by Stacy Gold
Dan pulled the wood from my hands and placed it on the floor by the bin. “I’ve got this.” He ushered me toward my seat, slid it out for me. “Sit and eat before it gets cold and all my hard work goes to waste.”
“So, what’s the occasion?” I plunked my butt in the chair. The rich smell of poached egg and hollandaise wafted up from my plate. I struggled to keep from drooling.
“Last day of the season. Got to make it epic. Duh.” He still held the back of my chair. I rose and let him scooch me in.
Jesus, when was the last time a guy pulled out my chair for me? Had another guy ever pulled out my chair for me? Was it cute or corny?
Maybe cute. Especially with the way pieces of hair escaped his ponytail and highlighted his high cheekbones. Too bad he was so damn annoying.
I sliced through the egg and into the salmon and tomato. I sopped the bottom of the English muffin in the yolk and pale green sauce, and popped the first bite into my mouth. My taste buds exploded and, I couldn’t help it, I moaned. Chewing slowly, I savored the mix of butter, avocado, and smoke melting across my tongue.
“I love making you moan.” He set a plate on the table across from me, a playful expression on his face, and took a seat.
Ignoring his stupid comment, I pointed at my plate with my fork. “This is amazing.”
“Of course it is. Anything with my name on it is going to be the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.” The corner of his lips twitched.
The guy never stops. I shook my head and took another bite of Eggs Daniel. But damn, he really can cook.
“Seriously. Where did you get this smoked salmon? It’s incredible.”
“The Skagit. I caught a bunch last fall and smoked ‘em with my own special rub.”
I realized I needed to revise my opinion of Dan. He also thought about fishing.
“And when it comes to rubs, let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice.” He winked again.
Gah!
****
Damn, that moan was hot.
Would be even hotter if it was caused by something other than my food going into her mouth, but I’d take it, as long as I was making her feel good.
I chewed on a rich, creamy bite to keep my smile from getting any bigger. Morgan was independent. A loner. It’d taken half the winter, but I’d found a chink in her armor. She loved my cooking.
No surprise though. Everyone loved my cooking.
The first time I made my mom scrambled eggs and toast on one of her rare Sunday mornings off, I’d learned a valuable lesson—women especially loved it when I cooked for them.
I’d been working up here five days a week, figuring Morgan out. No doubt, she was the kind of woman who deserved to be treated right. The kind of woman I’d date, if I were the dating type.
So, I’d kept my distance. But tomorrow the season would be over and we’d go our separate ways. No more jobs to worry about. No risk of getting too attached.
I’d wanted Morgan since the first day I laid eyes on her. Maybe, if I was lucky, it’d turn out she wanted me too. Then we could celebrate the end of our season with more than just my kick-ass cooking.
“What’s left on your cleaning list for today?” I asked.
“Pack up any perishables. Empty and clean the rest of the cupboards. Inventory supplies.” Morgan cut another piece of egg and fish and muffin, and swirled it in the mix of sauce and yolk on her plate. “Everything else has to wait until morning.”
She took the bite. Her eyelids slid down and her mouth went slack, and she chewed nice and slow. Totally worth bringing up my best batch of smoked salmon.
I loved putting that look on a woman’s face. Hell, anyone’s face, when it came to food. But right now, all I could think about were all the ways I could put that look on her face again. And again. And again.
But with a woman like Morgan, it definitely took more than just good food to have that pleasure.
“I prepped most of lunch and part of dinner yesterday, so put me to work after breakfast.”
Her fork stopped in mid-air. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. You shouldn’t have to shut this whole place down by yourself. And I’ve got almost two hours before I have to start lunch.”
Her eyes narrowed, her fork didn’t move. Weird. I figured she’d jump on the chance to have help. I mean, who likes cleaning cupboards and shit by themselves? Way more fun with tunes and good company.
“Ummmmm, okay. Thanks.” She stared at her plate, slicing up the last few bites.
Chapter Three
I poked my head into the cupboard Dan had cleaned. Not a crumb or speck of dust remained on the shelves. Even the inside of the door had been wiped down.
Impressive. I’d fully been expecting a half-assed guy-clean I’d have to redo anyway.
“You ladies have a lovely afternoon,” he called after the retreating backs of the women in today’s ski group. They were headed out for a post-lunch half-day of powder skiing, and I was dying to follow. Thanks to Dan—words I never expected to say, even to myself—I could bust out early.
I crossed to my gear locker in the corner and pulled out my pack, and shell pants and jacket while Dan dove into his after-lunch cleanup. If I was fast, and lucky, I’d be a mile up the skin track before he finished.
