Last Resort Love Read online

  Holly Cortelyou Last Resort Love

  Westcott Springs, Book 1

  Holly Cortelyou

  Published: 2016

  ISBN: 978-1-62210-317-1

  Published by Liquid Silver Books. Copyright © Published: 2016, Holly Cortelyou.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Manufactured in the USA

  Email [email protected] with questions, or inquiries about Liquid Silver Books.

  Blurb

  Bad luck be gone…Krissa Courtland whispers her vow and stabs a pin in the map. No more cheating exes or downsized jobs. With fingers crossed, she lands in Colorado, but right off a storm flattens her dream cabin. But disaster turns delicious when smoking-hot Nick Olin saves the day. And now Vail’s sexiest resort developer is her landlord and next door neighbor.

  Nick’s silky brown curls and teasing smile are tempting, but Krissa can’t shake the ache in her soul and won’t trust in love. Too bad for Krissa, Nick has other ideas. With her luscious curves and vulnerable amber eyes, Nick is oh-so-distracted from his empire building. Every time Nick makes a move, Krissa bolts. Can Nick prove he’s trustworthy and just the man to heal her heart? Or will Krissa run out on her chance at love?

  Dedication

  To Bobby—you’re my sun, my moon, my stars…my everything!

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my fantabulous Rogue Writers Romance crew (aka the Hope Junkies) for the daily inspiration, motivation and laugh-a-thon!

  Chapter 1

  KRISSA Courtland took a deep breath. The air was crisp and clean as it whipped through her car windows. It hinted at freedom.

  Soaring evergreens and fluttering aspens flanked the sides of the winding road, and each emerald tree seemed to beckon her down the road to a new life and her little cabin in the big woods.

  She hummed a cheerful tune and glanced up through the open moonroof. No sign of last night’s thunder boomers, and there were only a few feathery white clouds whispering through the deep azure sky. Absolutely perfect.

  Krissa winced. Perfect just couldn’t be trusted. She wished she hadn’t even thought that dangerous word. Lovely. It was lovely here on this back road.

  Krissa laughed out loud and Shasta woofed a reply from his comfy perch in the back seat of her SUV. With the barest of shrugs, she shook off the negative vibe.

  They zipped along the country road and she was sure the mountain air smelled like new beginnings. The GPS warned of an upcoming left turn, and Krissa’s heart pulsed a beat faster.

  Woot! New home and a fresh start were almost here.

  Four turns and three miles later, her confidence wavered. The road was narrow and littered with debris. The wind gusts must have been stronger here last night, she thought. Her eyes flicked from uprooted saplings to busted tree limbs and scattered pine cones. The tires crunched over the storm victims.

  The GPS barked more orders and Krissa spotted an address marker with the correct number. With a strained smile, she crossed her fingers and sent a little prayer upward.

  “Here we go, Shasta!”

  The car rumbled slowly down a gravel lane. To her left, she spotted a massive tree that had been entirely upended. The wriggly mass of roots dripped with dark loamy mud. With hands clenching the steering wheel, Krissa glanced at the lofty evergreens and prayed nothing else was poised to crash down.

  As she rounded the last curve of the driveway, there was a huge splintered pine tree drunkenly sprawled on her new home. Her foot slipped off the gas pedal and the car crawled forward.

  She scanned the jumble of logs and limbs and insulation. The car idled a few more feet as she stared with her mouth in an “O” of disbelief. A rusty white tailgate suddenly filled the view outside her windshield. She stomped on the brakes and her SUV jerked to a halt mere inches from a dented and battered pickup that blocked the lane.

  She stared at the truck and then her gaze flew back to the house. The A-frame lodge was more like an M-frame with the enormous evergreen splitting it into two spiky chunks. Her little log cabin in the woods that had looked so adorable and cozy in all of the online pictures was gone. She groaned.

