Alyssa’s eyes lit up as she rattled off titles. “There’s The Notebook, Crazy Rich Asians, and Pride and Prejudice! They all look so good!”
Bodhi pinched the bridge of his nose as if physically pained. “What about John Wick or Top Gun: Maverick? Something with explosions, you know? High stakes?”
Alyssa gasped in mock offense. “Bodhi West, how dare you! Romance movies are high stakes! You’ve got people risking it all for love. And you cried during Titanic, so don’t even try to act tough.”
Bodhi rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Fine. Crazy Rich Asians, but I’m picking the snacks.”
She squealed, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best!” She patted him on the behind before turning for the door. “See you at home,” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared into the cold.
Capri leaned back on her heels and slipped her torque wrench into her back pocket. “You’re such a pushover, Bodhi.”
He shrugged, his gaze lingering on the door Alyssa had just exited. “Relationships aren’t about keeping score, Capri. Sometimes, giving in is the win.”
Capri snorted softly. “Spoken like a guy who just lost the argument. Now, go grab me a spare package of spark plugs before you start sounding like a romance movie yourself.”
Bodhi laughed, heading toward the shelves crammed with parts. As he scanned the cluttered space, something bright caught his eye—a vase of artificial sunflowers perched incongruously between oil filters and old manuals. He paused, his brow furrowing slightly, before reaching for the spark plugs.
“What?” Capri asked.
Bodhi shrugged. “It’s just…you don’t often see flowers in a shop. Especially your shop.”
“So what? I have an affinity for sunflowers. Not a crime,” she challenged.
Bodhi tucked a smile away. No doubt, Jake had something to do with it. That guy seemed to bring out Capri’s softer side. But he knew better than to say so to her. Not if he wanted to have a hind end left to sit on.
Capri tightened the last bolt on the engine. Bodhi turned up the radio, and the announcer’s voice filled the room. “Snow is on its way, folks—a little early spring surprise, but not uncommon in the Tetons. Stay safe out there!”
Capri straightened, shutting the snowmobile’s top with a satisfying clunk. “There we go. She’s ready for the big race.”
Bodhi handed her the spark plugs and watched as she tucked them in the sled’s storage compartment. “I’ll clean up the tools,” he said, gathering them off the concrete floor.
Capri wiped her hands on a mechanic’s towel and headed to the door, pulling it open to step into the crisp air. Snowflakes danced on the breeze, and across the road, a moose stood motionless, its dark form outlined against the trees, steam rising faintly from its nose.
“Wow,” Bodhi whispered from behind her. “Look at that.”
Capri folded her arms, watching the snow gather on the moose’s broad back. “New snow,” she murmured, a faint smile tugging at her lips. The flakes drifted softly, silently, but the shiver that ran through her had nothing to do with the cold. The Devil’s Staircase race was right around the corner, and she could already taste the thrill of victory.
4
Morning dawned gray and heavy with snow, muffling the world beyond the windows. Lila pulled herself from the warmth of her bed, her body heavy with fatigue after a sleepless night of tossing and turning. Her thoughts had spun relentlessly, tangling themselves in the ramifications of Camille’s situation and the night before.
Lila’s daughter’s words had hit like a thunderclap, leaving Lila momentarily stunned. Her hand fell away from Camille’s knee as her mind scrambled to catch up. Pregnant. Her daughter—her Camille—was pregnant. She searched Camille’s face for some hint that this was a mistake or a misunderstanding, but all she saw was raw vulnerability.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The space had felt too small, the silence deafening. Lila finally found her voice, though it was barely above a whisper.
“How far along are you?” she’d asked, her throat tight.
“Almost three months,” Camille said, her voice breaking.
Camille’s dating life had always been a carousel of flashing smiles and fleeting connections, each boy just another painted horse vying for his turn. The ride spun on, but none stayed long—which was exactly how Camille wanted it.
Lila had looked to the star-filled sky and let out a painful breath while trying to process. “Who’s the father? Does he know?”
Camille shook her head quickly. “No. And he’s not going to. He…he’s not someone I want in my life, or the baby’s.”
“Oh, honey. I’m not sure that’s your choice. The father has a right to?—”
“Mom, back off.”
