Blizzard (BearPaw Resort #2)

by Cambria Hebert

  “I’m your girlfriend?”

  My entire face softened. “You’re so much more to me than that.”

  “Does that mean I get to call you my boyfriend?”

  God, she was so sweet. And innocent. And genuine.

  I fucking loved her so hard.

  I smiled, moving around and sitting on the bed in front of her. “I just moved you into my house. I literally am so lost around you I forgot to wrap it before I made love to you. I’m about to show you my mad braiding skills…”

  She giggled. My heart tumbled.

  “Yes, Bells. Yes, you can call me your boyfriend. Hell—”

  Her fingers pressed over my lips, stopping my words. “You’re so much more than that,” she whispered.

  I kissed her. I mean, how the hell could I not?

  I drank her in. The sunshine in her soul, the love in her heart… I swallowed down every part of her I could.

  When I pulled back, her cheeks were rosy. Satisfaction puffed my chest, and I reached for the hair on the right side of her shoulder, gathering it up. “You’re about to be amazed.”

  She was laughing when I stood suddenly. I had to seriously braid her hair.

  “Just let me get it into the four sections here…” I began, sticking my fingers into it.

  “You mean three.” She corrected.

  “Of course. I was just seeing if you were paying attention.”

  “Mm-hmm,” she drawled.

  I got it into three sections and then tried to remember what the hell I was supposed to do. I’d seen girls do this before. It couldn’t be that hard.

  After two failed attempts, I dropped it and sectioned it into three.

  “How’s it going?” Bells asked, amused.

  “Perfection,” I told her as I weaved the strands into a braid.

  Ah-ha! I was totally doing it. Farther down her hair, it started looking more like a twist, so I figured that meant it was done. “What, ah…” I started glancing around.

  She held up a thin black band. “Need this?”

  I snatched it and looped it around the end of the braid.

  I repeated the same process on the other side, only having to restart once. Okay, fine. Twice.

  When that was done, my fingers were kinda cramping and I was growing grouchy.

  “No wonder your shoulder hurt. This shit takes forever,” I muttered.

  “I could just put it in a ponytail,” she offered.

  I glanced down at her. Now she tells me. A ponytail. That would have been a lot fucking easier.

  I took the second offered black band and tied it around her hair.

  “Done!” I declared and stepped back to admire my handiwork.

  I did a damn good job.

  “I want to see,” Bells said and took off for the bathroom.

  I blanched.

  Her light giggling trailed out from the bathroom. I scowled and marched to the doorway. Bells was standing in front of the mirror with her hand pressed against her mouth, muffling the sound of her laughter. Her bright eyes danced with humor.

  The braids were lopsided. One was longer than the other, and yeah… maybe the braids ended halfway down, leaving a lumpy-looking weave and then a ponytail.

  And yeah, maybe a strand (or two) had come loose and stuck out.

  Ah hell.

  I grinned. “Points for trying?”

  She twirled around and looped her one arm around my neck. “All the points.”

  “I’ll put it in a ponytail.” I offered.

  She gasped and drew back. “You will not! I’m wearing it like this!”

  My face screwed up, horrified. “You’ve been through enough, sweetheart. You shouldn’t have to walk around with that crime on your head.”

  Bellamy collapsed in laughter against my chest. I laughed, too. I couldn’t help it. That shit was terrible.

  “I think it’s beautiful,” she said with a surprising straight face, looking in the mirror once more. “Because you did it.”

  As we stared, one of the bands at the end slid down, and the “braid” unraveled.

  Both of us burst out laughing again.

  I pulled both bands free and set them on the counter. Once I had the brush, I pulled it all back into a ponytail at the back of her head, making sure I actually made the band tight enough to hold her hair this time.

  “The fact you even thought about wearing that mess says love.”

  She smiled. “Well, you are definitely better at a ponytail.”

  I grunted and set aside the brush.

  “What time did you tell them we’d be over?” she asked, looping her finger through one of the belt loops in my jeans.

  “Soon.”

  “It’s going to be okay,” Bellamy told me, nudging close until she was in my arms. I took care to not squeeze her too tight, though my instincts urged me to crush her close.

  “I don’t know, Bells,” I murmured, stroking the ponytail. “We both know this probably isn’t going to be good.”

  She lifted her head. “No matter what it is, I’m here for you. We’ll deal with it. Together.”

  And maybe that was why.

  Even though that familiar darkness was rising up inside me. Even though it seemed I was faced with more than I had been a year ago, I was still holding it back. I was still holding everything together.

  Because I wasn’t alone. Because I had Bells.

  “I’ll get a shirt. Then we should go,” I said, my voice slightly hoarse.

  She nodded and released me.

  Before I left the bathroom, I kissed her. Her lips fortified me—something I needed in that moment because I knew the minute I stepped into my parents’ house, everything could potentially change.

  Forever.

  Bellamy

  Liam’s parents lived in a stone and log cabin located at an elevation that seemed to look over BearPaw resort. There were large, full-grown trees capped with snow and simple mountainous landscaping surrounding the property.

  His parents didn’t have a huge plot of land, though they likely could have. I would say it was closer to only one acre, but the way it was perched on the mountainside made it feel as though it sat much more privately away from the neighbors.

