Ian knew that much. Despite how easily Bree had fallen into his arms today, she’d practically launched right out of them when it was over. He’d fallen asleep spooning her, the drama of the morning feeling as though it were a million miles away. Then he awoke a short time later to an empty space beside him in bed. By the time he stumbled back out into the living room, Bree was showered, dressed and suggesting they play a game. Like their encounter had never even happened.
He decided to go along with it. For now. He wasn’t entirely sure where they should go from here. He’d simply acted on instinct, claiming what he’d desired. There hadn’t been much thought or discussion put into the decision. All he knew was that he was aching to touch her again. He didn’t know if voicing that need would send Bree running into his arms or out into the snow.
“It’s either marathon sex or I’ll get back on my laptop,” he threatened. It was a hollow threat, however. Ian didn’t really want to get onto his computer. He would never admit to anyone, especially Bree, that he was enjoying his time away from technology. His calls were forwarded to his assistant. His out-of-office message directed people to contact Keith in his absence. General business operations at the studio were under control. That only left his personal accounts. Considering everything going on, he had zero interest in wading into those waters.
Before he’d shut everything off, he’d texted his mother and told her he would be out of touch for a few days and not to worry. No one else mattered.
That left nothing but a rowdy board game to distract him from his thoughts about Bree. And that worked for a while. An hour passed quickly as they collected real estate. It was something easy and fun to do. Ian couldn’t even remember the last time he did something as simple as play a game. It was nicer than he expected it to be, almost like stopping and taking a deep breath after running a marathon. And he had been running a marathon since he was nineteen.
Bree rolled the dice, then moved her piece to one of his green properties with a hotel. She groaned. “What’s the damage?”
Ian picked up his card. “That will be fourteen hundred dollars. Or, if you prefer, your Snickers, your Butterfinger and four of the mini special dark bars.”
“You’ve nearly bankrupted me.” Bree handed over the candy with a frown. “All I’ve got left is this crispy rice bar. And you know what?” She looked up at him and popped it into her mouth. “I’m hungry. Game over. You win.”
“Good. I’m hungry, too.” Ian unwrapped a piece of candy and ate it. The day had passed in a blur of drama, snow shoveling, lovemaking and board games, but now it was time for dinner. “Let’s see what we can come up with tonight.”
He climbed to his feet with his winnings and dumped them back into the kitchen drawer to eat later. He opened the pantry door and looked inside. He didn’t typically keep much there, but nonperishables would carry over from trip to trip, and as he’d mentioned, Patty sometimes went off script.
“Check the freezer,” he said.
Bree opened the door. “Hmm. Popsicles, a bag of frozen biscuit dough and...” She stopped to reach inside and pull out something. “Two rib eye steaks. They look pretty new. There’s no freezer burn.”
Ian took the package from her. It was definitely only a few days frozen with a packaged date stamp of the previous Tuesday. “God bless Patty.” A wire basket on the counter held a mix of potatoes and onions, and she’d bought some fresh vegetables. Together, they could manage an excellent meal. “Tonight, we eat like kings.”
Neither of them were experts in the kitchen, but things worked out pretty well. They thawed the steaks in the microwave while the potatoes baked in the oven. While they grilled the steaks, they steamed delicate haricot vert. An hour later, they had dinner on the table, complete with a bottle of merlot from his stash.
The logs in the fireplace were crackling beside them as a fire warmed the dining room. The food was good and so was the company. Ian had hoped for a romantic weekend, but this wasn’t what he’d had in mind. It was even better.
“I feel so guilty,” Bree said after a few moments eating quietly.
“Why?”
“It’s Friday night and I’m in the mountains eating a nice steak and drinking wine that didn’t come out of a box.”
At that, Ian had to laugh. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“I haven’t had a Friday night off in six years. Friday night is rehearsal dinner night. As we speak, the soon-to-be Mr. and Mrs. Conner are just wrapping up their rehearsal at our facility. In a few minutes, they’ll be loading into a limo and heading downtown to have their rehearsal dinner at a fondue restaurant. I should be there for all of it.”
“Who’s taking pictures instead? Is the caterer pinch hitting?”
Bree laughed. “No. Amelia is doing prep work for tomorrow and finishing up the wedding cake. Natalie and Gretchen are decorating and coordinating with contractors like the florist and the DJ. We have a contract photographer we call for larger weddings or emergencies, like today. Willie is covering the rehearsal dinner and, thankfully, the ceremony tomorrow.”
“So when was the last time you had a whole weekend off?” he asked.
“Uh...” She hesitated, looking up at the ceiling as she tried to calculate it. “Not since college, I’d guess. I might’ve gotten a weekend over Christmas when people don’t want to get married, but that’s about it. The first few years after we opened, we worked nearly every day. Now, I get Tuesdays and Wednesdays off. That’s my weekend.”
Ian understood how it went. Starting from nothing took years of hard work, jumping in the ring to do anything and everything that needed to be done. “Considering all the grief you’ve given me about working too hard over the years, it sounds like the pot is calling the kettle black.”
Bree avoided immediately responding to his observation by taking a large sip of her wine. “Perhaps,” she said at last, “but I love what I do. When you love what you do, you don’t work a single day, right?”
He nodded. That was the difference, he supposed. Ian was working himself into an early grave be
cause he had nothing else to do. He didn’t have a passion for record producing urging him on. “What about your personal life? Do you leave yourself time for relationships?”
“If you’re asking if I’m seeing anyone, no, I’m not.” She gave him a crooked smile. “A question that might’ve been better asked this afternoon before...” Her voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing red. “But no,” she said, clearing her throat. “I haven’t had a serious relationship in several years.”
Ian was relieved to hear that. He wanted Bree, but he didn’t want either of them to feel guilty about what they did. Especially because he wanted to do it again. “Me, neither. I mean, the Missy thing aside. Before everything happened with her, I hadn’t dated anyone for more than a few months at a time. And I wouldn’t have bothered dating her if she hadn’t dangled herself right in front of me where it was easy to grab.”