Infamous Love: A Mountain Haven Novel Page 12

  Happy he’d answered the thoughts I was having, I finished the cookie, brushing the crumbs off my fingers before sipping my wine. His goodnight message was sweet. His second statement was a little formal yet revealing. I’d have to miss Crew’s obedience training class, but it would be worth it.

  I wanted to unbutton that starched shirt he always wore, shove it off his shoulders, and push him back on the bed. I wanted to shake him up. I dropped my head back, a little buzzed from the alcohol. I was just horny because I hadn’t had sex in a while. Not being able to trust someone’s motives puts a damper on sexy times.

  It was nothing a vibrator wouldn’t take care of. I ignored the voice in my head telling me it wasn’t a substitute for the real thing. Gray was a man. Being with him would be unlike anything I’d experienced before. He had this air of secrecy around him. I bet there was so much more to him than he wanted to reveal.

  I finished baking, placing the cookies into separate cartons, one to take to work the next morning, and one to take to Gray. Ed and Anne would appreciate the gesture too.

  I ordered a ski jacket, snow pants, and a helmet for the weekend before falling into bed, exhausted from the wine and my conversation with Gray. Something simmered under my skin, making it difficult to fall asleep despite my exhaustion. My eyes popped open when it hit me; I was excited to go snowboarding with Gray. Would he be as intense as he had been on the phone tonight? Would I invite him back to my apartment afterward? Was being with him a good idea when he knew nothing about me?

  The rest of the week, I exchanged texts with Gray about the weekend and our plans for helping our respective businesses. We bounced ideas off each other. He asked if we needed to rent equipment and whether we should drive to the mountain or take the gondola. Without question, I wanted to spend the time in the gondola, taking in the views. Whenever I thought about it, there were flutters in my stomach.

  I created flyers for my daddy-daughter styling event and for the discounts for first responders and veterans, hanging them up around town in between my scheduled clients. Gray emailed me the information about Athena so I could print it. I taped it onto a jar I placed at the register. People seemed to sympathize with what happened with her, but so far, I hadn’t gotten a lot of money for her. It was raising awareness, at least.

  On Sunday, I woke up feeling tired. I’d tossed and turned all night. Unlike the time he invited me to the Rigbys’ ranch, this outing was carefully planned. Gray wanted to go snowboarding with me. There wouldn’t be anyone telling me what to say or do. I was on my own.

  I’d never had a date that wasn’t a part of the show. When the show ended, I wanted to be on my own, figure out who I was as a person. I hadn’t met anyone, until Gray, who intrigued me enough to want more.

  I needed to be myself, not the puppet I was on the show. I gathered the cold weather gear that came in the mail yesterday and drank my coffee as I waited for Gray to pick me up.

  He texted when he arrived since no one could get to my apartment without walking through the shop. Nervous to see him, to spend time with him, I patted Crew on the head, saying “Behave,” then locked my door. My heart beat loudly in my ears as I walked down the narrow wooden steps through the shop, expecting him to be waiting in his truck. Instead, he stood by the shop door holding two coffees.

  His hands were covered in gloves, a wool hat was on his head, and he wore a bulky ski jacket. He looked casual and happy to see me. The flutters in my stomach turned to bolts of electricity, awareness of him skidding across my skin.

  I opened the door, unable to stop the smile spreading across my face. “Morning.”

  “This is for you.” He handed me the coffee.

  “Thank you, but you didn’t have to,” I said as I took a tentative sip, the coffee warming me as I stepped outside into the cold.

  “I stopped at The Coffee Cowboy. I thought you might like some too.”

  His gaze traveled down my body, taking in my puffy jacket, pants, and boots. “You have gloves and a hat?”

  I held up my other hand.

  “Perfect.” He led me to his truck parked on the curb, holding the door open for me.

  He boosted me in because I was barely able to move in the puffy ski pants.

