Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
“Shitty reception, far away from civilization, no one to hear you scream…” Holden ticks off between us. “What’s not to love?”
“Shut up.” Shayne slaps his shoulder. “It’s one of the biggest ski resorts in the country. It’s hardly a ghost town.”
I look over her shoulder at Thayer. “You agreed to this?” He’s not exactly a social butterfly, although, he’s no stranger to parties, so I guess it’s sort of on brand for the Ames brothers.
“Let’s just say she made me a deal I can’t refuse.”
Judging by the way Shayne’s cheeks turn pink, I can guess said deal was sexual in nature. “So anyway, are you in?” she asks.
“I’ll think about it,” I say noncommittally.
Holden leans back into the couch, extending his arms out on the back of it as we go back and forth on either side of him. “Don’t mind me sitting here.”
We both ignore him.
“Come on, Valen,” she pouts, sticking out her bottom lip, folding her hands together under her chin. “After the past year, we all need this.”
I’m not sure how being holed up with Holden in an isolated cabin will lead to anything other than trouble, but I don’t say that. As far as Shayne knows, Holden and I shared an alcohol-induced kiss to piss off Liam the night he cheated, and that was the end of it. Nothing more than a drunken mistake. Which isn’t far from the truth. It was a mistake. But I wasn’t very drunk at all. And it was more than just a kiss. As much as I want to deny it, the sad truth is that I felt more turned on with Holden than I did the entire year I spent with Liam. It’s not that it was bad with Liam. It was nice. A release, somehow, even though I never actually managed to have an orgasm. With him or anyone else.
My phone vibrates on top of one of the cardboard moving boxes at my feet, saving me from having to answer. I jump up, a little too eager to answer, and Shayne narrows her eyes at me, knowingly.
“Hello?” I answer without looking at the screen. I’d entertain a spam call at this point.
“Tine?” a familiar yet slightly surprised voice says from the other line, using the nickname he’s used for me for as long as I can remember. “I didn’t think you’d answer.”
“It’s Valen,” I correct, my tone a little sharper than I intended. “And I didn’t know it was you, so.”
“Right.” He clears his throat. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you. Decided to use my business phone.”
“Well…here I am.”
An awkward silence stretches over the line.
“How’s the car?”
My laugh isn’t one of humor. “You want to talk about my car? What do you actually want?” I walk into the kitchen, feeling three sets of eyes on me.
“Remember, I’ve given you everything you’ve asked for, daughter of mine. I can take it away just as easily. Including the extra housing expense that I just paid. I think you can entertain a phone call.”
I almost laugh at how quickly his act crumbled. “How can I forget?” I deadpan. He loves to remind me. Less than five seconds into the phone call and he’s already making threats.
“I’m calling you about Christmas.”
“What about it?” I ask, suspicion lacing my tone. I haven’t spent a Christmas with him in years.
“I’d like to spend it with you this year. I’ve already cleared it with your mother.”
Somehow, I doubt that. My mother would sooner roll over and die before she’d agree to me spending the holidays with my dad, his new fiancée, and her daughter. I don’t know which option sounds worse.
“Actually, I have plans.”
“Plans,” he repeats. “On Christmas?”
“With friends. Ski trip in Vermont.”
Shayne beams up at me, doing a silent celebratory dance on the couch. Holden eyes me curiously, as if he’s trying to put something together, and Thayer’s thankfully already unpaused the movie, apparently done with the conversation.
“I suppose I can’t force you. But I’d like to see you soon, Valen. And I’d much rather it be in person.”
Curiosity mixes with dread and swirls in my stomach. What could be so important? “Are you sick?”
“Depends on who you ask.”
“Are you dying?” I clarify.
He sighs, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “No, I’m not sick or dying.”
“Great. Then it can wait ’til after Christmas.” I end the call without waiting for a response.
“So it’s settled?” Shayne asks, hopeful.
“We’ll see.”
“She’s coming,” she tells Holden.
“We’ll see,” he repeats, but his meaning is entirely different. If Shayne picked up on his suggestive tone, she doesn’t react.
“Hey, was that your dad?” she asks, switching gears, as if it just occurred to her.
“Yep.”
“He wants to spend Christmas with you?”
“I’m just as surprised as you are.” In the handful of years that I’ve known Shayne, she’s seen my father a grand total of one time, which sadly, isn’t much less than me. He spent the vast majority of my childhood working for the media company his family owns.