by JA Huss
“Why do you have a clipboard?”
“Hey,” a guy says next to me. “That’s your kid right there?” He’s pointing to Starling.
“Nah, my buddy’s kid.”
“How old is she?”
“Ummm…” I have to look at Kate for this.
“Six.” Kate laughs.
“She’s good.”
“Yeah,” I say, leaning back on my heels a little. “I’ve been coaching her since she was three. She’s a natural.” I look over at the guy. “My kids ski too.” I nod at Kate, who is busy talking to a group of other kiddie skiers. “But it’s not their love, you know? Starling loves it.” God, I love that about her.
“Does she compete?”
“Oh, hell yes. I make her mother put her in every competition they have out here.” Rook loves that Starling is a skier and she told me to spare no expense making her happy on the slopes. I secretly think she’s doing it for me as much as for Starling. Ash and I have skied a lot since the kids were born. Nothing serious. But ever since Rook decided Starling needed ski lessons, I’ve gotten my passion back. I can see myself in this little girl. So much.
“What do you think about my kid?” the guys asks. “He’s the one in the black and red.”
“Ah,” I say. “I’ve been watching him since he got here. He’s good. How old is he?”
“Thirteen.”
“Perfect age,” I say.
“For?”
“Oh, you know. This is the perfect time to let him loose. Just let him do his thing. When I was his age I was up here every weekend in the winter. You guys local?”
“Denver.”
“Yeah, that was us too. But my parents had a house up here, so we came as much as we could.”
“He’s totally into it.” We watch the boy do some aerials. A three-sixty, then a switch and grab. “I just fired his coach. That guy was so unreliable. Never even showed up at the last competition down in Loveland.”
“Really?” I ask, looking back to Starling. I told her I’d take her on the terrain park after she warms up and we’re just about ready.
“Yeah, so I’m glad I ran into you guys.”
“What?”
“Um…” Kate is suddenly next to me with her clipboard. “Dad, this is Mr. Shalons. His son is Randy. And he’s signed up for…” She clears her throat. “Two hours today.”
“Right, two hours,” the boy’s father says wistfully. “I know your daughter said it was a one-time thing. But if you guys are local, then I’m interested, Mr. Aston.”
“Interested in what?” I give the guy a classic sidelong Ford glance.
“Regular lessons. I’ll pay, man. I know you’re a busy guy, you have no time for my kid’s dream and all that. But I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Like what?” I ask, my mood going sour fast. I have a long history of criminal activity. It’s well behind me now, but it only takes one reminder to wipe away all the amnesia people have around here.
“Oh, you know, your shows. Spencer Shrike. You’re a benefactor for that film festival up in Fort Collins.”
“You’ve done some research.”
“Hey, Mr. Aston,” another kid calls, skiing up to me. He’s about fifteen, same age as Five. “I’m ready to go, man. So stoked about this opportunity.”
“What?”
“Dad,” Kate says, checking off another name on her clipboard. “This is Josh Pittan. He won the Fancy Freestyle last weekend up in Breckenridge.”
“Congrats,” I say. “But—”
“He’s here for four hours.”
“Four? Hours?” What the hell is happening?
Two more kids ski up. “We’re here!” they say, looking like brother and sister. “Sorry we’re late, Mr. Aston. My mom couldn’t get the car started this morning.”
“She had to call us a cab,” the sister says. “This is the best Christmas present ever!”
I shoot Kate a look. “Can you excuse us for a moment?” I tell the crowd. “I need a word with my assistant. Starling,” I yell, just as she’s about to pass me and give the moguls a try. “Hold up for a second.”
“Safety first,” the parent of the first boy says. “I like that.”
“Kate, what the hell is going on?” I ask, after we ski off a little way. “Why do all these people think I’m running a class here today?”
She laughs. “You are, Dad. I set it all up.”
I rub my face. “Why would you do that?”
