by Mary Beesley
Mom swept forward and kissed Leo’s cheek. “That was such a treat for me. Thank you.”
“Speaking of treats, I think it’s time for dessert.” Leo shooed the group back toward the hall.
Tempest turned, padding into his kitchen without saying a word.
Mom served the sheet cake she made every Christmas Eve. The kids took their pieces to the table, but the adults stayed standing around the island.
“Here you go, Tempest.” Mom held out an overly large piece to Tempest, who had managed not to look at Leo once, even though only three feet of marble countertop separated them.
Tempest hesitated before accepting the plate with a gracious smile. She took one bite and said, “This is amazing, Silvia. Wow.”
At least she was being nice to his mom.
Mom beamed. “Thank you, dear. We like it. It’s my grandmother’s recipe.”
Tempest set the plate down and looked up at Leo. He leaned back at the force of her blue gaze. Like a coward.
“Could I please have some water?”
“Of course.” He jerked toward his drink fridge. “And what can I get everyone else?”
“The cake is good with milk,” Silvia said.
“Is it good with beer?” Benji asked.
Everyone laughed, and as Leo passed out drinks, he forced his shoulders to relax. He used the excuse of cleaning up dessert to keep busy. Tempest cleared the plates. Probably because she hadn’t eaten more than three bites of the dense chocolate cake, and she didn’t want his mom to notice.
Jo gathered her children and told them it was time to go. Tempest readied to leave with them. Leo tried not to show his relief. The entire party walked to the door. Tempest gave out her civilized thank yous, but Jo gushed her compliments.
“This was the best night. I’m so happy we’ll be family. Dad is so lucky to have found you. I feel like we’re all so blessed right now.”
She hugged his mom, and that made Benji step forward and embrace his new family too. It turned into a receiving line of hugs. Mom pulled Tempest forward into one of her suffocating arm holds and passed her off to Zena. Leo’s pulse rose as the inevitable drew closer. And then Tempest was there, standing in front of him, clearly debating what to do. He couldn’t not hug her. That would be noticed. He was skilled at the quick, pat-on-the-shoulder, no-chest-touching hug, he’d just preformed it like a champ on Jo, Benji, and Christopher, but to hell with that now. It was Christmas. And he wanted to hold her, if even just for one second.
He slid his arms around her waist. Her eyes flared in surprise as he drew her forward. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as her warmth and softness pressed all down his front. The scent of jasmine and female curled up his nose. Her velvety cheek brushed his. Her body shifted under his hands, and that feeling of ahhh flowed through his body.
Shitteroni. This was a terrible idea.
He jumped back in a hurry, checking if anyone had seen that hug. Mom was helping button Hannah’s coat. Zena was already walking back toward the kitchen. Christopher was chatting with Benji and Jo about tomorrow’s plans. No one was looking at them.
Safe.
He looked at Tempest, her red mouth, slightly parted, her dilated eyes. Nope, not safe at all.
“Well, Merry Christmas,” he said.
“See you in a few days.”
“I can’t wait.”
****
“He plays the piano,” Tempest told Blair for the hundredth time since dinner three days ago. “No. He doesn’t just play the piano. He makes love to the piano.” She threw the hiking shirt back onto the store rack. “You should have seen his fingers caress the keys.”
Blair giggled.
Tempest scowled. She knew she was weak for bringing it up again and more than a little annoying. Like Blair wanted to hear about this again. But Tempest couldn’t stop thinking about it. If it hadn’t been so sexy, she would have been majorly bugged—he was already a genius billionaire. Did he also have to be a sneaky good musician? It was cosmically unfair. She’d dreamed about Leo again last night. He’d given her a private concert, wearing nothing but dress pants and a bowtie. She’d gotten all hot and melty in the dream like she had in real life. But in her fantasy when he’d turned from the keys, instead of grinning like an arrogant prick, he’d looked at her like she was a goddess to be ravished. And that’s exactly what he’d done.
She picked up a guide to wildflowers from the table and started fanning her suddenly steaming face and neck.
