by Claire Adams
"Funny. It's not like the old days, where your ma and pa put up a dowry and set you up with the perfect woman." I glanced over my shoulder and smirked at him. "You want coffee?"
"No. I already had mine, and I'm telling you that sleeping around might leave you feeling good for a night, but you'll soon hate yourself." My father was dressed in a nice pair of slacks and a button down shirt with a tie that matched, but barely.
"I already do." I shrugged and filled up a coffee mug before walking back to my room. "Give me ten minutes."
"You need to shower. I'm sure you had fun last night. You look like a mess."
"You're mistaken, but thanks for giving a rat's ass." I shut the door to the bedroom and slipped out of my jeans. I should have needed a shower with the way Cindy was pawing at me and rubbing up against me on the way back to the hotel, but I couldn't see myself taking her to bed.
Shit, I couldn't see myself taking anyone but Chloe. It was disturbing.
I wasn't sure if Cindy would remember me dropping them off, but when they woke up all piled in one room with my friends, I was sure they’d all start to remember of the events from the night before. I'd gotten all my friends and all of Chloe's friends into the hotel room Jared had rented and locked the door on my way out.
Why Brian hadn't stayed around to help me was a mystery. I'd have to get his ass later over it.
I walked back out in black slacks and a button down white shirt with my hair combed and my Sunday shoes polished.
"You almost look like a good guy," Dad snorted again and got up, pulling on his coat. "Grab a jacket. I'm thinking another cold front moved in early this morning."
"Yeah, I was carting around a bunch of drunk idiots when it hit." I grabbed my wool jacket from the closet and slipped my wallet in my back pocket. "You driving or me?"
"I'll drive."
* * * *
The service was lifeless and the monotone voice of the preacher did nothing to help keep my eyes open. After only three hours of sleep, I was hurting as we sat there and stared at the choir loft. I wasn't particularly religious, but my father was, and having spent every Sunday beside him in a hard wooden pew, I couldn't think of another place to be on Sunday mornings. He wouldn't allow it, anyway. I would be married with kids and his ass would still be showing up, making all of us go.
My lip lifted in a smirk at the thought of it.
I glanced around at the familiar faces of everyone who had been in my life for as long as I could remember and felt a sinking in my spirit. I didn't want to shovel driveways for the rest of my days. I wanted the promise of moving on, of building on my dreams like Brian kept reminding me of, but to build anything you had to have money and I was always in the red.
The only other thing that swept across my mind other than building a beautiful resort for families to visit in Aspen was Chloe. The hurt in her face as I bent down to kiss her friend the night before stung me. I shouldn't have done it, yet it had been far beyond my turn to throw a dagger. She laid me open with every word she swung at me on the dance floor. So I slept around. So the fuck what? Every guy my age and younger had done the same damn thing. She'd never had a one-night stand? I doubted it.
Anger burned through me and I let out a sort sigh only to be elbowed by my dad.
"Behave," he barked quietly.
I was twenty-seven. I knew how to behave. The need to respond to him sat heavy on me, but I pushed it down and went back to thinking about Chloe. I was mad because she had judged me and done a good job of it. Because of her assessment, I had little chance with her.
She deserves better.
And she did, but I didn't want to take her to my bed and sneak out the next morning. I wanted to take her to dinner and kiss her on the doorstep, or teach her to ski better and roll around in the snow when we fell into it together.
I wanted a normal night of fun without the promise of sex. I wanted a date.
The realization rolled over me that I hadn't been on a date that wasn't planned for the sex since I was a teenager. I closed my eyes and tilted my head toward the ceiling as regret rushed through my veins. It would be gone soon, seeing that none of the women in my past had every wanted anything but sex, as well. I wasn't the one pushing for anything most of the time. I was used and therefore, I used.
Nice.
The preacher asked us to bow our heads, and I let mine drop, keeping my eyes closed and starting to work through not only how I was going to apologize to the pretty girl who had me captivated, but how I was going to see her again. I wasn't letting fate have another shot at me.
Cindy had let out that Chloe's last name was Burke. Now all I had to do was find someone with that last name that had been here off and on. Maybe my father knew something about it. I was pretty sure that there was a Burke on our client list. Maybe they were related.
We wrapped up the prayer and stood around, shaking old men's hands and hugging old ladies before my father patted my back and gave me a push.
"Let's go. You having lunch with me today?"
"Naw. I'm actually thinking about picking up a few extra jobs. I keep thinking about that lodge I want to build. I'm not getting there any faster seeing that I keep having stuff come up." I sighed and got into the truck. "You think Cliff would want a day off?"
"Not sure, but you can ask him." Dad started the truck and checked his phone before pulling out. Whatever he saw caused a smile to spread across his face.
"What's that about?" I nodded toward him.
"What?" His smile faded.
"Who was the text from?"
"Milly. She was telling me something funny that happened to her." He shrugged and pulled out of the church parking lot. "And, don't start on me. She's my secretary and that's all she'll ever be."
"Yep. Your loss." I glanced out at the snow-covered mountains outside of my window and cleared my throat. "You know someone with the last name of Burke?"
