It Started with a Kiss (A Sequoia Lake Novel) Read online

  ALSO BY MARINA ADAIR

  The Eastons

  Chasing I Do

  Promise You Me

  Crazy in Love

  Heroes of St. Helena series

  Need You for Keeps

  Need You for Always

  Need You for Mine

  St. Helena Vineyard series

  Kissing Under the Mistletoe

  Summer in Napa

  Autumn in the Vineyard

  Be Mine Forever

  From the Moment We Met

  Sugar, Georgia series

  Sugar’s Twice as Sweet

  Sugar on Top

  A Taste of Sugar

  Sweet Plains series

  Tucker’s Crossing

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2017 Marina Chappie

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake Romance are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503939684

  ISBN-10: 1503939685

  Cover design by Damonza

  Cover photography by Regina Wamba of MaeIDesign.com

  To my husband, Rocco, and the rest of the Santa Cruz Search and Rescue Team, who put their own lives on the line to reunite families and keep them safe.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  EPILOGUE

  SNEAK PEEK: NEW SERIES, SEQUOIA LAKE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER 1

  If life was an adventure, then Avery Adams needed to fire her travel agent and demand a refund. She wasn’t a demanding person by nature, but that’s what happened when the universe issued an early expiration date on living—it gave you cojones. So Avery issued herself a new passport on life and was ready to put some stamps in each and every column.

  Her first destination required crisp mountain air, fireside s’more-tinis, and a real get-back-to-nature kind of adventure—one that would hopefully give her the skills needed to live out loud.

  Avery looked through the windows of the local Moose Lodge at the imposing Sierras, a rugged mountain range that cut through Northern California and towered over her quaint hometown of Sequoia Lake.

  “Before you begin your climb, you want to make sure you give the chest harness a final tug to ensure it’s secure,” she said as if she were the foremost expert on extreme adventures. As if her entire world—up until a year ago—hadn’t consisted of managing retirement portfolios at the local bank and listening to couples talk about their senior cruise to Alaska.

  She bent over slightly to click the last carabiner into place, securing the leg straps to the chest harness.

  There was something so poignant about that sound, about how with one click the device restricted her freedom and pressed down on her scar, a reminder that she was strapped in and fully committed to the climb.

  “I’ll tug it,” Mr. Fitz offered, his bony fingers already reaching out to help. Or grope. Avery couldn’t be sure, so she stepped back out of range.

  Mr. Fitz was three thousand years old, with teeth too white to be real, and, even though he looked like a harmless old-timer in his TOO BIG TO THROW BACK fishing hat, his eyes were laser pointed at Avery’s chest—which was prominently on display because of how the harness fit her body.

  “I’m fine.” Avery swatted his hands away right before they made contact. “But thank you for the offer.”

  Mr. Fitz backed off, taking his seat, but he looked awfully disappointed.

  Senior X-Treme Team, the town’s invitation-only fly fishermen’s club, had asked Sequoia Lake Lodge to their monthly meeting, since the first topic on their agenda was to finalize their big summer excursion. And since Avery was Sequoia Lake Lodge’s adventure coordinator, it was her job to go out into the community and solicit new customers. If she secured all twelve members for this excursion, then she’d meet her entire quota for the month in one fell swoop.

  She straightened her shoulders—an impossible task due to the climbing harness—and held out a clipboard to the crowd. “Now, if that answers all the questions, let me tell you about the amazing views from—”

  Mr. Fitz’s hand went up.

  “Mr. Fitz?” she said thinly since this was his fifth question.

  “If I fall on this climb, will you be there to catch me?” he asked, and a dozen gray heads bobbed in support.

  “Your harness is secured to a safety line and a main line,” Avery said, reiterating verbatim the lodge’s safety manual, which outlined the precautions taken in any excursion that included chest harnesses. But to ease the concerned looks, she added, “Plus your adventure guide is with you every step of the way to make sure your trip is exciting and safe.”

  Another hand flew up. The Captain, as he preferred to be called, was the president of Senior X-Treme and seemed to be the ladies’ man of the group. With his silver-streaked hair, captain’s hat, and deck shoes, the man looked as though he’d just stepped off his boat and was ready to impress. He was also trying his hardest not to look at Avery’s chest. “If you fall, can I catch you?”

  “I don’t go on excursions. I coordinate them,” she said, leaving out the part that with every party confirmed, she got a bonus adventure for herself.

  A series of disappointed mumbles filled the room, and she dropped the clipboard to the table, silencing the room with a bang. “Now, will all of those in favor of Senior X-Treme starting off the season with the Sierra Point climb please raise their hands?” she asked in a tone that usually had her customers signing on the dotted line.

  Not a single hand went up. Which was odd since she’d come here to pitch the Emerald Bay fly-fishing day trip, and the group had specifically asked her to explain the Sierra Point climb, even going as far as having her demonstrate how the harness worked. And since that trek had a special place in her LIVING FOR LOVE passport, she’d suited up.

