Hold On: A Play On/Big Sky Novella (Kristen Proby Crossover Collection Book 7), Page 2

  Just wow.

  Between that and Killian’s voice in my ear I was feeling much, much better than I had been an hour ago.

  “You’re home then?” I said.

  “Safe and sound. Skylar’s crashed out or I’d let you say hi.”

  “No, let her sleep.” I would have liked to say hello but I knew for a fact that my brother’s girlfriend needed rest. The last two years of her life had been crazy, the last few months even more so, and the last week, intense.

  Skylar Finch used to be the lead singer of a hugely successful pop-rock band called Tellurian. Skylar became tabloid fodder pretty quickly, mostly because of an on-again off-again relationship she had with her guitarist. She’d hated the fame and she’d hated their toxic relationship. To hide her unhappiness from her mum—the person she loved best in the whole world—because she felt she owed her mum for all the sacrifices she’d made for Skylar, she’d pushed her away. And then her mum and stepdad were victims of a highly publicized burglary that ended in their murder. Skylar left the band and disappeared off the map. Until Killian, my big brother and label executive, found her in our home city of Glasgow. She was busking and homeless. We helped her get her life back together. Because of our own less than idyllic upbringing, Killian was pretty closed off emotionally. At that point the only person he let in was me. So when I saw him and Skylar falling for each other, I was worried he was going to royally screw it up.

  He almost did.

  But my big brother loves Skylar Finch. And I mean he loves her in a way I didn’t know existed outside of movies and romance novels. And she loves him with the same intensity. I adore that for Sky because she’s special and she deserves happiness after everything she’s been through. But I love it for Killian more.

  When the paparazzi found Skylar a few months ago things were crazy! But they settled down somewhat and the three of us had a lovely Christmas together. And then Killian and I accompanied Skylar to Los Angeles to see her ex-bandmates and tie up some professional and financial stuff. We’d then stood by her side when she returned to her hometown of Billings in Montana so she could visit her mum’s grave.

  It had been a tough and extremely emotional time but I was glad we could be there for her.

  Afterward, they headed back to Scotland and I travelled to Whitetail Mountain to hang out with Catie and Kyle.

  “You get to the lodge okay?”

  I had. Even though I’d been a little nervous (okay, a lot!) as the commuter bus drove up Whitetail Mountain. It was well paved and sanded but there were these treacherous, narrow hairpin turns that they called switchbacks here and I’d felt my whole body tense as we wound up the mountain. However, I was not tense enough to miss the view or the cute B&B we passed called The Hideout, thinking I would have liked to have stayed there. But when the bus drove into the snow village where the lodge was located I realized why Catie and Kyle holidayed at the Snow Ghost every year.

  I could see ski lifts on their climb to the summit, the snow-covered evergreens, a building complex that looked like it housed rental apartments.

  There was a ski rental shop and a café, as well as a few little independent stores.

  The bus had parked in a lot before a beautiful lodge that somehow managed to be grand and rustic at the same time. The Snow Ghost Lodge.

  I loved the name. As soon as Catie sent me the lodge website link so I could book a room, I fell in love. The lodge sat right at the base of the ski lifts so guests could shimmy out on their skis and set off right away.

  “Yes, and I think this might be what heaven looks like,” I replied.

  “I was worried about you going up that mountain.”

  I wasn’t going to tell my brother I had been, too. “Well I’m fine. Although decidedly not going to ski.”

  “Why not?”

  I told him what happened and then had to wait for a few minutes for him to stop laughing. It was nice to hear my big brother laugh, just not at my expense. “Are you done?”

  “Only you”—his voice still trembled with amusement— “could knock a man off his feet and knee him in the ’nads within seconds of hitting the slopes.”

  “Hey, I’m usually very graceful.”

  “Until there’s snow.”

  “I broke my leg once. One time!”

  “Aye, skiing. What about two winters ago when you took out three people in the supermarket car park when you slipped on ice and fell into a load of trolleys?”

  “I could have killed someone, Killian. That’s not a funny story.”

  “I just don’t understand how someone who dances like an angel suddenly has no grace whatsoever when white cold stuff hits the ground.”

  I glared at my view. “You could have reminded me of this when I told you I was planning on coming here.”

  “Why? You need time for yourself. I’m glad you’re out there. But for my peace of mind… promise me, no more skiing.”

  “I’ll stick to the spa.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You must be tired. I’ll let you go.”

  “Okay. Check in with me tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes at his protectiveness. “Or the next day.”

  “No, tomorrow, Autumn.”

  Hearing the sternness in his voice I nodded and then remembered he couldn’t see me. “Tomorrow.”

  “Right. Off to bed. Night, sweetheart.”

  “Night, big brother.”

  “Autumn.”

  Something about his tone made me tense as I replied, “Yes?”

  “You know I love you, right?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. I knew my brother loved me. He’d spent his life raising me, protecting me, and making sure I didn’t feel the sting of my uncle’s lack of affection. When I was little, Killian told me he loved me all the time but as we’d gotten older, he’d stopped saying the words. His actions always spoke louder than them anyway. That didn’t mean they didn’t feel beautiful. And I had Skylar to thank for them.