“I heard you telling Mom that story about your Bronco last month when you guys were talking about the old days. You said you ran tours at the science museum to save up for a car. And I want a Bronco too. So I started a ski class.”
“You can’t start a ski class.”
“Yeah, I can.” She smiles sweetly at me. “It’s entrepreneurial. You love that. Plus, you let Five start that app stuff. It’s only fair.”
“But you’re not teaching the class.”
“Duh.” She snorts. “I’m not that good. But you are. And you love skiing. And,” she stresses the word, “you love teaching Starling. All these kids are good. Like really good,” she says, lowering her chin. “I screened them all so you didn’t get any lazy ones from tourists looking for a babysitter. They’re all freestyle skiers and they’ve all won competitions.”
I take a deep breath. “You can’t make enough to buy a car with one day of classes.”
“How do you know?” She smirks.
“How much did you charge?”
“Three-fifty an hour.”
“What?” I look back at the parents and the kids. They all smile at me. “How much for today?”
“Three thousand, five hundred dollars.”
“What?”
“How much do Broncos go for? Not the really tricked-out ones. One like yours?”
I scrub my hand down my face again.
“Daddy?” Kate asks sweetly.
“Katie,” I say back. And then a laugh leaks out. “You’re sneaky.”
“I take after you.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Did you know that Grandma called and asked if we were going to meet her at church tonight and I said we can’t because we’ll all be too tired after we watch Sparrow dance The Nutcracker?”
I forget about the kids for a moment and picture myself being forced to sit still in church tonight with my mother. She’s up here with Gary, staying at the Four Seasons until we all drive home tomorrow for Christmas dinner. “What’d she say?”
“She said she totally understands. And she’ll put in a good word for us when she and Gary go.”
Whew. Dodged a bullet there. “OK, look. I’ll do the class. I don’t have much choice. But I’m not doing lessons. I’m not a ski coach, for fuc—Christ’s sake.”
“Got it, Daddy,” Kate says, leaning up to give me a kiss on the cheek. She’s about to ski back to the waiting class, but she stops and give me a long once-over. “But you could be, Daddy. You could be.”
Chapter Eight
Cindy and I end up in the library. It’s a lonely room at the very western edge of the house and it’s nothing but floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books. It even has one of those library ladders and a set of antique leather couches that are situated in front of a fireplace that is almost as massive as the one out in the main living room.
Cindy squirms in my arms until I place her the right way against my chest. She likes to rest her head on my shoulder, and she likes her little butt to be held up by my forearm.
When Ford, Ronin, and I decided we’d like to get a family house up here so we could vacation together with plenty of room as our families grew larger, we lucked out when this monstrosity came on the market. It’s the oldest mansion in Vail, built by one of the town’s founding developers. It has never been owned by anyone outside of that family since it was built in the early Sixties when the Vail resort was founded.
I never knew any of this shit about Vail. But Ford is like some sort of ski resor
t savant, and when he saw that the owners were selling everything in the library as part of the house—they added on seventy-two thousand dollars to the price tag, saying it was a treasure trove of historical documents they wanted to be preserved with the structure, so don’t go thinking they were being generous—he bought the place without even asking Ronin and me.
But hell, it’s a nice fucking house. Eight thousand square feet of luxury mountain home. Seven stone fireplaces, indoor and outdoor pools, almost two acres of land. That alone is worth the price. Gated, stable for the ponies we bring in the summer, and ski-in ski-out.
I can’t complain about the house.
Hell, I can’t complain about anything. I live a charmed life.
But my Bombshell might be sad. It might be the leftover hormones from the last pregnancy. But it might also be that I don’t give her enough attention.
Do I work too much? Does she miss me? Do I not help out enough at home? Do we need more vacation time?
I look down at Cindy, who is momentarily content with the smooth rocking motion I’m doing as I look around the library. “What do you think, Baby Bomb?” I chuckle at that, until I realize the original Baby Bomb is turning into a full-blown Bombshell.
God. I’m not ready for my kids to grow up.