“I still think guitarists are hotter than pianists,” Blair said.
“You wouldn’t say that if you’d seen him.”
“Yes, I still would. But that’s because I’m not blind with love.”
“I’m not blind.” Tempest ignored the love part.
“He’s balding.”
Tempest pursed her lips. “That’s harsh. It’s just a little thinning.”
“He’s a clean freak.”
“Hey.” Tempest’s defenses flared. “I did not use the word freak, and I think that trait goes in the positive column anyway.”
Blair rolled her eyes. “It would get annoying so fast. I’d never feel like I could relax.”
Tempest decided not to say that Blair could do with a little less relaxing when it came to housework. “Is there anything you do like about him?”
Blair smiled. “His money.” Her lips turned down. “But otherwise, nothing right now. He hurt you and didn’t fix it when I told him to, so he’s on my shit list.”
“As long as he stays off your to-do list.”
“Aw. But just think if I married him, we could be sisters for reals.”
“Stop it.”
Blair seemed to sense that Tempest really couldn’t handle going down this tunnel right now, even in jest. “Besides, I’m more into artists than musicians.”
“Starving artists.” The man she’d gone out with last night certainly wasn’t cashing in on his abstract uncycled sculptures. Blair had made him dinner, and he’d eaten three full plates.
“He wasn’t hungry when I finished with him.”
“Hungry for more Blair.”
“Yeah.” Blair leaned over the pile of T-shirts and high-fived Tempest.
An REI sales associate approached. “Can I help you find anything?”
Blair said, “Yes, my friend is going camping with a man she’s in love with. What do you have in the way of seductive hiking pants? We want him to want to take them off.”
Tempest wasn’t sure whose cheeks were redder, hers or the young man who couldn’t have been older than twenty-three. He gaped like a suffocating fish.
“I’m so sorry,” Tempest said. “That was highly inappropriate.” She glared at Blair who wasn’t sorry. She turned back to the young outdoorsman, keeping her face as polite and professional as possible. “But if you are willing to still help me, I’m looking for something appropriate to wear to spend a day in the woods near San Diego.”
He relaxed, keeping his sole focus on Tempest. “What time of year?”
“In two days.”
“Let’s check the weather forecast, then.” He pulled his phone of out his pocket.
Tempest smiled. Her type of guy.
Blair picked up gray pants and unfolded them. She frowned at the large pant width and cargo pockets. “Can’t she just wear yoga pants? She looks great in those.”
The man glanced up briefly before returning attention to his phone. “They are comfortable, which is important, but the thing about cotton is when you sweat, the moisture is absorbed by the fabric and stays next to your skin. And with the tight-knit leggings, it can take forever to dry. It’s worse if it rains or there’s a stream crossing. If the temperature drops, you’re cold and wet.”
Blair rolled her eyes and moved on to examine the next stack of khaki.
“All right. Here’s San Diego. Low chance of precipitation, but it could drop into the forties at night.” He held up the screen for Tempest to see. Like she hadn’t alrea
dy checked.
He moved over the tables and racks like a bee scouting pollen. Carrying a pile of dirt-colored clothes, he led the women to the dressing rooms and held the door to the largest stall open. Blair waltzed in and sat on the bench, ready to be entertained. He laid out the clothes for Tempest and turned to leave. “If you’re interested in boots, I can meet you over at shoes when you’re ready.”
“That would be great,” Tempest said. “Thanks.”
He tilted his face toward the carpet and pointed to the top pair of pants. “Those tend to look the most flattering on…young women.” With that he darted out.
Blair and Tempest were left staring at each other and trying not to giggle. Blair failed. Surely that poor man had not escaped the sound of her bubbling mirth.
Tempest tugged off her stiff jeans and picked up the thin nylon, not sure whether she wanted to look good for Leo or not. She should be doing everything she could to douse this fire. Oh, who was she kidding? She wasn’t going on a trip with Leo armored with anything but her best effort. She buttoned the pants at the waist. They were slim-cut but comfortable. The green fabric was light and flexible. It held tight around the hips but didn’t squeeze her thighs or calves. Who knew REI was the place to buy good pants? How many colors did these come in? She turned in front of the mirror, assessing.
