“Likewise. This is Emi.” He graciously shakes her hand as well, then guides Emi and me to the check-in desk.
“I’ve got everything ready for you.”
“My parents are doing okay?” I ask him.
“I believe they’re enjoying their stay.”
“Excellent. Thanks for taking care of everything, this has been pretty hassle-free so far.”
“Our pleasure, Mr. Holland.” Emi looks up at me and smiles, a look of confusion on her face. Bill pulls out a map of the property and circles the cabins that the families will be staying in. “Your parents are here... and then your sister’s cabin is next to the main one. We’ve got one brother over here... and another here... and then yours is right here. The best view of the mountain on the entire property.”
“Thank you. This is Emi’s first time to Colorado. She’s never been skiing... so I wanted her to get the full experience.”
“Well, we hope you enjoy your stay,” Bill says to Emi. “You have reservations for twelve tomorrow night at eight in the main dining room,” he informs us. Emi’s legs are bouncing, obviously anxious to check out more.
“Shall we go see our cabin?” I ask her. She stares into my eyes, a small, sexy smile on her face, and nods. Bill hands us the keys for our cabin and for Matthew’s, and we head back to the SUV.
“Just let me know if you need anything,” Bill says as we walk away.
“Mr. Holland, huh?” Emi teases me. “So formal.”
“Here’s the map,” I tell Lucas. “We’re in fifteen. You guys are in eleven... so if you can drop us off, we’ll get settled and meet up with you in about an hour at Mom and Dad’s. They’re in eighteen.” Lucas navigates through the winding snow-covered roads until he reaches our cabin. Matthew helps me unload our things, setting them on the patio, the air crisp and chilled. Emi stands by the car, eyeing the cabin from the outside.
“Wow,” she mouths to me, and I motion for her to join me. After Lucas drives away, I open the door for her, allowing her to enter first.
Emi looks stunned as she walks around the cabin. She touches the suede couch, running her fingers along the back of it. Her eyes wander to the large stone fireplace, which is actually shared with the bedroom, a fluid fire already crackling, warming the rooms. She peeks through the opening to see the bed, then turns around and smiles at me. She catches sight of a few dozen gerber daisies of all colors overtaking a small dining room table and walks over to them, smelling them and removing the card from the envelope.
“I love you, too,” she says after reading it, taking her coat off and hanging it on the back of a chair.
“Would you like a glass of champagne?” I ask her, noticing a bottle chilling on the coffee table next to a tray of chocolates and fruit. She nods her head and continues her exploration of the cabin as I pop the cork and pour two glasses.
The bedroom is richly decorated, the bed large and plush with a fluffy down comforter on top. Three large windows on the back wall look out to the mountain, the view breathtaking... miles of beautiful Colorado land spread out before us. She pulls the curtains back all the way, letting the sun soak the room. She wanders into the bathroom, which has a walk-in shower and a large jacuzzi tub. Two robes hang on hooks by the closet, house shoes positioned neatly below them. I hand her the drink as she looks more closely at the smaller robe. She takes it off the hook and turns it around to show me.
“My name is embroidered on this,” she tells me.
“Is it?” I ask her coyly. “Just something they offered to do.” I take the robe from her and hang it back on the hook, taking her in my arm and kissing her. “To us,” I tell her, holding out my glass. She taps hers against mine and we both drink.
She is quiet, taking it all in, eventually sitting down on the edge of the tub. Her eyebrows inquisitive, she says simply, “Your parents must be doing really well to pay for all of this.” The statement sounds more like a question.
I look at her curiously. “This is my treat to the family.”
“Huh.” She nods slowly, looking confused. “Your treat.”
“Yes,” I smile slightly.
She’s silent for a few more seconds before continuing. “So, um, do they even make tax brackets to contain people like you?”
I laugh. “What do you mean?”
