Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
HADLEY
I officially hate the snow.
I should be well on my way back to the resort by now. Instead, I’m trapped at Dirty Dick’s with my ex. My ex who I just slept with.
Looks like you’ll just have to spend some time with me, sweetheart .
Even with that stupidly smug expression on his face, Brooks looked like everything I desire sitting across from me at the table. Doesn’t he know it’s dangerous being in his proximity?
What happened last night is a clear indication that I can’t resist him.
Why are you trying?
The million-dollar question. Sam would be yelling at me right now if she knew. She was devastated when she had heard that we had broken up. At fifteen, she hadn't understood why I would let him go.
I shake my head, trying to rid myself of these thoughts. They won’t do me any good.
“Stupid snow,” I mutter.
Holding my phone up to the window, I cross my fingers for stronger service. Anything, really. But even sneaking downstairs after our second movie ended hasn’t yielded any results. One measly bar is all I have, and all of my texts remain undelivered.
“What are you doing down here?”
With a sigh, I turn toward Brooks, who stands on the last of the steps leading up to his apartment from the bar. “I’m trying to send a message to Mr. Oliveira, but the service is terrible.”
He crosses the room to stand beside me, facing the window. “That tends to happen when the snow starts coming down real good.”
And it has. It’s been snowing off and on—mostly on —for the past couple hours. With no snow plow in sight, I’m not hopeful I’ll be getting back up the mountain anytime soon.
“Great,” I deadpan.
Laughing, he says, “I doubt you’ll get fired for missing one day.”
I roll my eyes as I shove my phone into the pocket of my sweatpants. Well, his sweatpants. I’m still wearing his clothes, and I hate myself a little for it. Because the only reason is so I can be surrounded by his scent.
“I’m not worried about getting fired . I have so much work to do. We still don’t have a manager for the resort, so I’ve taken on all those responsibilities on top of interviewing new candidates. Taking today off is going to set me back.”
He looks thoughtful for a moment. I worry he’s going to try and offer me some kind of stupid cure for my stress, like just not worrying because I can’t change anything. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
“How did you start working for Thiago?” he asks.
My shoulders relax as I sigh, relieved. This is easy. I can talk about this. And I’m sure that was his plan—to distract me.
“When I was in school in Brazil, I had the opportunity to take on an internship. I’m still not sure how, but I managed to get one at Engenica Cybersecurity, his company,” I explain. “Then it transitioned to a permanent role after I graduated. I’ve been working for him ever since. ”
“What do you do? Besides be kickass at your job,” he adds.
I roll my eyes but smile. “I’m his assistant. I do whatever he needs me to do. Schedule meetings with investors, book flights, coordinate hotel stays. You name it, I’ve probably done it.”
“And being his assistant…” He studies me, and God, I feel naked all over again. “That makes you happy?”
Okay, not where I was expecting this conversation to go .
I recoil, a frown marring my features. “What do you mean? I’m good at my job.”
He nods. “I know you are, Hads. Of course you are, but that’s not what I asked. Does it make you happy ?”
Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question before. I don’t think I’ve ever asked myself that question.
Does it make me happy?
If I examine that too closely, I’m afraid of what I might find. And although I know he isn’t asking out of judgment, only pure curiosity and a genuine want to get to know this version of me, it leaves me feeling unsettled.
So I spin away from the window, away from Brooks and his questioning. A dartboard on the opposite wall catches my attention, and my feet pad across the floor as I make my way over to it. I internally cringe when my socks meet the permanently sticky vinyl. I should’ve stopped to put my boots on before coming down, but I was distracted trying to send those texts.
“I’ve never played before,” I say. “Have you?”
“Okay, I get it,” Brooks says. He comes up behind me. “We’re avoiding that particular conversation today. I can do that.”
I send him a small, grateful smile. “So have you played?”
He nods. “I have. Want me to teach you?”
“I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.” I mime throwing a dart at the wall.
Brooks chuckles. “I love the confidence. You’re going to need it.”
He walks over to a cupboard set into the wall, where the supplies are kept, and pulls out a handful of darts. I accept the ones that he hands me. They’re heavier than I was expecting.
“You sure you don’t want a lesson?” he asks.
I tip my chin up. “I’m fine.”
Brooks goes first, throwing his three darts in quick succession. Two of the three hit the bullseye and the third isn’t so far off.
“Show-off,” I mumble.
There’s a twinkle in his eyes as he turns to me. “Your turn, sweetheart.”
I come to stand approximately where Brooks threw from. Widening my stance, I draw my arm back and then let the dart go flying. It dodges the dartboard and impales the wall, joining the pockmarks from others’ failed attempts.
I throw my other two after that, the results much the same.
“Alright, so we’ll need to focus on aim,” he says teasingly.
I turn to glare at him. “You don’t have to enjoy this so much.”
His lips twitch as he tries not to smile. “Sorry.”
Brooks retrieves our darts and again, he throws his almost perfectly. And again, my first throw is utter garbage.
I resist the urge to stomp my foot. “Ugh, how do you do this so well?”
“Let me show you.”
This time, I do let him. One of his hands lands on my hip to keep me steady and the other covers my grip, guiding it to the proper throwing position. He pulls our arms back, winding up, before I release the dart. It doesn’t quite hit the bullseye, but it’s a lot closer than my other tries have been.
Now that the dart is thrown, I become very aware of our proximity. We’re close. Too close. My breath hitches, and I can feel my heart galloping in my chest.
No .
I can’t go down that road again. Not after realizing this morning how much my leaving still affects him. As much as I miss Brooks, he and I want vastly different things. I’ve been too distracted by him to remember that. Once the resort’s grand opening is through and we have our new manager, I won’t be here anymore.
I’ll be leaving. Again . It wouldn’t be fair to him if I started something I won’t be around to finish.
So I take one step back, and then another. His arms fall away, and he clears his throat. A moment of tense silence passes between us, the illusion of our rightness together vanishing.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
He nods. “Anytime.”
From outside, I hear a rumbling coming down the road. Crossing to the window, I look out just in time to spot my favourite piece of heavy machinery. A snow plow.
Time to make my great escape.
“Looks like the roads are clearing up,” I say.
Brooks stops beside me. “Looks like it.”
“I’ll, uh, go get changed. Thank you for lending me your clothes.”
I hand the remaining darts back to Brooks, and then I scurry up to his apartment like the coward that I am. After I’m dressed, I meet him downstairs. He follows me out to my car, a shovel in tow.
With the heat cranked, I sit behind the wheel as Brooks dutifully digs me out of the snowy turnout. Although the road has been cleared, the parking lot is still covered.
He steps back, leaning against the handle of the shovel. I wave.
And then I drive away.