Chapter 7 Presley
The Tiger Unmasked
I slept well in Ford’s comfortable bed. He had one of those firm mattresses with the cooling pillowtop on it.
If it wasn’t for waking at every little movement downstairs from him or his fireplace, I would have been out like a light.
But the truth was, my awareness of Ford was growing quickly.
Last night, I even prayed about it. “Lord, what is happening here?’ “I asked.
Either God was working through me to reach Ford, or Ford was starting to reach me.
And that was both terrifying and exciting at the same time.
I still knew very little about Ford, other than the fact he was drop-dead handsome, of course.
And turned out, a great dancer. I had my guard up pretty strong last night, but there was a moment when he dipped me, I felt something in my heart.
My feelings for him were solidified in a way.
Seeing him up close, yet, out of the kissing distance, my heart was fawning over him.
I respected how gentlemanly he was being and hoped it was because he was starting to like me.
So, with my phone back and charged, I did a few web searches of him last night.
I watched race videos. Interviews. Saw pictures.
And then I read the bios of the people who were in—or had been previously—involved in his life. Including his ex-fiancé, Poppy.
Before I knew it, I was in one of those message boards that were dedicated to him.
It was made up of mostly women who thought he was gorgeous but some fans of his skijoring, too.
One of the posts caught my attention: Ford’s ex fiancé gets married to Sage Mountain CEO.
Suddenly, I felt like I was reading something I shouldn’t.
It was too personal and almost creepy to be learning this much about a person who was just right downstairs.
If only I could have asked him. He may not have seemed like an open book right now, but for the time being, he had graciously allowed me to be his roommate.
Heck, I was even using his bedroom, and he was on the couch.
My convictions led me to put the phone down.
This person was showing me boundless kindness by allowing me and my high maintenance Shih Tzu, Priscilla, who was acting as if he was the only man she’d ever seen, stay with him.
The least I could have done was stop reading about his deeply personal wounds online.
After I turned it off and went to sleep, I awoke this morning and started to think of Ford in a different light.
There was more to this brooding exterior than what met the eye, I was certain of it.
Remembering a video where he and Poppy were being interviewed at a sporting event, he seemed so doting.
Caring. Kind. Now, I picked up on those things but also a deep hesitation.
Last night, as I fell asleep, I said another prayer about Ford that he could forgive those who hurt him.
And that maybe, he could find someone who would protect his heart at all costs.
As I did my hair and brushed my teeth for the day before going downstairs with Priscilla, I considered all of this praying I’d been doing for Ford.
My heart sank. “Lord, I’m afraid I’ve started to fall for this man, and I don’t want to do that again unless it’s for the man I’m going to marry.
Lord, turn these feelings off. Please don’t let me get hurt. ”
A calm feeling came over me as I put on a light tinted moisturizer and found myself taking a little extra time for a sparkle shadow on my lids and a minor eyebrow shaping.
I looked to the bed where Priscilla was still snoring; she wasn’t waiting on me.
I had plenty of time to take care of myself before the lifts started running.
I braided my hair and decided a little lip gloss wouldn’t hurt either; it might just help protect my lips from getting chapped.
After several minutes, I put down the makeup and woke up Priscilla.
She rolled on her back so I could scratch her tummy, which I happily obliged.
Then, when she was ready, she rolled back over and let me put a sweater on her.
Today, I chose a bright pink frock with small matching hair clips for her pigtails.
It was so adorable that I picked her up and kissed her on the head out of joy.
Thank You God for dogs! They bring so much happiness to our lives.
As we headed downstairs, I nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw Ford.
He was wearing a skintight, long sleeved henley, and I wasn’t mad about it.
His muscles appeared to be very well defined, no doubt thanks to his sport and that gym he had set up in his third bedroom.
We had some idle morning chat as I prepared to take Priscilla outside, and when I returned, it continued some more.
I noticed he seemed much more talkative as the days went by. Was he opening up to me, perhaps?
Before I knew it, Poppy came up in conversation, and my mind was fending off the guilt from already knowing about it.