“Well... I mean, first class airline tickets, again,” she begins. “The penthouse suite at the Ritz on Christmas.... I know the coat you gave me wasn’t cheap... And then, like, you know how when you visit a website for a hotel or a resort– say, the Mirabella, which I may have peeked at once before coming? They feature their best room on their website the day the interior designer finished styling it... and when you get to your actual room, it’s never anything like it... it’s always decorated differently, gaudy, never looks as big. They use the wide-angled lens to make it look bigger...”
“Okay, yes...” I stop her rambling.
“Have you seen this place?” she asks, astounded.
“Yes,” I laugh. “It’s pretty nice.”
She shakes her head as if trying to organize her thoughts. “Who are you?” she asks.
“I’m not following you.”
“This place is incredible. I expected rugged log cabin... cozy... This place is huge. Do we have, like, the special deluxe cabin or something? Does everyone else have a place like this?”
“Yes,” I tell her. “We just have the best view.”
“I don’t mean to be... rude... or nosy... but how wealthy are you, actually?” Her question catches me off guard. I had just assumed Chris had filled her in on the details of the Internet start-up I founded in college. He was there when it all happened. I had actually offered him a position when I quit school, but he thought finishing college was more important. He had regretted that decision over and over again when we went public, when the stock split... and especially when I sold the company.
I look at her confused. “Your brother doesn’t really keep you in the loop very much.”
“I told him early on I didn’t want him to tell me everything about you. I wanted to draw my own conclusions.” She sets her empty glass down on the edge of the jacuzzi and holds on to the edges. “What are we talking here?”
“Is it important?”
“It’s important if you’re living beyond your means... if you’ve charged this vacation to your Visa or taken out a second mortgage on your house.”
I laugh... close... AmEx Centurion... “And if I did...”
“I don’t have the money to help pay this off,” she jokes. “I’m just a meager graphic designer. I’m about three paychecks away from being homeless. I think you’ve got the wrong girl.”
“I know I don’t have the ‘wrong girl,’” I tell her, leaning against the large vanity, crossing my legs casually. “And let’s just say you’ll never have to help pay anything off.”
“That’s comforting,” she tells me. “So you earned all this money by selling your company?”
“That and some good investments,” I tell her.
“Your parents, were they wealthy?”
“No, but they live comfortably now.” I smile at her.
“So you made all this money... yourself?”
“Self-made,” I admit.
“Wow,” she says. “That’s impressive. It must have been a good company.”
“I got in at the beginning of the Internet boom,” I tell her. “I loved the company, and the work... but the offer on the table was just too much to turn down. I knew it would afford me a different life... I could volunteer more, travel more... choose my own projects... and never have to worry about money.”
“So,” she asks, looking at her feet. “Are we talking millionaire?”
“Kind of,” I tell her.
“Okay,” she sighs, still looking confused. “What’s that mean?”
"I would be in the ‘multi’ category.”
She’s quiet for another second. “And out of all the women in the world...”
“You’re the only one that matters,” I finish her sentence.
“Holy shit,” she mumbles. “Can I get a refill?”
“Sure.”
I take her by the hand and lead her back into the main living area. She sits down, reclining in the plush cushions of the couch, and I pour her another glass of champagne. “Chocolate?”
“No,” she says, a distant gaze filling her eyes. “I don’t like chocolate.”
“That’s right.” I remember her telling me about the craving she had for it the night Nate died... that her craving was the reason they left the hotel. I immediately feel bad for not recalling that before now. “I’m sorry.” She shakes her head, her smile returning.
“I love fruit, though.” She picks up a strawberry and takes a bite, a small amount of juice from the plump fruit pooling in the corner of her mouth. I lean over and kiss it from her lips. She feeds me the second bite of the strawberry, and then kisses me back.
“Your house is nice,” she starts talking abruptly, “but it’s nothing, like, palatial, you know? And you drive a Volvo... not even a fully loaded one... And you dress pretty, you know, normal. There is nothing flashy, nothing that warns people of the oncoming millionaire.”
