Page 15 of Broken Love (Love 2)
"Deal or no deal, Pike. The time is ticking."
I sigh. "Fine. Deal. Seriously, thank you."
"I'll call you when I get there and let you know how it goes."
"Fuck," I mutter to myself as I hang up.
"What'd he say?" Palmer asks me.
"He said he'd take care of everything."
"Aw, good. Let's eat breakfast while we wait for an update."
Cade
The charter I use suggests changing our flight plan to land in Reno as opposed to the small Truckee airport I previously requested, due to high winds. We make the switch, take the flight, and I rent an SUV at the airport there.
I know the area is expecting some flurries today, but by the time I cross into Truckee, the snow is coming down hard and heavy. It's getting dark, the roads are slippery, and I find myself slowing down and taking each turn very carefully.
As I round a corner, I spot a car that has slid off the road. A gorgeous woman is standing outside the car with a phone to her ear, her collar turned up, shivering against the cold.
Palmer.
Shit.
Even though she tried to called me late Halloween night, I haven't called her back. I wasn't sure what to say, and I didn't want to hear whatever dumb excuse she had for not showing up. My plan was to come up here and figure out what to do regarding her.
Part of me wishes I could drive right by and pretend I don't see her.
But, I can't.
When I saw the woman on the side of the road, my heart skipped a beat, recognizing her before I realized it was Palmer.
I put my flashers on, pull over, and roll down the passenger-side window. "Hey!"
"Cade, is that you?" she asks, her eyes wide with astonishment.
"Yeah, you need a lift?"
She glances at her car, then at me, like she's trying to decide which may be the lesser evil.
After a few seconds, she nods her head. "Yes, thank you. That would be great. The tow truck can't be here for at least an hour. I guess it's worse just west of here."
"You know, you shouldn't be out on roads like this all alone," I say, chewing her out a little. "You should have put on chains."
"I thought I could make it," she replies, causing my mind to tumble back in time.
"I thought I could make it," she says. She's wearing a sundress, and the tip of her nose and her shoulders are a little pink from our day spent on the shores of Lake Tahoe. She's just fifteen, and I'll be turning twenty-one in a few days. She's going home with her family tomorrow, and then all our college buddies are coming up for a weekend party. To celebrate my finally being drinking-age legal.
What's not legal is the girl standing in front of me. But you'd never know it from looking at her. Palmer Montlake has been modeling. Already tall with the perfect body for hanging clothes from, she's just back from a European modeling trip.
And, boy, has she ever grown up. In more ways than one. Most importantly, is the fact that I'm sure she's flirting with me.
I know I need to make her stop.
But I'm a little drunk, and she's way too pretty for her own good. Not to mention the fact that she was running around in a skimpy bikini all day long. But having her cover up doesn't mean I've forgotten about how she looked.
I chastise myself.
She's just a kid. She's fifteen. Not only that, she's my best friend's kid sister--the holy grail of what you don't mess with.
She runs her hand down my arm, laughs, and says, "Will you put a Band-Aid on it for me?"
When she was trying to jump from the boat to the dock like her brother and I did, she caught her flip-flop on the edge and crashed--cutting her knee.
"It's not that bad," I hesitate, knowing that under no circumstances can I can allow myself to touch her. I'm afraid if I do, I won't be able to stop.
"Come on, Cade," she pouts, puffing out her sexy bottom lip. "I've helped you before. Remember a couple years ago when you were bleeding after sliding into home plate? I fixed you all up."
I remember it, alright. But she didn't look like this back then. She was gawky and awkward like a gelding, not the gorgeous gazelle she is today.
She jumps up onto the kitchen counter, immediately causing my mind to think about what naughty things I'd do to her on this counter if she were as old as she looks.
I take a deep breath, calm myself down, and put the Band-Aid gently across her knee.
She kisses me on the cheek in return. What should be a quick thank-you peck is long and drawn out, and her scent lingers on me.
"Thank you, Cade," she says, my name sounding like warm butter melting off her lips.
"The snow is coming down fast," she says, bringing me back to the present.
"There's no way we can make it to your cabin," I say. "I assume that's where you're going?"
"Yeah, I was."
"Are you supposed to meet anyone there?" I inquire. Please say no.
"No. I have some scripts to read, and Pike kind of wanted some time to himself."
"My place is closer," I say, thanking whatever divine intervention allowed her to go off the road. "You can stay there until the roads get better."
"Okay," she says with a shy smile. "Thanks for rescuing me, Cade."
"You're welcome, Palmer."
She gets in the car and shakes the snow out of her hair. "I'm sorry about the other night. Why didn't you call me back?"
"I don't know. I just--"
"You were pissed I didn't show up, right?"
"A little."
"I sort of explained what happened in the text. Did you read it?"
"I did. Look, you know your brother hates me. He's staying at your house. It would be awkward, so I decided not to put you in that position."
"I see," she says, putting her head down.
Which makes me feel bad.
We drive in silence for a few miles then she says, "Can you even believe how gorgeous this snow is? Don't you just want to lay in it and make a bunch of snow angels?"
I grip my wheel tighter as the car fishtails on a patch of ice. "Let's hope we make it there first."
"Where are we going?" she asks. "I didn't know you had a place up here."
"I've been looking for the right place for a quite a while. Just closed a few weeks ago."
"Is it furnished? Are we going to have any food?"
"I have some basic furnishings and linens. Not much yet. I wanted to get a feel for the place before I order any more. And groceries were delivered earlier today." I turn and give her a wink. "Along with a few cases of wine."
"So we can get drunk, and we won't starve. Sounds like the perfect weekend."
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel, excited about how she mentioned the weekend. Does she want to spend the weekend with me?
Could I get so lucky?
I look over at her. Her cheeks and nose are red from the cold, but her eyes are bright with excitement about the falling snow. She's bouncing in the seat a little, like she's excited about something.
Probably just glad not to
be standing on the side of the road anymore.
After winding up the mountain into the ski resort area of Truckee, I pull into the driveway of my new home.
"Cade! It's so pretty!" Palmer screeches. "You literally bought the house of my dreams. Don't you remember that time when I told you about it? That night when we laid under the stars in that hammock in Belize?"
I remember, alright. I remember everything about that trip. How soft her skin felt, the way her ass looked in a skimpy little bikini, the way she fit perfectly into my arms, and how amazing it felt when I was inside of her.
"We were happy then," I say flatly, the memory both blissful and painful as I open the door and pull into the garage, knowing that's why this house took years to find. When she passionately described it to me, it became my dream, too.
She jumps out of the car quickly, her face flush with excitement.
"Leave the bags, Cade. Give me a tour."
Give me a tour. If I had my way, a tour would involve christening each room by making love in it.
Love. Not sex. That's how it always was with Palmer. Even when the sex was completely dirty in nature, it always felt different.
I shake my head, take her outstretched hand, and follow her into the house.
After giving her the tour of the place, I unload our luggage, putting hers in one of the guest bedrooms and praying she'll lock herself in and read her scripts, so I won't have to keep looking at her.
Because if I have to keep looking at her, I'm going to end up fucking her.
My mother says love is based on strong emotions and that strong emotions polarize us. That's why I can both love Palmer and hate her at the same time.
And right now, I hate that I still love her.
She's standing next to one of the big picture windows, looking outside.
"The snow is really coming down now," she says. "This is crazy beautiful."
"You're crazy beautiful," I mutter.
"What?"
"I said you're crazy beautiful, Palmer." I say it flatly, with no emotion. I'm afraid to say it any other way.
She blushes and self-consciously pushes back a strand of hair. I love that about her. How she isn't even aware of how truly stunning she is.
