Falling for Love: A Winter Romance

by Addison M. Conley

  Gwyneth chuckled. “That sounds like fun. Jo’s such an energetic soul. It was a smart move to hire her.”

  “Yeah,” Jordan said, thankful for the diversion. “She’s been a tremendous asset to the team. She absorbs everything we teach her. Soon, she’ll be more skilled than Robby and me. Come by someday for lunch. I have to go now.”

  “Thanks for calling. I love you, Jordan.”

  “Love you too, Mom. Bye.”

  She gently banged her head on the steering wheel. Situation resolved, at least for the moment. I need a spa day.

  On the way to work, she pulled through the coffeehouse drive-through and ordered a lemon balm herbal tea. Her phone buzzed with a text message while she paid at the window. She pulled into an empty parking spot to put away her change and view the text.

  Opening the phone, her heart warmed seeing a picture of Carter and the kids. They were decked out from head to toe in gear and standing next to the climbing wall at Mega Mountain Outfitters in Redington. They wore the widest grins.

  Carter’s message: “They love it. I love it. Angie’s going to kill you. Thanks for the gift, sis!”

  Snickering, she typed back, “Happy for you, but I didn’t tell you to buy a climbing package with the gift card. That’s on you, bro.”

  He typed back, “Ah, what Angie doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It might hurt you. ’Cause I’m sticking to my story. Keep low for a few days.”

  She closed the phone. Have to admit, I’m pretty lucky with Mom and Carter. She went to take another sip when she noticed a new design on the container. In colorful letters was the quote, “Live on the good side, the bright side, the true side of everything!” —Christian D. Larson. She rotated the cup around, and saw, “The best is yet to be.” —Robert Browning. Flipping on the radio, she caught the tail end of one of her favorite Olivia Newton-John songs, “Learn to Love Yourself,” and she paused at the words about love leading home.

  Her body and breathing stilled. Time to move on.

  Chapter Six

  The Desert Hearts movie revelation kept playing over in Jordan’s head along with visions of key scenes. Thoughts of Emmy filled her like tumbling through a kaleidoscope. Nerves popped with excitement resembling alternating vivid colors. The thrill rolled up with hope made her feel giddy and balanced at the same time.

  The wet snow that had been falling since late afternoon was hardly the dusting initially predicted. Instead of driving people away, the restaurant was busy all night, and the distraction did little to snap her out of daydreaming. She looked forward to going home and curling up with a book before bed. A nice collection of erotica would do.

  “Hey, Jordan. What are you thinking about? That new menu can’t be the cause of that sinful smirk on your face.”

  “Ah…” Although taken off guard, Jordan couldn’t drop the smile if she wanted to.

  “Just playing with ya.” Jo’s energy oozed out.

  Hiring Jo had been one of the best decisions Jordan had ever made. The twenty-eight-year-old was honest, hardworking, and dependable. Her culinary skills had significantly improved over the year, and she showed a keen grasp of business concepts.

  “Wow, Jo. From your attire, I assume you’re not going home.”

  “Like it?” Jo twirled, displaying exaggerated supermodel poses.

  The tight jeans and stylish purple sweater and black jacket were finished off with polished black leather boots, but what really set Jo apart was her punkish hair. Brown and short on the sides with a spiked top and highlighted blond tips. Her appearance and her assertiveness silently screamed out, “World, here I come.” If Jordan didn’t know better, Jo could easily have been mistaken for a cute lesbian.

  “Chic. Watch out with those boots—you might fall on your ass in the snow.”

  “Nah. The bottoms have a decent tread, and if I do fall, it’ll give me an excuse to leave Lost Dog early so Ted can massage my ass.” Her eyebrows shot up, and she glided over and put her arm around Jordan. “Why don’t you join us? There’s music, and our friends are in town. I’ll buy you a drink.”

  The typical Lost Dog Saloon crowd was younger, but what Jordan couldn’t stand was the guys hitting on her. “I’m not sure with the snow. Tomorrow’s an early day.”

  Jo shook her head. “You have to live a little. It’s the first snowfall of the winter! In less than a week, Christmas will bury us. Come out and celebrate.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but I’m tired.”

