Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Avery
T wo weeks later, the crisp mountain air filled my lungs as I stepped off the train, Brody's hand warm in mine.
The majestic peaks surrounding us promised adventure and romance, but for me, they also held the key to unlocking my family's mysterious past. I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves and focus on the task at hand—our new romantic travel venture.
“Ready to conquer Switzerland, Spark?” Brody asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. “Although mostly I just want to find out if Swiss chocolate lives up to its reputation. I've got some ideas that would make even the Alps blush.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and decidedly lower.
“Lead the way, Chocolatier. But if you get us arrested for public indecency, you're explaining it to our future clients.”
We made our way to our quaint Swiss chalet, the sound of cowbells echoing in the distance just before my phone buzzed.
The chat with my family. Fuck. I’d been trying to avoid everyone since the night they met Brody. There was no way in hell’s half-acre that I was ending things with him when the challenge was up.
But after the way they'd treated Emerson when she and Liam didn't break up? I'd rather shave my head with a rusty knife than open that can of worms.
Still, I knew I couldn’t avoid them forever, and our silly group chat was probably the least threatening scenario.
Quinn: Avery! How's Switzerland? And the stud? Still making you yodel?
Avery: We're working, Quinn. On our business.
Kennedy: Is that what they call it now? “Working on our business?”
Mackenzie: Yeah, I bet you're really “growing your assets” and “penetrating new markets.”
Avery: Well, there might be some penetrating later.
Taylor: Avery! Sounds like someone's excelling at “hands-on management!”
Shelby: Forget the corporate jargon, I need deets on his “executive package!”
Avery: Let's just say his 'corporate ladder' reaches impressive heights.
Harlow: Bet he's a pro at “drilling down to the essentials,” eh?
Avery: He definitely knows how to prioritize key areas.
Emerson: Sounds like you're both putting in some serious “overtime.”
Avery: I’d say our work ethic is… unmatched.
Mackenzie: Alright, alright. Remember, Avery, this is supposed to be fun only. No falling for Mr. Six-Pack, got it?
Avery: Relax, it's just a business trip. A very sweaty, very hands-on business trip.
Mackenzie: 90 days, missy!!
Avery: Yeah, yeah. I'll set a reminder… right after this yodeling lesson.
I tossed my phone onto the bed, cheeks flushed from the girls' not-so-subtle talk. They'd have a field day if they could see Brody right now, all tousled hair and—Jesus, Lord—his abs as he unpacked. Shirtless.
Christ, this man, playfully tossing his belongings into drawers with reckless abandon while I meticulously unpacked with the precision of a professional closet organizer.
“There is such a thing as too much organization,” Brody teased, watching me arrange my underwear by color.
I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. “And there's such a thing as not enough. How do you ever find anything in that chaos?”
“It's all part of my charm,” he winked, closing his overstuffed drawer with a forceful push that made the whole chalet shake. “I like to keep things… unpredictable.”
Our banter was light, but I could feel an underlying tension—both from our growing feelings and the weight of our new business venture. Not to mention the secret mission burning in the back of my mind.
We set out to explore a picturesque village nestled in the Alps. The cobblestone streets and flower-boxed chalets looked like something out of a fairytale as I jotted notes in my journal, trying to capture the essence of romance that seemed to permeate the air, while Brody captured footage with his camera.
We paused at a local café, the aroma of chocolate and rich coffee drawing us in. As we shared a plate of Swiss delicacies, I found myself getting lost in Brody's animated descriptions of the shots he wanted to get.
“And then we could do a time-lapse of the sunset over the mountains,” he said, his eyes crinkling as he grinned. “Can't you picture it? Couples watching the sky change colors, snuggled up with warm blankets and hot cocoa… maybe a proposal or two. Hell, we might accidentally start a baby boom.”
I nodded, realizing I'd completely lost my train of thought. “That sounds… perfect,” I managed, hoping he hadn't noticed my momentary lapse.
As the day progressed, we worked on securing partnerships with local hotels, restaurants, and venues.