  The big pine had crashed through the middle of the building and left the piping and ducting dangling helplessly. The front gabled entrance was half torn off the frame. Even the fireplace hadn’t escaped, and its top third was now a jagged, scattered pile of mortar and stone. Shattered wood and fractured logs littered the ground. Pink insulation tumbled out of the ceiling and a ripped metal tube of ducting dangled by a lone strand of gray tape. The only undamaged part was a small carport angled off to the side. She wondered if it was even worth fixing the now-pathetic-looking chalet or if they would have to tear it down and start anew.

  Nuh-uh. She couldn’t stay here. The first ripple of panic grabbed at her stomach.

  Where was she going to live? She hoped some of the other rentals she’d reviewed on the website were still available. Her heart sank somewhere down around her knees. How could she start her new life if she didn’t have a place to live?

  A fuzzy head prodded her shoulder, and a series of warning barks erupted in her ear. She jumped.

  “Shush, Shasta!” she commanded to the white and tan Husky. Shasta whined and pawed at the window.

  A grizzled, stocky man in jeans and a red plaid shirt came around the remains of the house. Through bushy gray brows, he stared at her with round, anxious eyes. Krissa blinked back at him. He lifted his dirty ball cap, scratched his bald pate, and re-settled the hat. The salt-and-pepper bearded man gawked at her for a few more moments. Krissa rolled down the window.

  “You’re the new tenant? The school teacher, right?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” Krissa said in a clipped voice as she shushed Shasta with a hand signal. Shasta settled on his haunches, but glared intently at the stranger. The gray-haired man gaped at Krissa. He moved his head slowly to Shasta and then back to Krissa again. He shook his head morosely.

  “I was hoping you’d get here after the boss man. This sure doesn’t look good.”

  Massive understatement, Krissa thought as she stepped out of her car. The guy was a comedian.

  “I’m Bill,” the gray-haired man said. He paused for a moment and added, “I don’t think you’re moving in today.”

  Krissa cocked her head and grimaced.

  A low rumble erupted from the wreckage. A soggy avalanche of wallboard chunks cascaded down and scattered haphazardly on the ground.

  “Holy—!” Krissa muffled her squeal of surprise.

  The older man mumbled a few expletives that Krissa didn’t quite catch. “You need to talk with the boss man. I just fix things.”

  As if on cue, Krissa heard big tires crunching on gravel. Both she and the old man turned to see a large red pickup truck stop behind her car. A tall man with dark brown hair jumped out. As he landed with a soft thud on the dirt and pine needle-covered ground, he tucked his cell phone into his shirt pocket and his eyes swept around and took in the small pickup, the SUV, the two people, and the smushed house.

  “Whoa, you won’t believe how bad this one is,” the old man cried out in a cheerful greeting. “Glad you’re here to see it.” The fixer of things jabbed his thumb toward Krissa and added, “The tenant’s here too, boss man.”

  The tall man turned to Krissa
with an extended hand and inclined his head.

  “Welcome to Wescott Springs Resort. I’m Nick Olin, and you must be Krissa Courtland.”

  The boss man and her new landlord. Krissa tried to keep her jaw from dropping and worked at forming a coherent sentence. He was well over six feet tall with thick, glossy, curly hair of the deepest brown. His shoulders were broad, and she could see his biceps bulging in his white polo shirt. Somehow she started to imagine his arms wrapping around her and pulling her close. Oh, my!

  She gave her head a little shake and pulled her mind back to the present. She extended her hand to meet his and felt his strong, warm grip envelop hers.

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Olin,” Krissa finally replied. A tingling electricity spread up her arm and deep to her core. Her eyes widened and met his deep, storm-blue eyes. He smiled back as his eyes raked over her from head to foot. His smile deepened, and Krissa flushed at the flicker of appreciation in his eyes.

  A fresh jangle of noises spewed from the house and a pouf of dust billowed out ominously.

  “Not very encouraging,” Nick said. “I don’t think this counts as move-in ready now,” he added with a sardonic grin.

