Crazy Love

by Highley, Kendra C.

  “Ooh, I watched you compete at Angel Fire last spring.” The girl batted her eyelashes at him. “Hot stuff.”

  Oh, good Lord. Charlotte was done. She didn’t need to observe the mating patterns of the young and hot. There were two orders up, and Mr. Beefcake was blocking her path. “Excuse me.”

  “Sorry.” He gave Charlotte a quick apologetic grin, before nodding to the girl. “Have fun out there.”

  He made his way to the bar, and Charlotte caught the crestfallen expression on the girl’s face. That nod had been so “you have fun now, kids,” Cold Coffee Girl couldn’t have been clearer on his lack of interest. Charlotte swallowed a laugh. There was a God after all, and She loved waitresses.

  “How’s the coffee, sweetie?” she asked.

  “Fine,” the girl snapped, turning back to her friends.

  Vindicated, Charlotte checked on her tables, then went to the bar. She’d stalled, hoping Evangeline would take care of Luke, but she was busy with a twelve-top of middle-aged skiers. Good tips—she wouldn’t leave them hanging for anyone, not even Mr. December on the Ski Hotties calendar.

  Sighing, Charlotte plucked a pen from behind her ear and went to Luke. “What’ll you have?”

  “What’s good?” He gave her a slightly wicked smile.

  Charlotte groaned. “Look, I’m not on the menu. Eggs Benedict is what you want.”

  Luke’s smile froze, then fell. “Uh, I’ll just have some coffee. And maybe a scone.”

  She nodded and hurried off, wishing busy season would end soon.

  At two, when they finally flipped the open sign to closed, Charlotte slumped and took a minute to massage her lower back. “It’s going to be busy like this until New Year’s, isn’t it?”

  “Busy? You haven’t seen anything yet,” Evangeline said, tossing Charlotte a rag to help with cleaning the tabletops. She paused in her work to grin. “Just wait until the rich and famous jaunt over between Christmas and New Year’s. That’s a whole other level of crazy, right down to the Viagra millionaires trying to buy their way into your bed.”

  Charlotte sprayed down a tabletop with surface cleaner and wiped it dry. Just what I need, a bunch of horny fifty-somethings who think they’re improving my life by showing up. “No thanks.”

  “So what was with the cute guy at the bar?” Evangeline asked. “He sure gave you a thorough looking over.”

  Charlotte had really hoped to avoid this part of the conversation. “The usual. Hot snowboarder looking to flirt with anything remotely interesting.” She picked up dirty glasses from the tables in the back. “It must be a dominant personality trait or something. Like they can’t help themselves.”

  “He seemed a little more than interested,” Evangeline said. “He watched you the entire time he was here.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks flushed, and she bent over her work at the table so her friend couldn’t see her face. What’s wrong with you, girl? He’s. Not. Your. Type. Charlotte glanced up to catch Evangeline’s sly smile. “Meh.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s been four months since Braden. It’s time to get back out there.”

  Charlotte’s spine stiffened. “I’m in the middle of studying for the MCAT and hopefully getting into medical school. I don’t have time for guys.” She wiped down another table like it had done her a personal wrong. “Especially not for guys who scream ‘I’ll cheat on you with a sorority girl the second your back is turned.’ That guy has player written all over him. Even if I was looking for some fun, and I’m not, he’s not the one. Been there, done that, not doing it again.”

  “Whatever you say.” Evangeline drifted into the kitchen to help wash dishes, leaving Charlotte to finish cleaning up front. She was busy fighting the drawer on the espresso machine when her phone rang.

  Charlotte pulled her phone out of her apron pocket, frowning at the caller ID before accepting the call. Her sister. A bolt of panic ran through Charlotte’s middle. “Emily? What’s going on?”

  “I’m with Mom. They admitted her again.”

  Charlotte’s stomach dropped, and she clutched the phone tighter. “When?”

  Her younger sister’s voice pitched so low, Charlotte had to strain to hear. “Early this morning. I…uh…I heard her fall, and I found her on the living room floor. I couldn’t wake her up. She’s going to be okay, but…”

  Charlotte let out a long sigh and leaned against the counter. Having a mom with MS was a scary, scary thing. Especially when attacks came on without warning. A seventeen-year-old shouldn’t have to deal with this. “Is Dad there?”

