Yard Sale Read online

  Emersyn may be seven, but I can already tell that she’s going to be a lifelong snowboarder. When she first came to me, I made her start with skiing. Kids usually do better learning that way first. She was a natural, so I spoke to her parents about getting her a snowboard. The kid fucking loves it. And I know she’s going places. Which is why I agreed when her parents asked if I could give her private lessons.

  “What’s up, Mini Shredder?” I ask, grabbing her under the armpits and propping her on her feet.

  “Nuffin’.” She shrugs. “Can we try the box today?” she asks, clapping her hands together.

  “Nooo,” I drawl. “We’re going to work on carving and getting your pops nice and clean with the other kids. We’ll do some tricks during your private lessons. Deal?”

  “Deal,” she grumbles.

  Most of the kids in my class have pretty solid skills. At the beginning, I had to weed out the kids who didn’t truly want to be there. Usually, the parents threw them into it so they could snap a few photos and brag about it on social media. Those kids weren’t ready, and I had to explain to the parents that pushing it now would result in fear that could potentially ruin boarding or skiing for the rest of their lives. Now, I’m left with a good group of kids who have a genuine love of the mountain and desire to learn.

  The rest of my group has gathered by the cones I have set up, and we make our way over to start the class. I help Emersyn trek through the snow by guiding her by her hood. The kid is a beast on a snowboard. But walking on two feet? Not so much. Especially when snow boots are involved.

  “All right, dudes and dudettes, get your helmets on. Let’s hit some drills, and then we’ll move on to some new skills.”

  I lift my goggles off my eyes and onto my forehead over my beanie and slide into the lift. On the way down, I realize that my knee doesn’t feel as stiff as it usually does by the end of the day. That’s got to be a good sign.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket once my service kicks back in, and I see texts from my friend Dare telling me to come over for dinner. Our buddy Asher’s girl, Briar, is cooking. I shoot a text back letting him know I’ll be there, because Briar feeds me. I’ll never turn down a home-cooked meal, even if the main ingredient is pity.

  Once I’m at the bottom, I decide to head straight to my car instead of stopping for a beer at the resort’s bar. I’m walking through the outdoor shopping center toward the parking lot when I see her. Mollie. She’s sitting on the Blues Brothers bench—which is exactly what it sounds like; a bench with the Blues Brothers statues at both ends—next to the outdoor ice-skating rink. The skating rink sits right in the middle of The Pines, surrounded by the actual resort, the lifts, and all the stores and restaurants.

  Mollie sits there, watching the ice skaters, blowing into her steaming cup. This time she has on a grey beanie with a tan pompom on top, those tight, black things that girls try to pass off as pants—not that I’m complaining—and a white coat over a flannel shirt. Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m heading right for her.

  “Well, if it isn’t Mollie Mabey,” I say, causing her to jump. Her big, brown eyes shoot up to mine, and she looks like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Camden,” she says, seeming nervous or unsure as she crosses one leg over the other. An image pops into my head of me between those thighs, eating that perfect pussy, and if she wasn’t here with her boyfriend, I might ask her for a repeat. On second thought, I still might, boyfriend or not.

  “So, you do remember me,” I say, even though her reaction last night made that more than clear.

  “Sorry about last night,” she says. “I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

  Her response strikes me as odd. She knows I live here. Why would she be surprised to see me? And we had one night of hooking up—one glorious fucking night—but there wasn’t any drama. Just fun. But she never tried to contact me afterward. We both knew the deal. The weirdness on her end doesn’t add up. Maybe she’s just embarrassed about having a one-night stand. Maybe she regrets it. I, clearly, don’t share the same affliction.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, giving her an out. She doesn’t have to explain herself.

  “My family’s up there,” she says, gesturing toward the gondola in the distance. “I was just walking around the shops, waiting for everyone to be done.”

  “Why didn’t you go up?”

  “I suck at snowboarding,” she admits. “Plus, I wasn’t feeling well earlier.”

  I want to ask where her boyfriend is. If he went up without her. But I don’t.

