Page 51 of Christmas at the Ranch
“You don’t have to worry. That won’t happen with me.” Samantha smiled. “I sunburn easily.”
“I’m glad, I can’t wait to see what the team comes up with next,” Arthur rejoined. “I heard they want to do a photo shoot on one of Elon Musk’s spaceships.”
Samantha almost choked on her coffee. It was her own fault. She should never have mentioned to her publicist that she was thinking of setting a book in space. But it was a good idea. If Neil Armstrong could plant the first step for mankind on the moon, why couldn’t Sloane Parker’s Tory Burch pumps be the first footprint on Mars?
Arthur left, and Samantha and Drew sat at the kitchen table.
“My father has so many ideas,” Drew said companionably. “He’s creating marketing strategies while I’m shrugging off last night’s dreams.”
“Did you have a weird dream?” Samantha asked curiously.
“Last night I dreamed I was in Indonesia and came face-to-face with a Sumatran tiger.” Drew grinned. “It’s probably nerves. It’s not every day that a guy gets married.”
“Beatrix has the wedding details under control,” Samantha assured him. “She’s very capable. She could probably sew her own wedding dress and bake the cake if she had to.”
Drew sipped his coffee. He ran his fingers over the rim of his cup.
“Beatrix is really happy to have you as a friend,” he offered. “She’s not the only one. My father thinks the world of you.”
“As long as the Sloane Parker books keep selling,” Samantha replied anxiously.
“It’s more than that,” Drew countered. “You turn in a book every year without asking for an extension. And you never complain. Some authors become prima donnas and want assistants for everything.”
Drew was right. Samantha heard a rumor that Melody Minnow’s assistant held the book Melody was reading when she ran on the treadmill.
“I love writing,” Samantha said honestly. “I’m happiest when I’m sitting in front of my laptop.”
Drew placed his cup on the table. His tone was casual.
“We might be working together when I assist in publicity and marketing,” he commented.
Samantha hadn’t thought about that: Drew sitting across fromher at marketing meetings, working together on her publicity campaigns.
“I’m sure you’ll be busy with lots of authors,” she said hastily.
“I hope not.” Drew looked at Samantha. “I hope I get to work with the ones I’m really excited about.” His eyes were that deep, dark blue. “We’d make a great team.”
Samantha walked around Teton Village. The other guests went cross-country skiing but she decided to go shopping instead. She spent an hour in a clothing store called Rodeo picking out something for her mother. At first, the salesgirl’s suggestion of a fringed vest and faux-suede skirt seemed too outlandish. But then she scrolled through her mother’s Instagram and saw the gown she wore to the royal ball in Liechtenstein—red satin with a gold velvet bodice—and decided the salesgirl’s selection was perfect.
She was about to enter a cheese shop when she noticed a man about her age in a ski store. He was standing in front of the window, trying on pairs of gloves.
Her stomach dropped and she gripped her package. She must be imagining things. The man looked just like Roger.
The door to the ski shop opened and the man rushed out.
It was Roger. His hair had blond streaks and his cheeks were tan, but he looked exactly the same.
“Samantha.” Roger approached her. “I can’t believe it’s you.”
Samantha stood still in shock. All the things she dreamed of saying if she ever ran into Roger—how could he leave without any warning, didn’t their promises to each other mean anything—stuck in her throat.
For a moment she was tempted to walk in the other direction. Roger was the last person she wanted to see in Jackson Hole. But perhaps it was a coincidence. Maybe he had no idea she was here.
“What are you doing in Jackson Hole?” she gasped.
“I was hoping I’d find you. I’m staying with friends in Sun Valley, Idaho. Jeremy wanted to ski in Jackson Hole for a day and I decided to join him.”
Roger looked so cocky and confident. His après-ski boots were the latest style and a pair of mirrored sunglasses hung around his neck. Even his shoulders seemed broader than she remembered. As if he spent most of his time at the gym or on a surfboard.
