Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
SIERRA
“I’ll have that to you by the end of the day,” I tell Heather as I gather my laptop and notebook up.
On the opposite side of the table she looks up, surprised at my abruptness.
While I’m normally happy to hang out and kibitz (as Petra would say) with my boss, I’m also desperate to know why my phone has been buzzing away in the pocket of my down vest for the last hour of that three hour marathon meeting I’ve been stuck in.
I turn away quickly and make a beeline for the door, slipping through it and into the hall before anyone can talk to me.
I pull my phone out and check the screen as I walk through the Elite Training Center to my office.
Not only have Petra and Lauren been texting on our group chat but also I have four texts from Beau.
What the hell? He hasn’t texted me once since New Year’s Eve, so four texts in an hour has me a little worried.
Did he injure himself training or something?
But even if he did, why would he contact me about that?
When I get to my office, I shut the door behind me and unlock my phone.
The group chat is open on my screen, so I scan that and see Petra and Lauren are trying to convince Jackson to FaceTime with us tonight while we’re out for our girls’ dinner.
That can wait, so I hop over to Beau’s texts.
When I open that thread, picture after picture of the puppy fills my screen.
Winston licking peanut butter out of the rubber KONG we got him last night.
Winston laying on the living room rug with his big paws in the air, clearly enjoying a belly rub.
Winston outside in midair as he tries to catch a snowball with his mouth.
Winston wrapped up in a sherpa blanket like a burrito.
Sierra
Why are you home playing with the puppy?
Beau
Oh NOW she responds!
Sierra
I was stuck in a meeting. Aren’t you supposed to be training?
Beau
It’s snowing faster than they can groom the terrain park. Awesome powder out there, so we did some runs for fun instead, then I came home early.
Sierra
So how’s my baby doing?
Beau
The contractors started laying the tile today, and the sound of the wet saw had him pretty freaked out.
Sierra
Oh shit, I didn’t even think about how the contractors being there would affect him.
The bubble pops up, indicating that Beau’s typing, then it disappears. My stomach plummets as I imagine he was about to say Of course you didn’t or That’s because you don’t know anything about dogs. Finally, the bubble pops up again and he responds.
Beau
It’s fine, I took him outside to play in the snow for a while. They were done with the tile saw by the time we came back in.
Sierra
Thanks for taking him out. And for the cute pictures of him.
Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, I wonder if I made a mistake agreeing to foster Winston.
I work a fair amount. Is it okay to leave him home like that?
The shelter said he’d be fine crated while I’m at work, but maybe that’s not fair to him.
Some days, I can probably get away at lunch and take him for a quick walk to get some exercise.
I wish there was a way I could bring him to work with me.
Beau
No problem. You should post them on the social media account you created last night. You’ve only got the one picture up there.
Sierra
Because I’m working! And I don’t have any other pictures of him.
Beau
Which is why I just sent you some.
Sierra
Will you please post them? I don’t have time. I’ll share the login info with you.
Beau
Fine. He’s basically decided we’re best friends. Now he’s conked out on top of me and I’m afraid to move.
Sierra
LOL, now that I’d like to see.
A picture of Winston snuggled on the couch with a shirtless Beau appears on my screen.
The top half of Winston is laying across Beau’s stomach, right above those damn sweatpants he always wears that leave nothing to the imagination.
His pecs and shoulders are perfect—he’s unbelievably ripped—and he’s giving me a stupid grin.
At first glance, his dark eyes appear amused, but it’s like there’s something beneath that look that I can’t quite pick up despite zooming in on his face and squinting at my phone.
“You doing okay?”
The question comes out of nowhere, and even though I recognize Heather’s voice, it still scares the crap out of me and I fumble my phone. It lands upside down on my desk and I glance up at her, standing in my doorway.
“You scared me! I didn’t even hear the door open.”
“It wasn’t shut,” she says, even though I could swear it was.
Then again, I was in a hurry to check my texts, so maybe I didn’t push it closed all the way.
“But are you okay? You seemed off at the end of the meeting, then you hightailed it out of there like you couldn’t get away from us quickly enough. Just wanted to make sure all is well.”
“No, I’m fine. My phone was blowing up at the end of the meeting, and I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. Turns out it was just my roommate sending me pictures of my new puppy.”
