“I can tell by your question you did not fully read through the information provided on our Web site.”
And here we go again, Melanie thought, as she waited for Mrs. Olga Krause to enlighten her.
“Each agency has certain criteria that must be met as you know since you read all of the fine print.” Mrs. Krause paused, her wicked brown eyes staring at Melanie as though she’d committed a crime. “Since this agency receives state funds, we require a private meeting with your husband before we can schedule an interview with both of you together as a couple.”
Melanie felt like she’d just been slammed with the old proverbial ton of bricks.
A husband.
Olga Krause was absolutely correct. She had missed that part of the fine print.
Chapter 7
Melanie inserted her key in the front door and hurried to unlock it. Odie was reclining against the door. Melanie slowly pushed the door inward, letting the dog know it was safe to move.
She let the boxer jump up and lick her face. Clovis rubbed against her leg. The best part of owning pets, Melanie thought. Returning home. They were always glad to see you no matter what kind of mood you were in. And she was in a very, very rotten mood. She’d stewed on the drive back to the airport, stewed on the short flight to Placerville, and continued stewing on the drive home.
“Give me a second, Odie, and we’ll make a quick trip outside.” She kicked off her black leather boots and replaced them with the Uggs she always kept by the front door. She hung her purse on the knob next to Odie’s leash. “Clovis, you wait right here.” She rubbed the cat’s head before snapping Odie’s leash to his collar.
Being late afternoon, it was almost dark. Melanie didn’t like this part of late fall, but it is what it is, she thought as she led Odie to the greenway. A walk in the frigid air would do her good. Clear her mind a bit.
Shivering, Melanie led Odie to the off-leash area. She unhooked him. “Three minutes, bud, and that’s it. Too cold for animals and humans,” she muttered to herself.
While she waited for the dog to make his rounds, she revisited the scene at the adoption agency. Mrs. Krause—Miss Krause, she’d informed her as Melanie was leaving—told her not to expect a phone call from the agency unless her background check came back clean. She’d treated her like a criminal, but Melanie knew it wasn’t personal. The old woman was a spinster, probably treated all prospective parents the same way. Still, she didn’t see how she could’ve missed such vital information on the Web site. She was going to reread every bit of fine print. Twice.
“Okay, Odie, your three minutes are up.” Like the obedient animal he was, he came out of the off-leash area, stopping in front of her when she held the leash out.
It had to be at least twenty below, she thought, as she jogged back to the condo. No one in their right mind should be out in this weather. At the moment, however, she wasn’t in her right mind. She felt like a total and complete idiot. Of course she had forgotten to mention to Miss Krause that there wouldn’t be a need for her to run that background check since she didn’t have a husband. But something had stopped her from revealing that important bit of info to the old woman. Why? She didn’t know, but went with her gut instinct and simply said good-bye before racing out to her rental car. Once inside, she’d almost had a panic attack! How could I have missed such vital information?
Inside, Odie shook off the wet snow before resuming his position beneath the kitchen table. Clovis jumped on the countertop in search of his evening meal. Melanie removed a can of cat food from the pantry, flipped off the aluminum lid, and dumped the stinky contents in Clovis’s bowl before placing the bowl on the kitty mat by the back door. Odie dragged himself out from under the table, apparently remembering it was dinnertime. Melanie scooped a large portion of kibble into his bowl. “Okay, you two. Now let’s see what the human is going to have for dinner.”
She opened the refrigerator, but didn’t see anything that appealed to her. Not that she was hungry. She grabbed an apple out of the bowl in the center island. She wanted to cool down, to wait a bit before she went back to the agency’s Web site, but she couldn’t.
Inside her office, Melanie munched on her apple while she waited for her computer to boot up. Did it always take this long? A few seconds later, she heard the familiar hum. She clicked onto the Internet and found the agency’s Web site. She read all the fine print, then read through it a second time. And a third time, just to make sure she wasn’t losing it. Nowhere did it say one had to be married to petition for an adoption. She clicked on all the pages a fourth time, went through all the links one by one, and still didn’t see anything stating that only married couples could adopt.
That Miss Krause was a true old bat, she thought as she clicked through the pages. Spiteful. Maybe she had an unhappy life and wanted to make those around her as miserable as she was. Knowing all hope wasn’t lost, if push came to shove, she would have the law on her side since there was absolutely nothing saying a potential parent had to be married. Miss Krause was mistaken, there was no other explanation.
Stay hopeful, that’s what she would do. If this agency didn’t work out, she’d simply find one that would. Single parents adopted children all the time. Maybe Miss Krause was new to the job. “Nah, I doubt it,” she said out loud. The poor old woman was probably childless, with no family to speak of. Melanie did a mental three-sixty.
That could be me, thirty years down the road.
Chapter 8
The sun shone like a brilliant goldenrod. Though the temperatures were in the mid-teens, Melanie wasn’t the least bit cold. She wore the latest in outdoor wear, her favorite top-of-the-line Spyder Gear, which promised to keep its wearer warm in temperatures much colder than that day’s.
