My finger hovered over the screen, but instead of answering, I sent it to voicemail. Like game seven in the playoffs, answering a call from the Ice Queen required preparation, both physical and mental.
She didn't leave a voicemail, but a text popped up.
Heading into meetings all week. Will be in touch.
My shoulder muscles relaxed. I gave it a few minutes, then replied.
Sounds good. Will update you when I have more details.
What updates would I have? I didn't know. Suddenly, going to sit in my room at the Inn with the crocheted doilies and handmade quilts seemed like torture. I needed to keep working the town. I only had a few days to close this deal.
And right now, half the town, and probably the majority of council, was sitting in the Last Chance Tavern.
6
CLARA
The drive homewas a blur of Christmas lights and then just blowing snow.
When I pulled into my driveway, I sat staring at the cabin through the melting snow on my windshield. When eighteen-year-old Beckett left, it hurt like hell, but in a way, I got it, because I understood him.
But that man. The one at the rink today, I didn't know him at all.
That's what happens when they miss your cock. They get dramatic.His gross laugh. Followed by Rob's even grosser cackle, brought back the barfy feeling to my stomach.
The, movement in the front window, a wagging tail, pulled me back to reality. Dash's nose fogged the glass, leaving smear marks next to the ones I’d been planning to clean since the summer. Dash knew the sound of my truck and was probably wondering what was taking me so long to come in and fill up his dinner bowl.
"I'm coming, Dashie-boy.”
The path I'd shoveled that morning was gone. Snow crested over the top of my boots, soaking my leggings. Dash met me atthe door, hopping and spinning like a goofy bronco, then ran to his food dish. I held the door open. "Are you sure you don't want to pee first?" If a dog could roll their eyes, he did.
"Alright, but we have to do something about this snow after your dinner." I went through the motions, trying to think about anything other than Beckett the asshole. I fed Dash and took him for a walk down the road after clearing the pathway again. With the wood-stove loaded and my wet clothes hung to dry, I changed into my rattiest sweatpants and a hoodie with the hole in the sleeve that I couldn't bring myself to throw out.
I'd spent fifteen years getting over Beckett Shepherd. If I'd known how big of a jerk he truly was, I could've cut that down significantly. Like, to nothing.
I thought what we had was real. Today, he did me a favor. He showed me I was no different than any of the town’s puck bunnies.
Maybe it was a crude joke to impress some asshole councilman, maybe it wasn't. Either way, it didn't matter.
My phone lit up with a message from Megan.
How are you doing? I'm coming over with food. Don't argue.
I'm fine. And not hungry.
I told you not to argue. See you in thirty minutes.
Twenty-nine minutes later, headlights swept across my yard. Dash's tail went into hyper speed when she knocked on the door. Visitors meant treats.
"Coming," I shouted.
Snow fell onto my rag rug as I opened the door. My boss held out a grease-soaked paper bag, catching a giant thermos as it slipped from where she'd tucked it under her arm.
"Nice catch." I took the thermos from her.
"Can you believe all the snow?"
I chuckled. "It reminds me of the snow we used to get when I was a kid."