“Oh, yes,” Blair said. “Your ass is perfect in those. That Boy Scout deserves a raise.”
Chapter Nine
The Camping Trip
No one had camping gear. Not Christopher. Not Jo’s family. Not Tempest. Zena, Mom, and Leo weren’t any better. Leo didn’t have so much as a hiking backpack. Instead of realizing that meant no one wanted to camp, Mom had bought tents and all the stuff the guy at Camping World told her she needed for spending the night in the woods. When speaking to Christopher and his daughters, Mom had made it seem like she already had all the gear sitting in her storage room. Mom kept telling Leo and Zena that this was the start of a fun new tradition and they’d use the new camping stuff every year, as if saying it would make it true. He didn’t correct her. Anything to make his mom happy.
Usually Leo arrived at the private aviation terminal of the airport, valeted his car, walked onto his plane, and took off within minutes. Today he arrived a whole half hour before he’d told the pilots to be ready. His collar seemed to be trying to choke him. His blood pressure rose as he walked through the automatic doors, eyes scanning for a tall brunette. He was spending New Year’s with Tempest. No, he couldn’t think like that. This was a weekend trip with Mom’s fiancé and his soon-to-be family.
He strode through the now familiar entry, nodding hello to Cindy at reception. She pointed to the waiting room, and he changed course with a flicker of trepidation. He had wanted to be the first one to the airport to make sure everything went smoothly. He opened the door to see Jo and Benji waiting with their kids. Benji was holding the baby and watching TV, but Jo perched on the edge of her chair, her gaze darting nervously over Hunter and Hannah, who were in various stages of climbing the couch and coffee table.
“Good morning,” Leo said. “I hope you haven’t been here long.”
The children squealed and ran over, taking up positions at his sides like miniature bouncy escorts.
Benji stood, moved the baby to his left arm, and held out a friendly hand. “I told Jo we had time, but she didn’t quite understand that we really didn’t need to worry about security lines or being left behind.”
Jo frowned at her husband. “You’ve never been on a private plane before either.”
Leo smiled at Jo. “Extra time for snacks.” He opened a fridge. “Fruit cup? Something to drink? Candy? There are some sandwiches in here, but they don’t look fresh. We’ll have better ones on the plane if you can wait.”
The children’s attention went into a higher gear. Hunter ran behind Leo to grab Hannah’s arm. “They have root beer in glass bottles.”
“Only one,” Jo said.
If that kid had more than one bottle of root beer, he’d be so keyed up he could probably run all the way to California before the sugar wore off. Leo lifted the chilled bottle and popped the cap. With only a hint of reluctance, he set it in the small, eager hands. “Help yourselves to anything. I’m just going to check on the flight.”
“Thank you so much.” Jo dipped her head as if in a slight bow.
Maybe the chartered flight was not a good idea after all. Leo lingered by reception, chatting with Cindy about her husband’s cancer but mostly avoiding going back into the lobby with his new travel mates.
Mom and Christopher appeared a conservative ten minutes early. Leo greeted them and sent them to the waiting room. Leo was still standing near reception when Tempest arrived exactly at the set time he’d told the group to meet.
“Hello,” she said.
She wore hiking pants that hugged her hips like a hot hippie, super tread boots, and a safari shirt unbuttoned at the collar. The only person here who looked ready to go into nature. Her tight shoulders told him not to try and hug her.
“Everyone’s in the lounge,” he said. “We’re just waiting on Zena.”
“Thank you for doing this. I’m sorry we’re taking advantage.”
“Not at all.” He meant it. He realized right then and there that he’d do anything for her.
She tucked a chunk of hair off her face and behind her ear.
She was still wearing his sapphire earrings. They were the perfect color for her, making the blue in her eyes bluer. He wanted to kiss the spot below the earring. See what noise she made if he nibbled on her ear. The memory of her breathless moan when they’d kissed two months ago hit him like a laser beam, burning down his core. He forced a teasing grin. “Anything to support the parents, right?”