  Closing the door, he walked around to the driver’s side and got in, making sure I was buckled before pulling from the curb. He drove toward the rustic-looking barn at the base of the mountain where the gondolas picked up passengers. I was able to admire the strong set of his jaw as he drove.

  Parking, he held his hand out to me, helping me down from the truck, keeping hold of my hand as he led me inside the barn. We waited in line, getting a gondola to ourselves.

  Settling inside, the car lifted us up. The view was white-covered mountains. It was impressive, quiet, and peaceful. “This is beautiful. I’d forgotten what it was like to be up here.”

  Gray moved our still-joined hands to his thigh. “How long has it been since you’ve been snowboarding?”

  “We stopped coming after—”

  He glanced over at me. “After what?”

  I shook my head. I’d almost said after the show started shooting. The near-miss had me shaky. “When we were in high school.”

  My heart ached. Not for the first time, I wished I’d never done that stupid show―that there wasn’t gossip online about me.

  What were the odds he’d give me the benefit of the doubt because I was an impressionable sixteen-year-old without parental guidance? Would he believe producers told me what to do to get the most viewers, telling me the fate of the show depended on me creating compelling drama?

  “Everything okay? You’re quiet.”

  I smiled weakly. “I haven’t been snowboarding in a while. I’m a little nervous, I guess.”

  His hand patted my knee for a second, my gaze following the motion in disbelief. My heart skidded to a halt the second his glove connected with my pants. I couldn’t feel any warmth between the layers, but the sentiment behind his touch wrapped around my heart and squeezed. “We’ll be fine. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  “I’m supposed to be reassuring you.”

  He glanced over at me, a smile playing on his lips. “It will be an adventure.”

  I settled into the seat more at ease than before. I wondered when the last time he’d tried something new. I wondered if he’d be a natural athlete on the board or if he was uncoordinated.

  I was glad he was doing this with me.

  The gondola entered the barn at the top of the mountain. Gray exited first, helping me out of the slow-moving car.

  I couldn’t resist placing a hand on his hard stomach as I passed him. Touching him, even through our layers of clothes, felt good. It eased the turmoil inside.

  “Let’s rent some equipment. Then we’ll head out.”

  After renting our equipment and changing into boots, Gray held both boards and his helmet. “Where to next?”

  I pointed to the lift. “Are you ready to go down the mountain?”

  “You’ll tell me what to do?” His tone was uncertain.

  It was endearing.

  “We’ll do a green hill. I’ll tell you what to do on the way up.” Snowboarding was fairly simple to explain. It was just a matter of getting on the board to feel it out. It was trial and error. I was confident I’d still be able to do it after so many years.

  Gray tensed. He wasn’t the kind of guy that let loose easily, so I wasn’t sure he’d relax enough to have fun. I wanted to show him he could, that there was a life outside of work. I was positive if others saw this side of him, they’d give him a chance.

  We headed toward the lift. I stopped Gray when we got close, demonstrating how to strap his lead foot onto the board, leaving the other free. “To move, push off your back foot like you’re on a skateboard. When the lift comes, just sit like you’re sitting on a chair.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It is.” We were covered head to toe in bulky gear. It wasn’t a r
omantic date, yet it conjured emotions in me. He was out of his element, unsure of how to snowboard, yet trusting me to help.

  When it was our turn for the lift, we moved into position. I grabbed his hand as the bench slid behind us, lifting us in the air. Holding his hand felt comfortable, right. I’d always found the snow to be quiet. Up here it was more so.

  Gray held on to my hand, moving it to his leg. “That was easier than I expected.”

  “It’s so beautiful up here.” Maybe I’d never really paid attention. When I was a kid, it was all about who had the best of whatever it was, whether it be gear, electronics, or something else. It was always a competition. We never stopped to admire the simple beauty of the mountain. I’d told Gray I loved coming here as a kid, but it was more the break I got from my life than an appreciation for this place.

  As an adult, I could take my time. Appreciate the things I hadn’t before. I glanced at Gray to find him watching me, a serious expression on his face.