“At least I still have eighteen years with you, Cinderella. But you’re definitely the last one. We’ve just about run out of princess names. I’m not sure Mulan Shrike works. And Pocahontas is just a no. Cindy Shrike, now that’s damn cute, huh?”
She gives me a small smile and then her eyes go back to being droopy.
Well, Baby Bomb Five is just about content. Baby Bomb One, on the other hand. Whew. I’m not ready for boys. I’m really not. And Five Aston was never my pick. The whole princess thing he’s been doing was cute when they were toddlers. Hell, it was cute when they were in Saint Joseph’s together. But they’re teenagers now. And Five is way too much like Ford for my comfort level. He’s just about as tall as him. Same blondish hair, same light-brown eyes. Same freaky genius brain.
What if he’s the same…
I have to shake my head to stop picturing Five with my Rory the way Ford used to be with his pets back before Ashleigh.
No. That’s not going to happen.
And I’m so fucking lucky that Five is being sent all the way over to England for college in three weeks. I can accept a boy or two calling Rory on the phone. I can even accept dates after the football games she’ll be cheering at for the next three years. But I cannot accept Five Aston as my Baby Bomb’s long-term love interest.
It’s not going to happen.
When I look back down at Cindy, she’s sleeping. So I walk out of the library and head to the kitchen. I’m not sure how much I want Cindy to sleep today. She’s off her schedule, and that’s why my Bombshell isn’t getting enough rest at night.
“Hey, Ash,” I say, walking into the family room that’s open to the kitchen. “What’s up in here?”
“Oh,” she says, frowning and wiping her brow with her forearm. She leaves a streak of flour across her face. “Just finishing up the dough so the kids can decorate cookies tonight before bed.”
We’ve been doing that since they were old enough to hold an airbrush. My kids decorate Christmas cookies like artists.
“I’ve only got a few more batches to make before I start the baking.” And then she notices Cindy. This makes her whole face light up. “How’s that little princess doing? Need some help, Spencer?”
I look back down at Cindy. “I think she’s about out. But I don’t want to put her to bed. I want her awake this morning so she’ll nap later and be rested for the ballet tonight.”
“You can put her down on the sectional. I’ll watch her while she rests. And there’s enough going on in here that she won’t sleep too deeply.”
“Hey, that’s a good idea.” Ashleigh has Christmas carols going, and the sound of the kitchen appliances should be enough to keep Cindy from sleeping too long.
“Why don’t you leave her with me,” Ash says, coming towards me with her arms out. “I don’t get enough baby time these days.” I hand over my little Bomb and Ashleigh takes her. She actually sighs as she brings Cindy to her chest.
Yeah. Ashleigh wants another kid. I’ve seen it coming for a couple months now. And Ford was never interested in having more after Five. He was so freaked out about passing on his… unusual genetics… they never had another one.
But Kate is sixteen now. She’s driving and looking at colleges. And hell, Five skipped the teen years altogether and went straight to mini-adult several years back. It’s gotta be tough to know that her mommy days are just about over.
“Do you mind if I go check on Ronnie?” I ask.
“Not at all, Spence. I got this.” And then she smiles and takes Cindy over to the huge sectional couch we have set up in the family room.
“OK, text me if you need some relief.”
“Take your time,” she calls back as I make my way towards the front stairs.
When I enter the bedroom, it’s dark. The drapes are still closed and there’s nothing but Ronnie’s soft breathing.
I look at her. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. She’s not even wearing anything special, just a pink nightie I got her a few years ago. But her blonde hair spills out onto the white pillowcase like she’s been posed for a photoshoot. And her face is just as soft and pretty as I remember it back in college. I take my t-shirt off and slip in the bed next to her, wrapping my arms around her body and pulling her close.
She sighs, then turns to face me. Her eyes open slowly, but she doesn’t smile.
“What’s wrong, Bombshell?”
“I feel ugly,” she whispers, not meeting my gaze.
“What?” I’m stunned.
