The Slope Rules Page 19

  “Oh my god.”

  “I jumped down after him. That’s how I got this.” He taps the chipped tooth that I previously thought was adorable. Now I see it as a painful reminder of what he went through. “He was still breathing when I got to him, but—” He stops again.

  “You don’t need to keep telling me this.”

  He squeezes my hand. “He died on the way to the hospital.”

  “Blake, I’m so sorry.”

  He bites his lip, his eyes searching mine. “When you told me about your mom, I knew I’d met someone who got it. Who understood what it’s like to have someone you love ripped out of your life.”

  I nod, unable to find words. I remember being amazed that Blake appreciated the connection I have with Mom, but I never imagined this is why. “So what happened with Brianna?”

  The softness leaves his eyes. “She was a wreck. We both were. But she handles grief differently than we do.”

  My breathing stills. “What did she do?”

  He clenches his jaw and his grip on my hand tightens. “When we were waiting for my parents at the hospital, she said that if my family had money, Cody would have been with his nanny instead of us and this never would have happened.”

  I gasp. “She—she actually said that?”

  “I didn’t see her again until the start of eighth grade. That’s when she came up with the Snow Bunnies and Moguls, and started calling me and Luke the Ski Bums. We’ve hated each other ever since.”

  “I knew she was a bitch, but this goes beyond anything—I just. I can’t even believe it.”

  “You’re the first person to stand up to her for as long as I can remember.”

  I run my fingers over the zipper of his coat. I feel more drawn to him than I did before, but that doesn’t erase how he treated me. “Getting your heart broken does weird things to people. I guess I figured I didn’t have anything else to lose.”

  His breath catches. “Hey.” He lowers his head so he’s looking me in the eyes. “I’m really sorry. I wish I could take back the past month—well, the past two months—but I don’t know how.”

  My throat tightens and my voice comes out high-pitched. “You didn’t talk to me. Not once.”

  His jaw clenches. “Can you forgive me?”

  I break eye contact, focusing on the lights in the tree fuzzy with snow. Or maybe they’re blurry because of the tears in my eyes. I blink several times to get myself under control. “I want to, but telling me you ignored me for a month because you thought I was friends with the Bunnies—I mean, I get it. She was beyond horrible to you. But it isn’t enough. You really hurt me and I don’t—I can’t go through that again.”

  He touches my cheek, tilting my head so I’m looking at him again. “What else can I do?”

  “Tell me what you were thinking. Did you want to talk to me? If I hadn’t invited you to my party, would you have ignored me forever?”

  He bites his lower lip, studying me. “Let’s come back to the first one. Then yes, and no.”

  I mentally replay my questions. “Okay.”

  “As for what I was thinking, mostly just how stupid I am.”

  “You’re not stupid.”

  “Okay, what a heartless bastard I was being.”

  The corner of my mouth turns up. “That’s more accurate.” He presses his hand to his heart like I wounded him and I shrug. “Your words.” I rest my hand on his. “So there you were, being a heartless bastard and...” I raise my brows.

  “I figured I’d screwed things up so bad that you’d never talk to me again. It was torture having you sit so close, where I could watch you and—” he stops, his cheeks reddening.

  I smile. “Go on.”

  He turns his hand and slips his fingers through mine. “Cally, I told you before that I’ve never met anyone like you. I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me. I guess I didn’t try because I was afraid of what you’d say.”

  “And now?”

  “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

  “Here in Colorado? Or here, like under this tree in a snowstorm with you?”

  “Both.”

  “So now the big question.” I take a breath as he watches me. “How are you going to make it up to me?”

  Our eyes lock and everything around us comes to a stop. I realize he’s going to kiss me a split second before his mouth touches mine, and I tilt my head up to meet him halfway. His arms slide around me, pulling me close, and I melt against him. The faint scent of garlic drifts between us and I mentally thank Sophia for suggesting I let him try my food so we both smell like it. Then his mouth parts and all thoughts of Sophia vanish. I move my arms around his neck and weave my fingers through his hair as his tongue touches mine. Electricity shoots from my toes straight through my body and I tighten my grip in his hair. He sighs softly against my mouth and my body reacts on its own, pressing against his chest. He spins me around leans me against the tree, never breaking the kiss. A blanket of snow falls from the branches and we both jump.

  “Gah!” Blake runs a hand over his hair, brushing out the snow.

  I shake my head, sending snow down the back of my coat. I yelp and he cracks up.

  “You’d think we’d be used to this.”

  I smooth out my hair. “You saying I need to wear a helmet on our next date?”

  He smiles, and my stomach purrs when I realize what I said. He lifts his hand to wipe snow off my forehead, then slides it down until he’s cupping my cheek and kisses me again. “Maybe we should find protection,” he whispers against my lips.

  “What?!” I push him away, mouth hanging open. “How do you get from kissing under a tree to—”

  He points at the sky, a huge smile on his face.

  “From the snow.”

  He nods.

  “Omigod.” Quick! How can I shove my foot deeper into my mouth? I reach for his jacket and pull him back to me. I tuck my head under his chin. “I’m sorry.”

