Maybe the daughter had second thoughts. It made sense. After all, her mom was an hour away from getting married. The idea of her dad shacking up in a hotel couldn’t sit that easily.
“Honey?” Tor came around the corner, doing up his tie.
Neve sucked in a breath. Good lord, could that man wear a suit or what? If she was going to be brutally honest, his clothes were one of her favorite parts about Hellions game days. The sight of Tor Gunnar in an Italian-cut jacket and expertly knotted tie sent her pulse racing faster than any player in pads and a jersey.
“Nice shoes,” Olive muttered, taking her full measure. “Dad, can I talk to you a second. Alone?”
“Yeah, sure, uh...” He glanced to Neve, puzzlement grooving the space between his brows. “Do you mind?”
“No, no, of course not. I’m all ready to go. I’ll just head down into the lobby and wait.” She forced a smile that she didn’t feel.
She might have empathy for the girl, but that didn’t mean her words didn’t hold a sting. Gathering her jacket and purse, she gave an awkward wave before bolting for the elevator, or hobble-bolting. Whichever way, it wasn’t a good look.
Down in the lobby, well-dressed people paraded, many of them no doubt guests for the wedding. It was to be held on a fancy restaurant up on the mountain. They had to ride the town gondola to get there. She’d be able to shamble around; the ibuprofen and ice and elevation had made the pain bearable. But her plan should really just focus on hiding her sneakered feet under a table and calling it good.
Snow came down harder out the window.
“Ski season is right around the corner,” the bellman said, walking over to join her, rubbing his hands. “I can’t wait.”
“No offense, but I’ve never been a huge fan of snow.”
“Really? Then you picked a bad weekend to come up to the mountains.”
“Why’s that?”
“You fly in or drive?” he asked without taking his eyes off the flurries.
“Drive. I live in Denver.”
“Big storm. We’re missing most of it. Up north, it’s dumping hard. You have snow tires?”
“I don’t know. My... uh... date drove us here. I’m sure he’s got everything dialed. He’s pretty ana—detailed oriented.”
The bellman nodded absently, clearly visualizing the fresh-powder turns to come. “Yeah. Drive safe.”
“Ready?” Tor appeared. Olive stood beside him in a long navy blue coat, her pale blond hair hidden beneath a large white fake-fur hat.
“All set. Everything good?” She was fishing, but father and daughter shared identical frowns. Something was wrong.
“We should start walking to the gondola now so we aren’t late. You sure you can—”
“I’m fine.” She zipped up her coat. Tor’s gaze frosted over. That fact cooled her more than the temperature outside.
Their walk to the gondola lift was silent. A group of people strolled past, laughing and talking animatedly. It was Saturday night after all. The restaurants and bars in the ski town had lines out the door, everyone jubilant that the weather had turned wintery.
At the gondola-loading building, there was another line. Tor greeted a few people with curt nods while Olive hugged a woman in a red coat.
Neve shoved her hands into her pockets, internally nodding. He must be uptight because his ex-wife was getting married. Of course it was awkward. She needed to get a grip.
The gondola filled up. There was room for one more and the woman in the red coat asked Olive if she wanted to come along.
“No thanks, I’ll wait with my dad.” Olive took his hand, refusing to glance at Neve.
They stood together for a few tense beats.
“Hey, Olive, did you hear how your dad was a big hero today?” Neve inwardly winced at her tone, clearly too chipper. The tween frowned accordingly.
“Yeah. You scared up a moose and almost got him trampled.”
