Chapter 1

One

"Good afternoon, sir! Welcome to the Grand Springs Hotel." Charlie Putnam smiled at the elderly man who was heading for the front desk. He imagined this was Dr. Eggleman from Sacramento who was arriving in to give a guest class at the birthing center.

Everyone was very excited.

"Hey there. Beautiful lobby. I remember it being a touch…shabbier."

"Mr. Harlan has been renovating, but do you remember the chandelier? It's been hanging here for eons." And it took a week—a full week and professionals—to clean. The huge damn thing was a joy to look at, though, and it was gloriously tentacular.

"I do, actually. It looks pretty grand now. Dr. John Eggleman. Checking in."

"Dr. Eggleman. You're on the first floor. It's a lovely room with an amazing view of the river. I just need a signature and a card for extras. The room has been paid for." He pushed the printed signature paper across the desk to the doctor, then grabbed his credit card to open the deposit.

"Thank you. Is the restaurant here good?" Eggleman asked.

"It's exceptional. Our head chef, Bridget, is amazing. She focuses on Colorado-based cuisine, and she makes an elk burger to die for. It's my absolute favorite." Charlie loved it, and the breakfast oatmeal with the blueberries and pecans and chia seeds.

Weird, but true.

"Sounds wonderful. I know the clinic accoucheur is supposed to take me to a place called Fuel for supper tomorrow, but I'm on my own this evening, and if I don't have to leave the hotel, I'll be a happy old fart."

"You can just come out and eat at the restaurant here. Would you like me to make you a reservation so you don't have to wait?" They didn't often have a huge waiting list, but there usually was a short one.

"I would love that."

"What time do you prefer to eat?" He called up the dinner reservations on the computer.

"Around six?"

"Perfect. I'll make sure you aren't waiting." Not that he was going to be here. He was off the clock at five.

"Thank you."

"Would you like help with your bag?" Looked like the doc only had one.

"No. No, I think I'll be fine. I appreciate it." The guy took his key and headed off.

Lord have mercy. That man was a bundle of energy for being at least, what? Sixty-five? Seventy? Whoa. Charlie grinned. He did love this job. It was like that movie with Edward Norton; he got single-serve friends out of it, without having to commit to being social.

He was too damn tired to make lots of friends. He had supper weekly with Hank, to check on the ghost tours, see what the hotel could do to make it easier. And Hank had always been so kind to him…

And Bridget had gotten him this job, so he hung out with her when he got off work sometimes, having a beer at the bar.

Okay, he also could visit with Tim and Lukas at the tattoo studio below his apartment whenever he wanted.

Charlie shook his head at himself. So he was kind of a recluse these days. So what?

His life had changed a lot after—after he came to Secret Springs.

He went back to cleaning up the lobby, making sure the place was spotless. The last bit of snow always made a mess, and he wasn't about to leave the night auditor, Jamie, something to clean up if he could help it.

He looked out the door, smiling at the lights that were just starting to come on down at the hot springs pool. They always turned them on a few hours before dark, just to get them fired up, but they looked so pretty to Charlie from up the hill.

"You look happy, buddy. I made meatballs. Want some? They're fresh." Bridget had a covered plate with her, a warm smile on her face.

"Oh, god. Yes. Yes, please." The smell of basil and parm and meat was pervasive and luscious.

"Cool. It looks slushy out there, huh?"

"It's been way worse. The winter is pretty much over, I think."

"Oh, God, don't say that. It will dump a foot." Bridget honestly looked totally horrified, and it cracked him up.

"I like the snow." He wasn't afraid of it. Hell, he was from Gunnison originally where it was white mostly from September to April.

"You are a strange and unusual boy, but I still like you. Come on, eat meatballs and admire my prowess."

"Sounds good to me." He grinned, then went to sit at one of the low tables in the lobby. That way his food wasn't at the desk making a splash. "Oh, yum. Garlic bread."

"I know. A man does not live on meatballs alone."

"No. And this is stunning." She was too good to him. That was one reason to stay on at the hotel. Charlie ate like a king.

He never had to cook at home, which was cool, because he was an I-can-make-an-omelet type of guy. When he'd been carb-loading for baseball, he'd lived on Eggo waffles and ramen noodles.

Between Bridget, the catering manager Ryan, and the owner's husband, Chase, they kept him in the best food ever. Like, ever.

He took a deep breath and let it out, finding himself with a smile. He didn't have the life he'd intended to have, but it wasn't a bad life, not at all.

He loved Secret Springs, he loved his little apartment, he loved the hotel, and he absolutely adored his friends. He could be…content. Once in a while, he thought about what it would be like if he hadn't had his shoulder broken, if he would still be in baseball.

But he'd been in the minors for two years without getting the call-up, so really, would he have been happy there?

He didn't know.

It didn't matter.

He had been broken. His dream had to change. And he was here.

And that was good. Really good. No matter what else, he had a safe place to be, and Charlie wasn't going to look that gift horse in the mouth.