No Better Man (24 page)

“Oh, it’s gonna work.” Vanessa swayed her hips and stood across from her. “We’re gonna make it work. Last night, your father came up with a plan for the auction.” Her eyebrows peaked. “After he went over the numbers, I figured out we’d need at least twenty-five million to outbid him.”

Twenty-five million.
Okay.
That was possible. She’d liquidate all of her assets to get a good start, and she knew for a fact that a million dollars was pocket change for some of her invitees.

“If we’re gonna do this, though, we need to get you organized,” Vanessa lamented, and she wasn’t kidding. With a militant tone, her friend barked out orders. “Anything that has to do with the guest list goes here.” She smacked her palm on the counter. “Food ideas and suggestions go here. Media contact information and appointments go here.”

“Got it.” She started to rummage through the mess she’d made earlier. “Hey look!” Underneath a copy of
Food & Wine
, she found her phone. “Fifteen messages?” She flicked it onto the counter and backed away. “I need ice cream. Stat.”

Prepared with her iPad, Vanessa swooped around her and confiscated the phone.

While she finished off the rest of her ice cream, Van scrolled through her messages, one at a time. “Oh!” She squealed. “Way to go, girl. A local Denver station wants to do an exclusive about the fund-raiser.” She checked her watch. “In an hour.”

Quickly, she shoveled in another mammoth bite of pure heaven. Truly, it was the break she’d been waiting for, the perfect opportunity to tell the story of the Walker Mountain Ranch to the world.

“I can’t.” She shook her head, wiping a droplet of ice cream from her chin. “I can’t do it, Vanessa. Look at me. I’m a mess.” She was too shaky and scatterbrained. And how would the media treat her after the Wrigley Field debacle?

Without a response, Vanessa turned her back. She held up the phone to her ear. “Hi, this is Vanessa Martinez. Miss King’s assistant.”

“Wait! No! Stop!” She leapt off the stool and made a grab for the phone, but that woman was quick.

“Miss King is happy to do the interview.” She snatched a wooden spoon from the counter to ward Avery off.

And she didn’t doubt Van would use it.

“You can have your crew here in an hour.” After a pause, Vanessa shot her a gloating grin. “You’re so welcome. We’ll see you soon.” She clicked off the phone and raised her hand in victory. “Looks like you’re doing the interview.”

Avery opened her mouth to stage a protest, but Vanessa silenced her with a single wave of her hand, the way only she could do. “This is part of it, Avery. The more people who see the story, the more donations you’ll get. For Bryce. You know this could go national.”

She was right. Avery hated it when Van was right. But it happened all the time.

Still gloating, her friend linked her arm with hers. “I’ll be with you every step of the way. Now let’s get you in the shower and find acceptable interview attire. You wait, girl. I’m gonna turn you into America’s sweetheart.”

“Fine.” She let Van lead her away. “But I’m only doing it for Bryce.”

T
he attic had never been Bryce’s favorite place. Even as a kid, his stomach got all screwed up tight when Mom asked him to bring something up there.
It stinks
, he’d tell her with a scowl, but really, the damp smell didn’t get to him as much as the eerie dim light, the ghostly creaks and moans, the shadows that seemed to shift and spread until they’d captured him in their darkness.

One time, Mom made him haul up a box of winter clothes. He’d pulled on his headlamp, determined to get over his fear, but the second he’d reached the top rung of that pull-down ladder, the attic lights flickered and buzzed out. Shrieking like a little girl, he’d dropped the box of clothes on the floor below. When Mom came running up the stairs, he’d tried to save face and told her he’d run straight into a coon. Mom spent all afternoon searching the attic, but couldn’t find even one trace of the coon.
That’s because it’s a ghost
, he’d wanted to tell her. But he’d kept his lip buttoned.

