"For the record," he says against my ear, "I think you let me win."
I laugh, shoving him playfully.
As we climb into the helicopter, I can't help thinking that maybe I did let him win. Because deep down, I wanted that kiss as much as he did.
And that terrifies me.
The ride back in the helicopter is quieter, both of us lost in our own thoughts, though Bash keeps finding reasons to touch me—a hand on my knee, fingers brushing mine, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. Each contact sends a current through me.
We land back at the Aspen airport just as the sun is starting it's set. After thanking Mack and returning our rental gear, Bash checks his phone.
"Sarah just texted. They just left, and should be here in about forty-five minutes."
Reality crashes back. His sister. His niece. Our fake relationship just got a whole lot more complicated.
"Okay then we should head back," I say, suddenly nervous. "And I should probably change."
Bash smiles, taking my hand as we walk to where we parked the jeep. "Relax. They're going to love you."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I—" He stops himself, clearing his throat. "Because you're you. And you're pretty lovable, Shortcake."
He holds the jeep door open with a flourish, his lips quirking up at the corner as I slide past him. My seat belt clicks into place as I curl my arms around my middle, knees hugging close. He climbs into the driver's side, and cranks the engine awake. For what feels like an eternity, the heater starts blasting hot air against my frozen fingers, but it doesn’t touch the jittery heat pooling in mychest. Sarah Montgomery. Bash's sister. His family. Meeting hisfamily—even in the context of this circus-level charade—feels like walking onto a stage I didn’t audition for.
Twenty minutes later and I'm still stare out the windshield as snow flurries blur past. "Tell me more about Addie. How old is she? What's she into?" I finally say.
Bash's face lights up. "She's sixteen. Smart as hell, top of her class. Into skiing, even though I've tried to get her more interested in snowboarding, photography and true crime podcasts, which is a weird combo but somehow works for her. She's got Sarah's bluntness and my dad's laugh."
"She sounds great."
"She is." He glances at me. "Fair warning, though—she doesn't have much of a filter. If she asks something inappropriate, just change the subject to serial killers. Works every time."
I laugh, some of my tension easing. "Noted."
We pull up to the house just as another car is parking—a dark blue SUV with Colorado plates. A tall woman with Bash's chocolate hair steps out, followed by a teenage girl with a camera around her neck.
Bash jumps out of our Jeep, jogging over to sweep his sister into a bear hug that lifts her off her feet. She laughs, smacking his shoulder.
"Put me down, you oaf!"
He does, then turns to Addie, enveloping her in a gentler hug. "Hey, squirt. How's the photography business?"
She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch upward. "It's not a business, Uncle Bash. It's art."
"Right, my bad." He turns, his hand beckoning me forward. "I want you both to meet someone."
My feet carry me over while my pulse thunders in my ears.
"Sarah, Addie, this is Charlie." His voice lifts with an unmistakable note of pride that sends butterflies swirling through my stomach. "Charlie, my sister Sarah and my niece Addie."
Sarah's piercing blue eyes—mirror images of Bash's—scan me from head to toe. "So you're the reason my brother's been ignoring my calls."
My mouth opens to stammer an apology when her serious expression cracks. "And it's about time he found someone worth ignoring me for." She closes the distance and gives me an unexpectedly tight hug.
A wave of relief washes over me. "It's really nice to meet you." I smile.
Addie steps forward, camera already raised to her eye. "Can I take your picture? Uncle Bash never brings girls to meet us. This is, like, historic."