She’d dropped Odie and Clovis off at The Snow Zone, knowing Stephanie was there by herself. Candy Lee was out of town with her parents, so Melanie knew that the animals would keep Stephanie company. Not that she’d have much time for them, because the store was jam-packed with customers when she’d dropped the pair off, but Melanie knew having Odie around was an added comfort for Stephanie.
She’d agreed to meet Bryce at the chairlifts at ten o’clock. She glanced at her weatherproof wristwatch. Ten of. She’d left early, allowing herself the extra time needed to drop the animals off. She put her skis and poles on the metal rack alongside dozens of others. In all the years she’d been skiing, she’d never had anything taken. Ski bums were good people. Skiing was not a poor man or woman’s sport. The equipment was extremely expensive, the price of the lift tickets outrageous. The food in the lodge was quadruple the normal rate. But it was a sport that one either liked or not.
Melanie loved to ski, loved the freedom, and, more than anything, loved being outdoors. Her work kept her rooted to her desk, so when she had the opportunity to get away from it all, she took it.
She supposed you could call today a date. Sort of. Not a traditional date, where the guy knocked on your door with flowers, walked you to the car, and held the door open. In all honesty, Melanie couldn’t recall ever having a date like that, but the fantasy was nice. No, she and Bryce had agreed to meet right here at the chairlift. She paid her way, he paid his. She liked it better that way because she didn’t feel the slightest bit obligated to “pay back” in a manner she wasn’t comfortable with.
Even though it was still early by ski-bum standards, the lift lines were longer than normal. While she waited, she observed the beginners at the bunny hill. People of all ages dressed in every color of the rainbow were either wedging, or, as the instructors taught the little ones, “pizza-ing” down the small hill. Those who were better balanced positioned their skis side by side and “french-fried” their way up and down the mini slope. The unlucky ones lay sprawled on the snow, struggling to bring themselves upright, so they could try one more time to make it down without falling.
“I remember those days well,” Bryce said. He’d come up beside her without her noticing. He tapped her on
the nose. “Earth to Melanie.” Wearing his skis, he couldn’t get much closer to her without tripping over them.
Melanie whirled around. “Hi, Bryce. You sneaked up on me, no fair! I don’t have my skis on yet. Give me a second,” she said, then raced over to the racks, where she removed her skis and poles and placed them flat on the ground. She clicked each boot into the proper position and adjusted her gloves before poling back to the chairlift.
“Okay, now I’m fair game,” Melanie said as she slid into place beside him.
“Blue or black?” Bryce asked as they poled their way to the front of the line.
Melanie raised her eyebrows. “A daredevil now, are we? I never would’ve guessed. Let’s start with a blue run, then we’ll see how things progress. I’m not as young as I used to be,” she said teasingly.
Bryce laughed, showing that one crooked tooth. Sexy as ever, Melanie thought as she laughed with him. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? Doesn’t matter, she thought, as they stood waiting for the chair to tap the back of their knees. I’m here now.
In one giant swing, they were airborne. Bryce lowered the protective railing before sliding closer to her. “I’m scared.”
Both burst out laughing. “A college professor, and you can’t come up with a better pickup line than that?”
He inched closer, so close in fact that she could smell his minty breath. Melanie was glad they had on their heavy outer-wear. She did not want to see those flat six-pack abs, or his well-muscled chest, not even a hint at what he looked like under all that down. At least not yet.
“I thought we were past that,” Bryce teased.
The lift stopped midway up the mountain. They were dangling on the topside of a mountain, and neither seemed to notice. The gears ground, then they resumed the climb.
“You did, huh?” Melanie replied.
“Yeah, I did,” Bryce said, “so let me see what I can come up with.” Bryce placed his index finger on his cheek as though he were in deep thought. “How about a little Shakespeare?”
He cleared his throat, then began,
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.
“How’s that?” he asked when he’d finished.
“If you don’t hurry up and raise the bar, we’re gonna be in trouble,” Melanie said as they came within a few feet of their drop-off point.
Bryce slid across the seat, checked to make sure their skis and poles were out of the way, then raised the bar. They inched as close to the edge of the seat as possible, raising their ski tips. As soon as they could feel the heavily packed snow beneath them, they shoved off the lift and skied to an area where they wouldn’t be in the way of the other skiers and snowboarders. Skiing had its rules.
Both adjusted their goggles and helmets. Bryce pointed to an easy blue run. Melanie nodded, then shoved off. The run was packed with people, and Melanie had to use every ounce of her skill to maneuver between them without tripping over the fallen skier or snowboarder. She whizzed through a group of students, then heard a loud thump behind her. She slowed down to look behind her, but all she saw was a flash of royal blue as Bryce practically flew past her.
“So he wants to play rough. I’ll show him rough.” Melanie leaned down and forward, increasing her speed. Seeing that the bowl ahead was scattered with skiers of every skill, Melanie made a quick decision, turning left on the trail, which would lead her to a shortcut. Not many knew about it, but this was an emergency. Kind of. She laughed. Yes, it was off the map, but no way was Mr. Landry going to beat her to the bottom. She flew down the hill, slowing down when she saw a fallen skier. He or she—one could never tell, bundled up in all the clothing—gave her the thumbs-up sign to indicate there was no injury, so she used her poles to regain speed.