  Only now, she was afraid she’d secured the carabiner incorrectly. Even though she’d followed the directions exactly, she couldn’t seem to loosen the harness or get the carabiner to open. Not that she’d let them know that.

  “Mr. Fitz, how about you?”

  Mr. Fitz shook his head. “My wife would have my head if she knew I was even thinking about climbing Sierra Point. That’s a young man’s trail, and I had a new hip put in last year—no way could I take the pressure of that harness.”

  Avery had made it through a surgery of her own last year, and she could tell him, without a doubt, that healing bodies and harnesses were a tricky combination. But that the pressure would be worth the thrill he’d feel when he got to the top and looked out over the Sierra Nevadas.

  “Then why did you ask about the trip in the first place?”

  Mr. Fitz looked
at the floor, his ears going pink. In fact, most of the men were avoiding eye contact. A clear sign that Avery had been played. “You weren’t planning on booking any trips today, were you?”

  “We’ve been doing the fly-fishing excursion on the north side of the lake for nearly twenty years,” Prudence Tuttman said from the back row, not sounding all that excited about going for number twenty-one. She was the only female in the group, outweighed the heaviest member by twenty pounds, and held the county record for gutting the most fish in under a minute. “Dale has taken us out on every one of those trips.”

  “Dale couldn’t make it today,” Avery said. “So he sent me here to finalize things.”

  Dale Donovan used to be the top-rated adventure guide at Sequoia Lake Lodge, fitting since he’d owned the lodge for more than forty years. He’d survived a helicopter crash, three avalanches, and the loss of his youngest son. Dale was the kind of man stories were made of. Only lately, his memory had been slipping, and on bad days he struggled to remember his own story—which was why his wife had hired Avery. When she wasn’t booking trips, she was managing the schedule and rechecking any and all safety equipment he touched—stealthily.

  Pride was a tricky thing, she knew, and she was careful not to take that from him too.

  “Really, because Brody said he was going to take us this year and he was sending you down to handle all of the paperwork. Said he had some big trek today so he didn’t have time for paperwork,” the Captain said, and Avery snorted.

  No one had time for paperwork. It was the nature of paperwork!

  “So Brody sent me here to finalize his excursion?” Avery tried to hide her disappointment that she wouldn’t get the credit—or the bonus—for booking her first group-sponsored trip, even though she’d wind up doing all the legwork.

  “Yup. And he said to ask about Sierra Point.” Mr. Fitz paused, his eyes going right back to Avery’s chest harness. “Said if we asked about harness safety, you’d probably put it on. We weren’t sure it’d work, said you would see right through it, but he was confident that you’d put it on, even said he’d buy the first round if he was wrong.”

  Of course he had. Brody was tall, built, good looking, and the most requested guide at Sequoia Lake Lodge. And he knew it. He was also four hundred kinds of asshole and considered himself above menial tasks, such as putting his equipment away when he was done with an excursion.

  When he wasn’t busy hitting on mountain bunnies and charming hotel guests, he amused himself by making Avery’s job difficult. This stunt was one in a long line of many already that week. Thank God it was Friday.

  Avery worked hard to school her features, careful not to let them see her sweat—because once again her fatal flaw of predictability was being used against her.

  Being nice doesn’t mean being someone’s doormat, she told herself. It was not her job to makes Brody’s life easier.

  “What if I were to tell you that as Sequoia Lake Lodge’s official adventure coordinator, I have the ability to customize your trip,” Avery said. “Give you exactly what you’re looking for.”

  “We’ve been pitched custom excursions before, but our group isn’t large enough to absorb the cost,” Prudence explained. “We asked Dale, but he couldn’t seem to come up with one that would fit within our budget.”

  It was true that customized trips were always on the higher end in pricing and usually reserved for corporate retreats and large group events, but with all of the seasonal specials and their senior discount, finding something new and exciting within their means shouldn’t be too difficult.

  “No sense in signing up for a journey that you’ve already taken.” Avery pulled her calculator and the excursion price guide out of her travel pack, setting them on the poker table that the Moose Lodge provided as workspace. “If you guys are bold enough to chase a new view, I know I can craft the perfect customized trip for your group and come in close to budget.”

  Well, if that didn’t get their attention. The excitement in the room rose until it crackled, but it was Mr. Fitz who spoke up. “I guess the Emerald Bay fly-fishing trip has become old hat for us.”

  A few amens sounded from the group. The Captain even took off his hat and leaned in closer as Avery started scribbling down some rough numbers.

  “At least with Emerald Bay we know what we’re getting into,” Prudence cautioned the group. “This bean counter doesn’t even know how to unlock that carabiner. How is she going to come up with a trip we’ll like?”

  The “bean counter” held up the Sequoia Lake Lodge handbook. “Because I am a master planner and know this book inside and out.” When they didn’t look convinced, she added, “What’s the fun in knowing exactly what you’re going to get?”