“So?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I don’t know why it matters. Nate had money... but his was inheritance... he didn’t really respect it, I don’t think. I just feel like you’re in a different class of people. Like, how could I fit in to that?”
“That’s crazy, Em,” I tell her. “Do you really ever feel like I’m in a different class?”
“No,” she admits. “You’re so down-to-earth. And relatable.”
“Well, the fact that you now know about me shouldn’t change any of that. I’m still the same person.”
“I know,” she says. “I feel like I should be more proper, or something,” she laughs. “And not say things like ‘holy shit.’”
“You better not change a damn thing,” I pull her into my lap, kissing her cheek. “Let’s get unpacked... and if you need to freshen up or something, we have time.”
“Is it wrong that I just want to stay here and make love right over there, by the fireplace?”
“Not the bed?” I ask.
“And the bed,” she says. “And the jacuzzi... this couch is pretty nice, too...” She angles her body to face me, kneeling over me on the couch. I pull up her sweater and tank top and kiss her stomach, running my fingers up and down her back. She takes the sweater off as I begin to unbutton her jeans when we’re interrupted with a knock on the door.
“Jacks?” a familiar voice calls through the door.
“This would be a good ‘holy shit’ moment, Em,” I joke with her, fastening her jeans and helping her to put her sweater back on. “It’s my mother.” She giggles and kisses me quickly, then takes a deep breath.
“Ready?” I ask her.
“Thank God for champagne,” she smiles.
“It’ll be fine.” I open the door for my mother as Emi stands next to the couch. Mom hugs me tightly, then notices my beautiful girlfriend.
“This must be Emi,” my mother happily states. “It is so good to meet you. Jacks has told us so much about you.”
“Mrs. Holland,” Emi begins toward her. “It’s a pleasure.” Again, she tries to shake the hand of another of my family members, but my mother reiterates to Emi that we are a ‘hugging family’ and embraces her.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” she says.
“Not at all,” Emi says hurriedly. “We were just checking out this amazing cabin. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.” Her blushing cheeks betray her.
“Mom, have you and Dad had a good time so far?”
“It’s so beautiful here,” she says. “Thank you so much. And that Bill, the manager, he’s very attentive. We don’t want for anything!”
“Good,” I tell her. “Where’s Dad?”
“Matty and Lucas came over. They were showing him their new video camera, and I just couldn’t wait to see you!” She hugs me again. “Looks like you two have some unpacking to do... that’s a lot of stuff!”
“Yeah...” Emi says shyly.
“Emi likes options,” I tell her. “But speaking of unpacking, we should probably do that and then we’ll be over in a bit. We were thinking about grabbing something to eat before we head over.” I exchange a knowing glance with Emi.
“Yeah, I didn’t eat before we left,” Emi confirms.
“Oh, no, we have a fully stocked kitchen, I’ll fix something for you two.”
“That’s okay, Mom, rea–”
“I insist,” she says.
“Alright,” Emi nods, agreeing to my mother’s request. “We’ll see you shortly.”
“Okay, Emi, I can’t wait to spend more time with you,” she says.
“You, too, Mrs. Holland.”
“Sharon,” she corrects Emi. “I’ll see you in a few minutes!” My mom exits the cabin and I lock the door behind her.
“She’s totally on to us,” Emi says.
“I think so.” Emi blushes a deep crimson color. I walk over to feel the warmth of her cheeks and tease her with my lips.
“When can we come back?” she whispers softly, her gaze serious, wanting.
“This evening,” I tell her.
“An hour?” she asks, her hand guiding mine up her body.
“Definitely a little longer than an hour,” I admit. She lifts up her shirt and puts my hand on her chest. I unfasten her bra so I can feel her supple breasts, flawless skin. I kiss her deeper, but she pulls away to ask another question.
“Two hours?”