I didn’t press, though he left plenty of opportunity to ask questions, and I thought maybe that made me appear like a cool chick that wasn’t overbearing with questions.
But in reality, my mind had tons of them.
“Overbearing” was my nickname in college from a guy named Ben who went out with me a total of two times after he brought up a woman that he wanted to ask out on a date, and I mentioned the fact that he was already on a date with me.
He said, “I didn’t realize that meant we were married,” to which, I objected that we would in fact, never be. That was hurtful.
Another nickname was “Spreadsheet” after I made a few for my chemistry lab partner in high school, so he could keep our projects organized.
Despite him telling me that was the only way he passed that class—and graduated, because he was on very thin ice academically—he coined the term, and it caught on with all of his football buddy friends.
So now, as I was looking around for a pen so that I could cover the contents of Ford’s refrigerator in sticky notes asking for further details, “Is this organic?” or “Eat this soon—it expires in a week,” my stomach growled again, interrupting my quest.
“Should I make us some breakfast? Or did you already eat?” I asked him.
“I haven’t eaten yet, but how about I cook for you?” he asked, to which I couldn’t say no.
“Okay, that sounds really nice,” I smiled, and I found myself taking this personally. Did he want to cook for me? Was I reading into this too far? Was he falling for me? I collected Priscilla’s food out of the fridge. She had been glued to Ford’s ankles since we came back inside.
“Are you hungry, sweetie?” I asked, to which she galloped over to her bowl and ate.
“What a ferocious little thing,” Ford commented, as he took a mix out of the cupboard. Filling a pan with water, he began to boil it. “Do you like eggs benedict?” he asked, which was music to my ears.
“Like it? I love it! It’s my favorite breakfast.” He smiled and nodded.
“Mine too,” he whispered. It was so faint that I almost didn’t hear it.
Sitting down at the table, I put a few more puzzle pieces together while I sipped on some hot coffee.
Colors from the sunrise caught my attention and soon, I was glued to the picture window, watching the beautiful alpenglow of God’s creation.
Breakfast was whipped up fast. Within ten minutes, I had two beautiful poached eggs on perfectly crisped English muffins coated with a heaping amount of hollandaise sauce.
“Would you like to join me in prayer?” I asked, considering how yesterday I had sprung it on him without considering if he might. Ford gave a hesitant nod, and I reached my hand out to him, clasping his.
“Dear heavenly Father, we thank You for this blessing of food this morning. And for the bountiful heaps of snow that You have graced us with. May this food energize our bodies and keep us strong, and may You protect us from harm on the slopes. In Your name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Ford croaked out as we released each other's hands. As I took a bite of the food, I almost fell backward.
“This is the best eggs benedict I have ever had!” I savored the bite, tasting the tangy sauce with the perfectly gooey egg. It was divine.
“Thanks. It’s the only breakfast food I really know how to make from scratch,” he shrugged.
“And you’re doing it well, my friend.” As we ate, I still felt the weight of his hand in mine.
I was trying not to think about how rugged it felt to my soft, slender hands.
Or the strength that it gave off. No, I wouldn’t daydream of this man's masculine attributes as I was sitting next to him.
As I was staying with him in his chalet.
As I was camped out in his bedroom while he took the couch.
As if on cue, Priscilla, being the diva that she was, jumped up from the floor into Ford’s lap while he was eating. The look of surprise on his face when she did that made me break out into a gut-wrenching laugh.
“I’m so sorry. Clearly, I’ve enabled this behavior,” I said as I got up to put her back on the floor. But Ford just shrugged.
“This has been a long time coming. I’m okay with it,” he smiled, and I started laughing again.
The sight of this rugged, manly cowboy with my Shih Tzu wearing a pink sweater and pig tails sitting on his lap was all that my heart could handle.
The joy was overwhelming as I finished my delicious meal, and we chatted about Priscilla.
Lord, I can’t help it. I’ve fallen for this man.
Priscilla’s Inner Monologue
Darling, I rather like this man we are accompanying this week. He has hands large enough to transport me and our luggage, which with my growing wardrobe, let’s face it—it was a role that needed to be filled.