Page 14 of A Season of Second Chances
I consider the question, wanting to give her an honest answer. "Most days, yeah. I love what I do, I love being Alana's dad. The lodge has been more successful than I ever dreamed. But..." I trail off, not sure if I should continue.
"But?" she prompts gently.
"But sometimes I wonder if something's missing. If this is really everything I wanted, or if I settled for it because it was safe." I turn to look at her. "Does that make sense?"
"More than you know." She sighs, staring into the fire. "I'm not happy with my job."
The admission hangs in the cold air between us. It makes my heart stutter.
"You're not?"
"No." She shakes her head, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. "I mean, I'm good at it. I do social media marketing, and I've been successful by most standards. But I'm not happy. My boss is a dick, the hours are insane, and I just found out I've been competing against a coworker without even knowing it. All those sixty-hour weeks, all those missed holidays and relationships I didn't pursue because I was always working... for what?" She throws her hands up, her voice full of annoyance and despair.
I reach over and take her hand, and even through our gloves, I can feel the spark between us. "You deserve better than that."
"I'm starting to realize that." She looks at me, and in the firelight, her eyes are glassy with unshed tears. Along with what looks to be disappointment. "Being here with you and Alana, seeing what you've built, how you actually care about the people who work for you and the guests who stay here... it's making me realize how empty my life has been. I've been so focused on climbing some corporate ladder that I forgot to actually live."
An idea forms in my mind, crazy and impulsive, but I can't seem to stop myself from saying it out loud. "I need a new social media marketer."
She blinks at me. "What?"
"For the lodge. The person I have now isn't cutting it. They post maybe twice a week, the content is boring, and we're not reaching the audience we should be. I've been meaning to find someone better, but I haven't had the time." I squeeze her hand. "If you're really looking for something new, you're welcome to work for me. The person who's doing it for me now is doing it on an as needed basis, and it's something I haven't made a priority, but I know I should. I'm losing a lot of money and opportunities."
"Winter, I…"
"I'm serious." I tell her, having all the faith in the world. "I'm sure you're talented since you've done this so long, you understand this business, and you care about quality. You always have. Plus, you'd be working for someone who actually values you, not some asshole who pits employees against each other." I pause, my heart racing, as I wait for her to listen to everything I've said and process it. "And you'd be here. In Pine Ridge. Near me and Alana."
She's quiet for a long moment, and I start to worry that I've pushed too hard, too fast. But then she leans over and kisses me.
It's different from the kiss inside. It's slower and much more deliberate. Like she's trying to tell me something with her lips that she can't put into words yet.
When she pulls back, she's smiling. "Thank you. For offering, for believing in me. That means more than you know."
"You don't have to give me an answer right now," I say quickly, not wanting her to say no. I really want her to give it thought. "Just think about it."
"I will. I promise."
We fall silent again, but this time there's an energy between us that wasn't there before. A possibility that there's a second chance available for us, and since I kissed her, there's an undercurrent of arousal I can't get rid of.
"Come here," I say, pulling her closer until she's practically in my lap. She comes willingly, settling against my chest.
"This is nice," she murmurs, and I can feel her breath against my neck.
"Yeah, it is."
I tilt her chin up, and suddenly we're kissing again. This time it's urgent and desperate, like we're trying to make up for all the years of missing each other. My hands find their way under her coat, and she gasps when my cold fingers touch her waist.
"Sorry," I mumble against her mouth.
"Don't be," she breathes, and then she's kissing me again, harder this time.
We get lost in each other, the fire warming us, the storm providing privacy since everyone is staying in their rooms. Her hands are in my hair, and mine are exploring the curve of her waist, the small of her back. I remember every inch of her body, even after all these years, and touching her again feels like coming home.
"Winter," she gasps when my mouth moves to her neck. "God, I've missed this."
"Me too," I admit, my voice rough. "Me too."
Unzipping her jacket, I allow my hands to slide further under her sweater, and she arches into my touch. I can feel her heart racing, matching the frantic beat of my own. This is moving fast, way too fast, but I can't seem to stop myself. I want her. Want this. Want everything we used to have and everything we could be.
