Page 13 of Tangled with the Tight End

The table is laden with food trays–grilled shrimp cocktail, tomato basil soup, Ceaser salad, roasted chicken with vegetables, and chocolate lava cake. My mouth waters. I’ve been too busy to cook lately.

Once I get done at the bistro, I’m too exhausted to make a meal for just myself. Maybe Mom is right. Maybe I should date Sawyer. Are sparks even necessary? As long as we don’t have sex, sparks are unnecessary.

He’d eventually want to have sex.

Thirty minutes later, I’m full and slightly relaxed from the glass of wine. The kids have fallen asleep on the sofa, and we remain gathered around the table. Marco is at the head of the table, with Eden seated next to him. They’re holding hands, looking as happy as ever. While Gabriel and I are seated on opposite sides of the table

Eden leans forward and rests her elbows on the table. “What did you think of the lodge?”

“The place is top-notch. Good quality construction. Solid amenities. And the welcome package was Gino’s favorite. He devoured the cookies, leaving me only one. And everything else from the fruit to the cheeses were fantastic, so I’m not surprised that it’s a popular destination location.”

“Thank you. Lips & Hips provides the welcome package.” My neck heats as his eyes never leave mine. I need a fan. Or some ice water. Or a dip in the lake.

“Have you seen Gabriel play football?” Marco jumps from his seat and grabs the remote.

“I….” I cough and clear my throat. “I’ve seen a little bit, but not enough to recognize him.” Without his helmet and uniform on.

“Marco,” Gabriel groans and flops against the chair’s back. “She doesn’t want to watch me play football.”

“What woman doesn’t want to watch a good-looking guy play football?” Eden raises her hands, palms upward in question, and turns to me. “Right, Norah?”

Lord, she’s laying it on thick. Now my ears are burning. If they were trying any harder to throw us at each other, we’d be playing a game of Naked Twister.

“Eden, you realize your brother-in-law doesn’t live here, right? And I run a business here?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Eden clutches her chest in mock surprise.

“I mean, I don’t do the tourist thing. I’ve tried it before, and it blew up. I don’t do guys who have both feet out the door because that works even less, and you’re shipping us together like packages on a freight barge.”

“So, you noticed, too?” Gabriel rakes a hand through his hair, leaving the strands flicked in different directions. Like he needed to do something else to look hotter.

“It’s hard not to.”

The TV blares to life. It only takes Marco a second to have Gabriel’s image fill the enormous screen. He’s flipping hot. I’m not going to deny that. I’d be a fool to do so.

Eden smacks her hands on the table. “You’re not settling for some guy who doesn’t light your world on fire. Some guy like Sawyer. He’s nice enough, but not right for you. And we love you and Gabriel, so what’s the harm in wishing you’d decide to become a couple?”

“Sixteen hundred miles, his wife, his career, and if I had to guess, he isn’t a fan of small towns,” I mutter. Shit. Did I say that out loud? “And we’re not interested in each other in that way.”

If they wouldn’t notice, I’d crawl under the table and disappear.

six

NORAH

The Next Day

After parkingin front of the lodge, I collect the stock for the shop and brace against the cold chill. As we inch closer to Thanksgiving, the temperatures are dropping, and the threat of snow is increasing.

Even though the wind whips and swirls around the cart, the day is beautiful. The sun beams off the snowcapped mountain top blinding my eyes. But the swooping bald eagle that flies around its nest, with white puff clouds in the background, caps off the majestic view.

Why would anyone not love it here? The doors slide open, and I rush inside to avoid the cold. Okay, maybe if you aren’t a fan of bone-chilling cold and snow sledding, you might not love it. I shiver as the warmth of the lobby seeps past my winter coat, scarf, and fuzzy earmuffs.

“Morning, Norah.” Rose waves from the front desk.

“Good morning. Sold out?”

“Of course.” She beams and taps her nails on the keyboard with a click, clacking sound and returns her attention to the headset, speaking into the microphone.

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