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I looked into her eyes and nodded. “You do.”
Her hands cupped my face. “And now you’re going to the Olympics.” Her eyes widened. “Did you tell your father, yet?” she asked as I felt a stabbing sensation sink into my heart. “He’ll want to know right away. When he gets back from practice, you can tell him. Okay?”
I tried my very best to keep smiling. Even though she was asking me to wait for my father—who’d been dead for years.
“I will, Mom. I’ll tell him.” My eyes overflowed with tears, and I sniffled.
“Good, girl. The second he walks through that door. You let him know.”
I laid my head on her shoulder and hugged her again. “I will. Don’t worry.” I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths.
“And then tell him to change the bulb in the hallway. It’s burned out, again and he’s the only one tall enough to fix it.” She laughed and hugged me tighter.
I nodded and sniffled again. Then I wiped my eyes before I lifted my head.
“I’ll tell him, Mom. I promise.”
20
Jillian
“Forget it, that ain’t happening, woman.” Cash grasped my wrists and held my hands above my head.
I had to try really, really hard not to laugh. The look of terror on his face was real.
But it was also extremely cute.
“It’s a couple of spritzes, that’s all,” I told him part of the truth. It would be more than that.
“Jillian,” he stared at me with an extremely serious gaze, “not in a million years am I going to let you spray that crap in my hair.”
Cash Clemens had what we Canadian girls fondly referred to as hockey hair. It wasn’t short.
It wasn’t long.
It was more like—he was late for a haircut. If that haircut had been booked six months ago.
So, his hair was almost on the verge of being unruly.
But not so much that you necessarily wanted to book that haircut for him.
Nope.
Instead, you wanted to run your fingers through it while he kissed you senseless.
“One spray, honey. Please? I have to test this product out tonight and have the review up by tomorrow.” I looked at the bottle of dry shampoo spray in my hand. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”
He frowned at me, but still didn't let go of my wrists. “It’s going to make me smell like a flower shop.”
I bit my lip because he wasn't wrong. “More like a spring meadow.” I tried to sweeten the deal. But from the look on his face, he wasn’t buying it.
“Forget it.”
It was the middle of January. Not that you’d know it in Las Vegas. Back home, there were six new inches of snow covering the two feet already on the ground. Here, the ground was very much snow-free.
“Please?” I asked again, even though I knew the answer would still be no. But his answers at night were always a resounding yes. Things between Cash and I were back to normal.
Well.