  Laughter rumbles in his chest.

  “Please say something.”

  “You’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

  I swat at his arm. “Not helping.” I squint up at him. “And who uses that word when they’re talking about the snow?”

  “I’m broadening my vocabulary.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “So whaddaya say? Head back to the Jeep?”

  “If you can find it out here.”

  He grabs my hand and tugs me into the blizzard.

  By the time we reach the car, we’re covered from head to toe and the magic of walking in our own personal snow globe has worn off. I’m shivering and wet and, despite yelling at him for suggesting such a thing earlier, I really want to get out of these clothes.

  He starts the engine but doesn’t put it into drive. His thumb picks at a piece of black tape wrapped around the shifter. “Do you want to get coffee or something? It’s still early.”

  “Coffee sounds wonderful, but I’m soaked.”

  He frowns. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “I do, but I don’t.” Sitting in front of the fire sounds like the perfect way to end the night, but only if he comes with me. “Would you, uh, want to come over? You could borrow some of my dad’s clothes while we...” I trail off as the image of us making out in front of the fire distracts me.

  “While we what, Cally?” His teasing tone makes me blush even harder.

  I smack his arm. “Oh, shut up. You were thinking it, too.”

  He chuckles and puts the car in drive. I send Dad a quick text to let him know we’re on our way. He sends back a thumbs-up emoji, but I know it won’t be that simple.

  When Blake pulls into my driveway, I have to unstick myself from the seat. I hurry to the front door before my wet clothes freeze, and wait for him to join me.

  He c
loses the door and brushes a kiss on my cheek. “You’re sure your dad’s okay with me coming over?”

  “I can’t promise he won’t grill you a little.” There was so much unsaid in that thumbs-up.

  He runs a hand through his damp hair. “Can’t wait.”

  I touch his hand. “I’ll protect you. Now let’s find you some clothes.” I lead him upstairs. “Wait here.” I step into Dad’s room and start opening drawers.

  “Ahem.”

  I jump.

  Dad’s leaning on the doorframe, eyebrow raised.

  I straighten. “Hey, Dad. You remember Blake?”

  Blake stretches out his hand. “Sir.”

  Dad shakes it and gives a little nod. “Do I want to know what you’re doing?”

  “Looking for clothes for Blake to borrow. Where are your track pants?”

  “Bottom drawer.”

  “Bingo!” I hold up a pair of track pants and a hoodie—Dad’s go-to comfy outfit. “We got soaked in the snow so I invited Blake over and said he could wear something of yours while he’s here.”

  “Sounds harmless enough.”

  My eyes go wide and Blake shifts on his feet. “Dad!”

  Dad smiles. “Meet me in the living room once you’ve changed. I have something... interesting... to tell you.”

  He knows I have no patience for secrets. This is probably just a ploy to make sure we don’t linger with our clothes off—but it works. I show Blake to the bathroom and hand him the clothes. “See you in a minute.” I face Dad. “Do you really have something to tell me?”

  “I do.” He tilts his head at the closed door. “And now I have a few questions of my own, but they can wait.”

  I turn toward my room.

  “Cally?” Dad’s voice is low. “I want to see you happy, but are you sure you want to go down this road again?”

  I glance at the very non-soundproof door and nod. The little voice in my head warns that maybe Dad has a point, but I mentally tell her to shut her trap.

  “Okay, I’ll see you downstairs.”

  In my room, I peel off my clothes and toss them on the floor. Old Faithful calls longingly to me, her stretched-out sleeves reaching for my ankles, but I grab a fleece-lined hoodie that hugs my body instead. Just because I’m comfy doesn’t mean I have to look sloppy. I slip into track pants like what I gave Blake, pull my hair into a ponytail, and rush out of the room.

  Right into Blake.

  He catches me before I fall, arms tight around me.

  “I thought you’d be downstairs by now.”

  “And sit there by myself with your Dad?” He shakes his head. “Now I really need protection.” He laughs, but the intensity in his eyes makes my breath catch. The quiet hallway feels oddly intimate. Maybe it’s the fact that we were both undressed a minute ago, or that no one’s watching us and this is the first time we’ve really been alone, but it feels like something shifts between us. He seems to read my mind because he doesn’t hesitate covering my mouth with his. The urgency that started to build under the tree is back and our arms are wrapped around each other like we never want to let go.

  A cupboard slams in the kitchen and I jump back. His eyes are glassy and he’s staring at my lips. I clear my throat. “Ready?”

  He shakes his head but smiles.

  I toss his wet clothes in the dryer then lead him to the living room, where Dad’s sitting on the couch.

  He smiles.

  Balanced on his leg is his missing notebook.

  “You found it!” I rush to his side and grab the notebook. Dad’s familiar scribbles peer back at me as I flip through the pages.

  “More like it found me.”

  I hand it back to him and sit next to him on the couch. “What do you mean?” Blake’s still standing in the doorway so I wave him over and he sits in the chair closest to me. His hair’s sticking all over the place and his face is still flushed from our kiss—and it’s grossing me out how unbelievably sexy he is in Dad’s hoodie and track pants.

