Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
Nash
Wordlessly, we slipped on our coats and snuck out the front door. The wind in Wyoming was no joke, and I tugged my gloves on.
“This way.” Stephanie tilted her head, guiding me across the front deck and around the corner where it wrapped around the side of the house to a private enclosed area with the hot tub.
She flicked a switch and small white lights winked to life overhead.
This part of the deck was nestled against the house, sheltering us from the directness of the wind.
It might not be strong, but it was nippy.
Another switch kicked on the free-standing patio gas stove.
Aha. This was the hot tub deck. It was built up on a custom platform with wooden edging and stairs. Boosting herself up onto the platform edge, Stephanie patted the seat beside her, inviting me to join her.
I obliged, letting my eyes adjust to the dimness of the night and the distant smudges of the Tetons. Taking deep breaths and praying I wouldn’t mess this up. “I’m not sure where to start,” I confessed.
Stephanie didn’t say anything for a minute.
She slipped a ChapStick from her pocket and applied it quietly, and I half envied her because that dry wind was chapping my lips like crazy.
The benign movement settled something in me, though, giving me a minute to collect my thoughts.
When she slipped her gloved hand in mine, threading our fingers, I was ready.
“I’ll listen to whatever you want to tell me,” she said, the sincerity of her words burrowing deep in my heart.
Here went nothing. “Alexis was my college girlfriend for three years. We were serious, or I was. I bought a ring and proposed right after we graduated.” I huffed softly, remembering the moment.
“She looked down at me with pity as I knelt in front of her, then she snapped the ring box closed and told me she was moving on. She’d met someone else, a guy with deeper pockets and more potential. ”
“She cheated on you?” An unearthly, strangled growl came from the woman beside me, and I turned to see Stephanie’s face dark with rage, eyes flashing in the soft twinkling lights. She shook her head. “The woman is an idiot!”
“It’s what inspired me to start my own company. Prove to her I could be something.” I tried to laugh it off, but it sounded a little bitter in my ears. “Things worked out, and I made more money than the man she left me for. Now money is the only thing women see when they show an interest.”
“Did she try to win you back?”
“How’d you know?”
Stephanie shrugged. “‘Cuz she made the mistake of a lifetime, and she’d have been a fool not to have tried, even if it was for the worst reasons ever.” She side-eyed me, swinging her legs. “What happened to starting a company because, and I quote, ‘I saw a gap in the market I could fill?'”
I smirked. “Can’t a man be multifaceted?”
“Meaning you didn’t want to talk about Alexis and wanted your privacy. I get it.”
“Yeah? You don’t seem surprised by this.”
Ooh, an eyebrow raised. “You’re thirty-three and look like that.
” Stephanie waved her hand in the general vicinity of my body.
“I assumed there was at least one woman who thought you were a catch. And as for the privacy, I do get it because one whiff of heartbreak and you’d have every woman from Washington to Texas lined up to date you.
Heartbreak makes a man more attractive for some reason, but when it’s a woman, she has baggage. ”
“Just to Texas, darlin’?” I teased, sensing she wanted to move away from the heaviness of the conversation.
Stephanie patted my knee. “Easy there, cowboy.”
“Not a cowboy.”
She tipped her head back and laughed, and it echoed softly off the distant hills. “Right.”
We sat there, hand in hand, just watching the gently floating snow and the hypnotic dance of flames from the patio stove. This was the most comfortable I’d ever been with another person, and I wasn’t in a hurry to head back into the madhouse.
“What about your family?” Stephanie asked softly.
“What about them?”
“I’m sure you have one.”
“Had.” I grunted then sighed. “My dad was never in the picture, so my mom raised me alone. We spent most of my childhood in Texas and lived with her parents for a few years before she packed up and carted me off to Southern California, just before my sixteenth birthday.” I could remember Grandad teaching me to play chess and checkers.
The bolts upon bolts of fabric in Gran’s sewing room.
She was a quilter, and I’d had one of her quilts on my bed for years, until Mom lost it in the move.
“Mom went no contact with them, but I secretly kept in touch. Grandad called me just before I graduated high school and told me Gran had passed. Mom didn’t even care when I told her. ”
I swallowed hard, focusing on the distant darkness while I tried to rein in the wave of anger at my mother even all these years later.