  I was a little surprised he was watching me when we were gliding through the air, our feet dangling, the mountain slowly passing us by.

  “Are you going to tell me what to do when we get to the top?” His need for affirmation made me think he was nervous.

  “Are you scared of heights or am I distracting you?”

  He chuckled nervously. “A little of both, honestly.”

  My heart squeezed again. He’d admitted a weakness. One I hadn’t realized he had.

  “When the chair approaches the ground, drop down. As soon as you hit the snow, shift your weight to the front, then push off with your back foot.” Getting off was trickier than getting on. I didn’t want to tell him that and make him more nervous. I squeezed his hand tighter. My gaze shifted to the slopes where snowboarders and skiers were flying down the mountain in zig-zag patterns.

  He pointed at the ones going straight down the mountain, gaining speed. “I don’t think I’ll be that good today.”

  “You never know. You could be a natural.” He was athletic looking, confident. He seemed like a guy who’d work hard until he mastered something new.

  We were quickly approaching the top of the mountain. I felt Gray’s muscles tense under my hand. “See the little hill? Go that direction then pause at the flat area. We’ll strap in our back leg there.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Feeling his nerves building as we lowered to the ground, I wanted to distract him. Before I could change my mind, I leaned up, kissing his cold cheek. For one brief second, it was like time stood still. The feel of his cheek against my lips lingered. He looked down at me in surprise, then we were next in line to step off.

  I didn’t look at him, not wanting to answer any questions about the kiss. I wanted to get his mind off disembarking. I also wanted to show him affection. I wanted him to know he wasn’t alone. I was here for him. “Here we go.”

  We hopped down, letting our hands drop. I pushed off with my back foot, satisfied to see him doing the same. It came back to me quickly. I’d spent so much time here doing this.

  We glided down the little hill to the area I’d pointed out on the lift. It felt good to be at the top of the mountain with the cold air, biting wind, and the familiar glide of the board over the snow. I had pleasant memories of being here as a child. I wanted Gray to have good ones, too.

  “Okay. We should strap our back foot in. Do you need help?” I looked down at my board, then at his, hoping he wouldn’t ask about what I’d done on the lift. If he did, I was positive he would know it was more than a means to distract him or an impulse.

  “What was that?”

  “Hmm?” My face felt hot despite the cold.

  “You kissed me.”

  I finally managed to lift my gaze to his, my heart beating loudly in my ears. “I wanted to distract you. It worked, didn’t it?”

  He held his body stiff. “I didn’t have time to freak out about getting off the lift.”

  I smiled. “Good.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know what I’m doing with you.”

  Everything slowed, my heart rate, my breathing. The sounds of the skis and boards slicing through the snow dissipated. “You’re having a good time. We have a full day of snowboarding and maybe some hot chocolate drinking in front of the fire lined up for us.”

  “I never thought I’d say this, but it sounds like the perfect day.” His tone was wistful as if he hadn’t thought about what a perfect day would entail for him, or he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it, much less long for it.

  I smiled wider, blocking the glare of the sun with my hand. “It does, doesn’t it?”

  He stepped closer.

  My breath caught. Was he going to kiss me?

  Instead, he dropped to his knees in front of me, maneuvering my foot into the bindings, strapping it in. “Is that right?”

  I took a steadying breath. My heart thrummed with disappointment.

  “It feels good.” I was unsure if I was talking about the bindings, the kiss on the lift, or his nearness.

  He shifted his attention to his own board. What just happened? It was like we’d crossed some invisible line on the chairlift. We were far above reality, the people small and insignificant. It was only us. No one could invade our bubble. Everything fell away until all I sensed was his nervousness, his fear, and the trust placed in me. I’d kissed him as a distraction.

  I didn’t regret it. It was the most unscripted thing I’d done in my whole life. Whatever happened today, it was between us. No one was watching. No one cared what happened. We weren’t hurting anyone. Our actions couldn’t affect anyone else. We were free to be ourselves, to do our own thing.