  Dad sets the notebook on the table and stretches his arms out in front of him. “I had a visitor at the brewery today.” He pauses long enough for my head to explode.

  “The notebook fairy?”

  “No...”

  “Dad, you’re killing me.”

  He glances at Blake. “This isn’t a conversation for outside this house.”

  Blake shifts in the chair. “I can go.”

  I reach toward him. “No, you stay here. Dad, he’s fine.”

  Dad levels his gaze at Blake. “She may have forgiven you, but you still have to earn back my trust.”

  Blake looks like he’s ready to bolt. “Yes, sir.”

  “Dad, stop it.”

  He holds my gaze for ten excruciatingly long seconds, then nods. “Frank Vines from Mischief stopped by to chat.”

  Blake coughs. “Brianna’s dad?”

  My head whips between them.

  “We had a pleasant conversation about business.”

  “I don’t buy that,” Blake says. “Nothing about that man is pleasant.”

  I tuck my leg underneath me. “Do you know him?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him since—in years, but I know he’s a tyrant.”

  “Yeah, a tyrant with a soft spot for Switzerland.” I watch Blake for a reaction but his face is a mask.

  “Anyway,” Dad continues. “He had the notebook and said he wanted to return it to me.”

  “Just like that?”

  He leans back and pokes me in the side, making me jump. “Not everyone has the loving, understanding relationship that we do. He implied that his daughter gave it to him thinking he’d be thrilled. Business has been slow lately and while he insisted it isn’t anything to worry about, it seems she had a different impression.”

  “So she stole it to help his business.”

  “He was careful not to say her name or that she actually took it, just that it was given to him.”

  “Are you calling the police?”

  He shakes his head. “He swears he didn’t read it.” I open my mouth to protest and he holds up his hand. “I don’t believe that either, but he knows that showing up in my brewery with it in his hands is enough ammo if I wanted to press charges. Same thing if he came out with one of our recipes. I trust that he’s going to do the right thing.”

  “You trust him but you don’t trust Blake?” Blake shoots me a dirty look and I mouth ‘sorry.’ I don’t mean to keep making him uncomfortable, but that doesn’t make sense.

  “You’re more important than the brewery.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I’m serious.” He looks at Blake. “I apologize for putting you on the spot, but I watched what Cally went through when you two stopped talking, and frankly, that doesn’t make me your biggest fan.” He turns to me. “I can always come up with new recipes, but you’re my only daughter and your mom would kill me if I screwed this up.”

  I melt against his side. I don’t want to cry in front of Blake—again—but I get emotional when Dad gets all fatherly on me. He wraps his arm around me.

  Blake stands. “I should go.”

  Dad releases me and rises. “No, no. You kids stay here and watch a movie.” He moves around the coffee table and rests a hand on Blake’s shoulder. Blake’s a couple inches shorter than him but he stands tall, looking him in the eye. “I’m not saying I won’t ever trust you. I see how happy you make Cally, and that means a lot to me. Just keep doing that and I’ll come around.” He shoots me his pointer finger. “I’ll be in my office.”

  Blake watches him leave, then faces me. “Brianna stole your dad’s beer book?”

  I exhale loudly. “At the party. But before I tell you about that...” I move toward him until there’s no space left between us and slip my arms around his neck. He lower
s his lips to mine and everything inside me turns to mush. What is it about a guy in a hoodie? We’re just getting into it when I hear the refrigerator open in the kitchen.

  Which means Dad just walked by and saw us making out.

  I jerk away from Blake and plop in the center of the couch.

  He shifts from one foot to the other. “He’s not gonna, like, kick my ass or anything is he?”

  “No, but I probably shouldn’t sit on your lap.”

  He grins. “Too bad.”

  Ten minutes into an action movie and I’ve wiggled my way against his side. His arm is around my shoulders, holding me close, and every so often he presses a kiss to the side of my head. When the movie ends, I stretch lazily against his side and realize with a start that this is the closest I’ve been pressed up against him without a thousand layers or my ski jacket between us.

  He must be thinking the same thing because he scoops my legs across his lap so I’m facing him. His face is an inch from mine, but he pauses. “Is your dad gonna walk in here?”

  I grab the remote and switch channels to another movie. “Only if he hears the credits.”

  His eyes close and he brushes his lips over mine. My fingers twist into his hair, pulling him closer, and he deepens the kiss. This! This is what I’ve been waiting for! Just me and Blake and a kiss so good it’s making my toes curl. I lean back, tugging him with me, but he stops with a hand on the back of the couch. We’re both breathing heavily, our lips almost touching. “Your dad,” he whispers.

  I glance at the doorway but don’t hear anything. The desire to be a good daughter battles with my need for Blake. I close the gap and kiss him again, but he pulls away. “I don’t want to make him hate me even more.”

  “He doesn’t hate you.”

  He smiles. “He will if he comes in here and I’m on top of you.”

  Heat flares in my belly at the thought, then sinks lower, warming me in an even better way.

  “I should probably go home soon.”

  I flop back onto the couch, my legs still sprawled over his. “Stupid curfews.”

  He runs a hand from my ankle to my hip, settling at the curve of my waist.