  “Come with me,” I say, surprising her. She starts to shake her head, but I grab her dainty hand, pulling her up from the bench. She tosses her drink in the trash next to the bench before she shivers and zips her jacket, wrapping her arms around her middle. It’s not even that cold now, but I guess it might be for someone who isn’t used to River’s Edge’s winters.

  “I really can’t. They’ll be done soon, soooo…” she trails off, looking toward the lift.

  “Bullshit. You’ve been down here all day. You deserve to do something while you’re here. Give me one second. Okay?”

  She looks like she’s going to say no. Indecision wars in her eyes. But she surprises me by nodding yes.

  “Wait here,” I instruct.

  “Okay…” she says suspiciously.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  I turn around and jog toward the kiosk a few feet away and buy her a lift ticket before running back in her direction.

  “Come on,” I say, tugging on her hand. She lets me guide her to the gondola, her tiny, freezing palm in mine. We hand our tickets to the lift operator.

  “Mind holding onto my board for a few?” I ask him. I don’t want to lug it around. He agrees. He’s seen me around, so he knows I work here, if the black and forest green snow jacket with The Pines’ logo wasn’t enough to tip him off.

  “Thanks, man,” I say, helping Mollie into the lift. She sits on the opposite side of me and rests her oversized purse on her lap. When the lift jerks, she startles and gives a little yelp. I chuckle, putting my hand on her knee.

  “You’re safe. There’s nothing to be afraid of in here.”

  Mollie swallows thickly, and after giving me a searching look, she turns her gaze to the mountains.

  “This is my favorite part, you know. It’s so quiet and peaceful,” she says with a small smile, echoing my thoughts from earlier.

  I clear my throat. “Like the calm before the storm,” I mutter.

  “Exactly,” she whispers, sounding surprised.

  Once we’re at the top, I hop out first and extend my hand to help her down.

  “This way,” I say, and she follows. I lead her to the lookout deck. You can see the whole lake from here. People pay to come up just for this view.

  “Oh my God,” she breathes, taking it all in. The crystal blue lake that reflects like a mirror, the snow-covered mountaintops in the distance. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Beautiful doesn’t even fucking begin to describe it,” I say, but I’m not looking at the lake. The pink in Mollie’s cheeks deepens. I like making her blush. I want to make that whole body blush, again and again.

  “Why did you bring me here?” she asks, her tone cautious and unsure.

  I could give her some bullshit line, but if I remember correctly, Mollie is the type of girl who appreciates straightforwardness.

  “You looked sad.” I shrugged. “I guess I wanted to fix it. Also, your ass looks fucking phenomenal, and I wouldn’t mind spending time with it again. I mean you. You again. And also your ass.”

  She looks up at me with tears swimming in those brown eyes. Okay, I guess she didn’t appreciate the honesty…

  “Whoa, my bad, Mollie. Don’t cry.”

  “No,” she says, waving me off. “That was just really sweet.”

  That’s not exactly the word I’d use to describe it, but I’m not going to argue. I notice a little smudge of brown on the corner of h
er berry-colored lips, and without thinking, I lean in and slowly slide my thumb across it. Mollie’s breath hitches, as I pull it back and suck it off my thumb.

  “Mmm. Hot chocolate.”

  Mollie bites her lip, and in a bold move, I lean forward again to lick it straight from the source. Her lips part, and I take the opportunity to suck her bottom lip into my mouth. Her palms come up to my chest, but instead of pushing me away, she grips my jacket. I take that as permission to slip my tongue inside, sliding it against hers.

  “Cam!” a familiar voice shouts. I break away from Mollie with a groan and look over to see Emersyn with her parents and two older people. She holds up a finger, letting them know she’ll be right back, and runs over to us.

  “Long time no see, Mini Shredder.” Who shall from now on be mentally referred to as Mini Cockblock.

  “My mom and dad wanted to show my grandparents the lookout,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  I laugh at her attitude and ruffle her wind-knotted hair. “Tough break,” I say sarcastically.

  “I know, right? Is this your girrrrrlfriend?” Em sings.