“Grandad was the whole reason I went to college. He helped pay my way after Mom kicked me out at eighteen, tired of being saddled with a kid. And then just before I went to spend a summer with him after my freshmen year, I got the call he’d passed, too.
I never got to see either of them in person again.
” But I could still hear Grandad’s easy laugh and smell Gran’s vanilla perfume. It reminded me of home.
“I’m sorry,” Stephanie whispered, squeezing my hand and leaning into me. “I know how hard it is to lose a grandparent. I can’t even imagine losing both.”
I nodded. “My mom’s a drug addict. She’s tried on and off for years to get clean, but it never sticks. That was the call I got at the coffee shop in Missoula. The rehab center was letting me know she’d checked herself out—again—even though she only had two weeks left.”
“Oh, Nash.” Stephanie wrapped her free hand around my arm, hugging it close. Whether for my comfort or because I could feel her shivering, I wasn’t sure, but I appreciated the gesture. “And here I was, going on about my family problems—”
I touched a finger to her lips, stopping the words.
“Don’t. Don’t compare our family pain and decide you have it better, Steph.
That’s not how it works. We both had pretty rotten things thrown at us.
What matters is how we grow from it. How we let God use those trials to shape us.
I haven't always done the best job with that.” Alexis’s face flashed across my mind.
Yeah, letting her rejection rule my dating life for the last ten years wasn’t my strongest point.
But maybe that was what brought me to Stephanie.
“Neither have I,” she confessed, lips brushing my gloved finger. “Thank you. For letting me in.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner.”
She shook her head, her glossy curls bouncing. “Don’t be. I get it.”
Letting my finger fall from her lips, I cupped her face in my hands. “Steph, you need to know that—”
An ugly swear cut through our cozy cocoon, shattering the bubble. Seriously, would this family ever let me kiss this woman?
Startling, Stephanie inched back and eyed Elijah, standing at the balcony door, still in his signature funeral garb, lips curled in a snarl.
“Get in here, shrimp. And bring your boy toy.”
Stephanie glared. “Boyfriend, Eli.”
“Save it for someone who cares.” Elijah slammed the door with a rattle.
She growled in frustration. “I’m sorry for that.”
“Why don’t they like you?” I asked, easing off the hot tub platform and offering a hand to help her down.
Stephanie accepted and her boots thudded softly on the wooden slats underfoot.
“I’m the youngest and the most convenient scapegoat.
They all despise Hiram for leaving their mothers and moving onto the next woman.
Which is why they hate each other. But since Hiram holds the purse strings, they’ve all decided I’m the convenient one to hate if they can’t hate him and have to work together. ”
“That’s messed up, Steph.”
“I know. It’s why I hate coming here, especially alone. Don’t get me wrong, Nana, Gabe, Ivy, and Hailey are great. We’re just outnumbered.” She scrunched her nose. “But we should get in there. No sense stirring the pot even more.”
Backtracking to the front door, we shed our winter layers, and the warmth never felt so welcome.
The puzzle remains were packed up, replaced by a table with Monopoly (how was that a good idea?), Hiram popped a wine bottle, and the newest cartoon version of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas played on the TV for the kids.
Stephanie made a beeline towards Hailey, who was curled up in the corner on a low beanbag chair, nearly obstructed from view by the Christmas tree and the mounds of blankets she was under, an e-reader in hand.
I followed, but before I caught up to Stephanie, a shadow sailed above my head. “What was that?” I jumped and twisted around, trying to identify the object.
“What?” Stephanie asked, looking back at me confused.
“There was—” My words were cut off by an excited cheer, and several people pointed just above my head.
I tilted my head up, nerves taut and dread pooling in my gut.
I wasn’t ready for another Addams torture chamber after just spilling my guts to Stephanie like that.
Sure enough, nine-year-old Ollie, Austin’s son, stood on the mezzanine floor above us, with a fishing pole in hand, dangling a sprig of mistletoe over our heads.
“Are you kidding me?” Stephanie grumbled beside me.
