“Oh my god.” I run a hand over my face. “Your dipshit brother doesn’t even know how to break into a car.”
“I know. He’s more of a—wait, do you know how to break into a car?”
“Of course.”
“God you’re hot,” he says, and I laugh.
“Did you call the cops?”
“Yeah. They came by to look at things. I told them about the situation and they said he was probably looking for the paperwork.”
The sigh in Morgan’s voice is heavy, and in the silence I think about the stress of coming home from a late night and having to deal with all that. And even after the cops left, Morgan had to grapple with his brother violating his space.
“Are Princess and Bartholomeow okay?”
“Yeah. She was locked in my bedroom and Barty was probably hiding somewhere. They’re both fine.”
I pull the covers up over myself. “And you’re okay?” The concern in my voice is so embarrassingly obvious, I might as well be waving a white flag. Look at me! I care about you!
Morgan sighs. “Yeah.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, and I bite my lip. It wasn’t a convincing “yeah.”
“Hey. Wanna hear about the robot I’m fixing?”
There’s a hint of amusement in Morgan’s voice when he says “yeah” and I tell him all about my project here, his “ohs” and “uh-huhs” getting softer until he falls asleep.
Morgan
* * *
Friday afternoon I’m in the bar. It’s too early for the happy hour crowds just yet, but there are a few leaf peepers sitting out back having a drink. We have a row of Adirondack chairs lined up just outside the big picture windows with fire pits scattered about. On weekday afternoons in ski season, it’d be full of parents waiting for their kids to finish practice, but now it’s for the tourists. The yawning expanse of The Enchanted Meadow, the front of the mountain where trails merge and the base of the chairlift sits, is dry grass and the trees are in full color.
The cowbell sounds and I look up to welcome the next tourist, but instead Rory saunters in. I knew she would be back today, but I didn’t expect her to come here.
“Hey,” I say, clearly delighted, and she returns my greeting with a crooked smile, and instead of taking her usual seat she walks down the bar. “No helmet?” I ask, clocking her empty hands. I walk along my side of the bar and meet her in the pass-through.
“No, I’m still in the van.”
She didn’t even go home yet. She drove right into town and came to find me first. She’s still in her jeans and polo from work, her leather jacket layered on top and her hair up in a top knot—a sure sign she hasn’t been riding.
I grin down at her. She tilts her chin up and before I even realize what’s happening her lips are on mine.
It’s a quick kiss, but hell yeah I’ll take it.
She eyes the dopey smile on my face and rolls her eyes. “It’s just a kiss, calm down.” But she’s holding back a chuckle.
I reach out and snatch her by the hips and pull her into my arms, bending her over backward while invading her mouth. Rory’s surprised yelp is cut off by my lips, and it fades to a groan as we both deepen the kiss.
I sweep both arms around her and she does the same. Her shirt rides up, and my fingers graze her waist while hers tangle in my hair. I pull her closer to me, wanting her stretched against me. I’ve missed her all week, even if it’s the norm for us.
My hand glides up her back, fingers tracing along her spine until I’ve rucked her shirt up so much my palms ride over the back of her opposite ribs. My other hand has gone farther south, delving into the back pocket of her jeans. This is not the tight jeans she wears on her bike, but a looser, softer fit. She smells like metal and leather and fall and?—
“Hey, get a room!” Paul shouts from the kitchen. Then he dings the bell and I’m guessing the nachos are ready for the couple outside.
I break the kiss but don’t pull away. My forehead goes to hers and I wait while Rory pulls herself back together. She’s breathing hard, and when her eyes open, her pupils are huge.
I’m sure mine are too.