Rocky Mountain Hero (Roberts of Silver Springs Book 2) Read online

  “Um, Zach and I— You remember Zach?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “Well, we need some help. Rocky Mountain Adventures is growing, and neither one of us is good with the office stuff. Surprise, surprise.”

  He winked and tipped her that crooked Roberts grin, which made her feel all warm and mushy inside. Stop already!

  “I don’t know anything about your line of work, Spike.”

  “You don’t need to. Not much anyway. I mean, you know what snowboarding is, right?”

  She laughed and pulled his coat tighter around her body so she could smell him. “I might have heard of it.”

  “There you go. You’re qualified. Now, I have to warn you, the place is a disaster, so there will be a little cleaning and organizing at first. Mostly, we need someone to answer the phone, book trips, collect paperwork, and so on. Basically all the boring stuff we hate doing. Part-time, for now, but we're hoping hiring someone will free us up to do more trips so we can grow even more. What do you say?"

  Amy had no idea what to say. This was all so unexpected that — coupled with her exhaustion and Spike’s strangely dizzying effect on her — she couldn’t speak for some time. On one hand, she’d do just about anything to not have to wash dishes all afternoon, then then clean offices all night. On the other, she’d be working for Spike. With Spike. Just a few feet away from Spike. She tried to remember all the things she’d decided a few minutes ago, but it all sounded like static in her head.

  “B-but I just started at Mo’s this afternoon,” she finally fumbled out. “I can’t just—“

  Spike crossed the short distance between them in one stride and took her trembling hands in his. The street light illuminated his features and allowed her to stare deep into his eyes. Or rather, he stared into hers and she couldn’t look away. She was utterly powerless when he touched her.

  “Please don’t say no, Amy. We need you.” His gaze drifted down to her mouth. “I need you.”

  Her entire body went slack, her insides seeming to be made of nothing but Jello. Her mind quickly followed suit, a single thought running over and over through it, blotting out all other thought.

  Whatever you want, all you have to do is ask.

  A spark of common sense flared just long enough to butt in, Isn’t that how you got into this whole mess in the first place? But it wasn’t enough to stop her from saying yes.

  3

  Spike Roberts’ lips were almost on hers when fifty pounds of giggling love jumped on her and woke her from the loveliest dream she’d had in a long time.

  “Oof!”

  “Wake up, Mama! Gamma’s going to work.”

  Amy groaned and tried to pull the covers over her head, but Ethan tugged them back down. They repeated the routine several times until she finally grabbed him and gave him a raspberry on his tummy. He squealed with delight, wriggled free, and sprinted from their room.

  It felt as if she’d just laid her head on the pillow, but it was already morning. Morning. What a joke. The sun wouldn’t peek above the Rockies for another two hours. Amy vowed when she was crowned Queen of the World, getting up before six would be outlawed. So would bell peppers. A shudder ran through her at the thought of the most evil of all vegetables.

  Thank goodness she would never — hopefully — have to scrape the nasty-smelling green and red bits from plates at Mo’s ever again. The man used them in practically every dish, it seemed. No wonder she hated eating there.

  Tying her robe closed, she then stumbled blindly into the bright kitchen, yawned a ‘good morning’ to her fifty-year-old mother, and made a beeline for the coffee pot.

  Martha Sanderson may never have been much of a cook, but she brewed a mean pot of java. She also looked great for her age, some people mistaking her for Amy’s older sister. Martha loved it; Amy not so much. Ever since Amy could remember, her mother had dyed her hair a dark red, which almost looked natural, but no matter how much Amy had tried to talk her out of hair-spraying it into a stiff helmet, Martha never listened. Same with her thick coat of makeup. But she was healthy and happy, and that’s what mattered most to Amy.

  “We’re out of milk,” Martha announced, pulling a can of generic non-dairy creamer from the cupboard and pouring it into her own cup. “Young Master Ethan used the last of it in his Fruity Rings.”

  Amy groaned. “You fed him that crap?”

  And crap it was. Loaded with thirty days worth of sugar, the off-brand version of Fruit Loops would send Ethan into a spiral of energy, only to crash in an hour or two.

