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Mid-January in the Smoky Mountains usually means one thing.
“You might be here awhile. The forecast is calling for snow flurries this afternoon,” Ansley informs us.
“In that case, we are going to park our asses over on the sofa by the fireplace. Here’s my credit card to start a tab. We’ll take two mocha lattes, and keep them coming,” Brandee says as she hands over her card.
“Whipped cream?” Ansley asks.
“Is that a legit question? Of course, we want whipped cream. It’s a snow day,” I reply.
Brandee peruses the shelves for a book to read as I free Kaela from her carrier seat and remove her bulky puffer bodysuit.
A few minutes later, Ansley delivers our mugs and takes a seat with us.
“Can I hold her?” she asks.
I pass Kaela over, and the baby instantly flops against her chest and falls fast asleep.
“You’re like the baby whisperer,” Brandee muses.
Ansley smiles and leans back against the cushions as she cradles Kaela.
“Where is lover boy this weekend?” Brandee asks.
Ansley sighs. “Dallas. He’s playing a concert tonight before the Cowboys game tomorrow, but he’s flying home after the game and should be in town until after Valentine’s Day.”
“That’s good news,” I say.
“Yeah, the house is almost ready, and we have wedding plans to finalize. It’ll be nice to have him here in person for a while.”
Garrett owns a home in Nashville, but he purchased some property from Langford, his older brother, and is building a home for him and Ansley here in Balsam Ridge that will provide security and plenty of privacy.
“What are you doing tonight?” Brandee asks her as she takes a sip from her mug.
“I don’t have any plans.”
“Why don’t you come to my house? We’re having a slumber party.”
“I could do that,” Ansley agrees.
“Great. We’ll order pizzas and watch scary movies. I’m going to text the other girls.”
Brandee pulls her phone from her purse and taps on the screen.
Looks like our little slumber party is turning into a rager.
Weston
“Thanks for letting me use the shower, Mom.”
A wildfire took out my house a little over a year ago, and I was living with Langford and his son, Tucker, while awaiting the insurance settlement to rebuild. That is, until a few weeks ago, when he married his new bride, Isley. Since the wedding, I’ve been staying in Garrett’s former Man Cave.
It’s on one of several boat docks I had built on the edge of the river on the hemp farm. Each dock has a rustic, studio apartment above it with a futon that pulls into a full-sized bed, toilet, sink, and mini fridge. I branded them the Man Caves. Men rent the spots to store their boats and spend a weekend fishing on the river. It’s like camping, but with a real bed and running water.
It’s comfortable enough; however, it doesn’t have a shower, so I either have to wash up at the gym or my parents’ house.
Thank goodness my new home is almost complete. Graham owns a contracting company that’s overseeing the build, and according to him, they are finishing up some final touches, and I will be able to officially move in.
“You know you’re always welcome. This is still your home too,” she says as she flips a pancake.
