“Except how to catch a moose.” Jax’s eyes sparkled in amusement.
It annoyed her when his eyes followed the movement of her legs, although she didn’t think the action was conscious. Jax saved his flirting for Ash.
With a sigh, she set her tea down on the table, keeping the mug between her hands to warm her fingers and hide the light tremor. “Yes, well, that particular situation is still under consideration.”
Lana had spent the early morning hours scouting the most popular moose sighting locations in Moose Springs, hoping to catch a glimpse of what might be her quarry. And while she’d had the pleasure of seeing lots of the massive, majestic creatures, none were looking particularly shifty.
“You could ask Easton to help you,” Jax suggested. “He’s a sucker for a damsel in distress.”
“To the best of my recollection, I’ve never been a damsel, no matter how much my distress.”
“I don’t know. Didn’t Rick Harding punch someone for you last summer?”
Lana locked eyes with Jax, knowing what he was attempting to do and almost feeling bad for the man. “That was distress, but I maintain there was very little damseling to be found.”
Mentioning Rick was meant to throw her off her game. And it would have if Jax had asked her if she liked Rick’s broad shoulders (she did) or his pleasant voice (that too) or if she was comparing every color of green and brown to his hazel eyes (they were stunning). But Lana refused to feel bad that Rick had come to her rescue that summer.
Jax was going to have to try harder.
“Let’s be honest, Lana. You’re never going to win them over. You’re not catching a moose, you’re not increasing tourism, and you’re not building those condominiums. Not if we can help it.”
In that moment, Lana understood the “we” Jax was referring to, and it wasn’t his parents. As many years as he spent in New York, Jax was a Moose Springs man through and through.
Jax might not like Dirty Joe’s, but these were his people, not Lana’s, and they both knew it.
One point to him.
“I’m willing to agree to three and a half percent but not four. That’s nonnegotiable. However, I would like another chai latte. I take it with extra chai.”
Jax stared at her. Lana gazed serenely back. And when he grunted and rolled to his feet, Lana knew she’d at least won the battle. Meeting the eyes of onlookers with a friendly nod, Lana stayed in her chair, alone and deep in enemy territory.
It was too soon to know if she had any chance of winning this war.
* * *
In the winter, there were always more moose in Moose Springs. Which was why it was perfectly normal to wait at a stop sign while a cow and her two calves crossed the street.
“You can do it. Stay on your feet,” Lana said encouragingly to the smaller of the twin calves, watching its long legs sliding on the ice. It slipped, ending up nose down in the middle of the intersection.
“Oh no!” She tried not to giggle at the spindled legs flailing about Bambi-esque as it found its way back to its feet. With the cutest little snort, the calf trotted off after its family.
The driver of a second car waiting patiently in the intersection turned across the four-way stop in Lana’s direction. They shared a grin of mutual appreciation of the cuteness…up until the other driver realized who she was smiling at. Concern creased her face as she passed Lana’s car.
For a moment, Lana stayed in the four-way stop, wishing for that grin back.
“If wishes were horses,” Lana said to herself, choosing instead to turn on some holiday music to play in the background before continuing through the town.
Lana had been a child when they first came to Moose Springs. In fact, the very first moose she had ever seen had been in Moose Springs. Back then, the town was truly a hidden gem, known only to the locals who made the tiny town their home and the few adventurous souls trying to find taller and faster ski slopes.
The Montgomerys had always wintered in the Swiss Alps, the French Riviera, or occasionally in Aspen. Up until that trip, Lana’s life had been a blur of metropolitan luxury, Spanish villas, and sprawling countryside estates. Too young to understand who they were, Lana had only understood what they were.
The Montgomerys were the ones everyone looked at when they walked into an office building or construction site. They were the ones who sat at the far ends of the conference tables while others stood and talked. They were a nod, a shake of a head, a tap of a finger on a lacquered wooden surface indicating displeasure.
It took Lana a long time to realize not every family always dined in suits and ties and carefully set tables on private jets weren’t the norm. That her earliest education—a string of accomplished tutors—was second only to the education she received at her parents’ sides, absorbing boardroom politics as she played with her toys, small quiet things that wouldn’t distract.
Then they had taken her to Moose Springs, and Lana’s whole view on her life shifted. There was nothing luxurious in town, none of her childish understanding of common amenities. The snow was deep, blanketing this wintery world, and construction on the resort on the hill had only started, so they stayed in a tiny cabin lent to them by a friend of one of her father’s colleagues.
As she played quietly with her things, absorbing everything from inside the cabin, she’d listened to her parents’ laughter—something so rare that it was cause to take note. In Moose Springs, there were no curt nods. No one tapped an impatient finger or left on a plane for weeks on end.
A hundred thousand dollars in therapy later, Lana had been informed that she had idealized the town in an attempt to process the high level of emotional disconnect she’d always felt from her family. Yes, they loved one another. And yes, their loyalty to one another ran deep. But that loyalty wasn’t only to the family as people…it was to the family as a business entity.
Throughout her life, the high pace and higher stress, Lana never forgot her winter in Moose Springs, her parents cuddling by a fire, the neighbor kids knocking on the door and asking her if she wanted to play.
She did then. She did now too. Unfortunately, no one in Moose Springs wanted to play with a visitor. They were more likely to throw snowballs at her instead.
Despite her many visits to Moose Springs as an adult, Lana hadn’t found the courage to ask if Graham, Easton, or Ash remembered her from back then. But she remembered them. She remembered Graham’s toothy grin as they made the best snowman ever. How Ash was already tougher than the rest of them. How Easton cried when the snowman fell down and didn’t stop crying until he’d “saved” it again. They were part of her reason for coming back here and why the Tourist Trap was her favorite place to eat.
Giving the Tourist Trap a subtle social media nudge had truly been meant as a long overdue thank you from a quiet child without many friends her own age. She hadn’t meant to turn Graham’s life into a living hell. Really. She hadn’t. Which was why she tried to go there so often to talk to him, to help him get through another evening. But Graham had Zoey now, and he didn’t need her.