  She took Jordan by the hands. “Now do you think that flimsy excuse will work on me? This group is a load of fun. Most are straight. A few are gay or bi. Nobody cares. They’re fun people. Come on girl! Besides, your SUV can take the snow.”

  This wasn’t the first time Jo hinted at Jordan’s sexuality, but the “love everyone” attitude made Jordan more comfortable.

  Maybe a couple of drinks would take her mind off Emmy. “Okay. Just for a short time or I’ll be sleepwalking tomorrow.”

  “Now we’re talking.” Jo winked and pulled her out the door.

  A good three inches was on the ground, and it wasn’t supposed to stop until sometime after midnight. The snow fell faster, the flakes were huge, and up ahead looked like a mini-blizzard. As they came closer, they realized the snow flying around the park was more than Mother Nature.

  Jo’s exuberant personality bubbled to the surface and she squealed, “Snowball fight!” She took off running then stopped and turned. “Come on, Jordan. You promised.”

  Oh, what the hell, Jordan thought. Although the public square was filled with dozens of people, they soon found Jo’s group. More stood on the saloon’s entry patio watching and egging on their friends. Occasionally, someone would call a truce, run up to the patio, and grab their drink. Although illegal, many had plastic cups filled with their favorite beer or toddy on city property.

  In the mayhem, someone handed her and Jo a shot glass. From the smell, it was clearly Fireball Whisky. Jo immediately downed the shot.

  “Don’t be a wimp, Jordan!”

  Letting her inhibitions go, Jordan swigged the cinnamon-flavored liquor and joined in the snowball fight. Everyone was having a blast, and the laughter was contagious. Jo and friends kept passing her shots. While she knew better, she didn’t turn them down.

  ****

  Inside, Emmy had joined her cousin’s group on the upper level. The difficult drive back from DC had taken longer than planned, and she knew she could use a drink and some laughter. Tomorrow, she would go to lunch and see Jordan.

  After introductions, a chair was added at the other end of the overflowing table. Annoyed not to be sitting near her cousin, she made do. The Lost Dog had a vibe, and the view wasn’t bad either—the view of the park and the appealing waitress servicing their table. Although nothing compares to Jordan, Emmy mused.

  The cousin was sweet, but Emmy could do without the husband. He never said anything negative to Emmy’s face, but it irritated the piss out of her when he left the room anytime anything remotely gay popped into a conversation. The most annoying thing was when he tried to set Emmy up with guys. Was tonight one of those nights?

  The minute she sat down, the man sitting across from her wouldn’t leave her alone. He blabbed on and on. She glared at her cousin sitting at the other end, who lifted her glass in a toast and mouthed the words “sorry.”

  My freaking God. This guy yaks more than any person I’ve ever known. Even when she interjected about the snowball fight looking like fun, the guy droned on about his job. Needing some fresh air, she excused herself, and he offered to join her. Shit.

  Emmy walked into the chilly night toward the merriment.

  “You’re not seriously going to join in, are you?” he scoffed.

  “No. Just going to walk the perimeter and stay out of reach.”

  During the walk, a snowball would come their way narrowly missing them, and they’d hear “sorry” as the thrower realized they were only out for a stroll. Of course, the walk would be more
enjoyable if the dude had not insisted on joining her.

  Halfway through, the situation changed when he stepped closer and draped his arm around her shoulders. “Curt,” she said, abruptly pushing his arm away, “I think you’re a wonderful guy, but I’m not interested.”

  “I’m sorry. Have I offended you in some way?”

  “No. You’re not exactly my type.” She had been out since university and wasn’t about to start lying now. “I’m a lesbian. This”—motioning between the two of them—“is nothing more than two friends going for a stroll.”

  As the fact registered on his face, his cell phone rang. He apologized and answered the call. Relieved, Emmy walked a few steps and let out a long sigh. Whap. A snowball hit her on the side of her face. Shocked, she turned and saw Jordan looking at her in dismay.

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I was aiming for Curt. He’s a family friend.”

  Emmy stood glaring at Jordan for what seemed an eternity before breaking into hysterical laughter. She reached into the snow, scooped a handful, and sprinted toward Jordan. She packed the ball as she closed the gap.

