Page 66 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
Mom
Dinner on Sunday, Capisce, 8 p.m.
I read the message and my stomach sinks. There’s been zero contact between us since the blow-up at dinner almost three weeks ago, or in the two weeks since I moved out. Now this. Does she really think I’ll drop everything when summoned?
“Ugh,” I groan, sliding my phone across the marble counter and reaching for my cup of coffee. I don’t know how Breck makesbetter coffee than anyone else, but he does. I may never go to a coffee shop ever again, or at least not until he leaves… in less than a month.
“What’s up, Roars?” Breck’s smooth, sexy accent comes from behind me, and I throw a little glare over my shoulder at him. He throws his hands up. “Whoa. Was it the nickname or are we just that cranky before coffee?”
“Both. I hate that nickname.”
“Ah, come on, you’re telling me you hate it when Wes calls you Roars?” I roll my eyes like a petulant teenager and Breck laughs. “Maybe I’ll keep calling you that, especially if it gets this reaction.”
“Don’t you freaking dare. That one is reserved for annoying older brothers, and you’re not mine.”
“No, I certainly am not,” he says, voice lowering to a husk I can all but feel against my skin. There’s warmth spreading behind his eyes too, a dark desire flooding his blue irises, making everything within me tighten with anticipation. There should be no anticipation as there’s nothing to anticipate. Not anymore. Since Willow’s birthday, we haven’t so much as touched each other. But that doesn’t mean the attraction, the pull between us, is somehow less.
“Morning,” comes Willow’s sleepy voice.
“Morning, Bug. Coffee?” I ask, like it’s totally normal to offer coffee to an eight-year-old.
“Eww, gross. Dad says it’ll stunt my growth,” she grumbles.
“I was kidding.” I laugh and ruffle her hair, and then look back to her dad, all heat and longing gone from his features. “Really, Breck? You told her it would stunt her growth? She’s already taller than most kids her age. I think she’s just fine.”
“That’s because I don’t let her have caffeine,” he jokes. Then, looking at Willow, he says, “Ready to round out your first week of school?”
She shrugs and mumbles something that sounds like “whatever” while she scrounges around in the fridge for the milk.
Breck and I exchange an exasperated look. This week has been a challenge.
On top of them starting school on Monday—which has given him a new appreciation for educators everywhere—he also had to address the call from Talia. That conversation was fraught with tears and anger, a likely months-long buildup finally surfacing. Understandably, Willow’s been moodier than normal this week, and we’ve been doing our best to take it in stride.
But she’s not the only one dealing with extra stress. In addition to school with Willow, Breck’s week has been filled with communication from the new owners of Adventure Chasers—who reached out to him after their unproductive meeting with Talia and Drew. Turns out Breck’s the only person who could actually answer their questions. He doesn’t want to see the company struggle, but it’s pulling him into the stress of a business he thought he was done with.
I’m doing what I can to help around the house and with Willow, but it was a busy week at work for me too. We’re all on edge and I’m glad it’s Friday. We could all use a break.
Over his coffee, Breck asks, “What about you, Rory, what do you have on the docket today?”
“I’ve got to work in the office this morning for a while, but…” I grin mischievously and turn to Willow. “I thought we could do something fun this afternoon to celebrate your first week of homeschool.” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “Want to go sledding?”
I probably should’ve clued Breck into my plan, but it’s too late now. Willow’s sullen demeanor instantly morphs into one of excitement.
“Can we, Daddy? Please!”
“Absolutely. That sounds like a perfect plan. What time will you finish up at work?” Breck smiles at me, relieved.
“Probably around one.”
“That’s perfect. Think we can get all your schoolwork done by lunchtime today, Willow Bear?” he asks her, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes! Can we start now?” she exclaims, running over to the kitchen table that’s laden with all her school stuff.
I lift my coffee cup in a salute as he walks backward toward the table. This is exactly the incentive he needed to get them through another day. Hopefully it’ll get us all out of the funk of the week.
I’ve fallen into a scene fromNational Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, and I realize I might’ve made a grave mistake in letting Breck give me a running shove down the sledding hill. I’m screaming, the wind whipping my hair around my face despite my pigtail braids and beanie. The braids were at Willow’s insistence. I’m usually a single braid kind of gal, but she wanted to match, and I couldn’t say no to her. Just like I can’t say no to her father, who I can hear,laughing, over my terror-filled yells.
My sled finally slows to a stop—much farther along the flats than anyone else has gone—and I roll myself off the thing and into the snow, breathing hard. I stare up at the trees that surround the clearing and inhale the smell of fresh snow and pine.
