the crazy girl who arrived in a wedding dress and tried to get rid of a cat.”

He sighs, but he’s still smiling. “Yeah, there’s no escaping the town grapevine.”

“I suppose it’s nice in some ways.”

“It is?” he says, eyebrows raised.

“You know, people looking out for each other, in and out of each other’s kitchens, asking after each other’s kids and health conditions. It’s a community. I probably don’t need a megaphone. I probably need to tell three people, and the entire town will know about dear old Athena in no time.”

“It’s a community with a long memory,” he says, a look of resentment in his expression I just don’t understand.

“I bet you remember just as well.”

He shoots me a puzzled expression.

“Tell me about Rachel.” I nod to where she’s stacking sugar packets into bowls. Her pencil is back in its rightful place behind her ear. “She seems to know you. But I bet you know her too. Tell me something you remember about her.”

Byron sighs. “I don’t know. Her hair is a different shade of red every week. She never drinks apart from New Year’s, when she really lets loose. One year, the town placed bets on which track on the jukebox would have her dancing on the bar at Grizzly’s.”

I glance over at our waitress, who seems far from the bar-dancing type. “Was it ‘Sweet Caroline’?”

Byron chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “No. ‘Brown-Eyed Girl.’”

“You know, that doesn’t make me like her less. In fact, it has the opposite effect.”

Byron takes a forkful of egg but doesn’t respond.

“They must be really proud of you, though. The local boy who’s bringing jobs and tourists to the area.”

He takes a sip of his coffee. “They don’t see it like that.”

I wait for him to say more. I don’t want to change the subject this time.

“People in towns like Star Falls don’t like change.”

“You think they don’t like the idea of the Club? But you got the planning approvals and everything?”

“Sure. I’m bringing jobs and tourism to a part of the state that’s kind of been abandoned. And the building is respectful to the local area. The building materials have been chosen because they’re locally sourced and sustainable, and won’t detract from the beauty of the place.” He sounds resentful, like he’s trying to convince me he’s done something good. But I’m not the right audience for his argument.

“You’re getting pushback?”

He sighs. “We’re not seeing applications for jobs from townspeople like we thought we would.”

“I suppose people already have jobs.”

“Yes, but a lot of people have to travel to get work. When I was a kid, my best friend’s dad had to travel two hours to get to work. I’ve lost count of the number of times I heard people talking about Aspen and Vail, how the opportunities there sucked the youth out of the town. The Colorado Club is a couple of miles out of town. I’m giving people what they’ve been saying they wanted for decades. Now it’s here, and everyone’s acting like I’m taking something away from them.”

“Taking what away?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Jim says he wants to be able to walk his dog on Club land.”

“There aren’t other places in the area to walk his dog?”

He sighs, moving the food around his plate without taking a bite. “I’ve bought up some of the federal land. Members of the Colorado Club have high expectations around privacy and security. They’re not going to want to come across Jim walking his dog while they’re on a hike.”

“So people in Star Falls think you’ve stolen their land, while you’re trying to buoy the local economy and give people jobs.”

He goes to speak, but I interrupt him.

“You have two issues as far as I see it. First, you need to come to some kind of compromise around land access. There’s no way around it. You’re going to have to give Star Falls residents limited access. Maybe it’s the first weekend of the month or every Wednesday or something, but you’re going to have to let people inside the boundary lines.”

Byron shoots me a look like I don’t understand anything, but I get it. He needs to get his head around the facts.

“It’s not going to be as much of a problem as you think. If Star Falls is anything like where I grew up, it’s not reality people don’t like—it’s the idea that someone might be trying to take away their freedom. If you do open up the land in a limited way, people aren’t going to take advantage. I bet you Jim didn’t walk his dog up there before you bought the mountain. He just likes the idea that he can if he wants to.”

“But I can’t let Jim on the mountain. I just can’t. The members are paying⁠—”

“Hear me out, Byron.” I probably shouldn’t be interrupting my boss like this, but I don’t have much more to lose in this life than everything I’ve walked away from. And anyway, he’s short-staffed—he’s not going to fire me. “This is all about presentation. When I’d had customers on the phone asking me when their cars would be finished, I’d tell them it was taking a little longer than anticipated because we were detailing the car before it was returned to them. People stopped complaining.

“I think if you tell your billionaires and centimillionaires—thank you, by the way, for extending my vocabulary with that particular phrase—that you’re respecting local culture by giving Star Falls residents limited access to the land on these days, in these areas, you’re highlighting the Colorado Club as a company with a conscience. By extension, that means your members have a conscience, too. Your generosity and consideration is their generosity and consideration. Your billionaires get something for nothing—a clear conscience. They don’t need to know it’s all a ploy to drum up local support, just like my customers at the garage didn’t need to know their detailing was included in the service price and only took twenty minutes.”

I hold Byron’s gaze as he silently stares back at me. I try and read his expression. Am I about to wear a face full of eggs? Is he going to leave?

“You’re really smart,” he says finally, and I feel a little glow inside me at his approval. “We need to sell it to members like it’s part of our offering. It could work if we open up the land on certain days, or certain parts of the land on certain days. During those times, we can just direct members to other areas. Or offer them additional security.”

“Exactly,” I say. “It’s doable.”

“I’ve got to sell it to Jim. He’s going to want access whenever he wants.”

“The limited access is the price they pay for revitalizing employment opportunities in town. If all the young people are leaving because there aren’t any opportunities for them, the Colorado Club gives them something to stay for.”

Byron nods. “It really does. Or it could.”

“I agree,” I say with a smile.

He holds my gaze, his stare intense. It heats me from the inside out, like he’s trailing his fingers over my skin, bringing every goose bump to life. “It’s a really creative solution, you know?”

I laugh. “I never even went to community college.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re not clever. It just means you didn’t go to college.”

I glance down at my pancakes, full with his praise and the way he sees me. “Thank you.” I take a bite of pancakes. “Now you have to help me find Athena’s family.”

“I’ll make you a deal: If you don’t find her owners, I’ll take her in when you move next week.”

I tip my head back and laugh. “She hates you!”

He smooths his hand over his stubbled chin. “That is true. But maybe we can acclimatize her before then.” His eyes twinkle as he looks at me. One minute he’s a grumpy, hard-nosed businessman—the next, my thoughtful, hot neighbor who makes plaid look like it costs a million bucks.