“Yeah. My stomach is upset. I think it’s just worry, but . . .” She made a face.
“How about some hot cocoa?”
She nodded and walked over to the counter, then slid onto a stool. “I’ll be fine. I’ve always had a weak stomach. I had a tradition—I’d go out for pizza late Friday night, then be up in the wee hours of the morning with a twisted stomach.”
He turned on the kettle to boil. “That doesn’t sound like a very awesome tradition.”
“I couldn’t help it. I liked hanging around Ella and her friends, and one of her friends, Greg, ran a pizza joint just off campus. We’d show up after hours, ready to study, and he’d give us all the unsold pizzas. I was so poor, I needed the food.”
“Where did you go to college?”
“Middlebury, with Ella. I was on a scholarship, however. Didn’t even have enough money to live in the dorm. I answered an ad on campus to rent a room, and it was in Ella’s house. But when I didn’t make rent the third month, Ella figured it out. I paid her back, but she never raised my rent, and covered for me when I was late. She would have probably let me live rent free.”
“Wow.” Ty fixed her cup of cocoa, pouring out the chocolate from the package, adding a few mini marshmallows from the supply. “That was nice of her.”
“Ella’s like that. Always looking out for the people around her. She defies every stereotype about the rich.”
“Which are?” The kettle whistled, and he poured the boiling water into the mug.
She lifted a shoulder. “Oh, you know. Entitled. Selfish. The world revolves around them, and they’ll take anyone down to keep it that way.”
“Ouch.”
She grinned at him. “Oh, c’mon. You live with Gage. He drives that fancy Mustang. Don’t tell me that he isn’t just a little about himself? After all that fame? And how about Ian Shaw? He started an entire rescue team to search for his niece.”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“Maybe. I can’t even contemplate that kind of wealth. I’m here on Ella’s dime, and frankly I’m not sure I’ll be able to pay the rent on my tiny one-bedroom when I get home.”
He handed her the cocoa. “Why?”
“Oh, I had a contract to write a book on this senator who wanted to run for president. Turns out she was dirty and she dropped out of the race, and I lost my contract.”
“You didn’t expose her?”
She looked up at him. Brought the mug to her mouth. “I write inspiring pieces, not dirt. Although, right now, I might be desperate enough to print an exposé on a Kardashian if I got wind of it.” She winked at him and took a sip.
Oh. He managed a smile, but . . .
“Thankfully, I met you guys. And I’m thinking there are plenty of feel-good stories here. My agent says she thinks a positive story, with pictures of heroes skiing down mountainsides, might land me a delicious spread in Nat Geo or even their online mag. That will generate enough cash to keep me out of sleeping in my car for at least a month.”
He was afraid to ask if she was serious. “Unfortunately, you just missed Pete—”
“Actually”—she put her mug down—“I’m more interested in your story, Ty.”
He stilled. “My story? I don’t have a story.”
But her eyebrow quirked up. “Really. The ‘main pilot, before Kacey got here’? Why aren’t you the main pilot now?”
He considered her. Pretty, and too smart, really. She had pulled out her blonde hair, and it cascaded down in pale gold strands around her face. She smiled at him, as if she hadn’t just tried to blow his world apart.
But he had her number. “Did I mention that Kacey won a bronze star? In Afghanistan?”
She frowned, one quick draw of her eyebrow, then set her cocoa down. “Really?”
“Yep. Saved a unit of rangers or something. You should ask her about it.”
“Just like I should ask Pete about his exploits, and Ian, and Ben, and probably Gage, but definitely not you, huh, Ty?”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing to tell. I hurt my knee in an accident, and it’s not easy to use the anti-torque pedals with a bum knee.” He lifted a shoulder, kept it casual.
Her smile fell. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m not the hero of the team. But I do make good cocoa, huh?”
She smiled. “Sorry. I guess I read into things.”
“I’m sure it’s a hazard of the job,” he said, keeping his voice light.
At that moment, he felt utterly grateful he’d sent Jess and Sierra home without little miss Katie Couric to dig around and ask the wrong—or right—questions.