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Steve Waldren hated airports. He always had. It wasn’t because he hated traveling. He actually liked being on an airplane. He enjoyed the private time it afforded him. But airports, with the crush of people and everyone in a hurry to get somewhere for the holidays, drove him nuts. Luckily, he didn’t have to go inside the terminal this time. He was simply dropping off Gloria. She had an important interview in Minneapolis. He bit back a grin betting, dimes to donuts, Gloria couldn’t spell the city’s name.
Bad, Steve. Not nice.
“What’s wrong?” Gloria asked as she stepped up to the trunk of his Lexus SUV and waited for him to lug out her gigantic suitcase.
Steve ran his hand along the side of his neck. Why did she need so many clothes for a two-day visit?
“Stevie?”
He glanced at her sideways and studied her. Ash-white hair, windblown and teased on purpose, narrow nose, wide-set expressive eyes that the camera loved, perfect body that rocked a tight sweater dress belted at the waist. She was the epitome of a weather girl. Even her last name, Storm, fit the bill. Gloria Storm. Stubborn and imbued with the attitude that the world owed her. Proud owner of a million-dollar smile.
“Nothing’s wrong,” he said, pecking her on the cheek and slamming the trunk while righting the silly Santa hat he’d worn to add a little humor to their parting.
She held up her left hand and admired the magnificent diamond ring Steve had given her last night when he’d proposed. “It’s so pretty.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She lowered her hand and her expression turned serious. “You’re going to do what I said while I’m gone, right?”
“Yes. No sugar cookies. No eggnog. Gotta watch my weight.” He patted his firm midriff.
“Apply to Los Angeles.”
“Right, Los Angeles.” He snapped his fingers.
“And Chicago and New York.”
“Yes and yes.”
“You need to get a gig in a bigger market.”
Steve wanted to. He’d applied before. But the big guns weren’t calling. And what was wrong with being a top dog in Portland sports, anyway? He knew everyone on the Trail Blazers as well as on the Timbers and the Winterhawks. He knew their stats. He knew the names of their spouses or significant others, and he knew the names and ages of their children. Plus, he lived close enough to his family to visit. Why move? Because Gloria thought he deserved to be a star in a bigger market, that’s why. And she was right, except—
The sleigh bell ringtone chimed on his cell phone. He read the text his brother had sent: See you soon? He responded: Sure thing, buddy. Real soon.
“Lincoln?” Gloria asked, rolling her eyes as she always did whenever he responded quickly to a text.
“Yep.”
“Again?”
“Yep.”
“Tell him hi.”
She didn’t mean it. She didn’t get Lincoln. To her credit, she’d tried, but being an only child in a doting family, she didn’t understand sharing. She didn’t appreciate listening. She didn’t have a clue how to accept someone exactly where they were, no strings attached. Steve’s parents had coached Steve from the moment Lincoln was born about how to be the best big brother he could possibly be. Steve failed at times, but he did try.
“Steve!” a man in a parka shouted, raising a hand. “Yo, Steve Waldren! Great show last night!”
“Thanks, buddy,” Steve replied.
“Love the Santa hat.”
Steve grinned. “Thanks. Ho, ho, ho!”
“Stevie, focus.” Gloria gripped his shoulders. “Promise me you’ll be good while I’m gone.”
“I’ll be so good, I’ll make Santa’s nice list this year.”
She let loose with a burbling, somewhat annoying laugh and slung both arms around his neck. She kissed him on his cheek, leaving what he presumed was a big red impression of her beautiful mouth, and whispered, “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” he echoed. But did he?
