The Billionaire Athlete’s Christmas Fling - Leslie North Page 0,40
the world, she would have wished for a nap. “Lindsey,” she called. “Are you ready? It’s time to go, honey.”
“I’m almost ready,” her daughter called back, voice tremulous with excitement and nerves. Lindsey had been hyped up for days about this moment, and it was finally here—her turn to have her birthday celebrated in school. So many birthday events, but they’d reached the main one—Lindsey’s actual birthday.
Tana shoved her hair into a low ponytail and swiped on some neutral lipstick. It might look weird to be wearing makeup on the slopes, but it would give her the illusion of being more put-together. She hoped. Stepping out of the bathroom, she found Lindsey perched at the kitchen counter, rearranging the tiny party flags on top of her cupcakes. Don’t overreact. You’re tired. “Linds, leave the cupcakes alone. Where’s your coat?”
“I don’t know.” Lindsey’s eyes were locked on the baked goods.
Tana went back into her daughter’s bedroom and got her backpack and coat. They were going to be late if they didn’t hurry, and she had an early private lesson on the hills.
“Hey, you found it,” Lindsey said, looking up from where she hadn’t moved, more concerned about which flag should go on which cupcake.
“Hon, we have to go right now.” Using too urgent a tone with her daughter almost always backfired, so Tana kept her voice as calm as she could. “Come get your coat on.”
Lindsey hopped down and put her arms out for her coat. So far, so good. Tana had been up until the early hours of the morning last night. She’d started the evening off with baking cupcakes for Lindsey’s celebration at school, then settled in to finalize her presentation for today’s final interview.
Why did school parties and job interviews always coincide like this? Okay, maybe not always, but why was it happening this time? Tana tried not to dwell on it. The bottom line was that she was prepared for the meeting. More than prepared. She’d do great. If only she could stay awake.
“I’m going to carry the cupcakes,” Lindsay insisted. It wasn’t the best idea, but Tana didn’t have the heart—or the energy—to argue. Plus, they were out of time. She held the door open for Lindsey, and the two of them went out into a crisp, cold morning.
“Oh, crap.” Tana turned back—she’d forgotten her keys. A quick dash through the cottage, and she had them in hand. She burst out the front door just in time to see Lindsay trying to open the back door of the car. “Wait, honey, I’ll—”
It was too late. The cupcakes fell, the pan flashing, and Tana’s heart sank. Thirty-four frosted and sprinkled cupcakes hit the side of her car, dragging smears of frosting over the paint. “Nooo!” Lindsey shrieked, trying to grab for them. But it was too late. Her daughter tipped her head back and burst into tears.
“It’s all right.” Tana sprang into action mode, throwing her purse into the front seat and taking her daughter by the hand. “Let’s get cleaned up, and then—”
And then what? They didn’t have time. She hustled Lindsey into the bathroom to wash the crushed remnants of cupcakes off her hands, then led her back out to the car. Tana hopped in the driver’s seat and tried not to crumple in the face of Lindsey’s sobs.
“We’ll stop at the store.” Tana locked eyes with Lindsey in the rearview mirror. She couldn’t send her to school in tears for her big day. No way. “We just have to hurry, okay?”
Tana drove at the very outer edge of the speed limit all the way into town and to the parking lot of the store. It was set back a few blocks from the main drag, which took up extra time, but she was on a mission. They sped by other parents doing the drop-off routine, dodged a school bus, and pulled into the parking lot. Tana’s heart was in overdrive. The two of them leaped out and rushed into the store.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry,” chanted Tana under her breath. The bakery was all the way in back—of course it was. They had a big table laden with desserts but there wasn’t much to choose from, considering almost everything was Christmas themed. Tana grabbed three twelve-packs of cupcakes. “Okay. Let’s buy these and go.”
The machine at the self-checkout threw an error for the baked goods. Lindsey rocked up onto the balls of her feet. “Mom, we have to go—I’m going to be late for school.”
“I know