I turned in time to see him stiffen. "Yeah. He's one of our clients. Jonathan Burke. He's as bad as you at sleeping around. Good thing the ugly bastard is only here for the winter."
I chuckled as excitement pulsed through me. "Why do you have him as a client if you don't like him?"
"I didn't say I didn't like him. I said he was a slutty bastard."
Dad shrugged and I let it go. We had Chloe's dad on our listing at the office. She was going to find me in her front yard before she could blink twice. I only prayed that whoever was assigned to her house would give me the job. Money was tight and it was the holidays, but one could hope.
* * * *
I stopped by the office after my dad dropped me off at home and checked the schedule. A huge smile lifted my cheeks as I spotted her last name. Cliff was scheduled to go later that afternoon. I couldn't have gotten any luckier.
It took me a few minutes to grab a few shovels and a warm pair of gloves from the stock room, but as soon as I was done, I called Cliff and got into my truck.
"Hey, boy. How's it hanging?" he answered the phone on the first ring.
"Hey, old man. You're scheduled for a shoveling this afternoon at the Burke place. Can I take it off of you?"
"Well, damn. You know things must be bad if you're looking to take jobs off of the shovelers. You ain't got nobody with a plow you can call? You need to rest. You ain't as young as you think."
"Ain't isn't a word." I smiled at the sound of his laughter and couldn't help but think of Chloe. She wouldn't believe for one damn minute that fate had slung us back together. Three times in three days? Impossible.
"You can have it if you want it, but you have to tell me why it's important to you."
"I'm broke?"
"Liar. You'd have taken that fifty from me the other day free and clear. What's at the Burke residence that I'm giving up?"
"A pretty girl in her early twenties." I pulled my truck out of the snowy lot and headed toward one of the many wealthy neighborhoods in Aspen.
"She's all yours, then. My Martha would have a fit if she
even knew about this girl." He laughed, and I thanked him and hung up.
It only took twenty minutes to get over to the Burke residence, but by the time I did, my hands were shaking and I had no clue of what I was going to say. I almost felt sorry for Brian and his being terrified of talking to women. I'd never experienced it myself – not until now. She was going to be upset, or was she? Maybe I was over-thinking it.
I pulled up in the driveway and got out, pulling my extra sweater over my chest before zipping up my coat. I covered my ears, then my head, and pulled on my gloves. I decided to start working and then go deliver the invoice, instead of doing things the other way around. If Chloe was pissed, and refused to let me on her property, then I would have to deal with my dad as I had no doubt her father would call him.
Too much drama for what it was all worth.
I started to work, letting myself get lost in thought. I wanted her to see the other side of me. The one that hated one-night stands and wanted a different future. I knew that my actions and all the shitty decisions I'd made left me looking like a has-been, but I wasn't. I just needed a fresh perspective, a new start, and a good woman could give me that.
I glanced over my shoulder and noticed the curtains moving back into place. Someone had been watching me. Maybe it was her, but maybe not. All I could do was hope that if it was, she'd feel bad for me and come out with something warm to drink.
If she was the woman I figured her to be, she would.
If not...I probably deserved it.
Chapter 11
Chloe
I slept horribly, but by the time the sun came up, I'd come to the conclusion that I was being ridiculous. I was judging Finn based on a life that I knew nothing about. The fact that Brian had been so open let me into the reasons why Finn was like he was, but the fact still remained that it was irrelevant. He wasn't my problem, and I was soon to be headed home.
Funny how that resolution faded as my phone buzzed and I scrambled to get it, thinking that somehow he'd gotten my number.
Cindy: Just wanted to let you know I'm on a flight back home. Last night was wicked fun. Thanks for the hookup. Hope we can do it again soon. Love ya!
Me: Anytime. Be safe. Love you, too.
I tossed the phone toward the other end of the bed and picked up my pillow, groaning into it loudly. Why did this matter? I had a million other things to worry about besides some local playboy who wasn't even going to be a memory in a month. My father was breathing down my neck to talk about my designs and I had a few, but nothing really worth showing him yet. My main sketch pad was missing and something told me that I had left it in the top of the closet back in the dorm room. I checked with Jessie, but she hadn't gotten back to me to verify if my worries were valid.
"Chloe?" my father's voice sounded outside my door as he knocked softly.
"I'm up." I tugged the covers up to my chin and looked up as he stuck his head in the room.
"I'm going to whip up some pancakes. Let's talk about your designs this morning, okay?"
"Yeah. Alright." I rolled over and curled up. "Can you put chocolate chips in mine?"
"And pecans?"
"Yeah. Like Momma used to do." I closed my eyes. Nothing was working out, and of course, this was the very moment my father would choose to be nice. It was going to be short lived, seeing that he was far more interested in his money than me, but it was too much even for the short stint that it would last.
"Of course. Hurry up. I have a lunch date." He closed the door and I rolled out of the bed, hitting the floor in a crouch.
A lunch date. Sex with a chick at lunch on a Sunday? He was going straight to hell.