Heather takes a few steps toward my desk and pulls up the chair across from me. “Okay, rewind. Roommate? Puppy?”
I sigh. “Yeah, Peter and I broke up—”
“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because it’s fine,” I say. At least, it’s fine when I don’t think about it, when I don’t fixate on his betrayal. “So now I’m living back at Jackson’s place and her brother is staying there too.”
“Beau Shanahan is your roommate?” she asks, her eyes wide. She looks like I just told her I live with Ryan Gosling. Why do all women seem to have this reaction to him—even my boss?
Heather’s six years older than me and has been here since before I started.
She pretty naturally stepped into the role of big sister as well as boss, but she’s like the big sister who’s significantly older and you don’t actually know that well because you’re at different points in your life and don’t have a ton in common.
She’ll look out for you, but you don’t exactly swap secrets.
“Yeah, it’s just a short-term thing. He’s training for the X Games, and he’ll be off to Aspen in a few weeks. Why is this such a big deal?”
“Sierra, he’s a professional snowboarder.
I know you’re more into skiing, but you do know where you work, right?
” she says, reaching forward and tapping the desk between us.
Her light brown hair falls forward over her shoulder, and she gathers it into a low ponytail as she sits back in the chair.
“I know your job is only to cover social media for the alpine ski teams, but you do realize that this organization supports the national snowboarding, cross-country, aerial, and mogul teams too, right?”
I roll my eyes at her sarcasm and smile.
“Of course, but that doesn’t mean I follow those teams as closely.
Just the men’s and women’s alpine teams, competing in five different disciplines with races all over the world—that keeps me pretty busy.
I let Kevin handle snowboarding, which is his job.
Besides, it’s not like Beau’s on the National Snowboard Team. ”
“He should have been,” she says.
“What do you mean?” This is news to me. I’ve always thought of this organization as Jackson’s thing, first as a member of the women’s alpine race team, then as a physical therapist for the men’s team. I didn’t realize Beau had any connection to the organization.
“He’s certainly good enough. Hey, I have to run to my next meeting, but can I see a puppy picture before I go?”
“Of course.” I unlock my phone and scroll back to the third picture Beau sent, of Winston jumping in the air, trying to catch a snowball. It’s a great shot, and the one that shows so much of his rambunctious personality. “Here you go.” I hand her the phone. “The next one’s cute too.”
“Oh my goodness,” she gushes. “Who’s such a good boy?”
I want to point out that he can’t hear her, but I’m pretty sure I said the same thing, in the same tone, in my head when I first saw the picture.
“What’s his name?” she asks as she swipes to the next photo.
“Winston.”
“I love it when people give dogs old man names. It just, like, suits them, you know?” She smiles down at the photo of Winston wrapped in the sherpa blanket that I’m one hundred percent sure Jackson didn’t buy with the intention of wrapping a dog in it.
Cue the internal realization that I haven’t told my best friend that I have a dog living at her condo, and I’m not actually sure how she’ll react.
Maybe I don’t need to tell her? I mean, it’s short term.
I’m sure we’ll find someone to adopt him soon, especially if Beau’s right about using social media to attract attention to Winston.
I’m so lost in my thoughts debating if not telling Jackson about the dog is still lying that I’m caught off guard when Heather sucks in a breath, then laughs and says, “Roommates, huh?”
“What?” I glance up to find her holding my phone with two fingers like she’s stumbled upon something dirty. She turns the phone to face me and from this vantage point I can see it as she sees it: my roommate sending me half-naked pictures of himself with my puppy.
“He refuses to wear shirts inside.” I roll my eyes. “It’s maddening.”
“Maybe he’s trying to catch your attention with his”—she gives a little nod toward the photo as she glances down at it before saying—“impressive physique.”
“Actually, I think he’s just clueless. He’s never lived with a woman before, and I don’t think it has even crossed his mind that while it might be okay to walk around in nothing but sweatpants with the guys, it’s less okay in this circumstance.”
“Have you said anything?” Heather asks, but she still hasn’t taken her eyes off the photo.
I let go of an uncomfortable laugh. “He’s Jackson’s little brother. I feel like if I said something, he’d think I was checking him out, and that would be really uncomfortable.”