Bryce didn’t believe in ghosts anymore, but the stacked boxes in the attic haunted him. They were the sum of his memories, carefully packed away to be forgotten. After the funeral, he’d come home and thrown everything he could find in those boxes. All of Yvonne’s clothes and keepsakes and anything else that would dare spark a memory of her. When Mom had come into the room, he’d never forget how she knelt by his side. Silently, reverently, she pulled everything out of those boxes, carefully wrapped any breakables, and took great care fitting the pieces of Yvonne’s life back into the boxes. When they were finished, she’d squeezed his hand in her affectionate way. “There’s a purpose, Bryce. Even in this. Pain and loss push us to find our true selves. Sometimes we have to reach farther than we ever imagined we could.”

Maybe he hadn’t reached far enough. Maybe that was why he’d lost the ranch, too.

Bryce pulled down the attic ladder. It crashed to the floor with a thud. One week didn’t give him much time to sort through the scenes of his life with Yvonne, to decide what would accompany him to the next, unwritten chapter.

His gut twisted as he pulled himself rung after rung into the cavern of the past. It still smelled like wet dust. His eyes burned and adjusted to the faint light. The outline of the boxes loomed over him like a solid wall. Floorboards creaked as he eased over them, still remembering where the soft spots hid. The first box he removed from the stack was light. He set it on the floor and dug out his pocketknife, slicing the tape in one quick motion.

His hands dug through paper, piles of old cards that he and Yvonne had given each other over the years, love notes they’d written. At the bottom, hidden underneath the paper, was a photo album. He cracked open the binding and found himself staring at pictures of their road trip to Canada the first year they’d been married. Wow, they looked young. Her dark hair was so long, almost down to the middle of her back. Bryce held the picture up to the light, gazing at Yvonne’s dark, exotic eyes. But they didn’t jolt him like they once had.

They’d been gone on that trip for three weeks, driving all the way up to Banff, then over to Vancouver. God, it was so long ago. Things had been so different. For the first time, it felt like he was looking at pictures from a past life. He flipped through picture after picture, reliving those days, but that trip hadn’t all been as blissful as the pictures made it look.

Neither one of them had been good with words, good at talking things out, good at dealing with the shit between them. Instead, they’d pretended everything was fine, his drinking, her depression. Both of those things hid beneath the surface of their life together, making it impossible to build that deep connection they both craved. Maybe things would’ve gotten better after that fight they’d had before the accident. Maybe. But he didn’t know for sure. He’d never know if they would’ve been able to find that intense connection that would’ve gotten them through anything.

The kind of connection he’d felt with Avery.

He slammed the book closed and placed it back in the box. Man, he was such an idiot. He’d met Yvonne when they were kids and in some ways their relationship never grew up. He’d loved her the best he could. He’d been committed to her. But Avery made him want to be a better person. She challenged him. He needed that. He needed someone who would put him in his place when the situation demanded. Someone who wouldn’t ignore the issues. Someone who could stand against him and stand with him at the same time.

He needed Avery and he’d walked away from her.

Wiping the sweat from his face, he kicked a box out of the way and started down the ladder. He had to find her. He’d drive all the way to California if he had to. He had to tell her that she
was
enough. Even without the ranch, she was more than enough for him.

He’d just stepped a foot down on the hallway carpet when his phone rang. Mom’s number glowed on the screen. He brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Bryce? Are you at home?” she asked frantically.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Turn on the television right this minute.”

He started to fold up the ladder. What, was there another
Murder, She Wrote
marathon on? “I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Or at least he would be as soon as he got in his truck and tracked down Avery.

“Bryce Walker, you listen to me,” Mom ordered. “This is important. Go. Now.”

“Okay, okay.” Bracing the phone between his shoulder and ear, he pushed up the ladder and shut the attic’s trapdoor, then jogged to the family room and flipped on the television.

“Channel nine,” she instructed. “Hurry!”

When the pictured cleared, Avery stared back at him. “What’s she doing?”

“Listen,” Mom practically sang. “Just listen!”

A blond woman sat across from Avery in a living room. He studied the screen. Looked like a hotel suite. Was she still in Aspen?

“So, Miss King,” the blond woman said. “We all know there are plenty of rumors going around, but we want the scoop. Why didn’t you marry Logan Schwartz?”