Right, her nieces and nephews were pranksters. “I take it this is a new addition to the initiation rites?” I was now more bemused than dread filled. An irritated Steph was an amusing Steph.
“Who brings fishing poles to a ski lodge?” she huffed.
“Found them in storage.” Austin offered a mustached smile. “Get on with it, Polly Pocket.”
Unlike Elijah, Austin didn’t sound hostile but still condescending, and I could tell he was relishing making Stephanie uncomfortable. Nicknames were weaponized rather than endearing with this crowd.
Stephanie’s eyes locked on mine as the chanting grew louder: Kiss her. Kiss her.
I slipped a hand on her waist, tugging her closer. Leaning in, I whispered in her ear. “We giving the people what they want?” And here I was, complaining minutes ago about Elijah’s interruption.
I expected her to laugh. Blush. Swat my chest even. What I wasn't expecting was for her to fist my Henley and drag me into a kiss. Her lips brushed mine, soft and hesitant. Like she was suddenly regretting her momentary boldness.
But I was not.
One hand still on her waist, the other threading into her short hair, I tilted my head, deepening the kiss.
Something clicked inside me as her fingers teased the hair at the nape of my neck, like two souls meeting.
I couldn’t breathe, but I didn’t care when the woman in my arms tasted like forever. And peppermint ChapStick.
Remembering our audience with young eyes, I pulled back, leaning my forehead against hers. Stephanie’s cheeks were a becoming shade of pink, her hazel eyes sparkling. She appeared all-around thoroughly dazed—I smirked knowing I’d done that to her.
A wolf whistle pierced the air. I’d bet money on that being Great-Aunt Edith, but I didn’t turn away. Just focused on the woman in my arms. Finally.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“Hey.” Her voice was breathy.
Her family faded away, the noise softening to a distant hum as they moved on to torture another relative with the kissing pole.
“Maybe you’ll let me kiss you for real sometime,” I said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear.
Her eyes widened like sparkling snow globes. I’d always loved her big, expressive eyes. “That kiss felt plenty real.”
I chuckled softly, still holding her against me. Our gazes held, and she kept her hands resting on my chest. Could she feel how fast my heart was beating right now? “Maybe, but I never intended our first kiss to be for show.”
Stephanie swallowed hard. “You… You’ve thought about kissing me then?”
I smirked a little sheepishly. “Probably more than I should have.”
She bit her lip. A hundred thoughts danced across her face before she tugged out of my grip. Grabbing my hand, she dragged me down the hall after her. We bumped into Veronica—our original welcoming committee—when we turned a corner towards the kitchen.
Veronica swore loudly, eyes narrowing on our joined hands. “You should—”
But Stephanie didn’t stop to engage. Just hauled me—her willing captive—into a blessedly deserted kitchen, marching us towards a frosted glass door in the corner and yanking me inside after her.
The room was small, mostly dark, and most definitely a pantry.
“We don't have an audience now,” she said softly, flicking a switch, causing the small incandescent lightbulb overhead to cast unnatural shadows over the shelves.
I glanced around. No, we most certainly did not. I studied the jam jars on the shelf above her head. “A pantry, huh? Very romantic.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Oh, forget it.”
I laughed, grabbing her arm and tugging her towards me as she tried to open the door. “Never said I didn’t appreciate the sentiment, Steph. Pantries can absolutely be romantic. Care for some flours? White or whole wheat?” I motioned to the bags overhead with my free hand.
She eyed the overhead bags warily. “I told Nana those were a death trap.”
I leaned down, nudging her nose with mine. “What a way to go, though.” I could see the gears in her head, whirling a hundred thoughts a minute. Overthinking and overcalculating. “Steph, we don’t have to do this,” I said simply. “I’m here for the long haul.”
Stephanie fisted a hand against my chest then smoothed it out, meeting my gaze. “Yes,” she said simply.
“Yes?”
“To this being real. I… I want to try us for real. Not faking it. If… if you still want that?”
“I do,” I rasped, hardly believing all my dreams were coming true in a kitchen pantry with jam and flour for witnesses.
Stephanie swallowed hard. “I want a real kiss, Nash. Not for my family or for show.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “For me.”
Who was I to deny that sweet wish? “Yes, ma’am.”