Each place we visited seemed more romantic than the last, from the luxurious spa with couples' treatments to the rustic mountainside restaurant with breathtaking views.
Back at the chalet, we settled in to review our day's work, our bodies sinking into the overstuffed couch like two marshmallows in hot chocolate. The cozy living room, with its wooden beams and crackling fireplace, created an intimate atmosphere that was hard to ignore.
“We got some great leads today,” Brody said. “But I think we could use a break. How about we open that bottle of local wine we picked up? You know, the one with the label that made you snort-laugh in the store?”
I hesitated for a moment, knowing we had more work to do, but the idea of relaxing with Brody was too tempting to resist.
“Alright, you've twisted my arm,” I conceded with a smile. “But if I wake up with a hangover and 'Heidi' tattooed on my ass, you're in big trouble, mister.”
Brody's eyes twinkled with mischief. “No promises, Spark. You know how persuasive I can be after a few glasses.”
As we sipped our wine (which, true to form, had a label featuring a cheeky lass—whose lederhosen seemed to have shrunk in the wash—flashing a “come taste my vintage” look as she straddled a wine barrel big enough to hide a small army), I found myself finally relaxing.
Our conversation flowed as smoothly as the wine, punctuated by moments of comfortable silence and lingering looks that made my insides feel like fondue.
It was in one of these quiet moments that Brody surprised me.
“So, I may have planned a little surprise for tomorrow,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eye that made my heart do a little Alpine ski jump.
My curiosity piqued, I leaned forward. “Oh? And what might that be? Please tell me it doesn't involve lederhosen. I don't think the world is ready for that much thigh.”
Brody just grinned, shaking his head. “You'll have to wait and see, Spark. But I promise, it'll be worth it. And hey, don't knock the lederhosen until you've tried them. I have great calves, you know.”
The next day we spent the morning checking out a few more vendors, then the afternoon was a long drive to a gondola. My heart raced as we stepped into the small space, excitement and nerves coursing through me.
As we ascended, the view took my breath away faster than Brody in a tight t-shirt.
The Alps stretched out before us, bathed in the warm hues of sunset. Snow-capped peaks glowed pink and orange, while the valleys below were cast in deepening shadows.
“Brody, this is… incredible,” I breathed, pressing my hand against the glass. “How did you even arrange this? Did you bribe the sun to start setting at just the right moment?”
He moved closer, his arm brushing against mine in a way that sent shivers down my spine. “I have my ways,” he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. “Sometimes the best adventures are the quiet ones, you know?”
I turned to look at him. In that moment, surrounded by the stunning beauty of the Swiss Alps and the even more stunning magnificence of Brody's gaze, I felt a surge of emotion so strong it almost overwhelmed me.
I leaned into him, momentarily forgetting my worries about our business, the 90-day challenge, and my secret mission.
As the gondola reached its highest point, Brody pulled me close, his strong arms wrapping around me like the world's sexiest seatbelt.
“Cold?” he murmured, his breath tickling my ear.
“N-no,” I said, cursing my suddenly uncooperative tongue. “Just, uh, admiring the view.”
Brody's lips quirked into that infuriating smirk that made me want to either smack him or kiss him senseless. “Oh yeah? And which view would that be? The majestic Alps or my majestic?—”
I clamped a hand over his mouth. “Do not finish that sentence, you incorrigible flirt.”
His eyes shone with laughter, and when I removed my hand, he was grinning. “You love it.”
And God help me, I did.
His lips met mine in a kiss that seemed to stop time. The world fell away, leaving just us, suspended in the sky, our hearts soaring higher than the gondola. The kind of kiss that made you believe in soulmates and happily ever afters and all that mushy crap I'd always scoffed at.
But as we began our descent, reality came crashing back. The elation I felt was tempered by a gnawing guilt over my secret mission. I had come to Switzerland not just for our business, but to uncover clues about my family's mysterious past.
The weight of my omission pressed down on me, threatening to shatter the perfect moment we had just shared.
Brody must have sensed the change in my mood. As we touched down, he turned to me, concern etched on his face. “Hey, is everything okay? You seem… distant all of a sudden. Did my kissing skills suddenly plummet? Because I gotta tell you, that would be a first.”
