“Do you want to spend the winter digging your car out of drifts and the summer fighting tourist traffic?” He set the boxes just inside her door, then turned to take the plant from her. “A bike will be much easier. Plus, C.B. has some awesome trails you’ll want to check out.”

She should have been annoyed that he was so quick to orchestrate her life for her, but these announcements were delivered with such sincerity that she found it hard to object. “Thanks. Maybe I will get a bike. After I’ve had a chance to settle in more.” She could add bike riding to her list of new experiences.

The sound of distant bells floated up to them. “Guess I have a customer,” Max said. “I’d better get back to work.”

“Yeah. And I’d better start unpacking.” She looked around at the stacks of boxes. “Thanks for all your help.”

“No problem. See you soon.”

It seemed to Casey that Max took some of the air out of the room when he left. Either that or the altitude was responsible for her light-headedness. She sank onto the sofa and hugged the red velvet pillow to her chest. Dragons, two-story outhouses and pink snowboard shops? She’d said she wanted to live someplace different, but she’d never imagined a place like this existed outside of Lewis Carroll novels. Of course, no one she knew in Chicago could have imagined a place like this, either—and they certainly wouldn’t suspect that one of the newest members of the Junior League was now living here. Frankly, she was a little stunned herself.

She carried the dress bag into the bedroom and hung it in the closet. She had to stuff it in, it was so large. Feeling guilty, she carefully lowered the zipper on the bag and admired the confection of ivory satin and lace within. So maybe bringing her wedding dress with her to Crested Butte hadn’t been such a great idea. It wasn’t as if the dress was much good without a groom. But she hadn’t been able to bear the thought of leaving the dress behind. She’d picked it out herself—over her mother’s objections—and she knew if she abandoned it her mother would burn it or donate it to charity or something before Casey was even across the state line.

She zipped up the bag and pushed it to the very back of the closet. She had no plans to wear the dress anytime soon, but it made her feel better knowing it was there. The dress was a kind of symbol—proof of the one time in her life that she’d refused to listen to what everyone else wanted her to do and instead had gone after what she wanted.

The dress had been the first step. Buying it had proved she could stand up for herself and live her own life.

Coming here to Crested Butte was another big step. Maybe the town wasn’t quite what she’d expected, but she’d deal with it. Casey Jernigan, Chicago socialite, was no more. Casey Jernigan, mystery woman, waited in the wings. The part of Casey that wasn’t shaking in her shoes at the prospect could hardly wait to see what this new, improved version of herself looked like.

MAX’S FRIEND HAGAN ANSDAR was waiting at the front counter. The tall blonde in the Crested Butte Resort Ski Patrol uniform was rubbing his head and wincing. “You should have a warning sign on that door,” he said in a heavy Norwegian accent. “I almost give myself a concussion.”

“You need to remember that Victorian doorways weren’t built for six-foot-four Norsemen,” Max said. He fed another stick of wood into the stove behind the counter and shut the iron door. “Anything exciting happen on patrol today?”

“I met two girls from Austin who are on vacation. One of them broke the binding on her snowboard and I told her I would be happy to repair it for her.”

Max shook his head. “It’s criminal, the way women fall all over you, just because you wear that uniform and have an accent.”

“I told you before. Volunteer for patrol and you can have all the women you want following you around.” Hagan grinned.

“Except those aren’t the kind of women I want.” He held out his hand. “Let me see the binding.”

Hagan fished a strip of plastic out of his pocket and handed it over. “How do you know these women aren’t the ones you want if you haven’t even met them?” he asked.

“Because they’re tourists.” He examined the piece of binding and frowned. “This has been cut.”

“No!” Hagan leaned closer.

Max pointed to the neatly severed edge. “My guess is she decided she wanted the big strong ski-patrol guy to rescue her, so she sliced through the binding strap with a pocketknife.”

“That wasn’t very smart,” Hagan said.

Max grinned. “I don’t know. She got what she wanted, didn’t she?” He turned to the shelf behind him and pulled down a box. “Here’s a new strap. You can install it when you see her again.”

“Tonight.” Hagan grinned. “She is really hot.”

“They all are, buddy. And you’re welcome to ’em.”

Hagan handed over his credit card and leaned against the counter. “I think tourists are the perfect dates. I see them a few times, then they leave town. No messy relationship problems.”

“That’s because you don’t really have a relationship.” Max rang up the sale and returned Hagan’s card and the charge slip. “People on vacation aren’t really themselves. You don’t know these women. You just know how they act away from home.”