Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
brOOKS
As it turns out, seeing the woman you used to love after eight long years apart really fucks with your focus.
I can’t get her out of my head. Her long red hair, which used to rest at her shoulders but now stops just below her breasts. The way her hips looked in those tight pants she wore. And those goddamn eyes. They have no right being that stunning. Even a day after our encounter, I have to really think about whether the glass I’m holding is dirty or clean.
Dirty, I decide, adding it to the dishwasher.
The lounge at Sugar Peak Resort serves a different clientele than I’m used to at Dirty Dick’s. There, I can shoot the shit with my regulars, folks I’ve come to know over the past five years I’ve been living in town. But here, every customer is a stranger, and they rotate out like they’re trying to win a prize for guest turnover rate.
Maybe I’m a little biased, but this place isn’t my scene.
“Who are you and what have you done with Brooks Dawson?”
I roll my eyes at Jamie, who settles on a stool across from me. “I’m working. These are my work clothes,” I reply .
Spencer hops up on the stool beside Jamie. “You’re usually dressed like a walking Levi’s ad, dude,” he says.
I frown as I look down at my black dress shirt, black slacks and black shoes. “They said business casual.”
The dress code is a far cry from Dirty Dick’s, but money is money. And the money here is pretty damn good.
“Yeah, business casual ,” Spencer replies. “Not a goth chick’s wet dream. It wouldn’t kill you to wear a little colour, B-man.”
Jamie sighs. “Tell us more about this ex of yours,” he prompts me.
I met Jamie and Spencer at the beginning of the season when we all got hired around the same time. Jamie is our resident Mr. Fix-It and Spencer operates the ski lifts. We’ve only known each other a short while, but they’re easy to get along with. When Spencer isn’t being a dipshit.
“Hadley,” I say, taking the subject change gratefully. “She broke up with me right after graduation and then moved to South America.” My mind wanders to last night, seeing her sitting on that stool in the bar. “I guess she’s back. For now, at least.”
“Are you gonna make a move?” Spencer asks.
Before I can answer, Jamie pipes up. “I don’t know,” he says. “I wouldn’t mess with an ex. They’re exes for a reason.”
Because Hadley had wanted us to be. If it had been up to me, I would’ve done anything to make long distance work. I would’ve worked my ass off to save up for flights to Brazil. But in her quest to leave our hometown behind, she decided she needed to leave me behind, too.
She cut ties with everyone in Pineridge, except her sister. As far as I know, she rarely speaks to her parents. Hell, she barely did before she left. And she hadn’t spoken to me since the day we broke up.
I hadn’t even known she’d gotten on a plane eight years ago until Sam told me.
“She left,” I say. She left, and I didn’t know until it was too late .
Spencer shrugs. “And now she’s here. What have you got to lose?”
I sigh.
He makes it seem so simple. And it isn’t like I’m not curious about her. A lot can change in eight years, and we aren’t exactly those same teenagers who fumbled through losing their virginities together.
I want to know who Hadley has become in our time apart. What she’s made of herself. Knowing her, it’s something impressive.
I’ve always been a little in awe of her. From the moment I met her in grade nine, I thought she was beautiful. But it wasn’t just physical. Her brain was stunning, and I had no doubts she would go far in life.
I just didn’t think her goals would take her away from me.
“Like, literally. She’s right over there,” Spencer adds. “Can I get a beer? Something on tap.”
But I stop listening when I realize that Spencer is right. Hadley is here. She’s sitting on a stool at the far end of the bar, and it feels exactly like déjà vu.
This time, though, I don’t plan on letting her run away. If nothing else, we can be friends. I can handle that. Hopefully. What I can’t handle is going another eight years without her in my life.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Hey!” Spencer calls to my back. “What about my drink?”
“I think you’re gonna be waiting a while, bud,” I hear Jamie say. “You’re not as pretty as she is.”
I tune out Spencer’s whining as I approach Hadley. Now that I know she works for the owner, I’m surprised I haven’t seen her around the resort, but I know she probably doesn’t spend much time drinking. She’s too busy for that.
I stop just across from her, the bar a barrier between us. Her shoulders are slumped, and I watch her slip off her shoe and rub the sole of her foot. She looks tired.
Seeing Hadley sitting in my bar last night was a welcome surprise. Seeing her again, right now, solidifies my decision. Because Spencer might have a point. She’s here , in Sugar Peak of all places. That has to be a sign for something.
I don't know how long she’s around for, but fuck, I don’t plan to waste a minute.
“Twice in two days?” I muse. “I’m beginning to think you're following me, Hads.”
Her head jerks up, and surprise plays in her eyes. But then a mask of indifference comes slamming down. I won’t lie and say that doesn’t sting a little.
“What are you doing here?” she asks.
I gesture to my position behind the bar. “Working.”
Those pretty hazel eyes narrow. “You work at Dirty Dick’s.”
