“It’s not confirmed that he’ll be in Aspen, but a couple of high-profile magazines are reporting that they’re almost certain, thanks to an unnamed source, that he was headed to the US for a ski vacation.”
These magazines sounded a hundred percent legit and like their highest concern was verifying actual facts, but I let my internal snark slide. “Do you know how many ski resorts there are in the whole country? Let alone Aspen? I could play the Powerball and have better odds of winning than meeting him.”
“Is that device you claim is a laptop nearby?”
It was on the wooden boxes that my roommates and I used as a coffee table (and our dining table). My laptop was nearly as old as I was, but it still sent and received emails, and I had no other options. “Right here.”
“I sent you a picture of him already. Check it out.”
It took a ridiculously long time to download the photo (with the Wi-Fi we borrowed from a neighbor), but it finally finished. Sandy-blond hair, light eyes (green or blue? I couldn’t tell), dimpled smile. This Griffin Windsor was cute.
Okay, he was ovary-exploding hot, but my sister did not need the encouragement. “Why are you sending me pictures of this Englishman?”
“In case you run into him. He’s England’s most eligible bachelor at the moment, and there is a long line of women trying to snag him.”
I didn’t doubt it. “So I’m supposed to succeed where so many of my British sisters have failed?”
“Duh, it’s not the same thing. You’re down to earth, and if you would ever watch an actual rom-com, rich guys love that kind of thing. He’ll fall for you and whisk you off to his castle.”
Her logic did not seem sound, but I wasn’t going to argue with her. “What if he doesn’t have a castle?” I teased.
“It doesn’t matter. You’d be happy if he owned a studio apartment.”
Alice wasn’t wrong. Living somewhere without a roommate or a landlord was the dream. That, and having my own art show for my paintings in some world-renowned gallery.
Sometimes I dreamed very small, and other times I dreamed ridiculously big.
A trait my sister seemed to share with me, so I indulged her. “Okay. If I meet this Griffin guy, I’ll do my best to make him fall in love with me so that we can live in his castle.”
“That’s all I’m asking,” she said, as if I were being the unreasonable one here. “And if he’s not there, maybe look around for a good guy. One who won’t clean out your bank account and steal your cat and then ghost you.”
I had no intention of looking for any kind of relationship whatsoever. I was going to fake my way through this job and that was that. Fortunately, my roommate Tammy came into the room and waved her hand, pointing at the phone. “Alice? Tammy needs to use the phone. I’ll call you later. Kiss Jenna and Jasper for me!”
Alice said goodbye, and I handed the phone to Tammy. She thanked me, and sat down on the sofa in the spot I’d just vacated. My roommates—Tammy and Evelyn—and I shared a landline that was included as part of our rent. All three of us were desperately poor, as evidenced by our sharing a loft space over a garage that seemed to be infested with both raccoons and cockroaches. I’d spent many a night wondering why the raccoons didn’t eat the cockroaches. Weren’t they omnivores? If those little masked bandits would just do their part, our infestation issues would be solved. The cockroaches would be gone, and the raccoons would be too stuffed to move and wouldn’t steal our food.
Anyway, shared miserable circumstances were why Tammy, Evelyn, and I did our best to help each other out whenever we could, like when they had pretended to be my references for Mrs. Crawford. We were friendly and kind to one another, but our schedules hadn’t really allowed us to get close. I’d felt bad about leaving them with such short notice, but Evelyn had a friend who had already started storing her things in our tiny space in anticipation of moving in as soon as I was officially gone.
Part of me wished that I had gotten to know these girls better, but there just wasn’t time. I felt bad that I wasn’t really going to miss them and they weren’t going to miss me.
Then again, maybe that made things a bit easier.
I grabbed my laptop, walked across the room to where my mattress rested on the floor. I packed the laptop and its charger and then lay down. I’d already thrown everything else I owned into the tattered duffel bag that had been a gift from Mick, the boyfriend I’d followed to Maine. He was another in a long line of men I’d dated for too long in some kind of perverse desire to see just how red he could make his flags before I bailed.
I hated that I’d left Alice and the kids, but to be fair, everything had been fine when I’d headed up north. She was healthy and Chad was still pretending to be a good husband and father. I couldn’t have predicted any of this.
Or that I’d be unable to earn enough to go back to Florida, given how expensive the cost of living was in this part of the state.
That was all about to change. I was going to make enough money to fix Alice and to get back home. Everything was going to work out, no matter what I had to do.
I thought briefly of the picture of that Griffin guy. If my mother had given me one good thing, besides Alice, it was the ability to dream and wish for things that couldn’t ever possibly come true. I gave myself a moment to entertain the idea of candlelit dinners and sleigh rides in the snow and tiaras, unicorns, and castles before I made myself come back down to reality.
There was no way that this Griffin was going to be part of my world. There was only one boy that I had to worry about, and that was five-year-old Milo Crawford. I’d never met a kid who I hadn’t been able to eventually win over. Mrs. Crawford hadn’t told me much about him other than the typical mom stuff, that he was bright and sweet and funny, and I wondered what kind of situation I’d be walking into. The money might have been because the Crawfords couldn’t find the perfect person, but maybe it was because this Milo kid was a terror and they were willing to pay for someone to handle him. Which was fine with me. There wasn’t anything this kid could throw at me that I wouldn’t put up with.
I was very happy to be trading the gray, slushy streets and vermin of my current life for the powder snow and luxury suites I’d have starting tomorrow.
I couldn’t wait.
CHAPTER TWO
I flew into Denver, and from there took a smaller plane to the Aspen/Pitkin County Airport. Flying in the snow was not my favorite thing, and I white knuckled the last leg of my trip, letting out a sigh of relief when we didn’t skid all over the runway.
Mrs. Crawford had told me a driver would be waiting for me, and I found him holding up a sign that said DIANA PARKER. I said hello and told him that I was Diana. Although he didn’t immediately say anything, he did give me and my tattered duffel bag the once-over. Which made sense—he probably didn’t pick up people like me every day.
“The hotel is about three miles away,” he said. “I should have you there in no time.”
I thanked him as I climbed into the back of the luxurious SUV. I made sure to put my seat belt on, because it had started snowing in heavy flurries shaped like giant globs of cotton candy.
As he eased out onto the road, I wondered if I should have done more to prepare for what was about to happen. Any intense drilling by Mrs. Crawford, and I’d be toast. Like, what if she was already fluent in French? What if they spoke it at home? It wouldn’t take much for her to figure out that the only French I knew was a dirty lyric from a famous song and the words used by Miss Piggy.