  “Hey, I invoked the grandmother’s privilege,” her mother said as she brushed a kiss on her daughter’s cheek.

  “That doesn’t count when you live in the same house, Mom.”

  “It does when his mom wakes up late,” Martha shot back and laughed.

  Love for her mother surged through Amy. Even though their lives might not have been easy or glamorous, they both cherished every day they had together.

  “Fine,” she sighed dramatically, mentally steeling herself for two hours with a demon-child. “You want some eggs?”

  “No, thanks.” Martha’s smile dropped away. “Honey, are you sure this is the right decision? It’s not too late, you know. Mo will let you stay on, even after you gave notice.”

  Amy focused on doctoring her cup of coffee. The sound of early morning cartoons came from the living room so at least Ethan wouldn’t hear this conversation. He always got so worried when she changed jobs. No child should have to think about such things, but he was too smart for his own good. Always picking up on the stress of their financial situation.

  “Mom, it’s better pay. Besides, I don’t know how long I could have worked at Mo’s anyway.” She sprinkled some sugar in her cup and leaned back against the counter, savoring the elixir of life.

  “Why? I’ve worked there for fifteen years. Mo may not be perfect, but he’s been good to me.”

  “Not perfect? I’m surprised the man hasn’t blown a gasket, the way he screams all day. I wore earplugs all afternoon yesterday. I had to clean offices with a migraine.”

  Martha waved away the criticism. “He’s just passionate is all.”

  “About eggs?” Amy raised a questioning eyebrow over the rim of her cup.

  “Whatever. I just worry. What do you know about these boys’ business?”

  “Not much,” she conceded. It was something that had worried her in the wee hours of the night as she listened to her son breathing next to her in bed.

  “Those boys have come into the diner from time to time, you know, and they don’t strike me as particularly business savvy.”

  Her mother might have only been a waitress, but she wasn’t stupid. She’d spent her life struggling to survive and those lessons were far more valuable than anything college could have taught her.

  “Spike is a bit…spontaneous,” Amy allowed.

  Martha laughed. “You could say that. That other one, Zach? He’s sharp, but Spike… What kind of name is that, anyway?”

  Amy almost snorted coffee out of her nose. “I honestly have no idea. He’s always been Spike, as far as I know.”

  “Well, it’s strange, that’s all. How serious can he be with a name like that?”

  Indecision stabbed at Amy’s guts. As far as she could tell, Spike had never been particularly serious about anything except having fun. Time changed people, that much she knew. She just didn’t know how much it had changed Spike. Was she making a bad decision?

  “He’s a nice guy,” she hedged, unsure of how to defend him, knowing only she felt the need to.

  “He certainly has a reputation for being a hero, I’ll give him that. I just worry.” She brushed the back of her knuckles down Amy’s cheek.

  “I think it’ll be good, Mom, I really do. Honestly, I’d probably go insane chasing after a sugar-fueled Ethan all morning, washing dishes all afternoon, and cleaning offices all night. Besides, it sounds like they really need some help.”

  Martha st
ill looked uncertain as she drained the last of her coffee. “It’s not just some ploy to get in your pants, is it?”

  “Mom!” Amy scolded, craning her neck to make sure Ethan hadn’t heard. “I’m not a teenager anymore. I think I’ve more than learned my lesson.”

  Amy couldn’t stand the sad expression in her mom’s eyes. Time to change the subject.

  “So what did the doctor say?”

  Martha broke into a relieved grin. “All clear.”

  “Five years cancer-free! That’s fantastic!” She raised her hand to give her mom a high five, but Martha pulled her into a fierce hug instead. Alarm shot through Amy.

  “What’s wrong? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  Martha shook her head against Amy’s, then let her go, dabbing carefully under her eyes to catch any moisture before it ruined her thick coat of mascara.

  “No, I just needed to hug you. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you, honey.”

  Amy blushed. “Don’t say that. You’re a fighter.”