“I can’t lose these last twenty pounds, Spencer. I eat too much, I don’t exercise enough, and none of my old jeans fit.”
“Wait. You think you’re fat?” I have to shake my head. “You can’t be serious. You’re perfect, Veronica Shrike. Perfect.”
“I don’t feel perfect, Spencer. I feel old. And ugly. And fat.”
“Awww, baby. You need to take my word on this. I’m the boss and I say you’re perfect. Come here,” I say, pulling her even closer. “You turn me on so bad, Ronnie, all I have to do it look at you and I get hard. Feel.” I place her hand over my cock, which is like stone, and then kiss her on the mouth, whispering, “You make me think dirty things, Veronica. All day, every day. All I think about is how much I love to fuck you.”
“I don’t feel like fucking.”
Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say that before.
“I just can’t enjoy myself unless I feel sexy, Spencer. And I don’t feel sexy.”
“You are sexy, Ronnie. So fucking sexy. I lose my shit every time I look at you.”
“I just want to lie here. Can we just lie here?”
I sigh. She’s not in the mood to believe me. She’s in the mood to pout and get her way. I can’t stand the thought of it. I can’t stand that she thinks she’s not attractive anymore. It breaks my biker heart. So I just hold her tight and say, “Anything you want, Boss of Me. Anything you want.”
Chapter Nine
Our Uber car pulls into the Saint Joseph’s parking lot just as a wedding party comes through the front doors and begins to congregate on the steps. We stop a little way off, so we don’t disrupt their moment.
“Thanks,” I tell the driver, as Oliver, Rory, and I get out. “Merry Christmas.”
He Merry Chistmases me back and we slam our doors and he pulls out.
A giant shout goes up from the wedding party, and Rory starts walking towards them just as the bride comes through the doors. The bride’s got her bouquet held up high, and then she throws it… right into the hands of my princess.
Rory laughs, and every bridesmaid turns to see who got lucky.
“Who is that?” they ask. So I quickly take Rory’s hand and pull her along the sidewalk
.
“Well,” Rory laughs, “that’s one way to start a day!” She beams down at the little bouquet of pink and white flowers.
“You know that means you’re going to get married, right, Rory?” Oliver says, skipping a little to keep up with us. “It means you’re next. It probably even means,” Oliver continues, “that you’ll marry Five, because he’s your date today.”
Rory laughs, and I almost choke. Smooth move, Oliver, I think. There’s no better way to scare a girl off than hinting at marriage on the first date.
“I think Five is a pretty good catch, so that’s cool with me.”
“What?” I ask, instantly sorry I said it out loud.
“What?” Rory asks back. “I thought you’ve been in love with me your whole life, Five Aston? I thought you had our marriage all planned out back when you were seven?”
She likes me? Does this mean she really likes me? As more than the leader of the infamous Saint Joseph’s Science Fair Rebellion back when she was nine?
“You know, I’m really going to miss you, Five.”
“You are?”
“Why are you so surprised?” she asks. “We’re like soulmates, right?”
“Right,” I say back. “But your dad, and my school, and that football guy…”
“Football guy?” Rory asks. And then she shoots Oliver a look. “I’m not allowed to date, Five. My dad would seriously blow a blood vessel if I was dating.”
“Yeah,” I say, realizing I’m still holding her hand. Realizing she’s still letting me. “Your dad hates me.”
“He’s just being a dad, Five. He has five daughters who will grow up to look like my mom. If you were him, you’d hate you too.”
I laugh at that. “True. I have to give Spencer that one.” I sigh. “I’m really going to miss you too. I feel like I’ve wasted the last year. Like once I leave, this whole thing we have will leave with me. That you’ll just go on with your life and forget about me.”
She gives my hand a squeeze. “Don’t make me cry, Five. I don’t want to think about that yet. You’re not leaving for three more weeks and we have this whole day together. And we’re far, far away from my dad right now. No one will see us. Let’s forget about that and just have fun today.”