Page 82 of Wright Kind of Trouble

“I hope you’re enjoying my resort,” Blake said, dropping an arm across Bailey’s shoulders.

“It’s nice,” she said with a shrug. “I suck at skiing though. I gave up after the first run and decided I was going to be a lodge bunny.”

His eyes widened. “A lodge bunny?”

“Is that not the term? I made it up,” Bailey said with a devious grin. “I sit around in the hot tub, drink hot chocolate and apple cider, and watch everyone else wipe out. I’m a delight.”

He laughed. “Well, if you want to get back out on the slopes, I could teach you.”

I snorted. “Holliday, you’re a terrible teacher.”

“I could have gone pro. I’m a fucking fantastic teacher.”

“Nah,” Bailey said, interrupting.

“What do you mean, nah?” Holliday asked.

Bailey shrugged. “Not really interested in learning. Don’t want to hurt myself.”

“You won’t hurt yourself. I guarantee that.”

Harley just snorted. “I’d give up. The girl only cares about volleyball.”

“I’m not going to break a leg or something and make it so that I can’t play.”

“Volleyball?” he asked. “Interesting. Where do you play?”

“Texas Tech. We’re both Tech students.”

“She walked on and is now a starter,” Harley bragged. “Our little gifted student.”

“Wait, students?” Blake asked, his eyes sliding to mine. “Exactly how old are you?”

“Does it matter?” Bailey challenged.

Blake’s eyebrows rose. “A feisty one.”

“You have no idea,” Harley said.

“Something to say?”

Blake smirked. “I like them feisty.”

“Oh. Well, stick around,” she said, tipping her chin up.

Harley leaned her body into mine, and suddenly, Blake and Bailey’s banter disappeared. It was just her against me. She slid her hand across my lap, threading our fingers together. I dropped mine to her waist and tucked her against my side. I pressed a kiss to her hair, breathing in her lavender scent.

This was what it could be like. Us out in the open, with our friends, just living our lives. No hiding from our families. It reminded me of the time we’d had in Seattle. When everything had seemed so perfect. I probably shouldn’t revel in it. There were still months before graduation, but I had her to myself, and I didn’t plan to let her go until she asked me to.

“Where are you staying?” she asked, tilting her head up to look at me.

“I have my family chalet on the mountain.”

Her eyes rounded. “Of course you do.”

“My dad got it in the divorce. Mom took the house in Cabo.”

“Fancy.”

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