Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bex: Good morning. You know what I love? Snow. It’s the best. And orgasms.
Me: ?!?
Connor: Wtf
Bex: That’s what I’m imagining Winnie is thinking right now. Lol
Connor:
Me: *eyeroll* The last time we spoke, you were with Val and an entire band of guys in a hotel. I was expecting an orgy confession.
Bex: Sorry to disappoint you. Unlike your new boyfriend, who you must be having fun with or else you’d have been on the phone with me all day yesterday instead of this continued radio silence.
Me: I was baking profiteroles for the party and practicing my song while recovering from a near-death experience. You have such a dirty mind.
Connor: You can’t bake
Me: You don’t know my life.
Bex: He is like 80% of your life.
Connor: Please. I’m 100%
Connor: Veronica says hi
Me: Woohoo FDV is my MVP!
Bex: ?
Me: FDV=Front Desk Veronica. The future mother of his babies.
Bex: Were you both hooking up while I was stuck listening to this band practice their cover of Pink Pony Club a thousand times?
Me: Love that song!
Bex: That’s why I told them to learn it. Don’t change the subject. Connor? What’s up with FDV?
Connor: VERONICA is great
Connor: She’s actually got a job in the city. She used to work here so she was covering a few shifts for a friend having surgery and got stuck in the storm.
Connor: I think I should ask her out when we get back.
Me: He let her sleep in my room. Future Uncle Win is best wingman evah!
Bex: Can’t wait to meet her. Storm ended last night and the locals are on it. The road up the mountain should be open soon, and we’re running a few errands before we...crash a sweet old couple’s party. Maybe we’ll just hang out in your room while you sing, Winnie.
Connor: Nah. There are so many Finns no one will notice if you’re there.
Even fake exes will be busy. BTW, did you know this lodge is owned by a friend of Ellen Finn?
And that the “sweet old couple” came here alone once a year as soon as their kids were old enough, but never learned to ski because they were too busy snuggling by the fire?
I do. Because I’ve been snowed in with their family all weekend and they might have adopted me.
Bex: Conman will have all the tea now!
Me: Tea talk: I shared some of your stories about the Finns with Michael. When you see Batman, don’t tell him.
Bex: Why would I see him? Oh, you mean at the lodge. Right…
Bex: Wait. You’re having sex, baking things and SHARING CONFIDENCES with him? Who are you? Did someone steal this phone? Winnie, is that you?
Connor: I bet he’s sharing more than secrets. I might not be the only one having babies *wink*
Bex: …
Me: You’re still running that sex ed program for your players, Coach. You have to know that’s not how things work.
Connor: It works in that werewolf book Bex read last month #mpreg
Me: Erase! Erase! Erase!
Bex: Hah. Val needs me to help him with something. Go make some babies and I’ll talk to you later.
Connor: Shit. Forgot to tell you Seamus said we could come and get you soon. Ready for a snowmobile ride?
I roll my eyes and set down my phone to stare at the two tiny dogs on my lap. “I’m not ready for babies or snowmobiles,” I inform them as they lick my arms. “And didn’t I tell you I wasn’t made of bacon?”
Either they don’t know or don’t care, because the licking only gets more exuberant.
Smiling a little sadly, I set them down beside me and get back to my feet.
It’s early, but I’m not that surprised about Connor’s last text.
I was actually already showered and dressed in my own clothes when I came down the stairs to see the sun shining as brightly through the bay and kitchen windows as it had been upstairs.
The view outside tells me the snow must have been melting all night.
Reality is coming to Honeymoon Cabin , I think glumly.
This might be the first time I’m not looking forward to seeing my crew.
When I do, it will mean the isolation bubble Michael and I have been in has officially burst, and all of this is over.
The fantastic sex. The unexpectedly deep conversations.
The cuddling and bathing together. All of it.
Our island is going to be invaded and I’m just wishing for another sudden change in the weather.
Bex isn’t wrong. I’ve been appreciating snow more every day.
I decide to cook breakfast to keep myself busy. Michael is in the shower, and he might like to be off kitchen duty this morning. “I should make enough for Connor too.”
Why? Because you know he never turns down a meal and it might delay your departure?
Maybe.
As I gather the ingredients—luckily the baker in this cabin brought a lot of eggs with him—I think about how we spent the rest of yesterday to cheer myself up.
We had a class—Finns 101—where I doled out information about the different couples and throuples he might run into at the party.
There are a lot of them, and remembering all the details wasn’t easy, since Michael had decided he learned best when his teacher was sitting on his lap with no clothes on.
Not that I’m complaining.
Then, after we took a break to finish the pastry puffs, make the filling and banter over another episode of our show, he convinced me that I needed to get over my hang-up with the upstairs bedroom so we could break it in.
He found a sleep mask in the welcome basket and covered my eyes before kissing and caressing every inch of my body.
In the darkness, the sensations were so much more intense.
Each whispered breath was a shout. Every lick of his tongue made me shiver.
In the end, I took off the blindfold to return the favor, and all I could see was him.
My breathing is a little uneven just remembering it. But I have to focus, because I need to chop the chicken and veggies and I’d like to get through that with all my fingers still attached.
When I’m done and the knife is safely in the sink, I beat the eggs, then sauté onions and mushrooms for my one guaranteed crowd-pleaser, the Leftover Scramble. (I joke about pizza rolls but I do occasionally cook other things.)
What started as a way to stretch a meal actually became a delicious breakfast dish that I’ve been perfecting over the years.
And it works for everything. Chicken. Chinese takeout.