I shrug. “I like to keep busy.”
Really, I like to help keep a roof over my family’s heads. With two of my sisters in university and Mom’s house almost always needing repairs that the landlord likes to ignore, we’re never short on expenses. Easing the burden by getting a second job seemed like the best thing to do, especially when the wealthy resort guests tend to tip well.
“You didn’t say anything about that last night,” she says.
“You didn’t exactly give me the chance.” She looks down, biting her bottom lip. I feel a little bad, so I move away from that particular topic. “Long day?” I ask.
She sighs as she turns back to me. “That’s par for the course. I just chose the wrong shoes this morning. Now my feet are angry.”
Inspecting the shoe in question, my eyebrows raise. “No wonder your feet hurt. Those heels are insane . How do you even work in those?”
She hugs the shoe to her chest. “I’ll take none of your judgment, sir,” she says, and the lightness of the words makes things feel like they used to between us. “I have adult money now and I get to spend it how I please.”
Her words spark a memory. A few, actually. Every time we went to the mall together, she always stopped to admire the fancy heels at all the shoe stores. She claimed she’d own a closet full of them one day.
Hadley is nothing if not determined. That I know firsthand.
I hold up my palms in surrender. “Hey, no judgment from me. I’m impressed.”
Hadley’s cheeks flush that adorable pink colour I used to love. She puts her shoe back on and then stands.
“Thanks for the company, but I have to get back to work,” she says, averting her gaze. “I’ll see you around.”
Shit . My mood promptly deflates.
When she starts to walk away, I round the bar and follow after her. She’s surprisingly fast in those heels, but it only takes a couple strides for me to catch up with her.
“Hey, wait a second.”
She stops in the middle of the doorway, turning to face me. But my attention snags on the mistletoe now hanging above our heads. She follows my line of vision and freezes.
Hadley shakes her head. “That is not supposed to be there.”
“I don’t know, I quite like it.”
At my teasing tone, she rolls her eyes. She sets a hand on my arm and shoves softly. “Of course you would. You get a kiss out of the deal.”
Her mouth snaps shut when she realizes what she just said, but that only spurs me on.
I grin. “It is tradition, after all,” I say, bracing a hand on the doorframe. Her gaze roves over me. “Who are we to deny that?”
There’s a spark of something that looks like desire in her eyes. I haven’t seen that look in what feels like forever, but I miss it all the same.
“Smart,” she says. “We’d be smart.”
I shake my head as I lean in. “Smart’s overrated.”
Her breath catches. We’re close—closer than we’ve been in a long damn time. Her nearness is intoxicating, and I can feel myself being pulled back into her orbit. Hell, I don’t think I ever left .
Her eyes widen slightly at our proximity, but she sways toward me. We never were able to resist one another.
I set a hand on her waist, but this seems to snap her out of her trance. She cringes back, and I stop, dropping my hand.
Eyes squeezed shut, Hadley blurts, “What if you have a wife?”
A bark of laughter escapes me. That isn’t at all what I expected her to say. “ What if I have a wife? I think I’d know if I were married.” I hold up my barren left hand for emphasis. “No wife.”
Her eyes open, and she inspects my hand. Then my face. Slowly, her shoulders lose some of their tension. “Oh. Well, good. Because your hypothetical wife probably wouldn’t take too kindly to you standing under the mistletoe with me.”
I nod. “Probably not.” Then I dare to take a step closer. “What about you, Hads?”
“What about me?” she asks.
“How do you feel about standing under the mistletoe with me?”
I hold my breath. When the silence stretches, I know I’ve made a miscalculation. Pushed too far, way too soon. Hadley has always been slow to warm to things. We started out as friends, and then she eventually opened up to the idea of more between us. It took a solid two years.
So trying to kiss her a day after seeing her again? Not fucking likely.
I pull back before she does, knowing I need to give her space. Hoping she doesn’t bolt immediately when I do.
“I, um—” She wets her lower lip nervously. “I have to go.”
“Hadley—”
But she’s already reaching up and ripping the mistletoe from the doorframe.
“This really shouldn’t be here,” she mutters. “Fire hazard, you know? Blocking exits.”
And then she disappears right before my eyes, like she wasn’t even here at all. The only proof I have of her presence is the lingering scent of her vanilla perfume. That same perfume I gave her for our last Christmas together.
Hope sets up camp inside my chest. Sure, the mistletoe was a rookie mistake, but she’s still fucking wearing that perfume.
Hadley may have moved on, but she certainly hasn’t let go. Not of everything. I can work with that.
When I return to my spot behind the bar, Jamie and Spencer are both wearing sympathetic expressions. I suppose there’s absolutely no chance they didn’t watch every second of Hadley’s rejection. Not that I can blame them—it would have made an entertaining train wreck.
“Ouch. That’s mega rough, dude,” Spencer says with a wince. He reaches over the bar and claps me on the shoulder. “How about that beer, though?”