Page 77 of On the Slopes of Tahoe
“I’ve got this,” he says. “You two should stay and have another drink. I’ll take Willow home for you.”
“Wh-what? Why?” I stutter. Is he wing-manning me?
“I thought you two could celebrate. It’s just one more drink. Willow and I will be alright for an hour, won’t we?” He turns to her, leaving me confused.
Celebrate?
“What are we celebrating?” Breck asks, just as confused as I am.
“I found Rory an apartment,” Jamie says with a boyish grin and a wink.
“Wait, what? Seriously?”
“Yeah. It’s down in the valley. You’ll have to commute, but it’s yours if you want it. The rent is cheap, they’re family friends so I know they’re good people, and I think you’ll love it.” He stands up and extends a hand to Willow—who eagerly takes it. “Stay and have a drink. We can talk more details tomorrow, yeah?”
“Okay. Yeah.” I stand and throw my arms around him. “Thank you, Jamie.”
“You’re welcome.” He hugs me a little tighter, then whispers, “Have fun, but not too much.” When he pulls back, there’s a hint of warning behind his eyes, but it’s gone with another wink my way. “We’ll see you both in a bit.”
“Bye,” Willow says, not even bothering with hugs for her dad or me.
Our eyes collide once they’re out of view and I duck my head, my cheeks flaming under his perusal.
“Want to go somewhere else?” He inclines his head, reaching for my hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. It feels like it is.
“Sure. Maybe no tequila shots this time,” I joke, leading us away from the patio and down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of Jamie and Willow.
Breck’s rumbling laugh wraps around me. He releases my hand and pulls me into his side—arm slung over my shoulder. It’s the kiss he plants on the side of my head that makes me weakin the knees. We’ve never been like this with each other. Not in public. It feels like a treat, a gift, a dream.
The bar I lead us to is quieter, more subdued. The darker lighting and cozy seating give off a comfortable, romantic vibe. Breck slides onto a velvet loveseat in the corner, crossing his ankle over his knee, and pulls me down into his side. I look up at him from under my lashes and lean closer, ready to brush a kiss to the underside of his jaw, but Breck stiffens.
A throat clears and I turn, expecting a waitress but finding my parents instead. Mom’s eyes dart between me and Breck. Dad is shaking hands with another man and nods his farewell before turning his attention me, hitting like a ton of bricks.
I inch away from Breck, trying to be subtle, like maybe I totally snuggle up to all my friends in bars. No biggie.
“Rory,” Mom says flatly.
“Hi.” I swallow hard and chance a glance at my dad. His expression is hard to read.
“Dean. Erica. It’s nice to see you,” Breck says, snapping the tension with just a smile.
“You as well. What’s going on?” Dad asks, and the question feels like an accusation. My stomach sinks. I wish Breck could hold my hand, but he’s keeping his distance.
“Celebrating,” he says with utter confidence. “Rory found a new apartment.” This news surprises both my parents, their eyes widening.
“That’s wonderful, Rory. Is it here at the lake?” Dad asks. I would expect the question to be hostile, judgmental almost, but it’s not.
“Oh, um, no. It’s down in the valley. I’ll have to drive a bit, but it’s a great location.” A lie, since I haven’t seen it yet, but I trust Jamie and know he wouldn’t let me live in a dump.
“Good. Good. Maybe we can come see it sometime,” Mom says.
I think my jaw might be on the floor. I’m speechless. Was that an olive branch? Breck’s thigh presses against mine under the table and I try to relax.
“Yeah. Maybe.” I don’t know what else to say.
“And Breck, how much longer do you have before you go back to Australia?” Mom asks, focusing on him. “Or are you extending your trip further?”
“No. We really can’t extend any longer at this point. We leave on Saturday,” Breck states easily, readily. My gut clenches.
