Page 65 of The Valentine Inn

“That’s my dad!” Jameson shouted, as if he were horrified watching Marissa grope his father. It was enough to shake me out of my silent spiral of self-loathing. It also stunned Marissa to the point where she loosened her hold on Drake, allowing him to free himself from her clutches. Drake immediately took Jameson’s other side and put his arm around both of us. He heaved a heavy breath, like he’d just run a race. Everyone else in the room chuckled at Jameson’s outburst.

Marissa narrowed her gorgeous caramel eyes at me; in them I saw her desire to obliterate me or perhaps sick her brother, Satan, on me. She then whipped her head toward Drake. “Yes, I hear you’re a daddy now,” she said with sickly sweet inflection, but her undertones were razor sharp. “Congratulations. Or is that condolences?”

“Excuse me?” the mama bear in me roared. Why would she even think to say such a thing? Was it because she had no desire to have children, or had Drake told her that was his wish as well? My stomach clenched at the thought.

The room became excruciatingly silent, but every head ping-ponged between Marissa and me.

Marissa’s cheeks pinked before she fake-laughed. “I was only joking.”

“Hilarious,” I couldn’t help but say.

Drake gave me an appreciative grin before saying to Marissa, “Congratulations will do.”

As much as I loved Drake’s smile and him setting Marissa straight, the tension in the room was too much for me. I wasn’t a confrontational person by nature. I had always left that honor to Izzy. “Jameson and I are going to hit the slopes now.” Though it was the last thing I wanted to do. What I wanted to do was go home and hide in my cozy inn, away from cameras and Hollywood sirens like the one heaving her breasts in front of me. I so badly wanted to reach over and zip up her jumpsuit. I was afraid a boob might pop out and take out someone’s eye.

“I’ll be right back,” Drake addressed the attentive audience in the room, before leading Jameson and me out into what felt like the wild, where I would be hunted down.

Jameson was more like Izzy and demanded the final word. He stopped in front of Marissa with his hands on his hips. “Don’t touch my dad.”

I’m not sure I had ever been prouder. For that, he was getting a dog tomorrow—if not sooner.

I wrapped an arm around my son and flashed Marissa a brilliant smile to a smattering of laughter in the background.

In true Hollywood fashion, Marissa pouted her luscious red lips, which probably had more collagen than a supplement store.

Once we were out the door, Drake led us to an out-of-the-way nook where they kept luggage carriers. He first held his hand up to Jameson. “Good job in there. High five.”

Jameson smacked it as hard as he could. “How come that lady was touching you?”

That was an excellent question. One I would like an answer to as well.

Drake rubbed the back of his neck as he stretched it from side to side, all while giving me a furtive glance. “That woman and I are old friends.”

“Friends,” I scoffed.

“Charlotte, there’s nothing going on between us. I don’t know what she’s doing here.”

“How did she know you were here?” I found myself being overly skeptical and on the verge of tears. All I could picture was finding her sitting on Drake’s lap once we’d returned to LA a million years ago. Why had I agreed to come here?

“Hey.” Drake rested his hand on my warm cheek.

I leaned into it.

“She means nothing to me.”

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

I rolled my eyes, totally not buying what he was trying to sell.

He gently grabbed my face with both of his hands, his eyes peering right into mine. “You need to trust me. I realize this isn’t easy, but unfortunately this business is my life.”

“Business is your life?” I grabbed my stomach. I was kind of hoping Jameson and I would be his life.

“You’re taking that the wrong way,” he breathed out.

“How should I take it?”

Drake looked at Jameson, who looked as confused as I felt at the moment. “Let’s discuss this later.”

That was probably a good idea. I wasn’t used to this co-parenting-slash-dating thing, and it showed.

I backed away from Drake, which made him grimace, yet he didn’t address it. Instead, he said, “I let the ski shop know you would be coming. Get anything you need or want there. I asked them to set aside the newest Nordica skis for you to test out. If you like them, charge them to my account.”

I knew how much those cost and that was a no go. Besides, we didn’t ski often enough to need a set of our own. “We just need skis to rent, and I’ve got it covered.”

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