“Ooh, fancy. Are they strawberry or Nutella?” Beks smiled at her, holding the mug and breathing deep.
“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” She handed Beks a plate and uncovered the crepes. Her stomach was growling, so she was definitely ready. Along with the crepes there was sausage and bacon, yogurt and fruit, and some kind of egg bake that looked amazing.
“Dude. This does not suck.” Beks snagged a piece of bacon and nibbled while Marissa filled her plate.
“Nope. Looks like Nutella, by the way.” No bad there. She put a couple on her plate along with too much of everything else. She figured what the hell, she was only going to get a fake honeymoon once.
They had folded the delivery cart out into a little table, and Marissa put her plate down to pull up two chairs from around the room. “Do you ski?”
“Nope, but I’m totally willing to try. You?”
“Not in a long time and I wasn’t very good at it, but I’m game.”
“Well, we take some pictures for publicity, we take a free lesson, and everyone’s happy. Boom.” Beks got a crepe and another piece of bacon.
“Sounds good. Does the lodge have a fireplace? I want to sit by a big fireplace after and drink something hot.” It just sounded good. Frozen pink cheeks thawing out by a fire while she sipped hot cocoa. She liked the picture.
“Bryan says it’s less luxe than rustic comfort, but still four stars.”
Whatever that meant.
“So…more lumberjack and less chalet?” She chuckled and sipped her coffee.
“Yeah. I mean, this is a lesbian wonderland, after all.”
“Is it? I knew it was friendly, but a wonderland? I had no idea. That explains the photo shoots and the queer-themed honeymoon giveaway.” Huh. Summit Springswasa lesbian wonderland. Who knew? She took a bite of her crepe and hummed. “Mmm. Oh. Crepes are good.”
“Where did you see the contest? I assumed it was a queer-friendly space…”
“Online someplace. Probably Instagram. I just didn’t think about it. I saw free honeymoon and entered.” Like an idiot. Next time she’d wait until the woman said yes to ponder things like a honeymoon. “No one ever expects to actually win these things.”
“Yeah. I get tons of requests from clients asking about the lottery. I’m not a fortune teller.”
She laughed. “Is that what you tell them? Even if they pay you?”
Beks tilted her head. “Of course. It’s the truth. They don’t pay me to lie.”
“Well, no.” She wasn’t going to pretend to understand what Beks did for a living. Maybe she was just too practical. She took another big bite of her crepe. “God, that’s good.”
“Yeah? I’m convinced.” Beks took a huge bite of her own.
She watched Bekka’s expression go all swoony and tried to ignore the almost orgasmic-sounding yummy noises.
Tried.
And failed.
Snow. Ice. Freezing cold. Skiing. Penguins.
That didn’t work either.
“Gosh, I think I’m full.” She picked her coffee back up and stood. “Are we late? We might be running late.”
“Oh? Already? All right. Let me put my stuff on. I have ear muffs.”
“I bet they’re adorable on you.” She went to get her coat wondering why the hell she’d let herself say that even if it was true. She grabbed her hat and gloves and stomped into some ridiculously chunky snow boots that she’d had for a thousand years.
She wasn’t that desperate, was she? Did she need to be ogling an ex that really ought to stay that way?