  “Yeah, I called him at work after I called 911. He met me at the ER.” Emily sniffled a little. “He looks really worried.”

  Charlotte stood a little taller, concern tightening her already-sore back. “Is he there? Can you put him on?”

  There was a shuffle as her dad took the phone. “Hi, Char. How’s Aspen?”

  Leave it to her dad to try to keep things normal. He sounded so tired, though. “It’s good. I’m making money, but I feel like I should be there.”

  “Your mother was very clear that she’s going to be fine and that you don’t need to come home,” Dad said. “They’re just keeping her for observation.”

  “But what if she’s having a relapse?” Charlotte fisted her hands in her apron. “Do you know why she fell?”

  “Her…uh, her legs went numb. She didn’t want to bother anyone when she first felt the pins and needles, then it worsened and she fell.” Dad sighed. “I know this is scary, but she’s not showing any signs of deteriorating disease.”

  Charlotte’s head started to ache. It was a relapse—that’s what her father wasn’t saying. As a premed major, she’d gained some cursory knowledge about major illnesses, including MS. Her mom’s relapses might be intermittent now, but someday they’d come and stay. “Are you sure you don’t need me at home? Emily has prom and graduation coming up—”

  “Those are months away, Roo. We’ll be fine.”

  Warmth stole through Charlotte’s chest. Roo. She had a degree and held down a full-time job, yet she was still “Roo” as far as her dad was concerned. “Okay, but if anything changes, I can be home in twelve hours.”

  “Hopefully it won’t come to that, but I promise to call if we need you. We’ll see you for a few days at Christmas, though, right?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good. Love you, Roo.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Charlotte set her phone on the counter, tears pricking in her eyes. She was so far from home, with no way to help.

  Evangeline bustled in from the back, stopping short. “Girl, you okay?”

  “My mom’s back in the hospital.”

  “Oh my God. Do you need to go?” She turned toward the kitchen. “Papa! Call Uber!”

  Mr. Bzdyl came out, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Why? You leaving me?”

  His Polish accent and funny pout was usually enough to make them laugh, but the pout dissolved as soon as he saw their faces. “Has something happened?”

  “No, Mr. Bzdyl. Evangeline thought I might need to take a trip, but I’m fine.” She met her friend’s eyes. “Fine.”

  After her dad went back to washing his favorite knives, Evangeline took Charlotte’s arm. “Seriously, though. If you need to go home, we can make it work.”

  “My mom insisted I stay. She’s pretty tough and doesn’t like a fuss. I’ll go home on Christmas Eve for a few days.” She forced a smile. “It’ll be fine. I’ll be back on the twenty-sixth to deal with the rich and famous crowd. Promise.”

  Evangeline frowned. “Okay, but you better let us know if you need anything, Miss Independent. The last time you held out on me, you were trying to pass midterms while fighting walking pneumonia. You can’t control the world. Sometimes you need to be taken care of.”

  Charlotte squirmed internally at the maternal note in Evangeline’s voice. “Understood.”

  “You also need to let off some steam.” Her friend clapped h
er hands, smiling. “I know! Let’s make spiked hot chocolate and watch Benedict Cumberbatch movies.”

  “That sounds like a great idea.”

  Evangeline skipped off to stack chairs onto the tabletops so they could sweep, giving Charlotte a minute to slump against the counter and breathe. Just because she couldn’t control the situation at home didn’t mean she didn’t want to try. She was especially worried about her little sister. Her mother had a progressive illness, and while Dad was a take-charge kind of man, he didn’t know the first thing about periods, prom dresses, or the virtues of liquid eyeliner.

  Rolling her shoulders against the weight settling on them, Charlotte grabbed the broom and went back to work.

