Page 52 of Never In My Wildest Dreams

There was nothing apathetic about Slick.

It kicked up her libido all over again, because what would it be like to have sex with a commanding, take-charge man?

“You find it?” he asked.

She found the canister. “Yep. Right here.” She joined him at the stove and held it up to him. “I can’t believe you don’t make your own. Maybe I should call you Slacker instead of Slick.”

“That’s fair. Normally, I would, but this was meant to be a short trip.”

“You know that’s adorable, right? The big badass hockey player brings whipped cream for his cocoa on his little getaway?”

“It wasn’t for the cocoa. It was for the strawberries. In case they were tart.” When she grinned, he said, “I had a whole plan.”

“Cigars, whiskey, cocoa, and whipped cream. You’re a complicated man.”

“I don’t know what’s complicated about those four choices.” He tipped his chin to the living room. “I picked up a couple of books at the airport and figured I’d read by the fire.”

“That sounds like a perfect getaway. And I ruined it. I’m so sorry. Of all the wrong cabins to break into, I chose yours.”

He set the whisk in the sink and poured the cocoa into mugs. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be snowed in with.” Then, he picked them both up and headed back to the living room.

Warmth rushed through her. She stood there for a moment, the can in her hand, letting his words sink in before she followed him. “Did you mean that?”

He set the mugs on the coffee table and sat on the couch. His big feet landed on the table, and he tossed the cashmere throw across his lap. “I never say anything I don’t mean.”

She believed him. “Well, that’s really nice.” Popping off the lid, she squirted a mound of frilly whipped cream on top of each mug. Then, she settled in beside him.

He unfolded the throw and tossed some of it her way. “So, are you going to forgive fuckface?”

“My ex?”

“Is there any other fuckface?”

“No. There isn’t. And yes, I’m trying to do that. I want to forgive all of them.”

“But?”

“But I think the more important part is forgiving myself.”

“For what? You have no control over what weak, emotionally immature people do.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t paying attention.” He didn’t know her situation, that Landon had cheated on her with her best friend. The fewer details she gave, the better. She didn’t need him piecing it all together and figuring out who she was.

His hand landed on her thigh, and he gave her a shake. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Waste time scrolling through a catalog of memories to find clues you missed. Your recall is flawed, and trying to do a forensic analysis isn’t going to give you the answers you need.”

“True. But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“That’s because you’re trying to put together a puzzle that has missing pieces.”

“Well, I don’t know how to stop.”

“Let me ask you this. If you did have all the pieces, and you could look at the whole puzzle, see a timeline of when everything happened, where you were at the time they were together, would that give you peace of mind?”

With her hands wrapped around the warm mug, she let the flurry of images fill her mind.

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