  “Knowing it won’t suck,” Prudence said.

  “Adventure is about trying new things, straying off the known path.” No one spoke. “And if you book today, I’ll take ten percent off the total.”

  She wouldn’t get her bonus trip, but she’d get the credit for bringing in her first custom trek, which would go far with her boss. If there was one thing that Dale admired, it was assertiveness.

  And if there was one thing seniors loved, it was a deal.

  CHAPTER 2

  Twenty minutes later, Avery walked down the front steps of the local Moose Lodge and onto Lake Street, painfully aware that the safety harness was jammed and not coming off anytime soon. The sun was setting behind the lush peaks of the Sierra Nevadas, streaking the sky a brilliant orange. A cold evening breeze blew through the thick canopy of ponderosas and crape myrtle trees that lined the main drag of town.

  Avery shifted her bag, which housed the signed, customized excursion contract for the Senior X-Treme Team, farther up on her shoulder and waited for the thrill of landing her first big client to come.

  It didn’t. Odd, since once upon a time, say just a few months ago, coming out on top would have had her flushed with excitement, and okay, for a small moment in there, when all twelve sets of eyes had been riveted on her, the adrenaline of a job well done had made a brief appearance. Fooling her into actually believing she was one step closer to reaching the top of Sierra Point—and putting a special stamp in her book.

  But that was just it. Avery had been Sequoia Lake Lodge’s acting senior adventure coordinator for most of the season, yet the closest she’d come to a real adventure was waking up to a band of raccoons partying in her cabin. They’d torn through the screen door and made off with a box of Oreos, peanut butter, and two pairs of her favorite underwear—which told her they were male raccoons.

  Avery had hoped her job would entail more than senior center visits, working the farmers’ market booth, and helping lost guests at the lodge find the restroom. So far, she had spent more time talking about all the different trails the Sequoia National Park offered than actually taking one. Turned out, adventure coordinating wasn’t all that different from managing retirement funds, except her desk was outside and travel insurance covered more than lost suitcases.

  Even the pine trees glistening with frost couldn’t distract from the feeling that she was once again sitting idle, waiting for life to find her. Instead of waiting for the net to appear, she needed to leap.

  Determined to get out of the harness so she could talk to Irene and Dale about running this trek on her own, she headed toward the purple Victorian with light yellow trim at the end of the street that had SIPS AND SPLATTERS and a paintbrush in a martini glass painted on its leaded windows. It wasn’t a hardware store, but she’d seen enough framing tools to know the owner possessed a screwdriver and a set of hands strong enough to pry open the carabiner. Convincing Dale she was ready to take clients into the great outdoors while stuck in basic climbing gear wouldn’t make the kind of impression she was going for.

  Only, before she reached the shop, she noticed the CLOSED sign hanging in the window. She also noticed a big, shiny, black ego-trip of a truck with mud tires, a lift kit, and a mountain bike secured to its top.
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  The truck was parked directly under the town’s flapping banner—which read COME FOR THE ADVENTURE, STAY FOR THE PEOPLE—and practically on top of her Mazda’s bumper. Not only did it have a toolbox in its bed, the box appeared to be unlocked—and its owner nowhere in sight.

  Avery found herself laughing at the situation, but a good part of her wanted to cry. Like her Mazda, Avery had spent the majority of her life boxed in. First by her mother’s illness, then by her own, which had led to doctors and medical regimens, and finally Carson. And she’d taken it all with a smile, doing her best to make herself as little of a nuisance as possible.

  The idea of approaching life carrying a big stick didn’t appeal to her; she’d always preferred to walk softly through life, to ask permission before rifling through someone’s personal effects. But look where that had gotten her. Booking a private trek that someone else would get to lead.

  Ready to make a few waves of her own, and since no one was around to grant or deny her access, Avery reminded herself that living loud required no permission. And to further cement that idea, she pulled out a journal from her purse. It was made of a buttery leather, had a vintage map of the world burned into the cover, and the page corners were softened from time and love.

  Avery lightly traced a finger over the branded message on the bottom.

  “Don’t go where life leads—lead your life in the direction you want to go,” she whispered, her voice thickening with emotion.

  Her mother had given it to her the day Avery started dialysis, right on the heels of discovering that Avery had not only inherited her mother’s petite stature and blue eyes, but also her kidney disease. She’d seen her mother struggle with kidney disease, so when at fourteen Avery learned she too would one day need a new kidney, it was as if her entire world ended. It was her mom, a two-time transplant survivor, who had given Avery the courage to hope and the strength to fight, even when Avery felt as if she was losing every battle. More importantly, her mom had given her something to fight for and someone to fight with.

  When times got rough and treatments got longer, they scoured travel magazines at the hospital together, clipping out pictures of all of the places they’d go and the things they’d do when Avery’s name made it to the top of the transplant list. It had all started with an article on an amazing island in the Pacific that had endless beaches, exotic animals, and a surplus of suntanned surfers.