  Chapter Three

  Luke

  Luke turned in to the driveway just before seven. His house glowed with warm yellow light against the unbroken snow in its front yard. Next door, the lights were on, too, signaling that the Millers were back in Aspen. Usually the sight made Luke smile, knowing that Zoey’s family had arrived for their yearly holiday trip from Texas. Today, dread coiled in Luke’s gut. He wrapped his hands around his steering wheel so hard, his knuckles cracked. They’d be just as upset as his parents that he’d dropped out of school.

  He could imagine the look on both moms’ faces when he said, “I’m dropping out of school to train for SBX. Oh, and I want to live here a while, so I can spend my money on a trainer. Merry Christmas!”

  Yeah, that would go over like a fart in church.

  Shaking his head, Luke parked his Jeep next to Parker’s newer, forest-green model. A snowflake-shaped crystal hung on a string from Parker’s rearview mirror. Zoey’s idea, most likely. She liked sparkly things, and Parker liked making her smile.

  Luke sighed and climbed out of his car, his legs as stiff as a Tin Man’s in need of oil. Steeling himself, he grabbed his bags and headed to the front door. Warm air spilled out of the house as he called, “I’m home!”

  “He’s here!” his mother sang. She hurried into the foyer with her arms outstretched, and Luke dropped his bags to give her a hug. She pulled away, staring at his luggage. “Honey, you’re only home three weeks, not a year.”

  Luke gave her a weak smile, not willing to tell her this was only what he could carry in his first trip inside. There would be time later. “You know me.”

  She grinned up at him. “My clothes horse.”

  More like a coward. “Something like that.”

  His dad had come up behind Mom, waiting his turn. “Welcome home.”

  “Thanks.” Luke hugged his dad, feeling more and more awkward. From the sound of voices, the Millers were here. No chance to talk to his parents without them getting involved, even if he wanted to. “Uh, I better run my stuff upstairs.”

  He left them standing in the foyer as he hauled his bags up to his room. It was so strange being home…to stay. His room, large by a high school kid’s standards, looked way too small now. Eventually, he’d move out, but every dollar he had was spoken for at the moment. Trainers, equipment, and gym fees cost a fortune if you were serious about your sport.

  Would his parents even understand?

  Blowing out a sigh, Luke sank onto his bed and stared at his closet door. A poster of different lines of snowboards hung there, crooked. He’d put the poster up in sixth grade, when he’d started participating in U14 SBX events. The bookcase in the corner told another tale—instead of books, row after row of trophies lined the shelves. In the closet, he’d find nothing but ski gear, at least until he unpacked.

  Feeling old, totally beyond that clueless kid, Luke stood and went to the mirror over his dresser. His hair was windblown, but it looked better that way—or so he’d been told by about a dozen girls. A faint hint of sunburn flushed his cheeks, and his lips were chapped. This was who he was supposed to be. Alpha on the mountain, not wasting his life in business classes.

  Luke turned away from the mirror and quickly changed out of his ski gear into jeans and a flannel shirt. He’d hidden for long enough. Time to face the fam.

  He trotted down the stairs and headed into the living room. His parents were chatting with the Millers, sitting by the fire with wineglasses in hand. Luke nodded at them. “Enough left for me?”

  His mom opened her mouth, looking shocked, but his dad laughed. “You drink cabernet?”

  Luke shrugged. “I prefer beer, but wine’s okay.”

  As he headed to the kitchen, he heard his mother tell Mrs. Miller, “I still can’t wrap my head around him being twenty-one.”

  Snorting, Luke poured half a glass and sipped the cabernet. It wasn’t bad, and he could use a buzz to get through the evening. Especially at the sight of Parker standing behind Zoey with his hands on her hips and his chin on her shoulder as she stirred something on the stove.

  “You’re back,” Zoey said, smiling at Luke. “We’re having spaghetti and meatballs. Parker and I have been experimenting with cooking. So far this is the only thing we’re any good at.”

  “Cooking? In the dorms?” Luke asked. Since when were there kitchens in the dorms?

  They traded looks. “We, um, we’re living off campus,” Parker said.

  With each other. That’s what his brother wasn’t saying. “Ah.”

  “Why’d you go straight to Snowmass today?” Parker asked.

  Zoey, looking relieved at the topic shift, said, “Yeah, I wondered that, too. What, did you miss the mountain that much?”