  ****

  Jordan knew Emmy meant business and tried to dash for cover, but the snow and alcohol made her footing unsure. Whap. The wet snowball hit the back of her head and slid down her coat. She twisted to face Emmy, and both reached down to reload. They chased each other in circles while blasting away. Others hit them from all sides.

  Without warning, Jordan was tackled, and her arms were pinned over her head. She didn’t resist, and Emmy hung over her staring into her eyes with a devilish grin. All Jordan could think about was, Damn your mouth looks so kissable. She breathed in Emmy’s scent, and a subtle perfume—jasmine this time—filled her nostrils and jolted her body.

  Inching closer and brushing her lips across Jordan’s cheek and ear, Emmy murmured, “I could get used to you on the bottom.” She lingered, lightly kissing the edge of Jordan’s mouth.

  Momentarily overtaken by the touch, Jordan’s body quivered. Unexpectedly, her trance was broken when Emmy stuffed snow down the front of her jacket then hopped up and ran away laughing.

  Jordan yelled out for the others to get Emmy. Running and slipping through the barrage, Emmy managed to cross the street and yell out, “Safe space. No snowballs.” She stood snickering with a look that Jordan thought was absolutely adorable.

  Jordan threw the snowball to the ground and sauntered over. The Fireball had warmed her, and she let her guard down.

  “You throw a mean snowball for a European.”

  “Well, do you think it only snows in America?” Emmy glanced down at Jordan’s clothes. “Looks like you’ve been out there too long. You’re soaked. Why don’t you join me inside and warm up?”

  “I’d love nothing more.”

  Jordan followed Emmy upstairs where introductions were made. Curt had also returned and greeted Jordan with a bear hug. She asked how his mother was doing. He told her she was getting better and rattled on more.

  The group snagged some chairs and motioned for the women to join them, but the waitress stopped them.

  “Sorry folks. You’re overcrowded as it is. I’ve got a small table near the fireplace once I get the bus boy to clear it off. From the looks of you ladies”—she eyed Emmy and Jordan up and down—“you are about ready to catch your death. Go!”

  Thankful for the fire, Jordan peeled off her wet coat, hat, and gloves. After laying them out on an extra chair near the hearth, she stood with her hands out and warmed her core. When she turned around, Emmy sat with an appreciative look on her face.

  Without taking her eyes off Jordan, Emmy waved at the waitress then held up her empty beer bottle for another. “What are you having?”

  “Oh, I think I’ve had enough.” Jordan sat down. Not sure if her words were slurring or not, she felt nervous. Not only were her clothes soaked but her body kept tingling with Emmy’s attentive stare.

  “One more won’t hurt. I could drive you home if you like. Relax a bit while you warm up. The house pale ale is awesome.”

  Jordan didn’t want to overdo it, and neither did she want to mix drinks. As she pondered drink choices, she glanced back and forth between the menu and Emmy.

  “Ahem,” the waitress said, tapping her pad. “I don’t have all night, honey.”

  “I’ll have a Coke with one shot of Fireball Whisky.”

  “Oh, and please bring us the spinach dip,” Emmy shouted as the woman hurried away, again, with her full attention on Jordan. “Wow. You must be cold. Here, take my hoodie.”

  Jordan admired Emmy’s torso while she struggled to strip off the tight hoodie.

  “No, I couldn’t. I’ll get it wet.”

  A sly grin lit Emmy’s face. “Well, I do like the wet T-shirt look, but I don’t like to see you shivering. Take it. You can give it back later.”

  Although the alcohol had slowed her mind, the meaning finally dawned on Jordan, and she could feel erect nipples prominently protruding under the thin fabric of her blouse. “I…ah…” They seemed to perk up more as she fumbled with a reply.

  “Just a minute.” Emmy departed and returned with a Lost Dog T-shirt. “Put this underneath.”

  “Thanks.”

  Jordan could barely walk from the intoxication—not from the drink but from Emmy. Thank goodness, no one was in the bathroom. She took off the wet T-shirt and slipped on the tie-dyed one. Before putting on the hoodie, she deeply breathed in Emmy’s lingering scent. As much as she had tried, she was falling fast. God, how am I going to get through the night? She’s so hot, and I’m half-plastered. She mustered up her courage and walked back to the table.