The camera zeroed in on Avery again. The sight made his heart flip. Even as nervous and stiff as she looked, the woman was hypnotizing. She wore a soft sweater and tight black pants. Her hair was loosely pulled back, the way he liked it.

Unable to take his eyes off of her, Bryce sank to the couch.

Avery seemed to hesitate. She uncrossed her legs and sat taller. “Logan is an amazing person, but we wanted different things for our lives.”

Her smile nearly made him dizzy.

“He won’t have any problem finding a wonderful woman. We’re still great friends. I wish him all the best.”

Mom clucked in his ear. “Now wasn’t that so classy? Bryce? Are you there?”

He grinned. “Yeah. I’m here.”

“You’re listening, aren’t you, dear? Doesn’t she look lovely?”

“Lovely,” he repeated.
Sexy.
But Mom might not approve of that description.

Blonde interview lady smiled and batted her fake eyelashes. “So, Miss King. You wanted to tell us about a fund-raiser you’re hosting in Aspen?”

Fund-raiser?
Bryce grabbed the clicker and turned up the volume.

“Did you hear that?” Mom squealed. “A fund-raiser! Isn’t it amazing? Can you—”

“Shhh.” He meant it as nicely as possible.

Avery still sat ramrod straight, obviously uncomfortable, but she had a fervent glow on her face. “The Walker Mountain Ranch has been a fixture in Aspen for years. The owner is facing a foreclosure auction if he doesn’t come up with enough money to pay off the bank.”

His shoulders let down, and he leaned back into the couch cushions as he sat there transfixed by her. She was doing this for him. After the way he’d treated her, she was trying to save the ranch.

“Tomorrow night, I’m hosting a fund-raiser gala on the patio of The Knightley to help save the Walker Mountain Ranch. There’ll be local bands and some of the best food in the valley.” She listed a bunch of other details about the black-tie event, but he didn’t hear them.

“Seriously?” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but…wow. All that for him?

“I knew she loved you!” Mom celebrated so loudly, he had to hold the phone away from his ear. “Why else would she go to all this trouble?”

He couldn’t come up with a reason. Not one damn reason. After the way he’d treated her he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her.

“You really think she could love me?” A surge of hope almost lifted him off the couch. “Because she’s way out of my league. You know that, don’t you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear! You’re perfect for each other.”

On the screen, the interview lady leaned close to Avery. “So, what’s the story here? How did you hear about the Walker Mountain Ranch?”

“I stayed there a few days ago and fell in love with it,” Avery answered brightly, but then her smile faded, and he knew why.

“The owner is a friend of yours?” Interview Lady asked.

Avery flinched—there was no mistaking it—but she recovered quickly. “Yes. I’m a friend of the Walker family,” her voice was strained, but Interview Lady didn’t seem to notice.

Mom, however, gasped. “What. Did. You. Do.” It was the closest thing to a growl he’d ever heard come out of her mouth. “That poor girl. She’s heartbroken.”

He winced at the memory. “I may have overreacted when I found out about the auction.”

“Oh Bryce,” she sighed. “Well, you are going to march yourself to that gala and apologize to her, mister. And you’d better hope she forgives you.”

“I’ve never been to a gala.” What the hell was a gala, anyway? What did that word even mean?

“Well, you absolutely have to go. There’s no other way.”

“Can’t I just call her?” Even as he said it, he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Avery had done all of this for him. God, he needed her back.

“Where’s the chivalry in calling her?” Mom moaned. “She just went on a television show for you. And she hates the cameras!”

“You’re right.” He glanced at the television again. “What does ‘black tie’ mean?”

“That means you have to clean yourself up and wear a tux, dear. You know, one of those black and white numbers with a bow tie?”

“A tux, huh?” Despite the fact that he’d have to actually comb his hair, he grinned. He could find a tux, no problem. He’d take Mom’s advice, clean himself up, dress in a monkey suit.

Then he’d show up at The Knightley and give Avery King a night she’d never forget.

