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“He’ll be here in a minute,” I promised Jameson.
Jameson ran around me, sliding in his socks and pjs. He was being extra hyper tonight. It was his way of dealing with all the new information we’d thrown at him today. My insides were doing the same thing.
“Can we look for a dog tomorrow?” He slid across the floor.
“I have a better plan.” Drake walked in, now dressed in jeans and a tight tee. He was obviously feeling better. And ooh la la, was he fine. Though my poor heart couldn’t take any more palpitations, even the good kind at this point.
“Drake!” Jameson shouted and ran toward him, sliding the last bit until he wrapped himself around Drake’s legs.
Drake wrapped an arm around him. “Hey there.” He seemed pleased Jameson was taking to him so well.
I smiled at the scene. “What do you have in mind for tomorrow?” I really didn’t want to pick out a dog just yet. I had every intention of keeping my promise to Jameson, but considering Drake was talking about hiring security, and currently there were photographers camped outside across the street, I wasn’t keen on having to take a dog out for walks to relieve itself.
He ruffled Jameson’s hair. “How would you like to go skiing tomorrow?”
“Yes!” Jameson pumped his fist into the air.
“What do you think, Charlotte?”
He probably should have employed the WWCT protocol before he asked our son, but he was a newbie, so I would forgive him. “That sounds like fun, but do we really want to be out in public right now? Especially together?” I admit to not being ready for the attention. How were people going to react when they realized he was ditching all the Hollywood sirens for cute, perky me? All my old insecurities were creeping back in.
Drake sauntered my way, well, as best as he could with Jameson still clinging to his leg. “Charlotte, this comes with the package.” His tone had a sympathetic air to it.
I bit my lip. “I know, but do we have to rush right into it? And what if your kidney stone gets stuck in your ureter or bladder?” I was grasping at straws here.
“That’s highly unlikely.” Drake grinned. “I really need to meet with the production team tomorrow in Jackson Hole before they all go home. And I want you and Jameson to come with me.”
That was sweet and all, but . . . “Is your new French costar still there?” I’d looked her up and all I could say was, wow. She was stunning and apparently didn’t own many clothes.
He gave me a knowing grin. “Yes.”
“Planning on running lines, getting those ‘scenes’ ironed out to perfection?” I narrowed my envious eyes.
Drake tugged on my flannel nightshirt—I was sexy like that. I was wearing fuzzy gray socks to enhance the ensemble. He pulled me closer to him, but not too close, given our audience who was now begging for us to slide.
“You have zero reasons to be jealous.” He kissed my lips.
Jameson’s face contorted. I wasn’t sure he appreciated Drake kissing me, but Drake had been up-front with him about our relationship. I wasn’t sure Jameson really understood what that meant—all he cared about was Drake not sharing any of his sperm with me. I was already preparing for the call I would be getting from Jameson’s kindergarten teacher in the near future, where she would inform me that Jameson had shared the wonders of sperm with his classmates.
“I’m not like those women,” I whispered, all my insecurities were coming out to play.
“For that I’m grateful.” Drake kissed me once more before turning his attention to Jameson. “You promised to show me how to slide.”
He was too charming for my own good, which I knew meant I would be hitting the slopes tomorrow. Which meant my life was about to be on full display.
~*~
“You can stop looking in the mirror; you are just as beautiful as the last time you checked,” Drake assured me.
I flipped up the visor mirror in Drake’s rented Range Rover. It had been returned to him last night after being located at a local park where Martez had abandoned it. Who knew where he’d gone from there. For his sake I hoped whoever he’d sold his story to paid him a lot, because Drake was going to obliterate him financially and otherwise.
I smoothed out the tight pink sweater I was wearing. I’d even borrowed one of Izzy’s push-up bras. Was I proud of that decision? No. But a girl had to do what a girl had to do. And if I had to show off every curve I owned, and perhaps amplify a few, that’s just the way it was. I would feel shame about it after I met the French siren who would be doing love scenes with the love of my life. Besides, I had to look good for all the freaking photographers outside the inn who followed us and shot a million pictures of us leaving in the car this morning. There was more of that to come, I was sure of it. Which meant I would probably fall spectacularly on the slopes today.
