Page 43 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
Breck remembered. Even though we were hardly talking then. Even though I was practically avoiding him.
I hand him his glass of wine and we toast over the pizza while I attempt to get my thoughts and feelings about this small kindness under control.
Willow fell asleep about thirty minutes ago, leaning heavily against Breck’s side. After muting the movie, he asked me to grab my computer while he took her up to bed. We’ve been sitting close on the couch ever since, slowly scrolling through them. With each new image, his interest grows. He asks me questions and smiles as he remembers certain moments. I love hearing pieces of the experience from his perspective.
“These are incredible,” he says, and I squirm under his startling blue gaze. I’ve never met a compliment I haven’t tried to bat away. “Why aren’t you doing this for real, Rory?”
The question startles me, but I answer the way I always do. “Because it’s not a real career.”
“Is that you talking or your parents?”
I bristle. “That’s not fair. They just… they want me to have a steady job. One with a salary and benefits. They don’t want to see me fail.”
“Why do they think you’ll fail? You have all the skills to start a business and be successful. So why don’t you?” Breck holds my gaze. His words pelt me like hail, leaving stinging discomfort in their wake.
“I don’t. I mean, yes, I can take beautiful photos. But the rest? I don’t know how to do any of that. I can’t run a business. I wouldn’t know the first thing about starting something like that.”You’re getting defensive, Rory. I take a deep breath through my nose. “I’m good at my job at the resort. I’m capable. I can live with that.”
“Stability is great, but not if you’re unhappy.”
“I’m notunhappy,” I say, and he lifts an eyebrow at me. “I’m not. I like my job.” The protest sounds feeble even to my own ears.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t light you up like this does.” Breck’s voice softens with a nod toward my computer. I can feel his eyes searching my face, but I refuse to look at him.
“Yeah well, gettinglit updoesn’t equal success. I have responsibilities. I have bills and people who rely on me, and—”
“And your parents,” Breck interrupts.
“Yes, them too. They want what’s best for me. Deep down, I believe that’s true.” Ineedto believe it’s true. Otherwise, what the hell is all this heartache for?
“Rory. If they wanted what’s best for you, all they’d want is for you to be happy. Have you ever thought about howtheybuilt their own business? They started from the ground up, right? That’s what Wes told me. They didn’t have salaries and benefits when they got started in property management and investment, but they got there.” His fingers tilt my chin so I have to meet his gaze. “I know how much work it is—I spent years of my life pouring my heart and soul into Adventure Chasers. But it’s worth it. Your parents keeping you from doing the same is just, well, selfish.”
“Just stop, okay?” I pull back and move farther away on the couch. “I don’t have time to do this as more than a hobby anyway. I have a full-time job that keeps me plenty busy.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change.”
“Like what? I should just quit my job and start taking pictures? Hope people hire me? Yeah, that’s a great idea.” I scoff, a little frustrated sound that feels childish.
“No, I’m not saying that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “You could start considering what it might look like if you wanted to though. I could help you.”
That catches my attention and I whip my head to look at him instead of intently staring at the fire. “What do you mean?”
“You need help with the business side of things, which is something I happen to excel at.” He smirks. It’s a little bit cocky and a whole lot sexy. I’m stunned by his words, by his proximity. When did he move so close? “I know a good idea when I see one, Rory. You could take this ‘hobby’and make it into somethingreally cool. It’s a niche that’s underserved, especially in this area.”
“Wait. Did you research this?” My eyes go wide. He cups my jaw and his thumb traces over the warmth of my cheek, over the freckles he said he liked.
He nods. “I did. Like I said, I know a good idea when I see one, and this is a great idea. Let me help you choose yourself for once. Please.”
His words, his desire to help me—not for his own gain, not for his own purposes, but because he sees me and sees what I really want—makes me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time.
Worthy.
I press forward, my lips finding his. They’re soft and warm, the taste of red wine still lingering. I melt into him, wanting more… wanting him.
Then the lights flicker, and everything goes black.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Breck
