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I shrug, not wanting to give too much away. What happens between Lo and me is between us. But at the same time, I want my friends to know she’s mine. I want everyone to know.
“I guess you could say we made up.”Repeatedly the other night. And the night after it.
“Oh, yeah?” he says.
I nod, unsure if Wyatt’s happy about it. Not that it matters.
“It’s about time,” Benji says, slapping me on the back once. He’s always been supportive of Willow and me.
The warm air of the restaurant hits me as soon as we walk through the door of the grill, along with the smell of bacon and coffee. I start unzipping my coat as my eyes scan the counters that snake through the place in three long rectangles. I don’t stop until I land on a familiar head of wavy brown hair. She glances up as if she can feel my stare and smiles when our eyes meet.
The other two guys spot her around the same time, and we walk to the back of the space to meet her. She rises and hugs Benji and Wyatt, and both my friends place chaste kisses on her flushed cheeks. I pause until she gets to me, but don’t hesitate to pull her into my arms when it’s my turn.
“Hi,” she says, her voice a little breathless.
“Hi,” I repeat back, inches from her gorgeous face. I lean down to kiss her lips, my touch lingering for a second too long for a publicdisplay. But it’s still too brief for me. Reluctantly, I pull back and take the seat to her right. “Have you ordered?”
She shakes her head. “Not yet. I was waiting for you guys.” She turns toward Benji and Wyatt. “How were the slopes this morning?”
“Perfection,” Wyatt answers.
“Why weren’t you up there with us?” Benji asks.
“You know I’d only slow you down,” she answers with a small smile.
“Totally worth it,” Benji counters, and Willow’s lips tilt further.
The waitress appears, and we order a round of coffees. I watch Willow peruse the menu that I don’t need to look at. I already know what I want. I take a sip from the mug when it’s delivered, and we go around the group to place our breakfast orders.
The sizzle from the grill, the clatter from silverware on plates, and the buzz of conversations fill the open space. The guys ask Willow about her job and how the house-hunting is going as she puts cream and sugar into her coffee. They talk about a couple of possibilities, and she glances at me when she talks about going to see them soon. There’s a question in her green-eyed gaze that I answer with a small nod and a wink.
Of course I’ll go with you.
Real estate is pricey around here, mostly because of the demand for vacation rentals. But I know all the agents in the area, so I can help her get a good deal. I’d rather have her move in with me, but I know it’s important to her for her to get her own place.
We dive in when plates of hot food are set in front of us. I’m always starving when I start the day on the slopes. There’s something about crisp, cold mountain air and a hot breakfast that’s perfection. Or maybe it’s the entire scene. Me, sitting herewith two of my friends and Willow. I’m in that stage where I can’t get enough of this woman. And everything feels more complete with her here with us. With me. Even as I sit at this grill, eating my food and listening to their conversation, I’m strangely content in a way I’ve never been before.
I pay for everyone’s breakfast when we’re done. I guess my good mood is making me generous too.
Wyatt and Benji head to the shop to give lessons for the day. I leave with Willow.
“Let me call my real estate agent,” I say to her, our fingers laced together as we walk to the parking lot. “I can set up some places for you to see.”
“Okay.” She nods. “That would be great.”
“Just give me some specifics on what you’re looking for.”
“Three bedrooms, at least two baths,” she starts, listing off basic requirements. “I want lots of natural light.”
“Big windows,” I say. “Got it.”
“An open kitchen if possible …”
I listen as she continues to list off her must-haves and her wants. And I make a call on the way home to my agent. She deals more with commercial properties, but she’s just as eager to help Willow with her home search. A commission is a commission, I guess.
Willow and I spend the rest of the day lazing around my place. We huddle around the computer and search for properties online for a while. Then, we migrate into the living room and cuddle on the couch, watching mindless television for most of the afternoon. I spend more time watching her and making out with her like a prepubescent teenager than I do watching a show.
We cook dinner together and sit in front of the roaring fireplace, bundled in heavy blankets. The warmth radiating from my body keeps both of us warm as we watch the snow falling onto the deck out back. I’ve never appreciated snowy nights more than when I have Willow’s body pressed against mine. We keep the room dark, but Willow’s laughter lights up the space every time I crack a joke or make a sarcastic remark. I find myself searching for things to say just so I can hear it again.