  Krissa stared at him blankly for a moment. Sarcasm? Who was this guy? With a fake smile and a sharp tone, Krissa replied, “I think I may need my deposit back. When I asked if there was air conditioning, this wasn’t quite what I meant.”

  The fixer guy shook his head, but Nick laughed. Krissa glanced at the devastated cabin again and felt a fresh wave of anxiety well up. She had nowhere to live. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “This isn’t fixable,” she blurted out. “Where on earth am I going to stay now?” Krissa stiffly folded her arms close to her body, almost hugging herself.

  “It was a doozy of a thunderstorm last night,” Bill the Fixer said. “Were you here for it, Mr. Olin?”

  “No, the storm delayed my flight, so I didn’t get into Vail until first thing this morning.”

  Krissa tried not to glare at the two men. They were chatting about the weather and the air traffic control report, and her world was falling apart. She’d just driven a thousand miles to a brand-new town with no friends and a new job that started in three days. She was here all by herself with no one to rescue her. Indignation flared in her.

  “Sorry about your flight, buddy, but how about my cabin?” Krissa said tartly. “When can you get it repaired?”

  Nick raised his eyebrows a smidge at her sharp tone.

  “I don’t think you’re staying here,” said Bill the Fixer. “This ain’t no fixer-upper, more like a tearer-downer.” The gray-bearded man shot a knowing grin to Nick, who smiled back.

  Krissa looked from one man to the other. Her lips pressed into a thin, determined line.

  “Well, Mr. Olin, I’m your tenant, and I’ve paid all my deposits, and the rent check has already been cashed. I’m your responsibility.” She spread her hands wide with a bold flourish and her mouth pursed in a half twist of a tart smile.

  She was sure she could see reluctance cloud his eyes. He looked like he wanted to pop back into that shiny red pickup and hightail it back down the driveway.

  Nick glanced at his watch as the fingertips of his other hand tapped one by one on the side of his leg. Their eyes locked.

  Krissa poured every ounce of her will power and determination into her stare. There was no way she was letting him off the hook. Nick cleared his throat and broke eye contact.

  Low, loud rumblings broke the silence of the forest. A big rig lumbered down the lane. Bill the Fixer stared with goggle eyes and started chortling. With its huge stacks and oversized grill, it looked ridiculously massive on the narrow driveway.

  “Oh, no! The moving van!” Krissa wailed. She growled a string of doubtful words under her breath. “They were supposed to wait for me to call,” she said through gritted teeth.

  Krissa was sure her head was about to explode off her shoulders. She groaned and rubbed her forehead. She was developing a crashing headache. How had this gotten so complicated all of a sudden?

  Nick looked at her coolly for a moment. “You go see about your movers, and I’ll check out the damage.”

  Krissa glowered at his retreating back and tried not to notice how long his legs looked and how the taut muscles of his torso rippled under his white shirt. She humphed and stomped off to the moving van as it rolled to a stop.

  *

  As Krissa marched toward the truck drivers descending from the moving van, Nick wondered if she was going to be able to keep her temper in check. He was half tempted to find a good spot to watch the fun. She looked like she had the fire in her eyes to match the flames in her hair. As he surveyed the small disaster that was cabin number twenty-three, he realized that there’d be no quick fix. Bill was right. It was a complete demolition and rebuild.

  So much for easy. He’d need the entire property surveyed for storm damage. The whole resort and every rental. Those buyers from New York were arriving in four short days to tour the facilities and make an offer. Downed trees and busted-up cabins would lower their value and possibly give them a reason to cry off. He wanted this deal and he needed it now.

  It was only Saturday, and the inspection wasn’t until Wednesday. He shrugged. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. If he wanted it badly enough, he could make it happen…no matter what. It was a good piece of luck that he’d come out to Vail and the resort early.

  Nick looked up at the sound of raised voices and caught Krissa gesturing grandly at the truck, and then the driver mimicked a wide turning motion. He thought she was about to stamp her foot in annoyance. He held back a laugh at her fire and spunk. Her long, red-gold hair blew in the gusty breezes, and she kept pulling it out of her eyes and pushing it back behind her ears. Her glorious mane was like flames of a bonfire whipping in the wind. Nick licked his lips.