  “Stop it now. We both know it’s true. You’ve sacrificed so much for me, more than any daughter should. More than any daughter probably would. In a thousand lifetimes, I’d never be able to make up for it, Amy.”

  Great, now she was crying too.

  “Mom, you don’t have anything to make up for. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. Don’t you know that? You think I saved you, but you need to understand that it was the other way around. I couldn’t have done any of this without you here to help me.”

  “Nonsense,” Martha sniffed, turning to the sink to wash her mug. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

  Amy grabbed her mother’s hands and turned her back to face her.

  “I’m not though. I’m terrified every single minute of every day. You’re the strong one. Just your being here gives me strength and hope. I sometimes scare myself wondering what would have happened to me if you’d…”

  Her voice caught on the words, but Martha understood. She gave her daughter a soft smile, then turned back to the sink. “And that concludes this meeting of the Mutual Admiration Society. I need to get going or I’ll be late.”

  Martha swept past Amy, grabbing her coat and purse from a peg by the door.

  “Later, gator,” she called to Ethan as she shrugged into her coat.

  He shouted “After a while, crocodile!” at the top of his lungs. Good thing he was sweet and adorable, or their neighbors would complain. Thin walls sucked.

  Martha stopped with the door halfway open and looked at Amy, who hugged her robe tighter to fend off the cold air pouring in.

  “Honey, you’re a grown woman with a good head on your shoulders. If you think this is the right move for you, I’ll support you one thousand percent. I only want you and Ethan to be happy. You know that, right?”

  “I know, Mom.”

  “Good, now go blow their minds.”

  The door had almost closed when Martha poked her head back in. “But nothing else, okay?”

  “Mom!” Amy gasped in shock at her mother’s saltiness.

  Martha grinned before pulling the door closed.

  The problem was the suggestion wasn’t so far off from thoughts that had flashed through Amy’s head since Spike had pulled her body against his a thousand feet in the air. Okay, it was probably only fifteen, but still.

  On her way back to the kitchen to figure out her own breakfast, she vowed not to let Spike’s yummy scent and swoon-worthy good looks weaken her resolve. She’d stay strong and remain professional. Even if he flirted with her shamelessly, she’d rebuff his advances and do the job. No funny business whatsoever.

  Somewhere in the depths of her heart, a little voice snickered, Good luck with that.

  “Dude, where have you been? It’s almost two!” Zach snapped when Spike finally arrived at Rocky Mountain Adventures.

  They both enjoyed the flexible hours owning their own business offered, but they’d agreed to meet at ten to plan the next day’s snowshoeing trip.

  Spike shrugged out of his down Patagonia jacket, which still smelled a little like whatever cleaning product Amy used. It wasn’t sexy per se, but he liked the reminder that she’d worn it just hours earlier.

  “You have no idea what my day’s been like.” He sighed as he flopped into his ancient office chair. “I left my place at nine, I swear. I was barreling down Coyote Ridge Road when I rounded a corner and had to slam on my brakes. Chet Watkins’ car blocked both lanes. You know how narrow Coyote Ridge is.”

  Zach nodded, though he was still unimpressed. “And that’s why you’re four hours late?”

  “Not exactly,” Spike admitted. “Honestly, if he’d broken down in a pull-out, I would have just driven past, but he was blocking the entire road. Trust me, I would have rather been here than back there, hunched over his boat of a Lincoln dragging it out of the ditch.” Sometimes the bumper-mounted winch on his Jeep was a blessing, sometimes a curse.

  “I thought you said it was across the road.” Zach’s gaze grew suspicious.

  “It was! But that car is so freakin’ long that the back tires were in the ditch. It took forever. Anyway, Chet was so grateful, he insisted on dragging me back to his place.”

  “I didn’t know you guys were neighbors.”

  Spike lived in a very small, very rustic development — if it could even be called that — on a rocky ridge that overlooked Silver Springs. He could count all of his neighbors on one hand, and they all knew each other well.

  “That’s just it, we’re not. He was visiting one of my neighbors. Seriously, no one who lives up by me would own anything that doesn’t have four-wheel drive.”

