“It’s a damn good job we submitted our membership applications, then, isn’t it?” Jack says.

“What?” I ask. “You guys didn’t need to do that.”

“We absolutely did,” Worth says.

“You had me at private powder,” Jack says. “Even if it’s not Courchevel.”

“My sisters will probably want to come, so it’s a place we can spend time together. I’m looking forward to it,” Worth says.

I don’t know what I did to deserve friends like this, but I know I’ll never take these guys for granted.

“After I gave all that input into the recording studio here, there’s no way I’m not bringing artists out here,” Fisher says. “This is going to be the new Abbey Road. Except the view is better. I have an artist lined up, actually. She wants guaranteed privacy. This is the perfect spot.”

“As long as she resists the call of the chicken wings at Grizzly’s,” Worth reminds him.

“Fuck,” he replies. “My plans are in tatters. She’ll have to break cover.”

“I’m going to finance a delivery service between here and Grizzly’s,” I say, before making a note on my phone.

“That place should be nationwide,” Jack says.

“Maybe I’ll have a chat with them,” Worth says.

I chuckle. “If there’s a business opportunity there, I’m claiming it. This is my town.” For the first time in a long time, I can say that about Star Falls, and feel good about it. My town. It has a nice ring to it.

TWENTY-SIX

Rosey

I head back to Autumn from Blossom, part thrilled to have seen Byron and part terrified. Gossip around here spreads like wildfire. I knew Miranda from concierge had changed her hair color before I even laid eyes on her this morning. There’s no doubt the other waitresses in Blossom saw me embracing Byron’s friends. By the end of the day, everyone will know. I need to come up with an explanation that doesn’t include the words I’m banging the boss.

As I navigate the stairs to reception, I almost run into Patricia, who’s scurrying toward me at lightning pace.

“Rosey,” she says. “I heard you’re tight with the owners’ friends.”

Wow. Move over wildfire and make room for the speed of sound. That was quick.

“Oh, not at all. I ran into them last night at Grizzly’s—the bar in town. I gave them some change for the pool table.” Both these things are true.

“Grizzly’s?” she asks. “Do you go there a lot?”

“No, it’s just kinda the thing to do after a storm. Everyone was going, and I’ve become friendly with the girl from the vet’s office. She suggested it.” I’m talking too fast, giving her too much explanation.

“Alright,” she says, eyeing me suspiciously. “That’s cool.”