A
very glided under the canopy of twinkling white lights that dangled above The Knightley’s lovely patio, her head tipped back, eyes wide with awe. In between the small globes, white paper lanterns swung in the gentle breeze and made her feel like a little girl walking through a fairy’s garden. Magical Night. Vanessa had chosen the theme for the fund-raiser, and it was perfect. Beautiful and elegant, but rustic, too. She weaved between the round tables, which had been covered with white silk. Large Mason jars, decorated with burlap ribbons, sat in the centers, plumes of wildflowers spilling over the sides. Heat lamps were scattered around the patio, just in case, but even at seven o’clock, the temperature hovered at sixty-five degrees. No snow tonight. Apparently, high altitudes made Mother Nature moody.

Guests had started to arrive, and were mingling near the elegant hors d’oeuvres tables and a flowing champagne fountain that seemed to be keeping everyone’s spirits high. Soft jazz hummed in the background, courtesy of a local band Van had hired.

Not to brag or anything, but she highly doubted The Knightley had ever seen a more classy affair. Especially one that had been thrown together in three days.

Three days.

Three days of phone calls and media interviews and decorations and catering decisions and shopping. The result still earned a surprise gasp every time she gazed over the patio. It was lavish without being pretentious, a place where Bryce’s friends could come together with hers for a common purpose—to raise a ton of money and hopefully have a good time in the process.

“Avery!” Van barked from over by the catering tent. “Get back to your post!” She threw up her hands. “You have one job. One job! Greet the guests. Charm them into parting with their millions,
capiche
?”

“
Capiche
!
” she answered with a snarky salute. She never missed a chance to mock Van when she was running an event. The woman transformed into a drill sergeant, barking out orders, pointing her finger, clapping her hands as she ordered people to
move, move, move
!

Her friend flipped her off.

“I love you!” Avery called in response, then resumed her position beneath the arbor that curved over the patio’s entrance.

A mixture of nerves and excitement swirled in her stomach, making her crave one of those delicious cupcakes she’d seen the baker setting out. This could work. This really could work. She’d gotten a huge response to the media interviews she’d done. In addition to the money she’d come up with after liquidating her own assets, they’d already raised twelve million through online donations. Another lucky thirteen, and Bryce just might be able to outbid her father…

Around the corner, voices drifted on the night air.

Here we go.
She smoothed the bodice of the shimmering blue gown that Vanessa had insisted matched her eyes perfectly, and smiled like she had Vaseline slathered on her teeth. Honestly, the whole act was starting to wear her out, but benevolent rich people always expect an overly gracious greeting from the host. If she had any hope of bringing in enough money, she couldn’t disappoint.

Instead of yet another wealthy concerned animal activist or philanthropist, Paige and Shooter sauntered through, followed by Sawyer and his cute wife, Kaylee, then Meg and her fiancé, Nelson. “You’re here!” she cried, clapping her hands. Hiking up her gown, she rushed to greet them all with a hug, even Shooter. “Thanks so much for coming everyone.”

“Don’t mention it,” Shooter murmured to her cleavage. At least he’d cleaned himself up, though. He actually looked nice in a tux.

Paige glanced around the room with wide eyes, looking like a little girl who’d stepped into a fairy-tale land. She smoothed her red, strapless gown and glanced at Avery. “We’re not in Kansas anymore.”

Avery laughed. “You fit right in. That dress is perfect on you.” The second she’d seen it hanging on the rack a few down from her own dress, she knew she had to buy it for Paige.

“Yeah, but this Spanx thing is gonna kill me.” She gripped at her dress, twisting it and shimmying it up. “Seriously. It’s reducing the oxygen to my brain. I can’t even think straight.” She leaned in close. “Just make sure I don’t do anything stupid, like hook up with Shooter. Okay?”

“Got it,” she promised. “But…you do realize you don’t need Spanx, right? You’ve got a great figure.” Paige was small, yet still toned and athletic.

“That’s not what my love handles told me in the mirror,” Paige insisted, loudly enough that the whole group laughed.

Avery admired the dress again. Red fit the woman perfectly, fiery and vivacious, eye catching. And she definitely seemed to be catching some eyes from across the room.

“Where’s the food?” Shooter asked, resting a hand on his belly.

If anyone could use the assistance of Spanx, it was him.