  “No,” I say, clearing my throat and scratching at the back of my neck. “Emersyn, this is my friend, Mollie. Mollie, this is one of my kids.”

  Mollie’s wide eyes dart to mine, and I realize how that sounded.

  “One of my students,” I’m quick to amend. “I teach at the ski school.”

  “His best student,” Emersyn clarifies, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  “You cocky little—” I start, but then I turn to Mollie. “She’s right, though. You’ll be seeing this kid on TV someday soon. Mark my words.”

  Emersyn preens like a goddamn peacock and Mollie laughs at her antics, but her eyes are still glassy.

  “I really have to go,” she says, hooking a thumb behind her. “But it was nice to meet you!” she tells Emersyn. Turning back to me, she adds, “Thank you for this.”

  She doesn’t even give me a chance to respond before she’s walking back toward the lift. I take a minute to talk to Em, letting her know I’d see her in a couple of days for her private lesson before I decide to head back down myself.

  That was a fat fail. At least I have dinner to look forward to.

  That was, quite possibly, the most embarrassing moment of my life. I cried after someone complimented my ass. It wasn’t just that Cam was being sweet about wanting to cheer me up. It was a combination of things. The view. Seeing him interact with Emersyn. And knowing that I have to share my secret soon, when part of me likes having this little pinecone all to myself. Worrying about his reaction. All of it.

  If I’m not crying, I’m horny, hence letting him kiss me. What was I thinking? That’s all pregnancy is for me at this point—crying over nothing and fantasizing about everything. I feel like I have exactly zero control over my emotions or hormones, and that’s the most frustrating part.

  This morning, Tuck planned to keep me company, but my brothers wanted him to go boarding. He was reluctant, but I told him he should go. I’m not his girlfriend. It’s time for us to act like it. After I took the lift back down, I didn’t wait for anyone. I decided to go back to my room and get ready for tonight. Besides, I needed a minute to clear my head after running into Cam for the second time in as many days. Small towns suck.

  Sutton and I have plans, so I showered and then grabbed a quick bite to eat with Tuck. Now, I’m staring at my suitcase, debating what to wear. I’m not sure what we’re doing, but I think she said something about going to her friend’s house. Since I don’t think we’re going to be out in public, I decide to wear a cute gray formfitting wrap dress that does nothing to hide my growing stomach and my taupe-y suede over-the-knee boots. I throw on a gray scarf and an oversized cardigan, grab my purse, and head down to the lobby, hoping I’m not unlucky enough to run into Camden Hess for a third time. Sutton’s waiting for me in her SUV outside the revolving doors, and I rush toward the passenger door, already feeling the bitter cold seeping into my bones. Sutton squeals when I open the door, hugging me over the middle console.

  “I fucking missed you!” she yells into my ear. “And look at you!” She pulls back, pushing my cardigan out of the way to get a better look. “I knew. I just fucking knew it,” she says, shaking her head.

  “What?” I ask defensively.

  “I knew you’d be the cutest pregnant bitch alive. You’re all tummy, and even that is tiny.”

  “I’m only like twenty weeks. You’ll have to roll me around soon.”

  “Doubtful,” she says, pulling out of the parking lot.

  “So, where are we going again?”

  “I asked my friend Briar to hang out earlier. She’s sort of new in town, but she’s good people. You’ll like her. She invited us to hang out at her friend’s house.”

  “Like, a party?” I ask. “Because I don’t want to be the pregnant chick at the party.”

  “No.” Sutton laughs, “They’re just hanging out. Probably playing some pool and some snowskate.”

  “What the hell is snowskate?”

  “Like skateboarding…in the snow.”

  “So, snowboarding?”

  “Huh,” Sutton says, looking contemplative. “I never thought of that. They’re different somehow.” She shrugs. “Anyway, Briar is gorgeous and the most genuine chick I know—besides you,” she adds belatedly. “And her fiancé? Jesus Christ, that guy is probably the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in real life. I mean, I’m a little afraid of him, but he’s fun to look at.”

  “You’re a mess.” I laugh.