  “Hey, Mr. Olin, look at this,” Bill said.

  Nick pulled his attention back to the pitiful pile of rubble.

  “I think the tree was hit by lightning,” Bill said and pointed to a vicious, jagged burn scarring the bark and digging into the wood.

  Bill scribbled notes on a small notepad, and Nick snapped pictures on his cell phone and shot them off to his director of operations. One limb had smashed into the bedroom, and Nick shuddered to think that someone might have been sleeping in the cabin.

  The cabin was toast, and Krissa was definitely going to have to make other arrangements for her summer lodging. He glanced over at her SUV and noticed the large Husky staring steadily at him.

  Nick felt a twinge of guilt and looked away from the dog. He supposed Krissa was his responsibility after all. Dammit, he didn’t have time to play real estate agent. He needed to get the resort into tip-top shape before the investors landed.

  He looked back at the Husky and felt the dog’s blue eyes bore into him. He sighed and gave in with a slight shrug. No point in having one of his managers find a place for her. He could get it done faster himself and leave them to focus on any storm damage repairs.

  The dog blinked finally and turned his head away. Nick almost laughed. Had that mutt shamed him?

  Now where to put them up for the season or the year? Well, the resort wouldn’t work…no pets allowed. He wondered if he should change the rules. Nah, too much trouble.

  He stole a sideways peek at his newest tenant as she chattered on her phone’s headset and waved her arms around expressively. He wondered who was getting the sharp end of her tongue now.

  Krissa glanced up at him, but Nick looked back down at his phone and tapped out a quick text message to the rental office manager. Nick looked back up just to catch a view of Krissa’s curvy backside as she reached into her car to soothe the Husky. He grinned at how snugly her jeans fit. Helping her out had at least one nice benefit…a good view.

  His phone chirruped. He read the new message and frowned. There were no other houses still available for the whole summer. He couldn’t make her cabin-hop eve
ry few weeks. Hmmm. Next idea. He tapped out another message and hit Send.

  Chapter 2

  FROWNING in concentration, Krissa leaned back against the side of her car. She watched the movers tramp down the lane as they looked for an easy way out of the dead end. For a moment, Krissa yearned for her safe and quiet apartment in Phoenix. What had possessed her to move to the mountains of Colorado?

  Her expression darkened and a shadow of depression nipped at her. A blur of images whispered through her memory. A laughing woman snuggling up under the protective arm of her then-fiancé. The weary face of a doctor as he said she’d miscarried. Harsh, bare walls stripped of all of Tim’s artwork and posters.

  A wave of nausea made her blink. Krissa took a big breath and pushed back against the creep of emotions. No more, she told herself sternly. Phoenix was behind her now.

  She was here in Wescott Springs for a fresh start. A cabin crushed into a billion-point-three pieces was just a speed bump. It was not a road closure on her highway to happiness. Okay, maybe it was more like a detour around an avalanche. She took a second steadying breath and tried to get her scrambled brain back in order.

  She glanced over at the broken remains of the cabin and could only see Bill the Fixer poking around. Krissa’s resolve deserted her. She knew there were virtually no long-term rentals left on the market. Holy crow…where was she going to stay now? Who knew a winter ski resort was slammed in the summer too? Calm. She absolutely needed to stay calm.

  Nick strode across the yard aiming straight at her. Maybe she’d better be nice to this guy. He might be her only hope. She noticed his cool demeanor and wondered exactly who he was. Somehow, he didn’t look like a rental property manager. He seemed polished and confident. He looked like he’d be comfortable in a boardroom as well as the woods.

  Krissa hesitated and then looked up at Nick with her mouth pursed up in a question. “Do you think we might have a solution today? Maybe your office manager can help me make some phone calls?” she almost pleaded. “I think there still might be an apartment I can get that’s above some deli shop in town.” Her eyes begged for help.