She pointed to the tables near the catering tent. “Over there. Just make sure you leave some for the rest of the guests.”

“Can’t make any promises,” he said with a jovial smile, then plodded away.

“Personally, I like to start with alcohol,” Sawyer joked, and everyone else heartily agreed.

“The bar is that way,” she directed them past the bubbling stone fountain.

“Perfect.” Sawyer linked his arm through Kaylee’s. “We’ll catch up with you guys later.”

“I’m with them,” Meg said, dragging Nelson away.

When they were gone, Paige adjusted her Spanx again, grimacing and twisting. “So is Bryce here?” she asked casually, even though she knew there was nothing casual about Avery’s feelings for him. She’d pretty much told Paige every ugly detail.

“No.” The happy, alive feeling she’d had only minutes before dulled. She’d thought about inviting him, but every time she got out her phone, she chickened out. It would be torture for her to see him, knowing she had a flight to L.A. early the next morning. “I never told him.”

“Why the hell not?” Paige demanded with one hand on her hip and her usual amount of sass.

“It’s better if he doesn’t come,” she answered firmly, if only to remind herself. He’d made it clear how he felt, and she didn’t want him to think she was doing this to manipulate him into changing his mind. That wasn’t what this was about.

“Sorry, Avery.” Paige snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter and handed one to her. “I know how you feel about him.”

Instead of answering, she sipped champagne. The thought of losing Bryce forever made her want to retreat upstairs and bury her face in a brand new carton of Cheesecake Brownie comfort. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option. So she put on a brave face. “Hey, what about you? Do you have a date?”

“Evening, ladies,” Benjamin Noble drawled from the other side of the garden arch. “This where the party is?”

“Hi!” Avery hadn’t meant to shriek, but Ben Noble had a reputation for being quite the generous benefactor, and they were in need of some serious generosity. “I’m Avery King.” She extended her hand and he shook it warmly. “Thanks so much for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He grinned, and even she had to admit he had one of those all-American smiles that had the power to make a woman forget her last name. Except his grin wasn’t directed at her; it was aimed at Paige, who stood still and silent, her cheeks nearly matching the color of her dress. The woman smoothed her hands down her sides self-consciously.

Hmmm.
Avery eyed her. She wasn’t usually the self-conscious type…

Ben waved a check in the air. “Where do I turn in this baby?”

While she couldn’t see the amount, she did glimpse a whole lot of zeros.
Oh, wow.
She fought the urge to throw her arms around him. Not appropriate for a first meeting. Besides, she didn’t want to steal Paige’s thunder. The chemistry in the air was so palpable she was almost blushing, too. “Checks go over there.” She pointed out Vanessa, who was posted by the catering tent, meticulously eyeing every tray that came out. “Paige?” She elbowed her lightly. “Would you take Ben over and introduce him to Vanessa?”

“I’d sure appreciate it,” he drawled, holding out an arm like a true southern gentleman.

“Of course,” Paige practically gasped, then linked her arm through his, giving Avery a bewildered look.

Happiness bubbled through her as she watched them walk away. Those two would be so cute together…

“Hey, Avery.” Logan’s voice startled her. She turned in time to see him saunter under the arch.

“Logan!” She reached out to hug him, then stopped, unsure if he even wanted her to. “What a surprise.”

His quick grin broke through her awkwardness. He leaned in to hug her. “Vanessa invited me. Hope that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay.” It was more than okay. He deserved someone like Vanessa. “It’s so good to see you.” She meant it. He looked great, as optimistic and happy as ever.

“So is Vanessa here?” He glanced around and stuffed his hands in his pockets, which she happened to know he only did when he was nervous.

“Why, yes she is.” She couldn’t hide a smile. Feeling like Cupid, she pointed him to the catering tent. “She’s over harassing the waiters.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m sure you’re busy right now. Hope we can catch up later.”

“Definitely.” She waved him away. “There’s a great band here tonight. You should ask her to dance.” Logan had some crazy fun dance moves. Come to think of it, so did Vanessa.

He only smiled as he sauntered away, hands still deep in his pockets.