  “True,” Zach said. “Still not hearing what took you four hours. An hour, maybe.”

  “What was I supposed to do, not go to his house? He’s a client, and he refers people to us all the time.”

  Zach didn’t look convinced, but stayed silent this time.

  “So I’m thinking he’s just going to show me around, have me say hi to Glenda, but no. Glenda insists on cooking up this amazing breakfast — here, she sent some for you.” He tossed Zach the paper bag filled with containers of scrambled eggs, french toast and bacon. “Then Chet had to show me all of his new gear. Pretty impressive actually. Next thing I knew, I looked at my phone and saw it was one.”

  Zach looked up from devouring a slice of french toast. “Mmmhmm.”

  “Scout’s honor, man. I wanted to have enough time to clean up around here before Amy arrives. Look at this place!”

  Scooping all the random waivers, flyers, brochures, and other mystery pieces of paper into his hands, he shuffled them until they were in a neat pile. Next, he moved on to a pile of equipment jumbled in a corner and started sorted through it all.

  “What the…?” He held up a stiff sock and cast a disgusted glance at his partner, who shrugged. “What’s next, a dirty jockstrap?”

  “You never know,” Zach said, leaning back to observe Spike’s frenzied tidying.

  “Aren’t you going to help me?” Spike asked as he stacked boxes of papers. He had no clue what was in them, but they looked better stacked than strewn around the floor.

  “I hate to be Mr. Obvious, but isn’t that what we hired this Amy person to do?” Zach’s already dark gaze once again grew darker with suspicion.

  “I just don’t want her to think I…I mean, we. I don’t want her to think we’re slobs is all.” He held up the mummified carcass of a mouse and gave Zach another hot glare. “Are you kidding me!”

  “Spike, I’ve known you for twenty years. Not once, in all that time, have you ever given a rat’s ass — excuse me, make that a dead mouse’s ass — about what girls think of you.”

  That was the trouble with lifelong friends; they knew you too well. The best approach, because he couldn’t think of anything better, was to stay mute, keep cleaning, and hope that Amy was late for her first day at a new job. He didn’t know her very well, but he suspected that
wasn’t going to happen.

  “Dude, are you hot for this chick? Be straight with me.”

  Spike whirled on Zach, a moldy, half-eaten granola bar in one hand, and a dirty jock strap in the other. “No!”

  Zach narrowed his gaze. “Are you sure?”

  “Come on, you know me better than that,” Spike replied, stuffing the evidence of their slobbiness into a garbage can and covering it with crumpled papers so Amy wouldn’t see. “First of all, you know I don’t date moms. Did you know she has a kid? Well, she does.”

  Zach simply raised an eyebrow.

  “Second of all, she’s going to work for us. That’s a recipe for a sexual harassment lawsuit. Just ask Uncle Steve.”

  In fact, Spike had asked Uncle Steve, the most respected lawyer in Silver Springs. Of course, he’d been vague and asked in a ‘just wondering’ way, but the answer was a resounding “Don’t even think about it.”

  “So to answer your question, no. I’m totally, completely, absolutely not hot for this chick.”

  Zach barely had time to open his mouth before the door to their office opened. Amy walked in and Spike’s brain broke.

  Despite claiming to remember her from high school, he only had fuzzy recollections of her existence, nothing specific. His true memories of her started the moment he saw her holding onto a rock wall for dear life. Amy in body-hugging athletic gear, hair smashed from a climbing helmet, the touch of mascara she’d applied smudged under her eyes. Still, all he could think was, Mmm! The next time he saw her, she’d looked like a waif out of a Dickens’ novel — hair pulled up in a disheveled ponytail, not a stitch of makeup on, baggy work clothes, and a smudge of dirt on her cheek. Double mmm!

  What stood before him now was an Amy like he’d never seen. Her long, dark brown hair fell straight down her shoulders, glints of red shimmering in the sunlight, and not a strand out of place. Her makeup had been deftly and lightly applied, highlighting her sapphire eyes and high cheekbones. A touch of lip gloss showcased soft lips that hypnotized him.