  “Always. I love you, too.”

  After we hung up I stared out at the view for a while, feeling momentarily content. Momentarily because I knew that it wouldn’t last. I was restless deep down in my soul and growing more so.

  The alarm on my phone went off to let me know my first spa treatment was up. I’d booked a whole bunch of treatments before even arriving so I wouldn’t miss out but after my disastrous morning on the slopes I’d checked at reception to see if they had any availability for other treatments.

  An Indian head massage appointment was available.

  Hell yes!

  I made my way down to the spa in my bikini and fluffy white robe from the room. I also wore the complimentary slippers and had a towel rolled up under my arm. The spa was on the floor below mine which made sense when you saw it—the spa took advantage of the views. I saw on the website that there was an outdoor heated infinity pool that jutted out over the mountains. I couldn’t wait to try it out.

  But first up, head massage.

  I loved spas.

  I loved the pampering from the moment you entered. I loved the smell of aromatherapy and chlorine from the pool. I loved the misty condensation in the air from the steam room and sauna.

  I loved getting a massage.

  I loved that when you were there you didn’t have to think about anything but relaxing.

  I loved spas and was definitely more of a spa girl than a ski girl.

  After handing me a glass of champagne topped with orange juice, a friendly woman named Cora led me through the reception area to the indoor pool. Tranquil music played softly in the background as she guided me to a reserved lounger by the pool.

  “Your therapist is Adrienne and she’ll be with you soon,” Cora said and left me to it.

  Instead of planning my life like I’d intended to while I waited for my masseuse, I laid back on my lounger, closed my eyes, and drifted off.

  I was here for ten days.

  That was plenty of time to plan my life.


  For now a day at the spa was my life plan.

  Chapter Two

  By the time I’d made my way back up to my room after my treatments I was more relaxed than I remembered being in a long time. I wasn’t back in my room five minutes when Catie texted to tell me I was meeting her and Kyle for a romantic dinner for three in an hour. When Catie asked me to come with them on this trip, I knew she’d extended the invitation because she was worried about me. She thought I needed a break from life and since she and Kyle never relaxed more than they did on Whitetail Mountain, she thought the place would work wonders for me.

  I agreed because why not? But now that I was here, I was concerned about cramping their style and worried Catie and Kyle hadn’t thought about how having me along would interrupt their much-needed alone time.

  Before I could text back to tell her I had other plans for the evening she texted again.

  We want you there. No excuses. Dinner. An hour. Don’t make me haul my arse up to your fancy suite Xx

  I laughed because my friend knew me so well and also because she’d been jokingly grumbling about my suite since I booked it. She and Kyle had a standard room a few floors below me but I knew she didn’t really care I was in a suite. Catie just loved to tease me whenever the opportunity arose.

  Wouldn’t dream of it. See you in an hour. Xx

  The restaurant in the lodge was pretty nice. Catie told me the food was great and that locals booked tables there for special occasions so it was always busy. I was that girl that looked semi-dressed up no matter the event because I adored fashion and high heels. That night I decided on a high-waist forest green pencil skirt and a dark gold silk top with short art deco beaded sleeves that draped delicately over my shoulders; it showed lots of collarbone and a hint of cleavage. When I tucked the top into the skirt the whole ensemble accentuated my curves. I added gold strappy sandals, decided against jewelry, and wore my long auburn hair how I normally wore it: down in beachy waves that almost touched my lower back.

  Grabbing the forest green clutch I’d bought with the skirt, I gave myself one more look in the mirror. Pencil skirts were so on trend right now. Usually Italian designers had them in their shows every year but they were on runways all over the globe this year and I for one loved they’d made a big comeback. There was nothing more flattering than a pencil skirt.

  Not caring if I was overly dressed up because that was just me, I strode out of my room wondering if I should add “something in fashion” to my list of possible career options. I’d enjoyed shopping for Skylar when she first started working with my brother. Killian had worried I’d force my style onto her when he asked me to buy her new clothes but I found I gauged her personal style pretty well and was able to advise her accordingly. Once we helped her gain weight and get healthy again, I took her shopping, Skylar always looked tricked out. She managed to be sexy, alternative rocker girl whether she was in jeans and a tee or a tight black dress. But that was just Skylar. The woman exuded an undeniable amount of charisma that you were either born with or you just didn’t have. She had it. And it was one of the reasons the paparazzi and her fans were so obsessed with her.

  I couldn’t take credit for that but I could take credit for some of the really cute items in her current wardrobe.

  Stylist? Hmm. I’d put that on the list even though it sounded incredibly unrealistic. It would be a fun career though. Or maybe I’d get bored.

  Och, I didn’t know.

  I’d think about it in the morning because it would only stress me out before dinner.