  “I’d like to know the same thing.” Mom came into the kitchen, carrying her wineglass. “Did you drive all night? You know that worries me.”

  Luke screwed his eyes shut, feeling a headache coming on. He downed his wine in one big gulp, shuddering it down. “I needed some snow under my board. It was a tough semester.”

  “I can understand that.” His mom beamed. She didn’t look anything like Luke. He was a copy of his dad, while his brother had more of her features, her lankiness. Maybe that’s why Parker was her favorite. “We’re so proud of you, sweetheart. Dad’s counting the days until graduation. He needs someone to work with our finance manager, to learn the systems before she retires.”

  The bitter feeling in Luke’s throat didn’t have anything to do with the wine now. “Doesn’t Marlene have six people reporting to her?” Luke had interned for his parents’ ski apparel company over the summer and knew everyone in the business office. “No rush on me, right?”

  His dad drifted into the kitchen, followed by the Millers, and speared a piece of cheese from the appetizer tray on the island. “That’s just it. We want you to take over that department. The sooner you learn the ropes, the better.”

  Luke’s pulse shot up. Cornered.

  His collar felt tight, and he tugged at it, trying to figure out what to say. He should be grateful, he knew he should, but management? Right off the bat? That wasn’t going to work, not for him, or the six people who worked for Marlene.

  “It’s a big step,” Mom said, “but we want you boys to have the company when we retire, and we need you to learn to manage a team as soon as possible.”

  Mrs. Miller must’ve seen the look on Luke’s face, because she said, “Zoey, is dinner ready?”

  Zoey pulled a tray out of the oven. The meatballs were slightly scorched on the top. “It is now.”

  When everyone turned toward the table, Luke could’ve sworn Mrs. Miller winked at him.

  After the Millers had gone, Parker in tow so he and Zoey could “watch a movie,” Dad invited Luke into his study. Luke had always loved this room. Everything was leather and wood, clean lines and good technology.

  Luke sank down on the sofa and took a glass of Scotch from his father. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

  Dad laughed and settled himself in the recliner next to the sofa. “Why would you think anything’s wrong?”

  Luke eyed his dad. “You just gave a college student, whose idea of fancy alcohol is decent tequila, a glass of twenty-five-year-old Macallan. This stuff goes for thirty bucks a pour in a ba
r in Tempe.”

  His father leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I wanted to talk.”

  A twinge of doubt shivered down Luke’s spine. Did he already know? “About?”

  “Mom and I didn’t want to worry you boys, but I had to have two stents put in three months ago.” Dad opened his eyes, looking tired. “My arteries were ninety percent blocked. If I hadn’t had a stress test, I probably would’ve had a massive heart attack.”

  Dread settled in his stomach. Eyes wide, Luke took a too-big sip of the Macallan. It went down like fiery velvet, thank God. “But…you ski, you hike, you ride your bike to the office in the summer, for Christ’s sake. How’d this happen?”

  “Genetics.” Dad shrugged. “Granddad died at sixty of a heart attack. He weighed the same as he did when he was commissioned as a lieutenant in the Marines. It’ll be something you and Parker will want to keep an eye on. But that’s why Mom was giving you the full-court press about taking Marlene’s job when she retires. Marlene should’ve already retired, but she knows you’re coming in, and she’s waiting on you.”

  The dread sank in deeper. Tonight had been a mess, and it wasn’t getting any better. “Because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll be able to work full-time.”

  “Pretty much.” Dad took a long swig of his Scotch. “Thing is, I’m not sure that’s what you want.”

  Luke’s head popped up to find his father staring at him. “It…it’s the plan.”

  Dad’s expression was shrewd. “But is it what you want?”

  Luke swallowed and sat back against the couch. It was…just not next summer. Maybe not for another five years. Or ten. Some of the best SBXers were in their early thirties. But the window for the sport was short. He couldn’t start working for his parents and jump in later. He had to do it now.

  Or not at all.

  “Son, you do not have to come work for us.” His dad set his glass down. “No matter what Mom has to say about it.”

  “She’d be disappointed if I said I wanted more time, wouldn’t she?”