Unbreakable (Cloverleigh Farms, #4)(44)

“Okay. Hey, I was thinking about something you said last night while I was outside—about your kids being disappointed about not skiing. What about taking them skiing here? It’s not Aspen or anything, but the drive to Crystal Mountain or Boyne isn’t bad.”

Her face brightened. “You’re right. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before.”

“You were thinking about fucking me, remember?”

She blushed and swatted my chest with her gloves. “You’re making me sound like a fiend. But that’s a great idea. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I planted one last kiss on her lips, resisting the urge to ask when I might next see her. “Drive carefully, okay? The roads are probably still a mess. Hey, will you let me know when you get home so I’m not worried?”

“Sure. But you’re going to have to give me your number for that.” She pulled her phone from her purse, opened up her contacts, and handed it to me.

I put my information in and gave it back to her. She glanced at what I’d entered and looked up with a smirk. “You really want to be in here as Big Dick DeSantis?”

“A hundred percent yes,” I told her.

She was still laughing when she went out the door.

After she’d gone, I cleaned up the kitchen, took a quick shower, got dressed, and headed into work. Since it was Sunday and the roads were shitty, traffic wasn’t bad at all. There were cars in the employee lot at Cloverleigh Farms since the inn would open up again today, but the winery wouldn’t open again until tomorrow, so I had the place to myself.

My mood was the best it had been in a long time—go figure—and I went about my work feeling upbeat and optimistic. Normally when the temperatures dropped below zero, I lost sleep worrying about my vines, but last night I’d slept like a baby.

Around noon, I ran out for a quick lunch, and when I came back, I saw Sylvia’s kids plus Mack’s three girls out on the lawn between the inn and the winery playing in the snow. It made me smile—I remembered how much fun my brothers and I used to have outside during winter, until one of us took a hard-packed snowball in the face and went in crying to our mom. Since none of us would ever admit who had thrown it, we’d all get sent to our rooms. But then she wouldn’t be able to stand the noise in the house, and she’d send us outside again.

After parking my truck, I walked by the kids and gave them a wave. Then I noticed they were having trouble pushing a massive snowball that would undoubtedly be used as the bottom third of a snowman.

“Mr. DeSantis!” cried Mack’s oldest daughter, Millie. “Can you help us? We made the butt too big!”

I laughed. “Sure.”

Once I managed to push the giant snowball where they wanted it, we went to work making the rest of the body. When all three snowballs were stacked, we went hunting for things to use for his face and clothing. On the ground we found two shriveled crab apples to use for his eyes. In the stables, someone found half an abandoned carrot. Mack’s daughter Felicity thought of using small stones for the mouth, so we trudged through the snow toward the creek to find some. Whitney found sticks for the arms, and in the barn, Keaton spotted an old hat on a hook in the wall. I lifted Mack’s little daughter Winnie up so she could place it on our snowman’s head.

“But he’s going to be cold,” she said in dismay. “He needs a scarf.”

“He’s a snowman, dummy,” Felicity scolded. “He doesn’t get cold.”

“Then why would he need a hat?” she said, giving her sister the stink-eye. Then she turned to me. “Mr. DeSantis, could we use your scarf? Then he won’t be cold.”

One look at her big eyes peering up at me, and there was no way I could refuse. “Of course.”

“Yay!” The younger kids jumped up and down as I untied my scarf and tied it around his neck.

“Now let’s make a snow lady,” Winnie suggested. “We don’t want the snowman to get lonely.”

Everyone agreed, so we started rolling a large snowball for the bottom. I was helping to push it along when I heard Keaton yell, “Mom! Come see our snowman!”

I looked up to see Sylvia walking across the lawn toward us, all bundled up with her hands tucked into her pockets. My body warmed despite the cold.

She smiled at me. “Hey, guys. Hi, Henry. Playing hooky from work?”

“Mr. DeSantis gave us his scarf to use on the snowman,” Whitney said excitedly. “Can we have yours for the snow lady?”

“Sure,” she said, laughing as she unwound it from her neck. “That was very nice of him. Did you say thank you?”

“Thank you,” Whitney said to me with a guilty smile. Her lips were neon pink, and she wore eye makeup too. I recalled what Sylvia had said about Whitney painting her face and felt sorry for them both. This was exactly the kind of parenting issue I wouldn’t want to navigate as a single dad.

“You’re welcome,” I said, rising to my feet. “Is this where you guys want the bottom of the snow lady?”

“That’s good,” Millie decided. “Let’s make the middle and top of her now.”

“And then let’s give them some kids!” Felicity shouted.

The kids got busy rolling more snowballs, and I moved closer to Sylvia. We stood elbow to elbow, but not near enough to touch. “Hey.”