  The restaurant was on the same floor as my suite so it didn’t take me long to wander down the corridor to it. When I got there Catie and Kyle still hadn’t arrived so the host led me to the bar, where I slipped onto a stool to wait for them. I gazed around the restaurant. It had a modern, rustic vibe that I liked and as Catie had already warned me, was packed with people. She and Kyle had booked us a table for dinner every night before our arrival but I wasn’t planning on joining them every night. They needed alone time at some point. And although I could see larger groups dining out together there was a really romantic feel about the place. There were tealights on every table and white fairy lights scattered through large potted topiaries that were placed strategically throughout. Not overdone. Just right. Still, between the soft lighting and the huge, wide windows at the back of the restaurant that provided a fabulous view over the ski hill, it was definitely a perfect place to be with someone you wanted to play footsie with under the table.

  “What can I get you?”

  I turned at the male voice and found the bartender, a guy around my age, smiling at me. “Oh. A glass of your house red, please.”

  “Well, I’d know that Scottish accent anywhere,” a deep, familiar voice said behind me and I turned slightly on my stool and felt my stomach dip as the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life slid onto the stool next to mine.

  Even though I hadn’t seen all of his face this morning I knew who he was.

  Grayson King. The instructor I’d kneed in the ’nads.

  Oh my God.

  Holy Moly…

  And now I was staring.

  But in all fairness he was staring intensely back at me and with the most delicious blue eyes. He had thick dark brown hair that he left just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck.

  Then there were those eyes. A rich cobalt blue framed with not long but thick, black lashes.

  As for his face with his cut cheekbones, wide, square jaw, and full mouth, he was the picture of masculine beauty. If it weren’t for the slight crook in his nose that suggested it had been broken at some point, his unshaven face, and his imposing build, he might have been too perfect.

  But he wasn’t. He was gorgeous with an edge. He had faint laughter lines around his eyes and I guessed him at around my brother’s age—about thirty years old or so. He wore a black dress shirt open at the collar and black suit trousers. There was no part of his outfit that said “I’m trying” and he looked effortlessly hot.

  Between his immense attractiveness and the fact that I’d embarrassed myself in front of him I felt unusually defensive. “May I help you?”

  He seemed not in the least perturbed by my tone. Instead he turned to the bartender. “A red for the lady, a beer for me.”

  “You got it.” The bartender wandered off to do as bid.

  Grayson’s lips curled up at the corners as he angled his body toward mine. “You’re the girl who flattened me today.”

  “One, I’m a woman, not a girl.”

  His lids lowered as his gaze dipped down my body and leisurely back up again in a way that forced me to hide a shiver of desire.

  What. The. Hell.

  “Two”—I was pretty sure my voice now sounded hoarse—“I don’t weigh enough to flatten you. Have you seen you?”

  When he returned his gaze to my eyes there was a heat in his he didn’t bother hiding. “You’re right. Poor choice of words.”

  Unsure how to deal with his blatant interest considering he was the sexiest man I’d ever met and I definitely had not come to Montana for a fling, I willed the bartender to come back.

  In fact, I willed Catie and Kyle to hurry the heck up.

  “I don’t get it,” Grayson said.

  “Get what?”

  “I was around the other side of the bar, saw you walk in. Didn’t know you were the woman from today. You glide across the restaurant in a pair of sky-high heels like you’re barefooted. No way, you walking in here with all that grace, I’d know you were the woman that took me out on the slopes today.”

  My cheeks burned, not only at his compliment but at his teasing. “I’m not good on skis,” I replied through gritted teeth.

  “Oh, I got that.” He grinned.

  God, even his grin, slightly crooked like his nose, was bloody sexy. Not fair, Universe! My staring at him like an idiot made his smile disappear. His eyes narrowed slightly. “You waiting on someone?”

  “Yes,”
I answered honestly, even though I suspected he was asking if I was waiting on a man.

  His gaze fell to my left hand and I knew he was looking for a ring. When he found none our eyes locked again. His expression was altogether too soft and too hot. “What’s your name, angel?”

  I didn’t know why I gave it to him. I shouldn’t have. “Autumn.”

  His lips parted as he studied my face and hair. Voice hoarse, he said, “Fuck, that’s perfect.”

  There was something almost reverent in his tone that made my spine straighten. “And you’re Grayson?”

  “You can call me Gray.”

  The bartender returned. “Wine. Beer.”

  “My tab,” Gray replied as he gently pushed the wine toward me and took his beer.

  “Oh no, I’ll pay for my own drink.”

  “No way.” Gray shook his head at the bartender and the guy walked off to serve someone else.

  I stared at my wine, uncertain if it came with a whole bunch of strings attached to it.

  “It’s just a drink, Autumn.”

  “I’m not…” I looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m not here to hook up or get involved with anyone.”

  “You got a man?”

  “No. And I’m not looking for one.”

  Gray leaned into me and I got a whiff of delicious, spicy, musky, masculine cologne that made me want to press my face into his throat.

  Fuck.

  “Take the drink.”

  “No strings attached to it, right?” I curled my fingers around the stem of the wineglass.

  Those blue eyes held me utterly captive as he replied, “Woman, you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Take the drink or leave the drink, I’m not going anywhere until you say you’ll have dinner with me.”

  My breath caught at the epic compliment. He sounded so sincere I wanted to believe him. Yet, he wasn’t the first man to tell me I was beautiful (although admittedly he was the first to say it like that!) and I somehow always ended up getting hurt after it got them what they wanted.