Almost giddy at the thought of a couple of hours of skiing alone on a sunny spring day, I strapped on my avalanche beacon and shoved my feet into my ski boots. Grabbing my hat, sunglasses, and gloves I made a quick journey to the outhouse, then jerked my skis from the snow behind the hut.
Hooking the toe loop of my climbing skins on my ski tip, I tugged. The rip of the glued sides peeling apart tore through the silence. I flicked on the tail fastener and pressed the skin to the base, then repeated the process with my other ski. Prepped for climbing, I stepped into my bindings and slid onto the wide cat track that wound through the forest toward the open bowls and glades above.
The hut disappeared behind me and I swear my limbs grew lighter. I adored earning my turns. I treasured the silence as I slid through the woods and across the snow-covered landscape. Relished the burn in my thighs as I climbed higher into the mountains.
I kicked and glided up the cat track, focused on the shush of snow beneath my skins, breathing smooth and even until I found my pace. Ten minutes in, I clenched my poles a little less, and my shoulders dropped a little more.
I’d managed to slip out without good old Danny-boy glomming on and spoiling my last ski day of the season. Tonight, I’d have the hut to myself too. One last night to myself to do some writing, and prepare for whatever was to come. Locking up tomorrow morning would be hard, but going back to the real world—especially if I hadn’t landed any of the jobs I’d applied for—would be harder.
“Mind if I join you?”
I jumped, teetered, and almost toppled over, jamming my poles in the snow to catch my balance. Dammit! I bit my lip to hold back the litany of curse words fighting to pop out.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
I peered over my shoulder. With his beanie and half-smile—and the way his hazel eyes caught the sun—Dan looked hot. Way hotter than should be legal. Especially when he was so damn annoying.
“Actually, yes. I do mind.” My voice came out sharper than I intended. Or maybe not. I really did not want company. Not his. Not anyone else’s. But most importantly, not his. Still, I softened my tone. He had helped me out with the cleaning, after all. “I’ve been looking forward to one last day out here alone.”
“Yeah. A few final hours of solitude before you go back to all the noise and demands of the real world. I get it.”
I nodded, relief flooding to my fingertips. At least he understood, and knew I wasn’t just being bitchy. “Okay. Well then, I’m headed up to Hidden Glades. I’ll be back at the hut by four-thirty.”
“Great. That’s where I’m headed too. Gotta hit it one more time. And it’s always safer, and more fun, to ski with a buddy.”
&nbs
p; My jaw tightened. Fuck me. This guy could not take a hint.
“No offense, but I really need some quiet time before the dinner guests show up.”
“No worries. You won’t even know I’m here.” He grinned, pressed his lips together and pretended to lock them shut, throwing the imaginary key over his shoulder.
I closed my eyes and shook my head, teeth grinding hard enough to make my entire head ache. I couldn’t come up with another, legit way of getting rid of him. Not without being downright mean. He might be annoying, but he didn’t deserve that.
And, he was right. It’s safer to ski in the backcountry with a buddy, even if the trees I planned to ski hadn’t slid since the monster storm of 1950. Pretty sure he was wrong about it being more fun, though. At least not with him. Definitely not on my last day here.
“Suit yourself.” Resigned, I shoved my ski forward, speeding up the cat track in an effort to dust him, if only for a few minutes. I turned left onto the smaller skin track, Dan stuck on my heels.
The shush of his skis threw off my rhythm. The hoarse rasp of his breathing made it impossible to lose myself in the repetitive motions.
Shit. Fuck. Dammit. Asshole. Motherfucker. Jerk. Dick. Annoying dick…
The ache in my head spread down to my neck and shoulders. I speared my pole tips into the snow as hard as I could, even though it didn’t do a thing to ease my frustration.
****
The way Morgan’s pants tightened across her ass with each step as she climbed up the steeper skin track, it was all I could do to pay attention to where I was putting my skis and poles. When she stopped mid-way to peel off a layer… Damn.
And she didn’t just skin up, she blaaaaazzzed up. Made me work to stay with her. She was tough. And strong.
And hella sexy.
Not that I had any trouble keeping up.
We topped out on the skin track in forty-five minutes. Morgan stopped in the sun by the big boulders that formed a natural windbreak, shrugged off her pack, and bent to fish out a jacket.
I dropped my pack and enjoyed the view. And I don’t mean the mountains.