I chuckled at the audacity of my thoughts and got up, changing into a long cream-colored sweater and a pair of black tights. After tying my hair in a messy bun, I walked down the hall and made a beeline for the coffee pot.
"I'm not sure you're going to want to talk without me having my large sketch pad. It's got my main dress and shirt designs in it." I poured the cup and turned to look up at him.
"Are you okay? Your eyes are puffy. Were you crying last night?" Concern swept across his face, but it left as quickly as it appeared.
"No. Went out drinking." I moved to the table and sat down, focusing only on the warmth my coffee provided. "Where's Parker?"
"He has a gamer day on Sundays with some of the boys from school. I drop him off at eight and he comes home around six. It's good for him to get out of the house." My father looked up from his cooking and seemed to be analyzing me.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just noticing how much you look like a woman. Like your mother."
"I'm twenty-four, Dad. I grew up while you weren't looking."
His jaw clenched and I realized how my words sounded.
"I didn't mean it like that." I stood up and he lifted his hand.
"It's fine. Get your work and let's talk." He pursed his lips and I knew the conversation was over.
I walked to the room with my head hung down, pissed at myself for starting off the morning with him on a bad note. I needed him in a good mood for the discussion we had coming up and now he was going to be anything but.
The sketch pad was open on a small circular table beside the bed. I'd been working on something in the wee hours of the morning when I couldn't stop thinking about Finn. I snatched it up and walked back to the kitchen with trepidation rolling over me in great waves.
"I really don't feel good about this." I sat down and opened the pad.
"Well, I'm your investor. Rule number one is that you should never tell me that. You put on your game face and sell your designs like I would die without them."
I smiled and shook my head. "No one's going to die here."
"Right, but the feeling should be the same, Chloe. No one wants to invest in an artist who sort of thinks her stuff would be good. We want to jump in the boat with someone that reminds us that we're about to miss out on the next great thing." His voice was full of life and his expression reminded me of the man he used to be.
"Let me ask you this..." I closed the book and pulled my mug closer to me, using it to warm my hands. "Why did you choose winter attire? It seems so stuffy and uncreative."
"For that exact reason. I love it up here in the cold and yet, just like you, I can only stand to be outside for a few minutes. My 'why' for creating my line of men and women's ski and snowboard attire was for necessity. Is it the most beautiful design in the world? No. Is it attractive? Yes. Plus, it's fully functional and will keep you warm in an arctic freeze."
I realized with a start that I had been going about my plan all wrong. It wasn't about designing something that I would wear because it was cute, but coming up with something functional and making it cute.
"Brilliant." I glanced down at my coffee and smiled. "Dad. That's brilliant."
"Right? It's why you had your school paid in full. There's money in that way of thinking." He moved toward me and laid a plate of pancakes in front of me. "I know I'm hard on you, but there's a reason for it."
I wanted to push a little, but I decided to let it alone.
He sat down beside me and started to eat. "Show me what you have."
Opening my binder, I pushed it across the table.
"It's a line of t-shirts that I think would be great sellers on college campuses." I flipped through them slowly, watching his expression remain unchanged.
He glanced up. "Who are you selling these to?"
"College kids. I just said that."
He shook his head and cut into his pancakes. "Did you not take any business classes at UCLA, Chloe? College kids don't have money."
There was a sick sense of relief that flooded me to see that my father was slipping back into his normal self. If I didn't feel stupid already coming to sit before him, I did now.
"Some do. Most of us have allowances, Dad."
"I'm aware of that, but you're limiting yourself. A small percentage of the population are college kids." He pushed
the notebook back at me. "I want you to think about designing something for people in colder climates."
"What? Why? I hate the cold. I'd much rather design something for the beach. If I had my other notebook, I could..."
He cut me off. "Well, you don't. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold and have some new windbreakers designed for me by later this week. That's your first test to get this very large sum of money you're after. I love you, but I'm not willing to set you up to fail and lose money in this venture at the very same time. That would be stupid as a businessman and as a dad."
"I hate the cold."
"Exactly." He tapped my plate with his fork to remind me to eat. "Let that drive you to create the warmest, comfiest, light-weight jacket known to man."
I turned my eyes down and started to eat, hoping that the large syrupy pancakes would shove the thick ball of hate building in my chest back down.
"I know you don't like my request, but I'm holding the checkbook. Be smart about this. I know you have it in you."
Him patronizing me only caused my appetite to plummet.
I stood and picked up my plate, having barely touched my pancakes. I dumped it in the sink, picked up my sketch pad and my coffee, and walked to my room without another word.
Was it asinine? Absolutely.
Did I care? Hell no.
He was a jerk and had been tearing me down for years. I didn't need his money and I wasn't willing to play his game – at least I didn't think I was.
* * * *
I laid around in my room for the next two hours until I thought my head might explode from counting ceiling tiles. Maybe I was being childish, but it was namely due to the fact that I always felt like a child around my father. He made sure of it.
Grabbing the handle to the door, I pulled hard and stormed down the hall, ready to give him a piece of my mind. I would design the best damn windbreaker ever known to man and would outsell everything in his store ten times over.
"Dad?" I called out with angst in my voice.
Nothing.