The Man Most Likely. Cindi Myers
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as a large carton of French fries and a bottle of ketchup skied past.
“This is pretty normal for any kind of Crested Butte celebration,” Bryan said.
“They certainly don’t have anything like this in Michigan,” Carl said, as a man in a flowered housedress over long underwear accepted a cup of coffee from Trish.
“They don’t have anything like this anywhere else,” Bryan said. “It’s one of the things that makes Crested Butte special.”
“Or at least different,” Carl conceded. He turned to Bryan. “Is everything ready for the awards ceremony?”
“It’s all set,” Bryan said.
“I’ll be filming the whole thing for my show.” Zephyr joined them and held up his video camera. “A hundred percent digital and state of the art.”
“Sweet.” Bryan examined the camera. “Where did you get this?”
“Trish gave it to me for Christmas.” Zephyr grinned at his girlfriend, who beamed back. “It pays to hook up with the right woman.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Casey said.
“Too sweet for me,” Angela said. “And I’m a woman who loves sugar.”
“Everything seems to be running smoothly here,” Carl said. He clapped a hand on Bryan’s shoulder. “You and I have business to attend to inside.”
Bryan’s expression clouded, but he quickly assumed an all-business attitude. “Of course.” He nodded to the group. “I’ll see you all at the awards ceremony.”
“We wouldn’t miss it,” Casey said.
“I’d better get busy, too.” Zephyr shouldered the camera once more. “I’m going to film the uphill and downhill segments of the race.”
“I can’t get used to seeing Bryan with his nose to the grindstone,” Trish said. “Any other year, he’d be out there with Zephyr, clowning around with the racers.”
“Some of us do have to work for a living,” Angela said. For some reason she felt the need to defend Bryan. There were worse things than a guy hanging up his beer steins for gainful employment.
“Yes, everyone has to grow up sometime.” Trish laughed. “Except, of course, Zephyr.”
Angela studied her friend as Trish turned to serve coffee to a couple of tourists. Like Angela, Trish had her own successful business. She was known around town as a smart woman who had everything going for her. People were still scratching their heads over her relationship with the lovable but extremely laid-back Zephyr. Angela figured it had to be true love. Why else would two such different people be drawn together?
“Angela, tell me more about this theater fund-raiser,” Casey said. “I saw some flyers around town.”
“The money will go to license new scripts and pay for new scenery and costumes,” Angela said. “And we’d like to offer a summer program for children.”
“Will you be supplying the chocolate?” Casey asked.
“Of course.”
“Then I am so there,” Casey said.
“Bryan’s helping you put this together, isn’t he?” Trish asked, rejoining the conversation.
“Yes. He’s the liaison at the hotel.”
Trish nodded. “Zephyr mentioned it. Apparently, he’s decided he needs to fix Bryan up with someone. He was asking me last night if I knew any single women who would be a good match for him.”
“As if Bryan needs help meeting women,” Casey said. “He’s good-looking, fun to be with, smart. I’ve seen him around with plenty of cute girls.”
“He never has any problem finding dates,” Trish said. “I’m really not sure what Zephyr was getting at. There are a lot of women around town who’d love to have a nice guy like Bryan—especially now that he has a good job.”
“Employment is a plus,” Casey agreed. She looked around them. “I’m guessing the race has started. I think I’ll get my skis, and Lucy and I will head over toward the finish line.”
“See you at the awards ceremony,” Trish said.
“Guess we can pack up here,” Angela said. She drained the last of the hot chocolate into a cup and began disconnecting the pot to haul back to her store. The discussion of Bryan’s need for a girlfriend—and the plethora of women he had to choose from—had disturbed her. Did anyone think of her as a likely companion for the handsome hotel manager? Or would they laugh if she suggested it?
She’d parked on the other side of the building, so the shortest route to her car was through the hotel. She was passing a row of offices when Bryan appeared in a doorway. “Angela, can I talk to you a minute?” he asked.
“Sure.” She shifted the chocolate pot and a carton of cups to one hip. “What can I do for you?”
“Let me take those.” He relieved her of her burden. “Come in here.” He ushered her into the office. “Sit down,” he said, gesturing to a pair of upholstered chairs.
She sat and he deposited the pot and cups on a credenza and took the chair beside her. “Do you have everything you need for the fund-raiser?” he asked.
“Yes. Marco and I settled on a menu, and the publicity committee has flyers plastered all over town. I understand ticket sales have been good.”
“Good. Would you be interested in a little more publicity?”
“There’s no such thing as too much.” She gave him her warmest smile. “What did you have in mind?”
“Zephyr’s asked us to appear on his show to talk about the fund-raiser.”
“The two of us? Together?” She took a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous fluttering in her chest. She reminded herself Bryan was asking her to help him with a business issue, not for a date.
“Or you could go on the show by yourself, or with someone else from the theater. I realize I’m not really a part of that—”
“No, we should do it together,” she said. “You can talk about the hotel, and I’ll talk about the theater.” And she’d get to spend a little more time with him.
“And chocolate. Zephyr suggested you cook something.”
“Free publicity for my business, too? I can’t wait.”
“Great.” He looked relieved. “Some people think Zephyr is kind of a flake, but under that goofy exterior is a really smart guy. I think his show is turning into a success.”
“I learned a long time ago that you can never judge a person by outward appearances,” she said. “I’ve met shy, milquetoast types who turned out to be fiery actors and blowhards who couldn’t deliver a convincing line to save their lives.”
“I’ve never had a desire to act, but I’ll admit that what I saw the other night was interesting,” Bryan said. “And you’re really talented.”
“Thank you.” She would never get tired of hearing his praise or of seeing that appreciative look in his eyes. “When does Zephyr want to do this show?”
“I’ll have to talk to him and get back to you. Soon, since the fund-raiser’s only two weeks away.”
“Great.” She could sit here all afternoon making small talk with him, but they both had work to do. Besides, one lesson she’d learned in the theater that had served her well in real life was to always leave them wanting more. “I’ll talk to you soon,” she said, standing.
He rose also. “Soon,” he said, his eyes locked to hers.
She started to gather up her boxes,