Page 65 of Snowed In With The Second Chance Daddy

I wakeup at the crack of dawn, not because the shades aren’t drawn and light is seeping through the window, but because the bed moves.

Iris gets out of bed.

Strange, because the last thing I knew, she was in my arms, and we were in a hot air balloon over some landscape that belongs in a Dr. Seuss book.

My dreams last night were crazy, laced with delusions of grandeur about all the things we’ll do together now that we’re aweagain.

At least, I think we are.

I expect to hear her shut the bathroom door, but her footsteps don’t travel in that direction. They pad softly in a circle around the foot of the bed.

I turn over toward the empty spot she left behind, feeling her warmth, smelling her citrusy, jasmine scent. “Mmgh, where did you go?”

“I’m getting dressed.”

I squint my eyes open and try to focus on her form.

Her body is silhouetted against the window, clad in only her undergarments.

I watch as she pulls her dress from last night back on.

As much as I loved it, I’d much rather see her naked. “Why?”

Iris pulls her blue hair up out of the back of her dress. “I…have an early flight.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “Your flight.”

“Yeah, it’s at O’Hare, and I’m not packed and–” She steps closer to the bed, now with her shoes in hand. “If I’m going to make it, I need to go back to the hotel now.”

Iris sits on the edge of the bed, giving me the perfect opportunity to grab her.

“Move your flight.” I wrap my arms around her waist.

She giggles, falling back into bed with me. “Trevor–”

“Just until tomorrow.” I bundle her up in my arms, kissing every part of her neck and face I can reach.

She laughs all the while.

“Let me have one more day with you. And then you can stay the next day and the next day and the next too.”

I plant a kiss to her mouth. It lingers. Winds. For a moment, I think we’ll tumble back into bed and pick up where we left off last night, but no such luck.

Iris pats my cheek. “I’ve got to be at work tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?! That’s criminal.”

“Yeah, my hoursarecriminal,” she grumbles, then sits back up to pull on her strappy high heels. “But that’s the business. Overworked and underpaid. At least for now.”

I sit up, spooning her from behind, letting my legs drape off the side of the bed around her hips. “Why do you do it?”

“It’s my job.”

“Besides that.”

Iris looks into her lap, some hair falling her face. “I love it. I want to make games. You know how important that is to me.”

“I know it is, I just…” The competition in her industry has been stiff. I’m happy she got a job. I really am. Now that I can see through the haze of what I assumed was a betrayal. “What’s the plan?”

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