I forced a smile, trying to push away the guilt. “I'm fine,” I lied, hating myself for it. “Just a little overwhelmed by how beautiful it all is, I guess. You know, the mountains, the sunset, your ego…”
Brody clutched his chest in mock offense. “Ouch, Spark. You wound me. And here I thought we were having a moment.”
“We were,” I said softly, meaning it more than I wanted to admit.
Brody grinned, but I could tell he wasn't entirely convinced. As we walked back to our chalet, hand in hand, the nagging voice in my head grew louder than a yodeling contest.
The weight of my secret felt heavier than ever. I glanced at Brody, his profile strong against the fading light, and my heart clenched. I knew I should tell him the truth about why I'd really pushed for Switzerland, but something held me back.
My mind wandered to that night—God, months ago now—when Brody had opened up about Jason. The pain in his eyes as he recounted his brother's sacrifice on that fateful mountain climbing trip was still so vivid in my memory.
He'd been so vulnerable, so raw. And now, here I was, about to dredge up my own family secrets.
What if talking about my family brought up painful memories for him? What if it reminded him of all he'd lost, of the guilt he still carried? Brody had come so far, learning to be more authentic, to let go of his public image. I didn't want to be the one to send him spiraling back into that darkness.
The warm glow of our chalet came into view, promising comfort and safety. But as I looked at Brody, his profile illuminated by the last rays of sunlight, I knew that the real shelter I wanted was in his arms. And I was terrified of losing it.
“Brody,” I began, my voice barely above a whisper, “there's something I need to tell you.”
He stopped, turning to face me fully. The concern in his eyes made my heart ache. “What is it, Spark? I hope you know you can tell me anything. Unless it's that you actually prefer German chocolate to Swiss. That might be a dealbreaker.”
I opened my mouth, the words on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn't bring myself to speak them. Not yet. Not when everything was so perfect, so fragile.
“I just… I want you to know how much this means to me. All of it. Our business, this trip, and you,” I said instead, the truth mixing with my omission.
Brody's face softened, and he pulled me into a tight embrace. “I feel the same way. We're in this together, remember?”
As I buried my face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne (which, I swear, should be bottled and sold as “Essence of Hunk”), I silently prayed that I was doing the right thing.
And maybe it was because I was trying to get my mind off how I was keeping things from Brody, but the next thing I knew, the reality of what we'd done hit me like an avalanche.
Brody pulled back, already talking about our next destination, our next video shoot, his eyes bright with that familiar restless energy. But all I could focus on was how we’d tied our professional lives together.
And everyone knew Brody Hawkins, with his mischievous grin and eyes that sparkled like the snow-capped peaks behind him, wasn't supposed to become a permanent fixture in my life. He was meant to be my delicious distraction, my "thanks for the orgasms, see you never" guy. My perfectly uncomplicated fling.
Instead, we'd built a whole damn company together. Our signatures were on legal documents. Our faces were plastered across social media as business partners. Our futures were suddenly, terrifyingly intertwined.
The thing about mixing business with pleasure… it's like adding rocket fuel to a campfire. One minute you're enjoying the warmth; the next, you're watching everything explode in spectacular fashion.
I watched him gesture excitedly about some hidden cave he'd heard about, and my stomach twisted. Because this was Brody—the guy who got bored if he stayed in one place more than a week. The man who treated commitments like suggested guidelines, who had probably never filed his taxes on time in his life.
And I'd just hitched my entire career, my financial future, my professional reputation to his wanderlust.
The thought sent a chill through me that had nothing to do with the Alpine air. Because somewhere between signing contracts and planning itineraries, between budget meetings and promotional shoots, he'd become everything. And "everything" was terrifying when you were dealing with someone who specialized in temporary.
What if this was just another adventure to him? What if, once the novelty wore off, once the paperwork and responsibilities started piling up, he'd get that restless look in his eyes again?
And him walking away wouldn't just break my heart—it would break everything I'd worked for. Again.