Page 67 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
There’s a delighted shriek and a whoop from up the hill, and I decide to wait here until Breck and Willow come to a stop. Myarms and legs move, swiping up and down, in and out, creating a perfect snow angel where I lie in wait. The shriek is now a giggle and there’s a boisterous laugh that complements it. Both are drawing closer, and with the sound of boots on snow, I look up into the most beautiful pair of blue eyes, surrounded by a halo of dampened, messy blond waves.
Breck stands over me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. His smile is pushing his dimples into sharp relief, and even from my upside-down angle, nothing about it could be misconstrued as a frown. We have only a second, lost in each other this way, before a tinier version of his face stares down at me as well.
“You went so fast, Rory!” Willow exclaims, her expression gleeful.
“I know,” I grumble, trying and failing to keep the grin off my face. “It sounded like you had a much more…” I pause, looking for the right word. “…enjoyableride down the hill with your dad.” I try to glare at him, but it’s impossible to even pretend I’m mad when that was such a rush.
“I wanna make a snow angel like you.” Willow plops down next to me, swishing her arms and legs in earnest. “You make one too, Dad.” She lifts her head off the snow, her bear ears standing up on her hat, and I stifle a giggle at the crease that splits his brow.
“I’ve never understood the point of snow angels,” Breck murmurs, groaning as he lowers himself to the ground on my other side. “Why does anyone want to lie in the snow and purposely make themselves wet and cold?”
“Because it’s magical.” The words slip out at the same time my fingers brush against his. The current of electricity between us heightens with each touch.
On the next pass, Breck’s fingers catch mine. Holding my gloved hand in his, our eyes lock on each other while Willow continues to swish her arms and legs beside me.
“I guess it is,” he whispers.
I swallow, or try to, but my breath catches in my lungs—in my throat. The urge to say something is impossibly heavy in my chest. This momentismagical, with him, with Willow. I’ve never felt this connected to another person.
“I’m ready to go again.” Willow pops up and Breck releases his grip on my hand—and on my heart. “Daddy, you drag the sleds up the hill, okay? This time I’m going by myself. You can go with Rory.”
There’s a renewed mischief in his eyes when he stands, and I wonder what on earth I’ve gotten myself into with this man.
I lose count of the number of times we fly down the sledding hill. Sometimes it’s me by myself on the saucer—though I never let Breck push me again—while the two of them take the sled. Other times, it’s me and Willow in the sled while Breck takes a running start to launch himself down the mountain. My favorites, though, are when Willow is dead-set on going down solo and I find myself nestled between Breck’s firm thighs, back pressed against his chest, his raspy voice whispering in my ear as we soar down the hill.
By the time we’re done, the sun is setting, the temperature’s dropping, and our energy’s fading, but we’re all smiles on the walk back to the car. The sullenness of this morning is long gone, replaced by Willow’s typical bubbly demeanor, and I can tell we all feel less burdened.
Breck grabs my hand after we’ve finished loading the sleds into the back of my car. “Thank you. We needed this.”
I brush my thumb over the top of his. “Today was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Yeah, me too.” His face softens and there’s something I can’t read behind his expression.
Breck has never asked for anything from me, and I haven’t asked for anything from him, but it’s getting harder and hardernot to want to give him more of myself than I’ve ever offered anyone else.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Rory
“Breck?” I ask from across the living room, anticipation and trepidation in my voice.
He’s hunched over, helping Willow with something on her screen at the kitchen table. “Yeah?” He raises his eyebrows in question.
“I know setting up the website was an important step in making Willow Tree Elopements a thing… but, um, I keep getting inquiry emails and don’t know how I’m going to havetime for all these?” I chew the corner of my thumbnail, my mind racing. I’m totally freaking out.
He presses a kiss to Willow’s head. “You keep working on this one and I’ll be back in a minute, sweetheart.”
There’s a purpose in his movements, almost a swagger, that I can’t ignore. He inclines his head toward the hallway leading to the stairs and I shift my computer off my lap to follow him. I round the wall that separates the living room from the foyer only to be pulled into strong arms, braced against a firm chest. My anxiety cools in an instant.
“Rory,” he says against my hair. “This is a good thing. I know it’s a lot right now, but that’s what I’m here for. This is what you wanted, yeah?”
I search his face for the truth, that this really is a good thing and not a mistake.
“More inquiriesisgood. That means the website is working and people are looking for what you offer.”
“But some of these requests are for mid-week weddings. I have a job, what am I supposed to do?”
“In the beginning you’ll have to limit the number of those mid-week shoots to the ones you really want to do, since you’ll have to request days off from the resort. Have you considered what you want to do about Empyreal long-term?” He pushes a strand of hair behind my ear and his fingers linger on the skin of my neck. I want to melt on the spot.
