The Next Day (Foothills Book 2) by Carrie Thorne (christmas read aloud TXT) 📕

bit down harder into his cheek. They didn’t deserve to be reminded that his brother hadn’t been there.

Squeezing his hand to let him know she was on it, Freya smiled, “How was the drive? I hear you can see the glow from the Eastern Washington wildfires on the horizon?”

Craig scooped up their bags and strolled inside, grinning his typical dopey grin, “That was something. We’ve never seen anything like it.”

Nodding, Freya’s hand stayed locked with his, her smile equally forced. Anyone from the area, or with half a brain, really, had been following the devastation. She smiled and responded, “Something, yes. Your flight was uneventful?”

Susan sauntered into the kitchen and stared into the refrigerator.

Releasing Freya’s hand and giving in to the inevitable, Zane followed and rested his hand on the fridge door. “I should have picked up some wine. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking about it. Would you like water or beer?”

His mother pondered, her famous pensive face not diminishing the perfection of her eyebrows. “Is the beer local? I would love something original.”

“It’s original alright,” he muttered.

Craig set their suitcases next to the bed-height air mattress Zane had picked up in anticipation of their arrival. “I’d love one, too. Thanks.”

Susan took her beer and wandered around the apartment, nosy and curious. Good thing Freya had merged her stuff with his. She even checked the medicine cabinet, smiling and commenting on what a cozy home they’d made. As expected, she asked, “This apartment is lovely. Do you know the neighbors that own the house?”

Releasing all the air from his lungs, Zane gulped the first half of his beer and dropped onto the couch. “Yeah. Remember, Asher and his girlfriend are buying the place, so we’re staying here while we find something more permanent?”

Susan nodded knowingly before lowering to the opposite end of the couch, “Oh yes, of course. I remember now. Will you be designing your own place? Or, well, I guess it’s been a while. If you need some creative input, we’ll be happy to help.”

Cheek worn away to little more than hamburger, Zane tried to chew on his tongue instead. Maybe he’d try some Irish moss for the next batch, with some Northwest hops.

Freya glanced out the window, then back again, “We’re not quite there yet. Foothills has some great properties, but we’ll wait for something perfect to open up and go from there.”

Craig nodded, “Of course. You can’t create the design before you know the location.”

Utter darkness. Blackness. Where mysteries began. And where Freya’s imagination took over. Crisp night air cooled the overheated bedroom while dark clouds shifted to conceal the moon.

Scooted until she was about to fall off the side of the bed, she knew Zane was at the opposite edge. He smelled so damn good, that hint of cedar and sex that spun her in a confused tornado. His breath was forced and steady, equally unsettled.

“Zane?” she asked.

“Yeah?”

“You awake?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I am now. The creaking wheels in your brain woke me up.”

“Want to have sex?” Her massive grin scrunched up her nose so far, she squinted.

He groaned, counting so quietly she almost couldn’t tell, slower than the bathroom clock on the other side of the wall.

“I mean, we’re already cohabitating.”

Five more counts. “We’re already going to be damn lucky to get that annulment. The only thing we have going for us is that we haven’t consummated it.”

“I was kidding anyway.”

“No you weren’t.” She could hear the lilt in his voice, the subtle smile as he teased her.

“How do you know?”

“It’s like the handholding. You don’t like being told you can’t do something.”

“I can follow rules.”

“Can? Yes. Easily and with grace? No.”

“Smartass.”

He chuckled again. “Hey, I’ve got twelve years of following orders under my belt.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever cared for rules.” She glared up at the growing light on the ceiling as the clouds broke to reveal the moon.

“I can see that.” The sheets shifted and rustled as Zane rolled to face her. Like a submarine in rough seas, Zane’s hand crossed the divide between them. He intertwined his fingers with hers.

A lead weight on her chest, Freya forced each breath in and out. The subtle connection, so natural, insignificant by all accounts, was exactly who he was. He wouldn’t break the rules, but would bend them for her. And she really, really shouldn’t let him. “Your parents are nice.”

“Yeah, they are that.”

“You’re right though, they don’t see you at all.”

“Nope.” His thumb grazed along hers, circling over each groove.

“I don’t think it’s personal. They seem quite content with their own interests.”

Zane didn’t respond, but took a protracted deep breath; she could just make out his tightening posture in the dim light.

“Have you thought about what to do tomorrow?”

“I haven’t exactly done anything touristy around here. What do you think?”

“There’s always Mount Rainier. Or the wildlife park to see bison and elk. Downtown Seattle, the waterfront, aquarium, the underground, shopping.”

He audibly winced, “Not downtown. Where normal people like you and I will want to do the typical touristy things, they’ll turn it into an architectural tour.”

“No wonder that’s what you studied in school.”

“I’m a glutton for punishment?”

“No. It’s what you grew up with. Probably how your brain works.”

“I guess. Sometimes it comes in handy. Like the damn building that blew up around Jack and the other guys; one wrong move and the whole thing could have come down. And Sophie and Asher already showed their contractor some of my ideas. I have to confess, I’m looking forward to nailing down the details of the brewhouse.”

“Did it go through already?”

“Almost. Mostly formalities now, but I’m leaving that to Grady.”

“Brewing takes a lot of design.”

“Without having to present my