go out and come in again?” He backed toward the door.
“Wait.” I went to the door with him. “Can we make some coffee or something?”
His eyes traveled down the length of my voluminous nightgown and back as if it were something black and slinky. Of course if I’d known what he looked like I would have worn something a little less granny and more Kim Kardashian.
“Do they have any hot chocolate?” he, asked finally.
“I think so.” I led the way down the stairs. We tiptoed around the kitchen finding the ingredients not wanting to wake anyone, especially you-know-who. Then he measured and I mixed, and we carried our steaming cups back to my room. Brandon tucked his large frame back into the rocker and sipped his cocoa. I sat cross-legged on top of the quilt, letting the hot drink warm and soothe my body. I lifted my eyes from the cup and met his gaze.
He got up from the rocking chair and came toward the bed. His hand reached for my empty mug, and his fingers brushed mine leaving a tingly feeling.
“Well,” he said, “I’m looking forward to the weekend. Will everyone be on the slopes early?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. I’d almost forgotten we’d come here to ski. If only. “I guess, uh, after breakfast. The earlier the better.”
“That’s what I always say.” He didn’t move from the edge of the bed.
“Do you?” I asked. His quiet voice had me mesmerized. I felt light-headed too, probably because of the altitude. But I’d never felt that way in the mountains before. I hoped I wasn’t coming down with vertigo, although I was just desperate enough to use that as an excuse to stay by the fire all day instead of making a fool of myself on the slopes.
I got up to see him out. At the door he bent down to prevent his head from hitting the eaves, bringing his face close to mine.
“Could you do me a favor?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said easily.
“I’d rather Phyllis and Roger didn’t know we met tonight. If you could act as if you didn’t know me tomorrow, I’d appreciate it. When you know my sister better you’ll understand,” I explained, feeling foolish.
“Let me see if I’ve got it straight,” he said with a smile. “When we meet, I pretend we’ve never met.”
“Yes, right,” I said, shivering in my nightgown. “Just be neutral. Of course, when they’re not around, it doesn’t matter. Once we go skiing, we’ll probably split up anyway.”
I knew I must sound weird, but I couldn’t have Phyllis misunderstanding any exchanged glances between Brandon and me. She’d blow them all of proportion, and say something that could ruin everything. Something over the top like, “My sister is not only beautiful she’s an excellent cook. Her steak au poivre is to die for.” She couldn’t be trusted. I’d known her all of her blundering, well-meaning life. And I knew what she was capable of, all in the interest of helping me find love and every lasting happiness as she’d done.
“It’s a deal,” he said. “You can count on me.” He reached down with his free hand to shake mine. “Your hand is cold. Back to bed!” he ordered.
He disappeared through the doorway, and I crawled back under the comforter and shivered, not from cold, but from anticipation of the day to come.
As I lay in the darkness, I realized that only redwood boards separated Brandon and me. I heard the rustling of clothes, and I pictured the heavy sweater coming off, the well-pressed pants being hung over a chair. And then, what did he wear to bed? Long, tight ski pajamas? No, not right. Long underwear? Uh-uh. Regular boxer shorts or nothing at all? I blushed and buried my head in my pillow. Think about the ski slopes, I told myself. How will I escape humiliation? With visions of myself tumbling head over skis down the mountainside while other skiers jumped out of the way screaming in fear, I fell into a restless sleep.
I don’t know what time I woke up the next morning, but I had the groggy
“Wait.” I went to the door with him. “Can we make some coffee or something?”
His eyes traveled down the length of my voluminous nightgown and back as if it were something black and slinky. Of course if I’d known what he looked like I would have worn something a little less granny and more Kim Kardashian.
“Do they have any hot chocolate?” he, asked finally.
“I think so.” I led the way down the stairs. We tiptoed around the kitchen finding the ingredients not wanting to wake anyone, especially you-know-who. Then he measured and I mixed, and we carried our steaming cups back to my room. Brandon tucked his large frame back into the rocker and sipped his cocoa. I sat cross-legged on top of the quilt, letting the hot drink warm and soothe my body. I lifted my eyes from the cup and met his gaze.
He got up from the rocking chair and came toward the bed. His hand reached for my empty mug, and his fingers brushed mine leaving a tingly feeling.
“Well,” he said, “I’m looking forward to the weekend. Will everyone be on the slopes early?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. I’d almost forgotten we’d come here to ski. If only. “I guess, uh, after breakfast. The earlier the better.”
“That’s what I always say.” He didn’t move from the edge of the bed.
“Do you?” I asked. His quiet voice had me mesmerized. I felt light-headed too, probably because of the altitude. But I’d never felt that way in the mountains before. I hoped I wasn’t coming down with vertigo, although I was just desperate enough to use that as an excuse to stay by the fire all day instead of making a fool of myself on the slopes.
I got up to see him out. At the door he bent down to prevent his head from hitting the eaves, bringing his face close to mine.
“Could you do me a favor?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said easily.
“I’d rather Phyllis and Roger didn’t know we met tonight. If you could act as if you didn’t know me tomorrow, I’d appreciate it. When you know my sister better you’ll understand,” I explained, feeling foolish.
“Let me see if I’ve got it straight,” he said with a smile. “When we meet, I pretend we’ve never met.”
“Yes, right,” I said, shivering in my nightgown. “Just be neutral. Of course, when they’re not around, it doesn’t matter. Once we go skiing, we’ll probably split up anyway.”
I knew I must sound weird, but I couldn’t have Phyllis misunderstanding any exchanged glances between Brandon and me. She’d blow them all of proportion, and say something that could ruin everything. Something over the top like, “My sister is not only beautiful she’s an excellent cook. Her steak au poivre is to die for.” She couldn’t be trusted. I’d known her all of her blundering, well-meaning life. And I knew what she was capable of, all in the interest of helping me find love and every lasting happiness as she’d done.
“It’s a deal,” he said. “You can count on me.” He reached down with his free hand to shake mine. “Your hand is cold. Back to bed!” he ordered.
He disappeared through the doorway, and I crawled back under the comforter and shivered, not from cold, but from anticipation of the day to come.
As I lay in the darkness, I realized that only redwood boards separated Brandon and me. I heard the rustling of clothes, and I pictured the heavy sweater coming off, the well-pressed pants being hung over a chair. And then, what did he wear to bed? Long, tight ski pajamas? No, not right. Long underwear? Uh-uh. Regular boxer shorts or nothing at all? I blushed and buried my head in my pillow. Think about the ski slopes, I told myself. How will I escape humiliation? With visions of myself tumbling head over skis down the mountainside while other skiers jumped out of the way screaming in fear, I fell into a restless sleep.
I don’t know what time I woke up the next morning, but I had the groggy
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