Italian. Just add eggs, a few secret spices and whatever else you have in your pantry, and voilà!
You too can pretend you’re an actual chef.
To keep from worrying about whether or not Michael will appreciate my offering, or when Connor might be showing up, I find the song Bex was talking about and turn up the volume on my phone.
It’s one of the current favorites at Royale’s.
If I were still performing, I’d choose it too.
It feels eerily close to the reality of that time in my life.
The chorus even includes a disapproving mother.
I let the music roll through me as I cook. Stirring with a wooden spoon, I bump and grind burlesque style. I add in the extra ingredients for flavor, then slide a hand down my leg, flipping my imaginary wig and throwing a sultry look at my invisible audience.
Ever since I mentioned it to Michael, I’ve been remembering how much joy it used to bring me, donning glittering outfits and different personalities before putting on a show.
I wasn’t lying when I told him it wasn’t a necessary part of my life, but it did make me feel sexier and more powerful than I have before or since. Until I got to this cabin.
I’ve been considering giving him a private performance at some point. Or a not-so-private one. I bet the gang would welcome me back for a night if I told them I had a date to impress.
You’re still a teacher. And you still don’t date. They all know that and so do you.
I’m on a break, in a remote cabin, and I can do whatever I want as long as I’m still surrounded by all the wood I’ve grown so fond of. I can also imagine whatever I want. Like dancing for Michael wearing nothing but a sultry smile…and maybe some pasties.
I let myself get lost in the music, my body instinctively moving through my favorite old moves—even in jeans, I’ve still got it—while I use the wooden spoon as a microphone and sing along to the lyrics.
I’m just having fun
On the stage in my heels
It’s where I belong
“Down at the Pink—Holy shit!”
I fling the spoon across the room because there are two creatures wrapped up like snow-caked mummies staring at me through the kitchen window.
When one of them waves, I sag against the island, my heart pounding. Did Connor really get here that fast? “Jesus. Try knocking on the door next time, you idiot.”
Yesterday, the snow was too high for anyone to be where they’re standing. But last night when it stopped, Michael dug out a small track around the cabin for the dogs to play in. After days of being cooped up inside, they were thrilled to have an adventure.
And now we have company.
The thinner mound of clothing pulls down his scarf to reveal a broad, attractive grin. When he pulls up his goggles, I realize it’s not Connor or Seamus. It’s Michael’s nephew.
“Jake Finn, what the hell,” I murmur.
The man beside him does the same, though he isn’t grinning, which is unusual for him. Whenever I’ve seen Bellamy Demir from a distance, he was always the happiest man in the room. Apparently, he isn’t as amused by my performance as his son is.
I’m even less amused, because their intrusion means my time with Michael is over.
I’m not ready for it to be over.
Ignoring that blip of a thought, I lower the flame on the stove and lightly limp over to the door. Just before I reach it, I glance up to the top of the stairs. Should I call for him? Wait for him to answer the door?
Why bother? I’m probably the reason they’re here this early in the morning.
I grab Michael’s sheepskin jacket and step out onto the porch, closing the door behind me so the dogs can’t escape. “Good morning.”
Jake speaks first, his smile crinkling his eyes. He’s incredibly handsome, though he doesn’t look that much like the rest of the Finns. “Hey, Bex’s friend the singing, and apparently dancing, teacher. I like your moves. I’m Jake and this is Bellamy.”
“I’m Win, and I’ve heard a lot about you, Jake. All good things, including the fact that you’re smart enough to consider taking over the world.”
“That’s not on the schedule for a few more years,” he jokes. “Is my uncle around?”
I see Bellamy’s barely noticeable flinch and frown at him. “He’s upstairs getting dressed.”
Bellamy offers me a tight grin. “I heard you had a rough time of it. I imagine you’re ready to head back right away, but if it’s okay, I need to talk to Michael for a few minutes before we go.”
I steel myself and glance over at Jake. “I made breakfast. A leftover scramble. Why don’t you go inside and visit with the dogs while I talk to your dad for a minute, then I can make you a plate.”
Jake lifts his eyebrows curiously, but nods and disappears into the cabin.
Bellamy pats his arms with his glove-covered hands. A little dramatically, if you ask me. “You don’t want to have this talk in the cabin? It’s not that far by snowmobile, but it’s still damn cold out here. This kind of weather can’t be good for your voice either,” he wheedles.
It’s none of your business, Win. You and Michael aren’t even dating. Stay out of it.
I know that. And yet I don’t want Bellamy coming in and busting through my perfect daydream with his weird flinches and tight smiles. “Your brother saved my life and has been taking care of me all weekend.”
He meets my gaze. “I heard.”
“He’s also making the dessert for the party at your children’s request, and showing up for a crowd of people he doesn’t know because your husband asked him to. And unlike the two of us, he isn’t that comfortable in crowds.”
A hard and somewhat obstinate expression crosses Bellamy’s face. “You know that after less than two days with him?”
“I know him better than you do.”
“If that’s true, it’s on him, not me.”
“Please. Believe it or not, I’ve actually been talking you up to your brother so he’ll give you a chance after his bad experience with the rest of your family.
But I know all about how charming and determined you can be when you want to be in someone’s life, Bellamy Demir.
Half the city knows. And you should want to be in Michael’s because, although he might be prickly at first, he’s also wonderful and worth knowing.
That’s all I wanted to say. Now come in, warm up and have some food. ”
He looks gratifyingly startled when I turn to go back inside. I’m glad I went a little overboard with scramble since I thought Connor was coming. I now have three men to feed and a tense family breakfast to get through.
Reality has arrived.