On the Slopes of Tahoe (Love Along the Way #2)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Breck

T his morning has been an absolute disaster and it’s only ten a.m. Getting Willow out the door was a struggle from the get-go. She didn’t want to wear fleece leggings. She didn’t want to layer a thermal top under her sweatshirt. She didn’t want to wear snow boots. She didn’t want two braids, she wanted one, and she wanted it to be just like Rory’s—which I do not know how to do. Yet . But I’m bound and determined to master braiding if it’s the last thing I do.

Sitting at the base of the magic carpet—a literal carpet conveyor belt built into the snow that will carry us up a tiny hill—Willow is pouting and grumpy. Now it’s because I told her she had to wear a helmet for this endeavor. She’s “not a baby,” apparently. I tried to explain it has nothing to do with how big she is and everything to do with not wanting her to bounce her melon off the snow if she falls.

“Bear, come on, let’s just try it. Please.” I refrain from tilting my head back and screaming into the blue sky.

“I don’t want to.” She crosses her arms and juts her lip out even farther.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and take a deep breath. We’re both tired. Getting suited up in all our gear, walking to the lodge, and renting Willow’s equipment, all to end up here, has been utterly exhausting. Nonetheless, I bought two season passes and I’ll be damned if we don’t get some use out of them.

“I think you’ll have fun if you just try.” She rolls her eyes, and I rein in the desire to say “fuck it” and go home. “How about this? Three runs down this little hill and I’ll get you a hot chocolate.”

Bribery. The ultimate parenting hack.

She perks up at the mention of hot chocolate, finally making eye contact with me long enough to stop lobbing snowballs at my feet.

“Fine.” She huffs and reaches a hand up. Mine dwarfs hers as I pull her to stand and try not to laugh when she hops around, one foot still strapped into her board.

I have her watch me get on the magic carpet and she follows suit. Success . I think if she had fallen it would’ve been the end of this deal. We don’t get as lucky at the top where she loses her balance, but I’m able to catch her before she bites the dust—or snow.

I clip her other foot into the board and pull her goggles down over her eyes. She’s the cutest little snowboarder I’ve ever seen. Pulling my phone out of my pocket I step back and say, “Smile for Uncle Wes.”

She’s in the hot pink snow bib Rory got her, layered under her grey and pink jacket, and her pink gloves stand out on her hands. No way I’m losing her in this getup. The helmet is pink and purple tie-dye, tying the whole look together. Maybe I’ll send the picture to Rory too.

“Are you ready to do this?” I ask, hoping she’ll at least try to listen to my guidance. Wes told me to get her a lesson for her first day, but oh no, I had to be a hero and try to teach her myself. I’m already regretting that decision.

She shrugs and nods. “Sure, Dad.”

I set her up perpendicular to the slope and explain how she can push the snow in this position, like a snowplow, and it’ll keep her from going too fast. I demonstrate what I mean, then flip around to watch her attempt to do the same. Instead, she turns her board so it’s pointed straight downhill. Before she can control it, she catches her heel edge and falls flat on her back.

I cringe and brace for the tears. My girl is nothing if not a little dramatic about things like this. I race over, and her lip quivers when she looks at me. Her glance around tells me she doesn’t want to cry in public.

“You okay?”

“You didn’t tell me how to stop.” She sniffles and reaches her arms toward me so I can pull her up.

“You’re right, I didn’t. I didn’t think you’d take off like a rocket.” I tuck her braid over her shoulder. Even through the goggles I can see the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugs and sniffles again. I’m surprised the waterworks aren’t going in full force, but I’m not going to question it.

“Think we could try again?” I ask, and she nods. “Okay, good. Now, where did I put those brakes?” I look around like I might find a handle or something. She chuckles and the sound lights me up inside.

See, I’ve got this. It’s going to be okay.

A couple of hours later we’ve done ten very slow runs down this hill and Willow’s starting to get the snowplow skill down. There’s no chance I can attempt the chair lift with her though, so I admit defeat and make a plan to get her into lessons this weekend.

I want snowboarding to be fun for her, and it won’t be if I’m grumping the whole time. We didn’t have these issues when I taught her to surf back home. Why is this different? Or is it that we’re different now—more emotional, more tightly wound?

“Okay, that’s enough for today, yeah?” I dust some snow off my pants and look at her fresh pile of lopsided snowballs. “Ready for hot chocolate?”

Willow looks up with an evil grin, grabs one, and throws it at me. It’s a direct hit to my chest and I dramatically fall to the ground with a groan.

“You got me! You’ll pay for that, ankle-biter.” I reach for some snow and ball it up, throwing it a good few inches from her feet.

“I think you owe me two hot chocolates. I did more than three runs,” she says with a snarky little smile.

“Yeah, I don’t think you need that much sugar. Why don’t I buy you some lunch instead?”

