“He’s notforme.”
She waved off my flippant response. “You know what I mean. He’s such a free spirit.Sonot the kind of guy I pictured you with.”
“Because he’s not the type of guy I’ll end up with,” I insisted, sitting up in the chair. “He’s about to go live some vagabond lifestyle or something, and I’m trying—nogoingto land a job soon and I’ll likely be starting over somewhere. Nothing about us is a recipe for romance. A fling, maybe, butdefinitelynot a romance.”
Mattie pouted. “Can you engage in my rom-com fantasies for once in your life?”
“No, because they’re far-fetched, and that much daydreaming will get your head stuck in the clouds.”
“You’re no fun.”
“Now you sound like Oliver,” I muttered. “Look, just because you had the perfect movie ending where you get the guy and move to the small town, doesn’t mean that’s a realistic expectation to have.”
“I disagree.”
I made a point to turn and look out the window, informing my sister with my body language that I was no longer entertaining this conversation.
Oliver was cute, fun, and easy to be around. But he also did not take life seriously and was completely closed off. Despite constantly asking me questions and making sweeping judgments about my own life, he refused to let me in even the tiniest bit. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, but he so clearly wasn’t ready for anything more than something casual and short-lived.
But maybe a fling was exactly what I needed right now. With the ski season coming to an end, and him potentiallyleaving soon, I’d come to the stark realization that I would be extremely disappointed if we never took things between us further. Other than trying to find a job, Oliver had infiltrated all of my free thoughts.
If he moved away or I found a job elsewhere, and we never let our flirty situationship evolve beyond a kiss, I knew deep down that I’d regret it. Now I had to figure out a way to make that clear to him without outright throwing myself at him…
A truck pulled into the driveway.
“Your husband’s home,” I said, my chin resting on the back of the chair.
But it wasn’t just Giles that got out of the car. A figure slid out of the passenger side as well. I sat straight up when I realized that it was Oliver.
“Oliver’s here,” I hissed. I tried to straighten out my sweatshirt, but I knew without checking a mirror that I had the appearance of someone who had been rotting away on the couch all day.
“Do I look okay?” I asked.
She studied me. “You look like a mess, but I doubt he’ll care in the slightest.”
The door opened and Giles walked in first, stomping his boots on the mat before tugging them off.
“Hey, babe.” Mattie beamed, and he walked straight toward her to plant a kiss on her forehead.
“Hiya.” Oliver stood in the doorway, grinning.
“Oliver, what a surprise.” Mattie’s gaze shifted between the two of us.
“Hey,” I said as nonchalantly as possible.
“Frankie, can I talk to you really quick?” He pointed outside to the porch.
“Oh, uh, yeah sure.” I peeled myself from the armchair and smoothed out my sweats.
I didn’t bother grabbing a coat off the front hook. The sun was beating pretty heavily down and people weren’t kidding when they said it was stronger in Colorado. I barely even caught a chill in its rays.
Oliver let me go first and then stepped out onto the porch next to me, closing the door behind him.
“What’s up?—”
He cut off my words by dipping his head to meet mine and stealing a kiss, catching me completely off guard.
“What was that for?” I breathed when he pulled away.
