Margot bit her lip. “Elle? You don’t ski.”
Elle wrinkled her nose. “I don’t often. But I went to Whistler with my family every winter when I was younger. It’s been a while, but it could be fun?”
She turned to Olivia, who winced. “Brad and I used to go to Stevens Pass. I’m not great at skiing or anything—”
“I was a volunteer ski instructor in high school,” Luke said, leaning across Margot. “If you need me to show you the ropes, I’d be more than happy to.” His lips twitched. “Ropes on the slopes.”
Olivia laughed.
Doctors Without Borders, volunteer ski instructor . . . “Where are you from?”
Pleasantville?
“North Lake Tahoe,” Luke answered, smile broad and Chiclet white.
“Hmm.” Margot sipped her coffee.
“You know, I think I’ll be okay.” When Olivia gestured to Margot, her stomach sank. No, no, no. “But maybe Margot might need a little instruction?”
“I’m fine.” Margot tore the paper holder off her napkin. “Seriously.”
“Nah, it’s cool.” Luke shrugged. “I’m used to teaching kids, so it’s really not a problem.”
Woo boy. Margot stole a deep breath in, nostrils flaring, and released it slowly.
The rational part of her brain realized that chances were, Luke was a decent guy. He’d have to be, in order to be Brendon’s friend. Brendon, himself, was a golden retriever in human form, a six-foot-four-inch marshmallow encased in muscle. The chances of him associating with some smarmy asshole were slim. Luke was probably an awesome, all-around great dude.
But jealousy wasn’t rational.
She was self-aware enough to know why she didn’t vibe with Luke, that her feelings had less to do with him and more to do with her. Her and Olivia, specifically her feelings for Olivia, feelings she didn’t know what to do with, feelings that were very much unresolved because she didn’t know how to resolve them without saying something to Olivia, which, ha, right.
She didn’t hate Luke. She hated what he represented. The reality of her situation. That Margot had no right to feel the way she did, because Olivia wasn’t hers. That Luke or anyone else could come along and sweep Olivia off her feet and ride off into the sunset and—
Pain radiated up her jaw from clenching her back teeth too hard. It didn’t hold a candle to the sharp stab between her ribs that nearly stole her breath at the thought of losing Liv.
Insecurity sucked.
Knowing the root cause of her irritation didn’t make her like him any more than she did, but hey, she wasn’t in denial about it. Score one for enlightenment.
At least she could choose how to react. She could be cool. Completely relaxed. Chill. The last thing she needed was for her twisted-up, uglier emotions to get the best of her and put a damper on Annie and Brendon’s wedding week.
She pasted on a smile. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that, Luke.”
Not. She’d be fine. If Elle—the least athletic person Margot knew—could ski, how hard could it be?
“We’ll have to get you some proper ski gear, for starters,” Luke said, eyeing her clothes with a frown. “Ski pants, ski jacket—you can rent the rest at the summit.”
Elle perked up. “I think I saw some cute options in the gift shop. We can wander over after breakfast and take a peek?”
“Works for me.”
The waitress appeared, trays laden with food. “Denver omelet?”
Brendon lifted his hand. “That’s me.”
As soon as everyone had their food, the conversation turned to the wedding.
“I heard back from the caterer on your question about the vegetarian option for the reception,” Olivia said. “It can be made gluten-free, so your mom should be fine. I’ll make sure to remind the kitchen on the day of the wedding.”
Brendon nodded along with a grateful smile. “Thank you. Mom, uh, kind of blindsided us with this new, uh, diet she’s following.”
Darcy picked at her eggs and rolled her eyes. “I still have a feeling Mom’s going to do something dramatic like wear white to the wedding.”
“I don’t know,” Annie mused, tapping the tines of her fork against her lip. “My money’s on black. Full funeral veil and everything.”
Brendon cringed.
Olivia set her fork down, looking concerned. “Is that something I’m going to need to run interference on, because I don’t exactly have any firsthand experience dealing with parental conflict during—”