Tempest didn’t answer. She turned toward the doors as Zena walked in, pulling a bag much too large for a weekend. Tempest let Zena hug her.
“That’s all of us,” Leo said. “Plane’s ready. Go ahead and head out to the tarmac, and I’ll grab the others.”
Zena and Tempest chatted by the stairs while a worker stowed their bags underneath the jet. Leo handed his over and led the way on board. He sat in his favorite seat, the one on the left facing forward.
“This airplane is nice,” Hunter said in awe, stopping inside the door so his mother stumbled into him. She nudged him forward.
“It’s really small,” Hannah said.
“What seat is mine?” Hunter surveyed the cream leather choices.
Jo looked to Leo. Leo stared back. Was he supposed to assign seats? No, thanks. Four big loungers faced each other near the front, and five smaller seats were in the back. Hunter sat in the spot across from Leo like a small emperor in his throne.
Fortunately, Mom came through the door and took charge. “I thought you’d like your family there.” She pointed toward the back. “With the bench and the seats facing it. Room for all of you. And there’s one more spot there.” Mom glanced sidelong at Tempest, a worried and apologetic look on her face.
Should he trade her? Leo had work to do, and he shouldn’t have to sit next to the kids. Leo could see the sense in Tempest being the one to sit with her own sister. But the seat configuration looked like first class and coach. Us and them. It wasn’t like that. This private plane was a bad idea. Of course, Leo was not flying commercial, no way. All those crowds and lines and people. So many germs and shared air.
“That’s perfect for me.” Tempest slid past Leo and moved to the back.
He swallowed disappointment as Zena settled in the seat across from him. Mom and Christopher took up the other two plush recliners.
The pilot welcomed them, and after take-off, the co-pilot passed out the trays of sandwiches, sliced fruit, and cookies.
Flights were usually a good time for him to work, but between the baby’s intermittent cries and Christopher deciding this was a good opportunity to get to know his soon-to-be stepchildren, Leo’s laptop didn’t come out of its case.
They rented two SUVs at the San Diego airport. Leo drove one, Benji the other. The Prestons needed all their seats in one, so Christopher and Tempest went with Leo. Leo thought it was Tempest’s turn to sit up front with him, but he didn’t say anything. Zena, as navigator, helped herself to shotgun. As Leo exited the airport, Zena pulled up her map and gave him directions. She’d called an old boyfriend before the trip to get the exact coordinates of a secluded little spot he loved and recommended outside the city.
Benji’s car followed Leo’s. Leo tried not to glance at Tempest in his rearview mirror but caught himself doing it every time he checked. He knew what she was doing better than Benji trailing him. She sat directly behind him and mostly looked out the window, but the few times she caught him peeking at her, her gaze seemed to trap him in the glass. He found he couldn’t honestly be sorry they were here together.
One hour and twenty-four minutes later, not including the stop at Target for firewood and food supplies, they pulled off the side of a dirt road in Capitan Grande Reservation.
“Just there.” Zena waggled a black lacquered fingernail toward a clearing on the right. She looked over the wilderness and chuckled. “Let’s get this party started.”
****
Tempest looked out the window. What were they going to do here in the woods for twenty-four hours?
It was pretty. Blue sky, warm sun, nature. But. But. She felt like a contestant on one of those survivor episodes. People liked to watch them so they could enjoy not being out there with children and stepfamilies and no toilet. An entertaining notion to think about while on one’s couch, but not something to actually experience. Even still, Tempest couldn’t wait to get out of the car. She’d sat in the back with Dad and Silvia. Silvia, not Mom. The two had held hands, and Tempest hadn’t missed her dad rubbing his thumb over the woman’s thigh. She was caught between wanting to vomit, cry, and scream. Yes, she was happy for them. No, she didn’t want to see any of their love manifestations. Yes, she missed Mom, and this felt like a betrayal. No, she didn’t want Dad to be sad and alone anymore.