Page 24 of Better Than the Beach
“Let me guess,” I drawl into the receiver. “You found her and she’s fine. Scrapbooking with the mayor or knitting with the sheriff’s wife?”
Duncan snorts a laugh.
“Close. She’s at Jim Satchell’s house gettin’ pissed on spiked cider and tryin’ to teach Buddy how to roll over.”
I don’t even try to wipe the smile from my face, and when I glance at Cassie, she’s got her hand covering her mouth to quiet her giggles, and her eyes are shimmering with delight.
“Buddy the pig?” I ask Dunc.
“Buddy the pig,” he confirms. “You headin’ back here? I told the kids I’d be back to read the bedtime story, but I gotta put the rigs up first.”
I glance back at the wine, the VHS tape, and the cookies, and then I laugh.
“We’re going to stay at Pop’s cabin, so I’ll lock up the snowmobile in the morning.”
“Copy that, brother. See you tomorrow.”
I set the walkie on the table and then lock eyes with Cassie.
“What’s all this?” she asks curiously, lips twitching in that deliciously tempting way as she gestures to the items my mom seems to have set out for us.
“This, Cassandra, might be the mythical magic of Saint Nanta Claus.”
She laughs. “Nan did this? Why?”
I shrug. “I learned a long time ago not to try and find the reason behind her antics. It’s best not to question them. Instead, let’s just enjoy them.”
I pour us each a glass of wine and turn on the old television set. I pop in the VHS tape,A Christmas Story, and settle into the couch next to Cassie. We drink our wine, eat our cookies, and laugh at the movie together. It ends too quickly, then Cassie falls asleep with her head in my lap and my fingers in her hair. The whole night, I work to fight off the impending reality.
She is leaving tomorrow, and I have to be okay with that.
SIX
nolan
I watchCassie pack her clothes into her carry-on bag.
The skimpy sun dresses and bikinis heat my blood just as quickly as they create a surge of jealousy. It takes everything in me not to demand she stay here in this room for the remainder of the holidays. Perhaps longer.
I say nothing, though.
I’ve been unable to leave her side since she first told me about her flight yesterday morning, but I’ve managed to keep my possessive thoughts to myself. Even when she pulls the nearly empty box of condoms out of the dresser drawer and shoves them into her bag quickly, ears burning red and cheeks flushed pink, I maintain control.
I don’t want to scare her off, but I’ve been thinking of ways to breech the topic of staying in touch. She owes me nothing, I know, and our lives are in very different places, but the idea of losing her so soon...
It’s unacceptable to me.
“Are you excited to finally soak up the sun on the beach,” I ask, forcing a lightness in my voice that I don’t feel as she zips her bag closed.
I take it from her without prompting and follow her out the bedroom door and down the stairs.
“I suppose,” she says. “I did want to get a tan before spring semester starts.”
Her excitement feels just as fake as my own.
“The beach will probably be better than this frigid cold,” I tell her. “We’ve got another heavy snow coming tomorrow.”
When her feet hit the bottom of the stairs she turns to me, sadness flashing in her eyes briefly before her lips curve into a suggestive smile and her cheeks tint with another pink blush.
