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

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Breck

T he week flew by and I’m almost surprised to find myself driving down a windy road in the Jeep, headed for the valley on the Nevada side of Lake Tahoe and the elopement that awaits us. The view as we crested the ridge took my breath away, and I couldn’t believe this hidden gem of a town was nestled on the other side of the mountains we’ve been snowboarding down for a month.

We bump along toward a small ranch surrounded by fields, but it’s the mountain backdrop that leaves me speechless. They loom over the valley, tall and proud. Majestic.

“Have you been here before?” I ask Rory, my head spinning as I try to take it all in.

“Yeah, the owners are friends of the family. I used to come here as a kid,” she tells me before turning in her seat to look at Willow. “They have chickens. And peacocks. And ostriches!”

“Really?” Willow’s voice jumps an octave. She’s never been to a real ranch before and was already excited.

“Yup.” Rory pops the P, wearing a wide grin, eyes alight. I cut the engine outside a building that’s half-barn half-home. “You ready for this?”

I nod and reach for the door handle. We’ve gone over the plan countless times since Monday. The ceremony isn’t that different from what I did for Wes and Joss.

Cold air hits my face and I pull my jacket tighter around me. I round the hood to open Rory’s door, then Willow’s. The sound of boots crunching on frozen snow is interrupted by Rory’s curse when she slips on a patch of ice. Her feet go out from under her and I catch her around the waist, pulling her tightly into my chest. I’m grateful for the superhuman reflexes they issue when you become a dad—though there is nothing dad-like about the way my scorching eyes trail over Rory.

“Thanks,” she breathes, gaze dropping to my lips before looking sideways at Willow. It’s all the reminder I need to loosen my arms.

“Welcome,” I husk, giving my attention to Willow, who’s eyeing us. I pull her into my side and ruffle her hair with one hand. “You ready to be Rory’s special assistant, Willow Bear?”

Her nod is emphatic, excitement taking over her sweet face. I love when she smiles, showcasing how much of me there is in her. Talia’s unmistakably there too, with her straight dark hair and olive skin tone, though the sparkle in Willow’s baby blues is all me.

“Alright, let’s go scout our location,” Rory says, hefting her mint green camera bag out of the car and leading us past the house. We cross an arched bridge over a dry creek, where two large trees jut up to frame the view of the mountains standing in sharp relief above the valley floor.

Rory rotates on the spot, glee and anticipation illuminating her face, and I know she’s happy with this location.

“Let’s run through it one more time.”

With the ceremony concluded and nothing but pictures left to take, I stand to the side and watch. It’s clear this is where Rory’s heart lies. There’s an energy beneath her skin when she has her camera in hand. She’s focused and determined, constantly moving to find the best light, the best angle, the best shot. She doesn’t falter, doesn’t waver, and her confidence is something to behold.

She whispers quiet instructions to Willow, who moves beside her, a second camera around her neck. Willow follows without question and in complete silence, a rarity for her. Willow moves as Rory does and exudes a similar confidence. I’ve never seen her like this, and I hide a smile behind my gloved hand as I watch. She’s finding her footing with something new, something untainted by the heartache of the last couple of months.

I wish I could say the same for myself. Without Talia, without Adventure Chasers, I’m not sure what our lives will look like when we leave Tahoe behind.

Questions are my constant companion. What am I supposed to do with my life? Start from scratch with some new venture? Go work for someone else? I’ve been my own boss for so long that the thought rattles me.

And what about Willow? She was already struggling with some of the kids, the schoolyard rumors poking at where her mom went… Maybe they’ll have moved on to other things by the time we get back, but what if they haven’t?

I pull out my phone and snap a photo of Rory and Willow moving in tandem. There they are, all smiles, thoughts fully fixed on what’s in front of them, and here I am, with nothing but a jumbled mess inside my mind.

Rory leans in to hug the bride, so I shake myself out of it. Uncrossing my arms, I push off the tree I was leaning against and walk over to the group. The thank-yous and congratulations are quick, and before long, we’re waving goodbye to the newlyweds as they head off to the Sierra Nevada mountains. As soon as they’re out of sight, I’m engulfed in a hug from Rory.

“Thank you so much for doing this. I couldn’t have done it without you.” Her lips find my cheek and even though they’re cold, warmth spreads through me like a wildfire. It was only a friendly peck, something appropriate even for Willow to see, but it felt like more.

“You’re welcome. I was happy to help. It felt good to do something useful.”

“What about me? Did I do good?” Willow pipes up and I pull her in, smushing her between us. Then I lean down to plant a kiss on her bear-hat covered head.

“You did amazing.” My look of adoration for Willow is mirrored on Rory’s face. She’s beaming with pride.

