Page 42 of Terms and Traditions

“Probably safest.” I shrugged with a chuckle.

Again, Zara studied us, likely trying to unravel the knot of how her husband’s biggest competitor ended up as his daughter’s date. A story for the ages.

When another peal of riotous laughter followed by a curse blanketed the room from outside, Zara glanced towards the noise wistfully. Guess she hadn’t been invited to join them. She yawned. “Well, I’m beat. See you two in the morning. Oh, and which door is the kitchen?”

Stephanie pointed down the short hallway. “Down and on the first right.”

“Thanks.”

When Zara disappeared into the kitchen, I led Stephanie up the stairs to the sleeping wing. She was quiet until we stopped outside her door, and she paused, glancing back at me.

I slid my hands in my pockets, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, and smiled. “She seems nice,” I commented blandly.

“I know. Not many of them try to learn our names.” Stephanie sighed. “Makes me sad for her. She’s one of the decent women Hiram’s collected like a participation trophy—like he does with his kids—and yet he’ll just drop her when he gets tired of her.”

“What makes you think she won’t leave him?”

Stephanie snorted. “Because of the fourteen times he’s done this, only two ditched him. Even though he only married seven of them, he’s statistically more likely to do the leaving. I would know.”

The hurt in her voice tugged at my heart, and I wanted to wrap her into a hug. But the way she held herself, arms around her middle and head bent, made me think the gesture wouldn’t be welcome just now. So it was time to make my exit. “Thanks for inviting me. I had a great time.”

“You mean that?” she whispered.

Slipping a hand free, I braced it on the door frame and bent closer to her ear. “I’m not a fan of lying, Steph.”

She bit her lip, her eyes wide and glossy, and I hoped she was remembering our last conversation about lying—the one about us being real.

I pulled back marginally to give her space, not wanting to push too hard too fast. “Good night. Rest well.”

Stephanie nodded, almost dazed. Then her soft hand gripped my shoulder as she leaned up and brushed a kiss to my cheek. “Thanks, Nash. For everything,” she whispered in my ear, and then she was gone. Disappearing through the door and leaving me alone in the dark hall with that third butterfly kiss burning my cheek.

I stood there for a minute, staring at the closed door like an idiot, the softness of that kiss flooding my senses. It wasn’t even a real kiss, and it hadn’t been for an audience—not that I was complaining about that—but it was poignant. The stuff of dreams and legends. Giving my head a small shake, I retreated slowly to my room on the opposite end of the sleeping wing.

The Cedar Room, again courtesy of a fancy gilded nameplate, was the marriage of luxury and hominess with the wood-panelled walls and plaid accents. And that view of the Tetons out the window was worth a fortune. I couldn’t see it in the dark, but the glimpse I’d caught earlier was breathtaking. Almost as much as Stephanie’s picture of Glacier National.

As I tumbled into bed, lights off, the hum of voices, music, and laughter from the back deck seeped through the darkness. My room was directly above them from the sound of it. Closing my eyes, I replayed the events of the day. Sleepy Steph. The drive when we teased and bantered. The look on her family’s faces when we walked in the door. That kiss… And by the time I fell asleep, I still felt that ghost of a touch on my skin. And I desperately wanted another one.

Chapter twenty

Nash

Apparently, “morning people” genes did not run in the Addams family. Breakfast was a late affair at just before nine o’clock, but it was worth the wait. A buffet of Belgian waffles with an entire topping bar—everything from whipped cream to sprinkles—bacon, two flavours of sausage, four kinds of fruit, eggs Benedict, and avocado toast was the stuff of dreams. Almost enough to distract me from the impending war.

Almost.

When all the plates were cleared, war was declared. Teams were picked—guys versus girls—goodbyes were said, and terms of surrender were drawn.

Like I said before, the Addams family didn’t have a snowball fight—they turned it into World War Three. Short of convening the Hague and filing a war crimes complaint that was.

The majority of the family assembled on the snowy lawn, decked out in snow gear. The only ones missing were Nana, Great-Aunt Edith, and Hiram. True to her word, Zara sat bundled up in a powder-pink snow set on the front deck beside Hailey, who held a still-sleepy bundle of Eden on her lap. The air was crisp and fresh, the grey sky heavy with low-hanging clouds. More snow threatened to fall, but there was an undercurrent of stillness in the air amid the chattering children and war assembly.

Stephanie sauntered up to me and bumped my shoulder. A mischievous sparkle dazzled her already gorgeous big eyes. “You ready for this?”

“Oh, bring it on.” I smirked, crossing my arms. “You brought a snowball champion into your midst.”

“Yeah?” Her gaze dragged over me with a slow perusal, warming me more than the thermal layer I was wearing. “Emmett’s girls took pity on you and let you win, huh?”

A bark of laughter escaped me. “Ouch! Anyone ever told you you’re competitive?”