Last Resort Love: Wescott Springs, #1

By Holly Cortelyou

He's all work, and she's been burned…yet sparks fly with his hometown return.

These opposites may attract but will they risk it all for love?

 

She's eager for a fresh start…

Krissa Courtland is so done with bad luck. Bye-bye cheating exes and downsizing jobs. Hello fresh start in the Colorado mountains. With fingers crossed, she rolls into Wescott Springs only to get hit with a fresh disaster. Her rental cabin is flattened by a wild storm, and all the hotels and rentals are booked.

 

Enter the surprisingly irresistible Nick Olin. In one fell swoop, he saves the day and now she's his next door neighbor. No worries. His silky brown curls and teasing smile will not melt her heart. She can keep her life simple. She's sworn off dating, and she's not getting tricked into trusting love again, right?

 

His career is on the line…

Nick Olin has one goal. Make partner. If it means selling the family's Wescott Springs Resort to generate the cash, well, so be it. He's got a buyer all lined up. Sure, his uncle built the resort from scratch, but Nick is ready to cut ties to the past. Well, so much for best laid plans—

 

First, a freak storm trashes the resort's cabins days before his buyers arrive, and then his ex is calling him out of the blue. To top it all off, the red-headed schoolteacher guilts him into letting her shack up in his guest cottage. Now, Krissa's sexy curves and bewitching amber eyes have him thinking that a little flirtation wouldn't hurt. Krissa is all kinds of wrong for him, but he can't seem to fight his attraction, and he's starting to forget why he should even try.

 

Come fall in love with the sweet and sexy, small town romances of Wescott Springs, Colorado and…  

One click to melt into the arms of your next book boyfriend!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Holly Cortelyou
• Release date: Jan 16, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386136743

Book preview

1

CRISP, clean air whipped through Krissa Courtland’s car windows. She inhaled the sweet mountain air. It smelled like heaven and tasted like freedom.

Soaring evergreens and fluttering aspens flanked the sides of the winding county highway. Each emerald tree beckoned toward her little cabin in the big woods and a new beginning. How she yearned for a fresh start.

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

Krissa winced. Perfect? She wished she hadn’t even thought that dangerous word. Perfection couldn’t be trusted. Lovely or gorgeous might work. Yes. That was it.

"It’s lovely here on this back road." With the barest of shrugs, Krissa shook off the negative vibe and laughed.

Woof! Shasta barked an exuberant reply from his comfy perch in the back seat of her SUV.

I like your enthusiasm, she called back to the tan and creamy white husky. We’re going to love it around here, aren’t we?

They zipped along the country road as sunshine danced through the thick foliage with a barrage of shadow and brilliant light. Krissa jammed the radio up and sung the hit tune at the top of her lungs. A few songs later, the GPS warned of an upcoming left turn, and Krissa’s heart pulsed a beat faster.

Woot! New home and a fresh start, here we come.

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’s victims.

The GPS issued 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 along the gravel lane with stones tinging and pinging in the wheel wells. 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 side-eyed the lofty evergreens and prayed nothing else was poised to crash down.

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

She scanned the jumble of logs and limbs and insulation. The car rolled a few more feet as she gaped 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. The cozy cabin from the online pictures was gone. The cherry-red porch flowerpots were in scattered shards. She groaned.

The massive pine had crashed through the middle of the building and left the piping and ducting dangling helplessly. The front gabled entrance sagged, 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. Only a small carport that angled off to the side remained. 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. Her heart sank somewhere down around her knees.

How could she start her new life if she didn’t have a place to live? Maybe one of the other rentals she’d reviewed on the website was still available.

A fuzzy head prodded her shoulder, and a series of warning barks erupted in her ear. She flinched and clamped her hands over her ears as the sound ricocheted in the car.

Shush, Shasta! The husky barked one last time as if indignant, and then he pawed at the window with a muted whine from deep inside.

What? What is it, pup? Krissa’s hand was poised on the door latch, but she hesitated.

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 off his thin fringe of hair and scratched the bald oval at the top of his pate. The salt-and-pepper bearded man gawked at her for a few more moments before he resettled his hat. 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 silenced Shasta with a hand signal. Shasta settled on his haunches but glared intently at the stranger. The gray-haired man gaped at her. He shifted his gaze to Shasta and then back to Krissa before shaking 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-bearded 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 flinched away and jammed a hand over her mouth to muffle her squeal.

The older man mumbled a few colorful and creative expletives until a final hunk of log plopped to the earth. The silence stretched. A single, pink pouf of insulation floated past her windshield and landed harmlessly on the luggage rack. Bill tugged on the bill of his cap and met her gaze. They both grinned.

You need to talk with the boss man, Bill declared with a definitive bob of his noggin. I just fix things.

As if on cue, tires crunching on gravel announced a new arrival. 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.

Krissa tried to keep her jaw from dropping and worked at forming a coherent sentence. The boss man and her new landlord. 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, his strong, warm grip enveloped 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 storm-blue eyes. He smiled intensified as his gaze raked over her from head to foot. 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 qualifies as move-in ready now, he added with a sardonic grin.

Krissa stared blankly for a moment. Sarcasm? Who was this guy?

I think I may need my deposit back, she replied with a fake smile and a sharp tone. 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 studied the devastated cabin again, and a fresh wave of anxiety welled 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 live 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 dropped her arms to her sides and 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. She planted her hand on her hip and held her head high. I’m your responsibility.

Reluctance clouded his eyes. As if he yearned 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 willpower 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 gawked and then shook with a belly jiggling chortle. With its huge stacks and oversized grill, the tractor-trailer 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 rubbed her forehead. An epic headache was barreling down on her. 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. Did he have enough time? Yes. 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 pointed to a vicious, jagged burn scarring the bark and digging into the wood.

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

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.

A twinge of guilt rippled through Nick. 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 as the dog’s blue-eyed gaze 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? The resort lodge 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. He looked back just to catch a view of her curvy backside as she reached into her car to soothe the husky. Nick tilted his head and grinned at how snugly her jeans fit. Helping her out had at least one nice benefit…a good view.

His phone chirped. 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 every few weeks. Hmmm. Next idea. He tapped out another message and hit Send.

2

FROWNING in concentration, Krissa leaned back against the side of her car as the movers hiked down the lane probably looking 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 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? 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 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.

Nick raised his hand, and she could tell he smothered his frown with a soothing smile. Krissa’s temper flared again at his fake sympathy.

I’m working on an idea, Nick said as he wiggled his phone at her, and checking on a few things.

Krissa released the breath she hadn’t noticed she was holding, and a little tension eased out of her shoulders. Maybe he was sincere in trying to help her. Nick looked like a man who could make things happen. Or perhaps he was simply a good salesman and skilled at calming clients down. She turned her head and snuck a look at him as he continued to examine the remains of the house. His broad shoulders appeared as if they could carry the weight of a lot of problems. Her heart fluttered. Nick pulled chunks of particleboard aside. She stared at his tight derriere without a blink until he dropped the debris and moved out of sight.

Look all you want, she snapped at herself, but you are done with men and relationships. She would no longer let the men in her life trample on her. She was here to make a clean start and get on with the business of living. Drooling over some good-looking guy on her first day in town was a stupid way to start.

With another swift glance at Nick, she took in his deep brown hair and his strong arms. Seriously, it did not matter that he made George Clooney look like a troll. She was a rock, right?

Nick’s phone rang, and he walked out of earshot from Krissa. She crossed her fingers and hoped he could figure something out, but she could see him shaking his head. He didn’t look pleased. It was the beginning