  The house appeared smaller from the front, but I knew it probably only seemed that way as we approached because all the houses here were more impressive in the back where all the views were.

  The driveway was paved and surprisingly clean of snow. It pulled around to the side, leading to a three-car garage that was built right into the house. Liam parked the Extreme in front of one of the doors, and I gazed up at the large deck that wrapped around the back of the house. I knew there would be stunning views from up there, and part of me was looking forward to gazing out over the resort.

  “Your father must be really proud,” I said. “To be able to sit up there on that deck and stare down at a resort town that he basically built himself.”

  “I actually said that to him once. When I was younger. Told him it was like he was the king gazing out over his kingdom.” The smile in Liam’s voice drew my eyes.

  The smile on his face was wistful and looked even better than it had sounded.

  “What did he say?”

  “He said he didn’t create BearPaw to be a king. He created it because this is where he wanted to be.”

  “He has amazing vision, because everyone else wants to be here, too,” I replied, thinking what a humble man Liam’s father must be.

  “He’s well liked.” Liam allowed, his voice turning inward.

  I reached for his hand. “Just like you.”

  “It’s not hard, you know? You just have to treat people like they’re your equal. Like we’re all on the same playing field. In reality, we are.”

  I didn’t think Liam was on the same level as anyone I knew, but I didn’t point that out because I understood what he meant. Besides, I think part of his charm was that he didn’t actually realize just how amazing he was.

&n
bsp; “Are you ready to go in?”

  He stared at the house, then hit one of the buttons on his visor overhead. The garage door to the right began opening, slowly revealing the back end of a Chevy truck.

  I smiled. “Your dad drives one, too?”

  Liam tugged his hand from under mine and grinned. “Of course. He supports the businesses that support me.”

  When his feet were on the ground, he leaned back in the cab and winked. “Mine’s the only exclusive model, though.”

  I waited for Liam to come around, thinking that even though the driveway appeared to have no ice, it didn’t mean there wasn’t any. It was a long drop from the interior of this truck, and with one arm already in a sling, the last thing I needed or wanted was to slip, fall, and bust my butt.

  Plus, I liked when he palmed my waist and lifted me down. It was just another excuse to have his hands on me. And to feel those inevitable butterflies that always fluttered around sporadically when he was close.

  “Breathe,” he murmured as he slid me down his body and onto the driveway.

  I inhaled.

  “Thanks.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose. Those butterflies got all wound up again. When he stepped back and I could think again, I noted how well my boots stood atop the driveway. “There is no ice at all.”

  He smiled. “Driveway is heated.”

  I felt my eyes bug out. “That’s a thing?”

  Liam chuckled. “Apparently. Sure cuts down on shoveling.”

  I pointed to the stone beneath me. “This driveway doesn’t need shoveling!”

  Liam’s chuckle turned into a full-blown laugh. “When there are really bad storms or a lot of snow, obviously it still needs shoveled. There isn’t enough heat under those rocks to melt a blizzard.”

  I continued to stare at it as if it were magic.

  “Dad usually has a plow come out here for snow removal. Then the heat melts the rest, keeps it clean.”

  “That’s amazing.”

  “What would have been amazing is if we’d had that when I was growing up. Apparently, he didn’t see a need for a heated driveway or a plow company when he had a teenage son to do all the work for free.”

  I chortled.

  “Builds character,” he said in a voice I knew was meant to mimic his father.

  “So the heated driveway is new.” I surmised.

  “A few years now.” He caught my hand and pulled me toward the open garage door. “He had it installed because he didn’t want my mom slipping on the ice and falling.”

  “That’s sweet.”

  Liam made a noncommittal sound.

  The garage was large, open, and organized. Beside the Chevy truck, there was a Chevy SUV, and then on down in the last spot was a vintage Camaro. “That’s gorgeous!” I said, letting go of his hand so I could beeline for the old car that didn’t look old at all.

  Liam’s low laugh followed behind me. “You like?”

  “It’s gorgeous!” I said, running my palm lightly over the cranberry-colored hood with silver racing stripes. “What year is it?”

  “Sixty-seven,” he said, fondness in his tone. “I helped Dad restore it.”

  “You guys built this?”

  “Not built. We aren’t that good. We bought it years back, right after Chevy signed me. It was in rough shape. We fixed it up, and the stuff we couldn’t do we hired out. Then we had it painted.”

  “Do you ever drive it?”

  Liam nodded. “‘Course. But only in the summer when everything around here thaws out.”

  “It’s definitely too nice for all this ice and snow.”

  “It was a fun project. Dad and I worked on it in my off seasons.”

  I noted the BearPaw emblem that hung from the rearview mirror inside the car. “You and your dad are really close. Aren’t you?” I asked softly.

  Liam swallowed, then nodded.

  My stomach clenched. I didn’t even want to think about what was waiting for us inside the house. I knew how I felt when my father died. It was terrible. Liam was ten times closer to his father, so…

  Don’t go there. Stop acting like he’s dying when he hasn’t even said if anything is wrong.

