Este comes back in, and my relief at the fact her legs are no longer bare is short-lived. She’s wearing tight blue leggings and a matching sports bra that shows off her stomach.
She has freckles everywhere.
I was wrong. The least I can do is stop thinking about Bryan’s daughter’s bare legs, her defined stomach, how rosy pink her lips are, how fucking gorgeous the freckles dotting her skin are. Fuck.
She gives me a wide smile from across the room.
“Of course,” I promise Bryan, swallowing down the sudden guilt rising in me. “I’ll take care of her.”
5
ESTE
Four to eight weeks.
Nico called the rangers while my dad was giving me a rundown of the brunch they had when they realized their flight was canceled, and that’s their estimate for how long we’re going to be stuck here. A month, at least. Maybe two.
A month of no one expecting me to come back to work. A month of no one dancing around my feelings like they’re worried I’m going to break. A month of barely having to think, because beyond helping Nico take care of the cabin (if he lets me), I have zero responsibilities up here.
This is exactly what I needed.
A month of being stuck in a twenty-five-hundred-square-foot cabin with Nico. My dad’s best friend. Who I may or may not have dreamed about last night. A dream that was the polar opposite of a nightmare.
So, maybe I don’t needthatpart, but the relaxing part? Absolutely.
I relay the time frame Nico showed me on his phone to my dad, and he whistles.
“That’s a long time.”
“I’ll be fine, Dad. It’s amazing up here. I love it already.”
“You might not love it after being stuck there for two months,” Pops says, his voice distant. They’re on loudspeaker, but he’s a pacer.
“Maybe not, but there’s not much I can do about it. I might as well make the most of it and use this time to relax—isn’t that what you’ve been telling me to do for months?”
Pops grumbles something about “fucking snow in April” under his breath.
“That’s a good attitude to have, honey,” my dad says.
“What are you going to do with your vacation time now that you can’t come here?” I ask. Sloane shouts, “Somewhere warm!” in the background, and my dad chuckles.
“We’ll see what flight options we have and figure something out. Pops and Sloane are hoping for the Caribbean.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that the only reason they’re able to go is that I can’t go with them. We’d talked about planning a family summer trip to the Caribbean this year, but they refused to go without me, and I refused to fly. At least now, they don’t have to feel guilty about going without me. I’ve never been much for beach vacations, anyway.
“How have things been with Nico?” Dad asks, and I look up to watch Nico moving around the kitchen, making tea and breakfast. Earl is sniffing around, clearly hoping for scraps, and Nico tosses him a blueberry.
“He’s been great. Very welcoming. He’s fun to talk to.”
Pops makes a sound of disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“He’s not nearly as grumpy as I was led to believe,” Isay quietly. I don’t think he could hear me from the kitchen, not that I can imagine it would be a surprise to him if people thought he was grumpy. He’s just a little out of practice with people.
“Good. That’s good,” Dad muses. “But remember, he’s not used to having people around, so he might find it difficult after a while. It’ll be good for him to have someone around. Maybe you could try and talk to him a little, get him to open up. Not about anything serious, just… get him to talk. Take care of him, yeah?”
I don’t know Nico very well, and I already know he wouldn’t allow anyone to take care of him. But talking, I can do. Honestly, I don’t think I could donottalking for four to eight weeks, so he doesn’t really have a choice there.
“I will, Dad.”
