Something washed through him . . . something like shame. He had to let this go already. “Tess . . . just forget it. All of it, okay? I’m sorry too, for being a stubborn ass.”
After a pause, she nodded, her curls bouncing softly. She shifted the dog so she could extend her hand. “Let’s leave it behind us. For real this time. Truce?”
Exhaling a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, he set down her suitcase to shake her gloved hand. “Yes, ma’am.”
“All right, then.” She waited for him to pick up her bag again, and they walked into the hotel together. Between the lush grandeur of the lobby and his own embarrassment burning in his chest, Logan couldn’t wait to get out of there. Tess had called him out. He didn’t like how it felt, but he respected the hell out of her for doing it. Now he just had to swallow his chastened pride and let his residual irritation go—and like she’d said, for real this time. He was glad he’d have a long, cold night alone to work that out.
* * *
The next morning, even from behind dark sunglasses, Logan squinted from the brightness of the sun reflecting off the snow as he drove into downtown Aspen. The sky was a crystalline blue, the mountain views behind the shops and restaurants as picturesque as always. He’d missed the mountains and the clear, crisper air when he’d lived in New Orleans, and never tired of the landscape even though he’d been back for several years now.
It’d been a long night, sitting in front of the Harrison house out in his truck, but not terrible. The heat in his truck worked, and his legs almost fit across the backseat. It wasn’t the inability to get comfortable in his backseat that kept him from sleeping, but his churning brain. All night, he’d thought about Tess Harrison. She intrigued and interested him. The resentment he felt was based on his own lingering insecurities; when she’d said her piece last night, he knew that her perceived slights weren’t deliberate. He believed that now.
And he felt like he wanted to make that up to her somehow. If his damn ego would let him.
He’d finally fallen asleep sometime around midnight, and his phone’s alarm woke him at six a.m. Going into the house, he found it frigid, but no traces of smoke lingered. The rooms smelled like the fresh, clear, mountaintop air. He’d taken care of the house, raised the thermostat some, got things in order. He took pride in his job, and he was sure going to do right by Tess on this easy task. By the time she texted him at nine, asking him to come get her, he’d already gone back home, showered, eaten breakfast, and watched some morning news.
Twenty minutes later, as he pulled up and around the long, winding entry to the hotel, he wondered what to say to Tess to express his remorse for how he’d been acting. Or if he even should. He scratched restlessly at his beard. Maybe he should say nothing at all. That usually worked for him too. Hell, they’d called a truce, right? No need to bring it up again, then. He’d just be nicer from now on, not such a surly bastard. Which wouldn’t be hard to do at all, because the truth was he did like her.
He parked the truck and popped a mint into his mouth. Feeling calm and centered, he strode with lazy grace across the parking lot and into the hotel. But as soon as he entered the wide lobby, a loud barking set his nerves jangling. Bubbles came storming across the marble floor, skidding to a stop at his feet.
“Hey now.” Logan frowned as he bent to pet the dog, who was yipping away. “Where’s your mama?” He looked up to see a small group gathered in the middle of the lobby, all looking down. From his low crouch, Logan could see Tess there, apparently sprawled out on the cold, hard floor.
Chapter Five
“Tess!” Logan’s heart pounded as anxious worry shot through his veins. He reached her in a few seconds. Bubbles followed, barking loudly. The circle of murmuring, staring people cleared for him as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
She looked up at him and grinned.
He stared and stammered, “What the—?”
“Hi,” she said. She was totally alert, seemed okay, just . . . lying on the floor. Next to an older man in a ski sweater and jeans. “Please don’t look so worried, I’m fine.”