Page 11 of A Very Titan Christmas
“She meant well.” He offered his hand to her again. “Nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see each other around. Friends?”
They shook on it, and he disappeared into the main lodge, where a small family was shaking the snow off their parkas.
Eloise reappeared at top speed as if she’d known the moment Greg bailed. “Where’d he go?” She spun to look for Greg. “Where’s Gregory?”
“Mom.”
“What?”
The pink heat in her cheeks was morphing into aggravation. “You can’t do that.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Mom wheeled around. “He’s charming, isn’t he?”
She crossed her arms and wanted to curl into the couch cushion, willing to hide from discussions of cute single men. “He is, but that’s not the point.”
“He’s financially secure. Owns his own company. Never married. Wants kids. I bet he’d be a stud in bed.”
If only the couch cushions were a place she could hide. “Oh my God, Mom, please stop.”
Eloise rolled her eyes. “Don’t be a baby.”
Rachel stared into her cocoa. She didn’t want to ask but had to know the extent of the damage. “How much did you talk to him about me?”
Eloise waved her concern away as though she were batting away a gnat. “I’m trying to help you out, Rachel. You’re not getting any younger.”
The blood drained out of her face. Her inner feminist wanted to scream. Her mother hadn’t raised a woman who would pine to carry on their DNA. This was a shock that left her dumbstruck. “Mother.”
“I’m certainly not getting younger—”
“This is not about you.” She couldn’t find a better argument to shut Eloise down. Rachel couldn’t even piece together her mother’s logic.
“I disagree.” Eloise smoothed her hands over her slacks. “We should spend the next few weeks scoping the scene and seeing if anyone catches your eye.”
“Scoping the scene? There is no scene in Silverberry.”
“Not with that attitude, there’s not.” Eloise admired her candy-cane-red manicure. “Want to get our nails done this afternoon?”
Rachel pushed off the couch. “Not today. I need to get work done.”
“Don’t be short. I was trying to help.”
“Well, don’t.” She gathered her cocoa mug and mother-daughter holiday itinerary. “I’ll text you later.”
“Dinner tonight?”
She sidestepped the sitting area and beelined toward the coffee bar in a section of the lobby tucked away on the far side of the fireplace. “Only because I already told Dad I’d be there.”
“I could invite someone to join us—”
Rachel spun to face her mother but kept backing away. She might shake the woman if she didn’t put space between them. “No funny business.”
“I would never—Watch out!”
Rachel spun and slammed into someone. The hot chocolate sloshed between them. The mug clattered onto the stone floor. “Oh God.”
“Shit.”
Rachel dropped to the floor to gather the broken pieces of the mug. “I’m so sorry.” She stacked the sharp pieces, but her half-drank hot chocolate looked like a small lake on the stone floor. Worse, it had splattered over this man. Her gaze tracked up his boots, over the dark jeans, and stopped at his hot-chocolate-covered midsection. Embarrassment rolled over her again. “I’m so sorry.”