  “Are you ready?” He stood.

  His smile was as breathtaking as the view from the lift. He stepped closer, taking my helmet from my hand and placing it over my head in a thoughtful gesture. He was taking care of me as much as I was him.

  “How do I do this?” He gestured at his board.

  I took a deep breath, settling my nerves, pushing out thoughts of us. “First, I’m going to teach you how to go down sideways. Whatever you do, don’t point your lead foot straight down the hill. You’ll pick up speed quickly. You won’t be able to control yourself.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you want to turn, shift your weight to one foot like this.” I showed him how to shift one direction then the other, depending on where I placed more of my weight.

  “It seems easy enough.”

  “As you gain speed, bend your knees, and keep your back straight. The best way to control your speed is to turn. That’s why you see so many people going in a zig-zag pattern down the hill. Keep your weight on your front foot or evenly dispersed to both. Don’t stay on your back foot.”

  His nose wrinkled. “How do I stop?”

  “Make sure no one is bearing down on you before you put your board perpendicular to the mountain, then lean into the hill with your weight on your back foot. The more you lean, the more you will slow down. When you want to start again, point your board diagonally down the mountain, and shift your weight to the front foot.” My parents hadn’t been present with us on these trips. They’d sent us to ski school so they were free to do their own thing.

  “You’re a good teacher.”

  Pride filled me. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You haven’t done anything yet. You want to try it?”

  At his nod, I said, “Point your board a little, shifting some of your weight to the front. Remember to stop straight, your board leaning toward the hill, weight on your back foot.”

  He awkwardly shifted the board down the hill. Once he shifted his weight, his board picked up speed quickly.

  I pressed my hands together, worried he was going too fast. “Try to stop.”

  He quickly turned his board, leaning toward the hill, falling over. He landed in soft snow. I wasn’t too worried he was hurt unless his pride was. It would be interesting to see how he’d handle failure. Would he get back up and try agai
n or would he be frustrated?

  I laughed at this man who was always so stoic and confident, falling. I covered my giggles with one gloved hand when I made my way to him, holding out a hand to help.

  “You think it’s funny?” He grabbed my hand, pulling hard.

  I landed in a heap on top of him. “Hey!”

  He shifted me so I lay next to him, our boards making our position awkward. One gloved hand reached out to touch my chin, running a finger along my lower lip. I was mesmerized at the moment, the mountain not that busy around us; confident skiers and snowboarders would avoid someone who’d fallen.

  If we weren’t wearing helmets with shields covering the top part of our faces, I would have thought he was going to kiss me. Getting any closer was logistically impossible.

  I sat up, breaking the moment. “It was a little funny. You’re so confident in everything you do. It’s nice to see you out of your element.”

  He propped himself up on one elbow. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

  The curve of his lips told me he was relaxed. I dipped my head, wishing we weren’t wearing so many bulky clothes, and we weren’t wearing helmets. I wanted to kiss him like I’d thought about when I was making cookies with him on the phone. Except instead of warm and cozy, his lips would be cold, yet unable to chill the heat that sparked between us. At the same time, it was comforting, almost freeing to know we couldn’t act on whatever was building between us. I liked the anticipation, no one pushing me toward him, telling me what to do.

  I stood waiting for him to struggle to his feet on his own this time. “I’m going to show you how it’s done. Watch me.”

  I tilted my board, easily remembering the feel of the snow beneath me, turning first one direction then the other, reveling in the satisfying sound of the board slicing through the snow. I changed the direction of my board coming to a stop, knowing powder flew in a perfect arc behind me. As a teenager, I’d perfected this move.

  His hands were on his hips as he called down to me, “I got this.”

  His lips were set into a straight, determined line. Gray wouldn’t let anything best him, even if he fell all the way down the mountain. He awkwardly made his way to me, mimicking what I’d done.