“You were incredible. I couldn’t have done it without you either.”

“Maybe I’ll have to always be your assistant,” Willow states, and I melt for how sweet she is. I also internally flinch knowing that can’t happen. We won’t be here. I want to say something, set her straight, but I can’t bring myself to dampen the mood.

“I wish you could, Bug. If I have another photoshoot while you’re here, you can be!”

“Okay.” Willow accepts her answer, and I sigh with relief. Seven-year-olds know how to push a subject, and I never know which one she’s going to choose as her hill to die on.

I’m quiet on the ride home, letting the girls fill the car with their chatter, which is why I don’t immediately notice when the silence descends. I glance in the rearview mirror to find Willow leaning against the window asleep, again. Then I flick my eyes to Rory. She’s watching me, thought lines carved around her mouth and across her forehead.

“You okay?” Rory asks, tentative and quiet.

“Yeah. It’s just been a long day. Thank you for including us—Willow especially. I’ve never seen her so excited over something. She really took to being your assistant.”

“She was a huge help. I’m excited to see what kind of shots she got. I pretty much gave her free rein to do whatever she wanted with that camera. She’s a natural.”

Pride for my daughter blooms. She’s incredible, I know that, but having others see that in her too…

“Do you want to grab your computer and come hang out for the evening? I’m making spaghetti, and I think it’s time I taught you how to do a Tim Tam Slam.” I beam, and her brow furrows.

“A what?”

“You’ll see.” I smirk.

“Yeah. I just need to cancel dinner with my parents…” She trails off and looks down at her lap before she starts worrying her thumb between her teeth. Her nervous tell. As far as I know, she hasn’t seen them since breakfast on New Year’s, which was almost two weeks ago.

“Hey,” I say, waiting for her to look at me. Wide eyes meet mine after a minute and I continue. “You don’t have to. If you want to have dinner with them, we can do it another night.”

Her quiet hmm is all that fills the space between us. I reach across the console and lace my fingers with hers. They’re still cold from the time we spent outside—her fingerless gloves clearly didn’t do enough to keep her hands warm—so I press a kiss to her palm before placing it over a heater vent.

“I’d rather have dinner with you,” she whispers, and my heart expands. Partially because she’s choosing me and that feels damn good, but mostly because she’s choosing herself.

Tim Tam Slams were a hit. Willow has perfected the technique of biting off diagonal corners of the rectangular cookie before submerging it in her hot chocolate and sucking the warm liquid through like a straw. Rory couldn’t believe we’d held out so long on showing her this piece of Aussie culture, and our supply is quickly dwindling now with three of us vying for them.

Despite her nap in the car and the sugar from the Tim Tams, Willow crashed hard not long after dinner and I had to carry her limp body up the stairs to her room—not bothering with pajamas or teeth brushing.

Rory’s in the kitchen washing dishes when I return, so I slide in behind her and press a kiss beneath her ear. She jumps, but I tighten my arms around her and chuckle into her hair.

“You know,” I whisper against her neck, “we have this magical invention called a dishwasher that’s designed to do exactly what you’re doing.”

“You don’t say?” She continues to wash the dishes, pretending she’s unaffected by me, but I know better. Her breathing is shallow and there’s color rising up her neck.

Work kept her busy this week, so we haven’t had any real alone time since the storm. To say I’ve been eagerly awaiting an opportunity to have her to myself would be an understatement. It was only one night, but the memories of her body fitted with mine make me ache for more. She sways her hips against me and it’s all I can do to hold in a moan. Giving up on any semblance of self-control, I slide my arms down hers into the sudsy water and grip her hands. She inhales sharply and releases the cup she’s holding with a plop.

Not caring that our hands and forearms are covered in bubbles, I spin her around and press her back against the counter. I weave a hand, bubbly fingers and all, into her hair and pull her lips to mine. Her arms weave around my neck, wet droplets sliding beneath the neckline of my shirt, and I shiver.

I can’t get enough of her. I can’t get close enough. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My other hand slides down to cup her ass and pull her tighter. She moans, and I slip my tongue along her lips, then inside. She tastes like chocolate, and I want to devour her.

I release her hair, gripping her ass with both hands instead, and lift, spinning us. With a squeak of surprise and a soft giggle, I settle her on the counter across from the sink. It feels so good with her. So easy. How long has it been since intimacy with someone was like this? With Talia… no, I’m not going there right now. Not with Rory’s legs around my hips, her hand snaking between our bodies to where my belt is buckled.

“I can take you here or…” I mutter against her lips, feeling them twitch into a smile against mine.

“Bedroom… please,” she says between breaths.

She doesn’t have to ask me twice.