  “So, Jordan Simón, there is a rumor about you.”

  “Oh, and what might that be?” Jordan sensed her eyebrows scrunch a bit even though she was trying to act cool.

  “Besides being a fantastic chef, you are apparently an accomplished artist.”

  “Ah, my stained glass. I’m afraid it’s an embellished rumor. I was never good enough to make a living. I do a few presents for birthdays and Christmas.”

  “Somehow, I doubt the downplay of your work.”

  “What about you? Any special interests?”

  “I enjoy hiking and snowboarding. I stay on a mixture of intermediate and easy trails. But unlike you, I can’t cook worth a damn. Any chance for private cooking lessons?”

  “Maybe for the right price.”

  Emmy leaned in. “And what would that be or would you be willing to exchange lessons for another service?” Her voice was bold, seductive, and hit every nerve in Jordan’s body.

  Jordan felt faint from the mere thought of different possibilities, including a vision of Emmy in the kitchen wearing nothing but an apron. It had been a long time since Jordan had flirted with someone she was interested in, and she didn’t want this moment to end.

  “I love to ski. Maybe you could show me how to snowboard.” Lame answer, Jordan.

  Fortunately, the drinks and appetizer came to the table. The food at Lost Dog was decent compared to most bar food. Yet, Jordan’s mouth was watering for other reasons. As their discussion continued in a less provocative tone, they hit on another commonality: music. To Jordan’s surprise, Emmy followed a lot of indie artists while Jordan only knew the big names.

  With each passing second, Jordan forgot her surroundings and became lost in Emmy’s eyes. As their laughter intensified, another round of drinks mysteriously appeared. They both looked up at the waitress.

  “Courtesy of a guy named Curt.” Turning to Emmy, the waitress said, “He said what a pleasure it was to see you tonight and enjoy the rest of your evening. Also, no hard feelings and he hopes you get lucky.”

  As the waitress turned and swiftly walked away, the hairs on the back of Jordan’s neck pricked and her smile disappeared.

  Emmy reached out and touched Jordan’s hand with her fingertips. “I was chatting with him about some business prospects. He wished me luck. That’s all. So, let’s enjoy the d
rinks.”

  Jordan had a hunch Emmy was telling a little white lie. It didn’t matter. She was beginning to let go. Soon, the smiles and laughter returned when the conversation turned to travel adventures.

  They had lost track of time when Jordan’s cell buzzed. She didn’t want to be rude, but the text was from Jo. Shit, I never said goodbye.

  “Excuse me.”

  Jordan quickly read: “Saw you with the cutie from the snowball fight J I’m at the bar over on the left. Looks like you’re having a great evening. What happened to your curfew? It’s now after 2:00 a.m. Oh…good luck with the beauty rest. Good night.”

  Three hours. I’m going to hurt tomorrow.

  “Anything wrong?”

  Jordan tucked the phone back into her pocket and scrunched her shoulders. “No. Just a text from a friend.” Then Jo walked by, gave two thumbs up, and mouthed “way to go.” This time, there was no panic. Jordan felt good.

  As the bartender yelled out, “last round,” Emmy said, “We should wrap it up and get out of here. Do you want a ride? I’ve only had three beers tonight.”

  Jordan knew Emmy was right. “No, I should be okay.”

  “How many shots of Fireball have you had?”

  If the words had come from anyone else, Jordan would have been offended, but Emmy’s tone showed concern and caring. Alluring as it might be, she didn’t want to rush with Emmy. She already had to fight to keep thoughts of Emmy’s naked body out of her head.

  “I’m all right. I only had that one shot in the Coke over the past couple of hours.”

  Emmy raised her eyebrow and Jordan confessed. “Well, two drinks since Curt bought us one. I’m okay, honest.”

  “Okay. Do you mind walking me to my car?”

  Jordan wondered how many more people would think they were a couple. Screw it. She could not say no to that gorgeous face. “Not at all.”

  ****

  Outside, the snow had stopped, and a good four inches covered the ground. Emmy was grateful that Jordan had helped brush the snow off the car, but now Jordan stood nervously glancing around, hands stuffed in her pockets and staring at her boots and kicking snow.