At least it was turning out to be a magical night for
some
people, she thought as she went back to her job as greeter. When the traffic slowed, she left her post, mingling and schmoozing with the best of them, all the while keeping an eye on Ben and Paige, who were dancing near Meg and Nelson. Shooter was at the bar chatting up one of the waitresses—unsuccessfully, judging by the scowl on her face. Then there were Vanessa and Logan, engaged in deep conversation on the outskirts of the party. Her friend no longer looked stressed, only happy and engrossed in whatever they were talking about.

She waited for a lull, and when Logan walked away from Van and headed for the bar, she hurried over, brandishing a wide smile. “How’s it going?” She swiped a lamb lollipop topped with mint pesto from another passing waiter.

“Okay,” her friend replied, but her happy expression went flat. “Except…” Her head bent and her fingers tapped the screen of her trusty iPad. “Avery…the donations have stopped coming in.”

A sinking feeling weighted her stomach. Suddenly the lamb lollipop wasn’t so appetizing.

“I wish I had better news.” She switched off the iPad and tucked it under her arm. “But even with the online donations, we’re only at sixteen million.”

It felt like someone had stabbed the heel of her stiletto right into her chest, then twisted it for good measure. That wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Eyes burning, she tossed the half-eaten lamb lollipop into a nearby trash can. She couldn’t cry. Not there. Not in front of all of these people.

“You did everything you could,” Van insisted with an uncharacteristic quiet.

“But it wasn’t enough.” The burn in her eyes intensified until she couldn’t see, but she bit into her cheek and froze her face. One wrong move, one small twitch, and she wouldn’t be able to stop crying for a very long time.

“Crap. Why’d the music stop?” Van glared at the stage. “I have to go check in with the band.” She gave her a lopsided hug. “Sorry, girl.”

Still silent, still frozen, Avery waved her away like it was nothing, like her heart wasn’t broken for Bryce, but those tears built with a vengeance and started to spill over, probably dragging her mascara with them. All she needed was to walk around the rest of the night looking like a blond Marilyn Manson.

With nowhere else to hide, she put her head down and elbowed her way through the crowd, then ducked into the ladies’ room. Leaning over the sinks, she inspected her face. At least her mascara was still intact. If she could just make it through a couple more hours…

Inside of her beaded purse, her phone chimed and announced an incoming text. She ignored it and blotted a Kleenex under her eyes, but it chimed again. And again.

Leave me alone
. She unearthed it from the mess of receipts, mints, and tampons ready to click it into silent mode, but his name lit up the screen.

Bryce Walker.

Hey, Avery.

It’s Bryce.

Watcha doin
?

Her heart tumbled into a free-fall. He didn’t know? How could he not know? Sure, she hadn’t told him, but she’d figured he’d find out. All of his friends were there. And of course there were the media interviews…

Okay.
Not important. What really mattered was…he
cared
what she was doing?

Her fingertips buzzed. What should she say?

Nothing
important
, she sent back, then regretted it. Nothing important? How could she lie like that? This might’ve been the most important thing she’d ever done. Even if she’d failed.

The phone chimed again. Slowly, she raised it to eye level, almost afraid to look.

You’re pretty dressed up to be doing nothing important
.

She looked left, then right. Yeah. Like he’d be standing in the ladies’ room at The Knightley! He must’ve heard…

You look beautiful.

Blue is your color
.

Love the flower in your hair
.

Heat snaked through her veins and made her heart feel like it would burst. He was there? He’d seen her?

More important…he thought she was beautiful?

She sank to the flowered bench in the corner because her knees had quit working, just like that. He’d come. How could she have missed him? How did—

The door opened and Bryce sauntered through like he walked into ladies’ rooms every day.

“Hey.” He stopped a few feet away. “Can we talk?”

Talk?
Yeah, right.
She couldn’t utter a word. One hundred percent pure infatuation tangled her throat. He stood there in a tux. A tux! And his hair…God, his hair. He’d tamed it into waves that made her fingers long to feel them, to glide through their softness. He looked so…well, the sight of him was enough to make a nun feel lust.