Passing through the tall evergreens, Melanie was suddenly grateful to be alive. She inhaled the familiar pine scent mixed with a touch of wood smoke; this was life in Colorado at its finest. Seeing that she was almost at her destination, she leaned forward, legs practically touching one another as she soared to the bottom of the mountain. Hurrying to get back in the lift line before Bryce, Melanie hit a patch of ice. Before she knew what happened, Bryce Landry was helping her get back on her feet.
“Hey, just because I recited you a love poem doesn’t mean I expect you to fall at my feet,” Bryce said, his verdant gaze full of mischief.
Melanie removed her goggles and helmet. “If I had a glass of water right now, I’d toss it squarely in your face.” She looked at him and gave him a genuine ear-to-ear smile. Again, for the second time, she was thrilled that she and this hunk of burning love were friends.
And who knew, maybe it would turn into something more. Today, for some reason, she believed that anything was possible.
Chapter 9
Melanie and Bryce stopped once for a quick lunch before heading back to the slopes. She was tired, but in a good way. They were on the chairlift again, and this time she slid closer to him. “For the record, I liked your poem.”
“It wasn’t original, but I could write you one if you like,” Bryce said, nudging his helmet to hers.
“Okay,” she murmured. “I like.”
“Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Really?” She leaned back in order to see his face, or at least the part that wasn’t covered by his helmet. She saw nothing but honesty reflecting back at her.
“Yes. Really. Because that means you’ll have dinner with me tonight even though you’re probably going to be too tired. I’ll need some more inspiration.”
Melanie shook her head. “Okay—you left me at the last hill. I’m not getting something here.”
“The more time I spend with you, the more inspiration I’ll have for the poem I’m going to write.”
“I see,” Melanie said. “I thought you were a history professor.”
“I am, but I’m also a lover of words.”
Just then, they reached the top of the mountain, preventing her from responding. Again, they flew down the trails, this time side by side, as though they’d practiced it a dozen times.
This time, when they reached the bottom of the mountain, Bryce removed his helmet and goggles, kicked his skis aside, and wrapped his arms around her bulky jacket. Without giving her a chance to remove her helmet, Bryce dipped his head forward, slightly tilting it to the side, and touched his lips to hers. She leaned back and closed her eyes, savoring the warmth from his mouth.
It was the best kiss she’d ever had.
They stood silently for a few minutes, kissing one another. Little nips, light smacks, nibbles. Suddenly sensing a presence, Melanie gently pushed him away. “We have an audience.” She gestured to a little girl no more than five or six years old, staring at her. The child couldn’t seem to take her eyes off them. Melanie removed her helmet and shook out the long braid she’d wound up on top of her head. She lowered herself to the child’s level. Before she could ask a question, the little girl screamed, “You’re not my mommy!”
Melanie turned when she heard a shrill cry coming from behind.
“Penelope! There you are! I told you to meet me in the lunchroom with your instructor. Where is your instructor?” the woman asked, cupping a hand across her forehead in search of the missing instructo
r.
The woman, who was obviously Penelope’s mother, wore ski attire identical to Melanie’s. Red-and-black Spyder jacket and black pants with red stripes running down the leg. No wonder the little girl had mistaken Melanie for her mother.
Melanie stood up as Penelope slid into her harried mother, attaching herself to her mother’s legs. “I had to pee, and that man said I had to wait till it was time to eat. I hate skiing, Mommy. I want to go home now!” The little girl started to wail, her cries attracting the attention of the other skiers at the base of the mountain.
“Don’t ever leave your instructor, do you understand?” the mother admonished. “We discussed this before.”
Melanie wanted to intervene on poor little Penelope’s behalf, but it really wasn’t her place. She stood next to Bryce while the little girl pitched a fit that could have earned her an Oscar nomination.
When the mother realized they were being watched by a large crowd, she grabbed the child by the hand. “She doesn’t like to ski,” she said to those gathered around. Without another word, she pulled Penelope alongside her and headed for the main lodge. The little girl continued to cry.
“Poor kid,” Bryce said. “If she doesn’t like to ski, she shouldn’t be forced. That can be dangerous. Grace never cared that much for skiing as a kid, and Mom and Dad never forced it on either of us.”
Surprised that Bryce would even comment on the child, let alone have an opinion about the mother’s treatment, Melanie gave a mental high five. This guy was turning out to be much more than she’d hoped for. He was not just another pretty face.
“It’s part of the Colorado heritage,” Bryce said. “If you live here and don’t like to ski, you’re not right in the head. Speaking of which, I have had enough skiing for one day. I’m pooped.”
Bryce fastened the binders of his skis together and tucked them under one arm along with his poles. Melanie followed suit, suddenly glad she wasn’t parked in the spillover lot.
Mistletoe Magic Page 5