  “Says the pregnant girl in denial,” she slings back, rolling her eyes.

  “Shut up. I am not in denial. I’m very aware that I’m going to be in charge of a human life in just a couple of months.”

  “And you’re going to rock it, so get that panicked look off your face. This is a good thing, Mollie. The best thing, even if you can’t see it now.”

  My stupid pregnancy hormones strike again, and it’s all I can do to nod without bursting into tears. I’ve been working temp jobs since being laid off, while looking for other career opportunities. I still live with my best friend-slash-fake boyfriend. The baby’s father doesn’t even know. I feel like a failure of a mom and my kid hasn’t even been born.

  “Do you think he knows?” Sutton asks, cautiously.

  “No. I don’t think so, anyway.” I texted Sutton about running into Cam, conveniently leaving out the part where we kissed.

  I turn up the radio to avoid talking about this particular subject, and “Closer” by The Chainsmokers blares from the speakers. We’re driving for longer than I expected, past the city limits. There aren’t any streetlights out here, and the roads are long and windy.

  “Are you sure you’re not actually taking me somewhere to kill me?” I ask, only half-joking.

  “I’m just following the directions she gave me. I’ve never been out this far.”

  We drive for a more miles on the edge of the lake, the road becoming increasingly narrow, and the sky darker. The snow is really starting to come down now, and the streets are covered in white. Finally, we pull up to a dark brown cabin. It’s covered in snow, and there are three guys with what appears to be skateboards without the wheels and one tiny blonde girl bundled up, standing in the front yard.

  The blonde, whom I assume is Briar, waves as we walk up the icy driveway.

  “Be careful,” she says, gesturing to the ground. “It’s super slippery.”

  Sutton and Briar hug, and when they pull apart, Briar beams at me. “I’m Briar,” she says, holding out a hand. I take it and introduce myself.

  “This is Asher,” she says, tugging him over by his arm. Damn. Sutton is right. He’s nice to look at, but intimidating as hell. He gives me a nod, squeezes Briar’s ass, and kisses the top of her head before he jumps onto his skateboard without wheels and slides down the little hill in the yard.

  “This is Adrian, who’s basically my brother,” she says, pointing
to a guy who smiles suggestively at me, his deep dimples on display. “My actual brother is…away,” she says cryptically. “And this is Dare. He’s grumpy, but he’s harmless.”

  Tall and tattooed grunts at me in response. He looks vaguely familiar. They’re all gorgeous, but Dare is like the leader of the beautiful, and even more threatening than Asher. I think it’s a rule that you must be ridiculously attractive to hang out with this crowd.

  “We should go inside before the ladies get cold,” Adrian says.

  “We’re fine,” Sutton insists.

  “Not you. I mean these assholes,” he says, flicking his chin toward Dare and Asher.

  “Where did Tweedledee and Tweedledum go?” Asher asks, as if suddenly noticing someone is missing, as we walk inside.

  “They’ll be right back,” Dare says, holding the door open for us.

  Inside, it’s sort of bare—which is to be expected for a guy’s house. What I don’t expect is how beautiful it is. Tall, wooden beams and vaulted ceilings. Floor-to-ceiling windows. A pool table sits in the middle of an open room off to the side of the kitchen, and there are two rustic brown couches that sit in front of a somewhat formidable fireplace made from stone.

  Sutton takes off her coat, revealing a cream color off-the-shoulder sweater and skinny black jeans, and Briar tells her to hang it on the hook by the door. I follow suit, hanging my cardigan and scarf next to hers.

  Sutton’s hands are immediately on my belly. “I can’t even handle it, Molls. This is amazing.”

  “You’re pregnant?” Briar asks, extending her hand, but she snatches it back before she makes contact. “Can I feel? I mean, is that weird?” I laugh and assure her that I don’t mind.

  I know a lot of pregnant women hate their stomachs being touched—I’ve been on enough online baby forums to know that’s generally a no-no—but I’m not one of those women. I think it’s sweet. Ask me again when a stranger tries it, though, and I might answer differently.