Chapter 12 #2
I step to the side, angling so we can talk to the group.
Lily catches Shay’s eye and mouths Oh my God and We’ll chat later in reference to our PDA, then the five of us shoot the shit about ski trips—the places we’ve been, the mountains we’ve conquered.
Just to make me look like a dick, Sawyer retells how I skied into Laura Millner in high school to get her attention… and accidentally broke her arm.
Eventually, Shay gets up to use the washroom.
I watch her ass in her tight jeans, until a heaped bowl of sweet potato fries passes by us.
Knowing she’d be all over that, I place an order with the bartender, smiling in anticipation.
It’s refreshing being around a woman who doesn’t eat like a bird, someone who enjoys the pleasures in life.
A few minutes after she returns, my fries arrive.
Her eyes widen. “You didn’t.”
“I did.” I grab a few, dip them into the chipotle aioli, shove them into my mouth, then groan like she did that day in the ski lodge. “Better than sex,” I say.
She pinches my side. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
Five minutes later, Lily, Raven, and Sawyer are staring at us and the empty bowl. “Do you guys have worms?” Raven asks.
I pat my stomach. “I offered. None of you wanted any.”
“We ate dinner an hour ago.”
Shay and I shrug at each other. “And?” she says.
They all laugh, then Lily suddenly bounces on her seat. “Oh, Shay. I forgot.” She dips her hand into her massive purse and emerges with a journal. “You almost left this at the condo.”
She reaches to hand it to Shay, but I snatch it first. “Is this a diary?” Holy fuck, if it is, that whole don’t-argue-with-Shay-during-our-last-hour thing is history. I’m not missing the opportunity to read her thoughts from the past four days.
“Give it here, Kolton. It’s not a diary. It’s my drawing journal. I scribble in it, like ideas and stuff. There’s been lots of inspiration in Aspen.” She puts her hand over her heart and leans toward Lily. “Thank God for you, Lil. I’d be screwed without this.”
Before I hand it over, I flip through the pages, pausing on the ones with shading and color.
If this is what Shay calls scribbling, my drawing skills are up there with Jackson’s.
Some pages show sections of a room, others a full panoramic view, each three-dimensional sketch bringing the spaces to life.
One of them has a suspended wall leaning at an angle, modern but edgy.
Something like this would kick ass in our new store. “These are great. Like, really good. Where’d you say you work?” I hate how little I know about her. How superficial most of our conversations have been. But she did tell me about Snoopy.
Her hazel eyes darken. “I didn’t say, and it doesn’t matter. I’m quitting when I get home, and I won’t settle until I land a decent job.”
“Judging by this, I don’t imagine you’ll have much trouble.”
She tries to yank the book from my hands, but I pull it closer, amazed by the next page. The space is filled with a skull dissolving into a flock of birds. I pause, sure I’ve seen the image before. “Isn’t this on your shoulder, Raven?”
Raven lifts her arm, twisting it to show off her ink. “Sure is. Both Shay and Lily designed something for my sleeve.”
“It’s amazing,” I say more to Shay than Raven.
Shay’s eyes spark back to life as she plucks the book from my grasp and tucks it into her purse. “Thanks. I’d kill to incorporate the idea into an actual room. Like design a modern tattoo shop or funky store. One day,” she says, frustration edging into her tone.
My phone buzzes, and I nod to Shay, stepping away to get a bit of quiet by the back wall. I smile at Jackson’s name lighting my phone. “Is that you, bud?”
“The spelling show’s on, the one we always watch, and they’re doing H, Daddy.
H. And I’m not tired. Not one bit. I probably don’t even need to sleep tonight.
Or ever. And Aunt Stella said I can stay up as long as I want.
So if I stay up all night, like the whole thing, will you be here soon? They’re doing H!”
Jackson and his show. Marina was smart, planning on a nursing degree, and I can work Excel with my eyes closed, but neither of us were language geeks, obsessed with words and dictionaries.
We weren’t the types to separate our clothes by color or only eat green foods on Thursdays.
If Jackson didn’t have my brown eyes, the mailman would be having a conversation with my fist.
I check my watch. They’re one hour behind at home, only a few minutes past the little guy’s bedtime, but Stella will likely let him stay up as long as he wants.
Asking my assistant to babysit a couple of years ago wasn’t my finest decision, but I was desperate and Jackson knew her.
Now, if I ask anyone besides her or his nana Caroline, he starfishes in the kitchen and won’t get off the floor.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, bud, but not early.
I suggest you get some sleep. Can you do that for me? ”
Static fills my ear then, “’Kay.”
“Thanks for being such a big boy. I’ll be home tomorrow by dinner. Can’t wait to see you. Love you tons.”
“Love you, too.”
I pocket my phone and turn to find Shay’s eyes on me, her lips turned down. I walk over. “You okay?”
She furrows her brow. “Fine.”
Her body language says otherwise.
Ever since the phone-call incident the first night we hooked up, she gets weird and distant when I step away to take a call.
Each time, I try explaining it’s not some girlfriend, but she shuts me down with her I don’t want to know.
Not that I try hard to explain. It’s been nice existing in this bubble for a spell, not having to explain about Jackson and my widower status.
I guess we both have history we’ve preferred not to unearth.
Tomorrow, it’s back to Vancouver, and although I’ll have piles of work to deal with, fires to put out, and an expansion to Toronto to plan, I get to see Jackson. I’ll likely forget about Shay in a couple of weeks.
Sawyer checks his watch. “You ladies need to leave soon if you want to make your flight.”
“Yeah, we should go.” Shay nudges Lily’s thigh.
A weird scratchiness irritates my throat. I better not be getting sick.
Taking my time, I help Shay with her coat, hug her, and bury my nose in her hair. Peppermint. “Thanks for skiing into me,” I say.
She chuckles, her shoulders shaking in my tight hold. “Thanks for tossing your poles over the chairlift.”
I press a chaste kiss to her lips and step aside so she can leave. Sawyer and I watch as the ladies zip their coats and open the door. Shay pauses. She glances back, our eyes meeting one last time, then she’s gone.
When I turn to Sawyer, he looks like someone punched him in the gut. “So you’re not into Lily?” I ask.
“Fuck you,” he mumbles and orders a double bourbon on the rocks.
“Make that two,” I say.