“Yeah, okay.” She sighs. You’d think I’ve been torturing her for two hours rather than trying to teach her something fun.

We unclip from our boards and I carry them down to a rack, stacking them amongst all the others. Grabbing my girl’s glove-encased hand, we trudge upstairs into the lodge. Inside, the warmth surrounds us along with the smell of fried food. I look for an open table, but it’s crowded with what I imagine are other keeners trying to make the most of the resort finally having decent snow. Scanning the room, my eyes are drawn to the corner, as if by an invisible tether.

Rory’s strawberry-blonde hair is pulled over her shoulder in her signature braid and there’s a faint flush across her cheeks, making her freckles stand out. She offers a smile and a little wave, drawing Willow’s attention.

“Rory!” She’s gone from my side before I can stop her. I offer an apologetic shrug before she’s knocked back in her seat. I cross the room, excusing myself as I pass those Willow just blew through. Drawing closer, I see the computer sitting on the table.

Crap. She’s working and we’ve just obliterated her cozy bubble.

“Sorry. We didn’t mean to disturb you.” I offer her a contrite smile, hoping we aren’t too much of an inconvenience. Though she looks perfectly content, as does Willow—who’s practically climbed into her lap.

“Not at all. My eyes were going crossed from staring at this screen anyway.” Her shiny pink lips lift in a smile when she looks at Willow. “You’re the perfect distraction.”

I move around to her side of the table and rest my hands on the back of her chair. I see the pictures before she can close her laptop. Rows and rows of wedding photos are splayed across the screen, and an image processor takes up the top corner.

“What’re you working on?” I think she does something in marketing for the resort, but it didn’t look like the resort in the background.

She tilts her head back, her startling aquamarine eyes locking on mine. There’s a deep blush moving across her cheeks and I grip the chair a little tighter, itching to press my cool fingers to them.

Wait… what the hell?

“Nothing. Just editing some photos.” She chews her bottom lip and my eyes are drawn to her mouth now. It’s even more distracting than the blush. Leaning back into the chair, her shoulders brush across my fingers, and I pull my hands away like I touched something on fire.

“Can I see? Can I see?” Willow asks, and I’m grateful for the interruption. She gives Rory her puppy-dog eyes, a look I know well.

“Yeah. Okay.” She gives in and lifts the screen, and I sit down next to her.

Hovering over her felt too close, too intimate. Physical touch isn’t something I shy away from, but with her it feels different. Because of my connection to Wes? Or is it because of Talia…

On the screen, there’s photo after photo of a couple dressed to the nines and surrounded by nothing but gorgeous views. The blue lake glitters in the background, framed by lush green trees, though the couple stands on a rocky outcropping. It’s so different from a typical wedding, more private and intimate. There’s no crowds. No fancy decorations.

Jamie—who’s an officiant and an author, apparently—stands between the bride and groom with nothing but nature’s beauty to frame them in. It’s positively stunning, but the way Rory’s captured it, captured them… I’m struck by her talent.

“These are incredible, Rory. You took these?”

“Yeah.” She tucks her chin, like that will stop me from seeing her blush.

“Why didn’t Wes tell me you’re a photographer?”

She’s taken aback by the question, only making me want to press further.

“Can you take my picture?” Willow breaks in, forcing our attention to her instead.

“Sure. You know…” Rory trails off and boops Willow’s nose. “I’d love to get some of you snowboarding. How’d it go today?”

Willow shrugs and looks at me.

“She did great. Though your brother was probably right when he said I should get her lessons first. We’ll try that this weekend.”

“I’m sure you did amazing. I can’t wait to see,” she says, her full attention on Willow now. “Did you know snowboarding is my favorite?” She leans in and whispers something into Willow’s ear.

“Really? You’d go with me?” she exclaims, her face lighting up.

I bark a laugh. Of course that’s what she said. I think I’d rather like these two giving me a run for my money on the slopes.

“Anytime. You wanna go right now?”

Rory looks at me, eyebrows lifted in question. I raise mine back and shrug—silently telling her Willow won’t agree. Not a chance.

“Okay, let’s go!” Willow cries, jumping up, and my mouth drops open.

Rory turns a smug smile on me and winks. “Would you mind staying here with my stuff so I don’t have to get a locker?”

“Sure.” I turn to my daughter. “You okay with that, Willow Bear?”

“Yup! You can get the hot chocolate for when we get back. Get Rory one too,” she demands. Little bossy human.

Rory grins wider, eyes glittering. “I never say no to hot chocolate.” She grabs her gloves and helmet, then slides on her jacket. I didn’t even register she had her gear with her when I sat down. She heads for the door with Willow in tow—wearing a grin she didn’t even attempt to offer me when I dragged her up the mountain this morning.