Page 43 of Whiteout

“What kind would you like? Pumpkin?” He winked. “The banana cream from Hank?”

Yeah, baby, I know all about that.

“Uhh…” She bit her lip. “…both?”

“Why not?” Chuckling, Ian noticed Derek lifting his brow. “What’s that face for, Derek? Miss Dalton can have two pieces of pie if she wants to.”

“Of course she can.” Throwing his arm around her shoulders, he hugged Breanna to his side. “That’s too much for her, though.”

Jesus Christ.

What are you, now? The motherfucking food police?

He needed Derek to go back home to Sacramento, where he belonged. Ian never cared to get involved in this goddam mess. But Fate handed him Breanna for a reason, right? She was no match against the devil on her own.

Returning with the pie, Ian found Breanna rubbing at her temple, trying to put some space between herself and Derek. “Here we are. Pecan for you…” Handing his mom her pie, Francie and Ted sat down with plates of their own. Then, turning to his princess, he winked. “And pumpkin, with a side of banana cream for you. I put extra whipped cream on it. Thought you’d like that.”

“Thanks,” she deadpanned.

“Randall was right,” Francie noted, looking through the glass. “It’s snowing.”

“Just a dusting,” Ted said with a squeeze to his wife’s knee. “Six inches, they say. Another big one’s supposed to hit come Monday, though.”

“Jesus, is that all it ever does here?” Attacking the pie with her fork, Breanna licked the cream from her lip.

His dick twitched. Course, it didn’t take a lot for that to happen when he was around her.

“Feels like it sometimes. Last season was insane. Started in December and didn’t let up until April. We got what? Seven hundred inches, wasn’t it?” Ted asked his wife.

Francie nodded. “Seven hundred and twenty-two, dear.”

“Pure bedlam. We were snowed in here for a good long while with the pass closed.” Shoveling pie into his mouth, Ted shrugged. “Makes for good skiing over in Tahoe, I suppose.”

“Holy sh—” But Breanna stopped herself and muttered, “Sorry.”

“Do you ski?”

Of course, Derek would ask her that. Diamond Peak. Sugar Bowl. Palisades. He’d been addicted to the thrill of the slopes from the time they were kids.

“Oh, no.” Breanna put her plate down with a shake of her head. “Tried it once and nearly killed myself. I have no desire to ever do it again.”

“Shame.” Derek looked from Breanna to Francie and Ted. “I should probably head back to Sacramento tonight—just in case.”

Yes, you definitely should.

Ian caught Breanna pressing her fingers to her temple again. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, just a little headache.”

Derek and Francie turned where they sat to scrutinize her.

“It’s the alcohol, I think,” she said and narrowed her eyes at him. “I probably shouldn’t be drinking with a concussion.”

“Why don’t you go lie down, hm? Get some rest.” Hugging her to his side, Derek kissed the top of her head.

Fucking bastard. Ian poured himself another shot. So much for staying sober.

Breanna’s fingers fidgeted on her lap. “Yeah, I think I’ll do that.”

---