“Probably a little longer than two hours,” I tell her as she unzips my jeans, putting her hand through the opening. “Oh, god, Emi,” I sigh as I take her hand in mine and pick her up, carrying her to the bedroom. I lay her down on the bed, and as I begin to lie down next to her, she climbs off the bed and refastens her bra. “What are you...?”
“Well, we certainly don’t have time for this right now,” she says, shrugging her shoulders and retrieving a few of her suitcases, placing them on the king-sized bed. “But I wanted to remind you what’s waiting for you.”
“Really?” I ask her, hopeful.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she says, unzipping a suitcase and taking out a sheer black lace corset and panties, holding them up briefly, deliberately teasing me again.
“What are those?” I ask her. Emi’s taste in undergarments is typically anything that’s comfortable, so the lingerie is a bit of a shock.
“Oh nothing,” she says, putting the items in a drawer.
“Wait, was that cute-but-impractical sleep wear?”
“Cute?” she asks.
“You’re right, those were not cute. Sorry. Incredibly sexy...”
“Maybe,” she says. “Whatever they are, I don’t intend to sleep in them, Mr. Holland,” she tells me.
“What else is in there?” I ask, reaching into her suitcase, which she shuts on my hand.
“It’s a surprise,” she says. “Don’t ruin it, okay?”
I grab her forearm and pull her back on the bed with me. She crawls right up to me and kisses me, sweetly. “This trip is going to be so much fun,” she says, her legs on either side of my right one. She raises her knee and strokes me slowly, but instead of allowing her to continue, I take her leg, put it on the other side of my body and roll over on top of her, teasing her in the same manner. She starts to breathe faster and closes her eyes, allowing her desire to take over.
“But,” she says between breaths, “your mom... is waiting.”
I immediately roll off of her, off of the bed, crossing the room to begin unpacking my things.
“Are you getting even with me?” she asks, her eyes expectant.
“There’s a law somewhere that states that sex cannot happen when a parent is mentioned in the midst of foreplay. I believe it’s a law of nature,” I explain, smiling through gritted teet
h.
“No, I’m sorry,” she whines. “Forget about your mom.”
“You just said it again. It’s over.” I continue hanging things in the closet and putting things in the dresser.
“Damn it,” she pouts.
“We definitely have something to look forward to,” I smile. “Where are your ski clothes? I’ll hang them up.”
“In that one, I think,” she says, pointing to the one suitcase left over in the living room.
“Are there any surprises in there that I shouldn’t see?” I ask.
“No, it’s safe, I think. Is this okay to wear, or should I change?” she asks.
“These are my parents, not the president and first lady,” I tease her. “Stop worrying. You look perfect.”
“Thank you,” she smiles as she bites her bottom lip, her gaze lingering. “Where’s your camera?”
“On the dresser, why?”
“Let’s get a picture of us,” she says. “Come over here.” She pats the bed.
“Is this a trick to lure me back?” I ask.
“Maybe,” she says. “No, we just don’t really have any pictures of us. And I just don’t think I could feel any happier than I do right now.”
I grab the camera and sit next to her on the bed, putting my arm around her and holding the camera at arms-length. I lean my head into hers, and she does the same before I snap the picture. She takes the camera and looks at the display.
“That one’s cute,” she says. “Let’s do one more, though.”
I hold the camera out again and count down. On three, she leans in to kiss me on the cheek. I turn the camera over and preview the second shot. “I like that one,” I tell her. “Third time’s a charm?” I ask.
We both have the same idea with the third picture, leaning in to kiss one another. After the camera clicks, I toss it on the bed and take her head in my hands, kissing her deeply, slowly.
“That will never get old,” she says when we separate. I run my hand down her arm, goosebumps breaking out across her skin, as I get off the bed.
“I know.” I sigh heavily, wanting nothing more than to stay here with her but knowing that my family is waiting. “Are you about ready to go?” I go into the kitchen to see if they had stocked Emi’s wine, and find a few bottles of it on the counter. I grab one to take with us to my parent’s cabin.