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Jake hung up, and I knew this was far from over.
I was relieved when Mickie rang my phone ten minutes later, happy to be distracted from trying to figure out what was up Jake’s sleeve.
I answered.
“I have Chinese Takeout being delivered to my house, and don’t bring a swimsuit because the pool is heated, and we’re skinny dipping tonight,” I said before she could greet me.
“Sounds delicious,” she said. “Hey, I have a huge favor to ask.”
“Anything,” I said, feeling cocky, confident, and just how any man would sound right before an evening of ravishing his woman’s perfect body.
“Okay, it will sound crazy, but just go with me on this.”
“Nothing is crazy when it comes to my lady sounding this excited on the phone.”
“So, Ashley Mitchell called me?”
My eyes zeroed in on the pen I had just been rolling through my fingers, excited about the good trouble I planned on getting into tonight.
“I was just on the phone with Jake. How did she get your number?”
“She said she got it from the hospital,” she said, unconcerned that a random woman she’d operated on had called her. “I guess Jake’s trying to keep her cooped up, but she heard him on the phone with you, and she wanted to call and invite us to go to Aspen with them. She said that if you said yes, Jake would have no option but to approve her wishes. She sounded really good considering the chemo.”
“That bastard,” I said, leaning forward and running my hand through my hair. “He just invited us to go with them when we talked.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him no,” I answered.
“Why? We would have a blast.”
“That’s you who would have the blast, my love, not me. I would be in hell, trying to navigate these adult men who behave like teenagers.”
“And you don’t?” she said with a laugh. “That is the pot calling the kettle black, pal.”
I was so confused. Why would Mickie even want to do this?
“Who put you up to this?”
“No one,” she immediately responded, and instantly, I knew there was more to this than Ash just crying on Mickie’s shoulder.
“Bullshit,” I answered.
Ping!
I opened my text:
Jake Mitchell: Who’s the chicken shit now?
“How do these assholes even have medical licenses?” I said to myself.
“What?” Mickie said with a laugh.
“The better question is, how the fuck did Jake get you to agree to this outlandish trip with people you hardly know?”
“I love snow skiing,” she said, “and I always wanted to go to Aspen at Christmas time.”
“You sound like you’re reading from a script.”