  I lifted my chin. “Maybe you can take me for a ride this summer?”

  A slow, seductive smile spread over the lower half of Liam’s face. Did I mention the trimmed beard he rocked was like the sexiest thing ever?

  I shivered a little, remembering what it felt like between my thighs.

  “Cold?” Liam asked. His eyes weren’t concerned, though. They were molten silver. He knew what he was doing to me. He knew the power of a sly smile.

  The door leading into the house opened. Overhead, the open garage door shuddered a little.

  “Liam?”

  “Mom,” Liam replied instantly. “We’re over here. I was showing Bells the Camaro.”

  Liam’s mother stepped out of the house. When her eyes found us, she smiled. “Ah, yes. The apple of the boys’ eyes.” She walked forward, her feet and lower legs covered by a pair of boot slippers. They looked like a sweater. You know, the kind with the reindeer print and sweater pattern? They had drawstring cords on the back that bobbed when she stepped.

  She was dressed in a pair of thick-looking black leggings and a long-sleeved velvet blouse that looked like an oversized shirt. It was tailored well, though, because it didn’t appear frumpy or boxy. Just loose and stylish.

  Her hair was brown, cut into a chin-length bob, with bangs that slashed across her forehead. The hairstyle framed her face very well, drawing attention to eyes that looked very much like Liam’s.

  “How are you, Bellamy?” his mom asked, glancing at my arm. She couldn’t see the sling, because my coat was wrapped around me, yet I was sure she noted how the one arm wasn’t being used.

  “I’m fine, thank you. How are you?”

  “I’d be better if we got out of this drafty garage.” She motioned for us to follow her in the house.

  I took Liam’s hand as we went. He hit a button near the door as we entered the house, the closing of the garage door sounding.

  The lower level of their home was very open with large windows on the back that offered those sweeping mountain views I knew there would be. It looked mainly like a family room and entertainment space with a pool table, wet bar, and huge TV displayed in front of a sectional. It wasn’t anything ostentatious or austere. In fact, it looked like a setting you would find in any family home. Of course, it was just a little bigger and had a better view.

  Coming up the stairs made it feel as if you were literally materializing out of the lower floor and onto the main level. The light was spectacular. Almost the entire back of the home was made of windows. My eyes went there instantly, the view having its own gravitational pull.

  I stared out over the resort, watching the mountains rising up around it with ski runs and lifts stretching vertically up the hills.

  I knew in just a few hours, the sun would dip low and all the buildings and cabins would be lit up, as would the slopes and snow.

  “Hard not to look at, huh?” Liam said, coming to stand beside me.

  “I feel small standing here,” I whispered.

  “Keeps a man humble,” Renshaw Mattison said, coming up behind us. “Looking out at that every day is a good reminder that there are much greater things at work than just you.”

  I turned. Liam’s father wasn’t a huge man, but he had a definitive presence about him. One that commanded attention and respect. Confidence was like a cloak around him, and I knew those qualities were what made him so successful at what he did. Those qualities had also been passed down to Liam. It was likely what gave him the drive to become an Olympian.

  He was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a ribbed sweater with a half zipper near the neck. His short hair was brown, not quite as light as Liam’s. Except around the temples and ears where it appeared to be lightening to what looked to be a striking silver.

  His eyes were n
ot gray like Liam’s. They were brown. Liam got his eyes from his mother.

  “Hey, Dad,” Liam said.

  “Good to see you, son,” he said, smiling. He had a note of formality about him. Not stuffiness or even reserve. Just formal, as if he didn’t know how not to be professional.

  “Your home is gorgeous.” I confessed.

  It was all honey-colored wood tones with pitched ceilings and massive beams that soared overhead.

  “I’m glad you approve,” he said warmly and then came forward, offering his hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Bellamy. I have heard about you a bit from Liam.”

  I felt my cheeks heat, but I smiled and shook his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  He held a glass that was half full of what I was sure was beer. “Let’s get you both a drink,” he said, putting his hand at my waist and guiding me across the large open living area, past the staircase opening, and toward the kitchen.

  It was a chef’s dream. Granite, high-end appliances, a built-in cutting board, vegetable sink, and a grill built right into the gas stovetop.

  I stood there kind of in awe, anticipation tingling my fingers as I thought about all the meals I could cook and how much space there was to work with.

  “You look like Liam did every Christmas morning!” his mother exclaimed.

  I blinked and then laughed. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Mattison. I just love this room.” I grinned, rueful. “I think I like it better than the view.”

  “Ah, she likes to cook! And as I said at the hospital, call me Holly.”

  “I used to be a chef,” I replied. “Well, I was working up to be one.”

  “Well, I’m a terrible cook,” she said. “So anytime you want to come over and use this space is fine with me.”

  “That’s a generous offer,” I said, practically salivating over the possibility.

  “Not so,” Liam’s father said from behind. “‘Cause if you come here to cook, then I’ll get to eat it.”

  “I’m still trying to get her to cook for me,” Liam muttered. “So get in line.”

  I grinned. “We’ve been a little busy.”

  “Yes.” Holly’s face turned cloudy. “I’ve been worrying about you.” She glanced away from Liam to me. “Both of you.”