A chilly breeze filtered through my layers. I stopped staring, pulled out my own jacket, and did a one eighty, checking out the jagged mountain ridges surrounding us. On rare clear days like today, they stretched to forever. Like the world was made of nothing but mountains. For one more day, our world was made of nothing but mountains—and each other. Tomorrow, I’d drive back to Seattle, spend a couple weeks with Mom and the girls, then head to my summer chef’s gig on Orcas Island.
I dipped into my pack for a baggie full of my special dried chili mangoes, and popped one in my mouth. Spicy with a hint of sweet. Just like Morgan. I offered her the open bag and an inviting smile.
“Thanks.” She pulled out a couple reddish-orange slices and tossed one in her mouth.
I nodded. No way was I breaking the silence. Not when she specifically asked for quiet time. I could keep myself company.
“Wow.” She chewed a couple of times. That look I loved so much passed over her face. “Let me guess…you made these too?”
I nodded again.
She sighed. “It’s okay to talk now.”
“You sure? I get the need for silence out here.”
“Yeah, but I’m already talking. And I need the recipe for these. Whenever I dehydrate mangoes, they come out tough and bland.”
“Sorry. I don’t cook and tell.” I let my most charming grin spread across my face. “Like I said, secrets make a man way sexier.”
Her eyes rolled, but she laughed. Headway!
“I’ve got a secret powder stash I’d be willing to share with you, though. Assuming you don’t already know it.”
“Really? Where?” She cocked her head to one side, eyeing me with interest. Way more interest than I’d seen before.
“Have you ever traversed around past those cliffs?” I pointed behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “No. Why? I thought it was super tight and bony over there.”
“It is. Mostly. But there’s some hella good meadow skipping once you get past the rocks, and the guides never take clients there.”
“Well, what are we waiting for then?” Morgan bent, crossed one ankle over her knee, unclipped the tail of her skin, and ripped it off.
I followed her lead and tucked my skins away. We shouldered our packs.
“After you,” she said.
I slid past her, breaking trail through the wind-blown snow—totally like a nice meringue—until we passed the cliffs. A thick wall of trees stood below us.
“Here?” Her forehead crinkled. “Those trees look mighty tight.”
She looked cute, all confused like that.
Grinning, I nodded. “Here.” It was impossible to keep the smile off my face knowing I was about to show her the best ski run EV-er.
Chapter Four
Dan bounced up and down with excitement. I peered at the impenetrable line of evergreens guarding the top of the slope. If the rest of this run was anything like the start, all that skinning up was going to be wasted picking my way through a forest too tight for turns.
Maybe he thought he could impress me by showing off his “mad skillz”. My jaw clenched. I wasn’t sure what was more annoying—his stupid catch phrase, or that I had thought it.
“Stay on my tails. We’re going to wheedle our way through for a turn or two. Then it gets good.” He planted a pole and arced through a tiny gap. His bright blue jacket flashed in the greens and browns, then disappeared.
I shoved off, doing my best not to lose him when the trees got tighter and I had to focus hard on my line. I made a turn to the right, hoping to catch sight of him again. Veering left, I pulled my poles in close, tucked, and slipped through an even tinier gap between tree trunks. I found and followed his tracks for another tight turn and popped out in a wide, beautiful, untracked glade.
Dan leaned on his poles and beamed, looking for all the world like a puppy about to be given a treat. “Welcome to my secret stash.” He waved an arm at the slope below us.
I slid to a stop next to him, the powder almost to my knees. “Wow.”
He nudged my shoulder with his. “You know, you’re lucky. I don’t share my secrets with just anyone. But I’m even gonna let you go first.”
What the hell?
I couldn’t figure out his angle. Danny-boy should have been showing off and/or hitting on me, not showing me his secret stash and giving me first tracks. Not that I would say no.
“Straight down?”
“Straight down. I’ll spot you.”
I adjusted my goggles and pushed off. My turns flowed in the perfectly pitched powder. Each time the trees grew dense, I made one tight turn and popped out in another flawless glade.
Increasing my speed, I floated down the untouched slope, weaving between the evergreens in the silent sunshine of a spring day. A happy buzz flowed from my heart to my head to my fingers and toes.
Three glades later, I pulled up in a sparkling sunny spot to wait for Dan. My chest heaved, and I couldn’t have wiped the smile off my face with a squeegee.
He broke out of the wall of trees above me, his own smile lighting the day another notch as he laid a line of perfect arcs straight down the fall line, spooned into mine. His thighs stretched the fabric of his ski pants.
I wonder if anything else is big enough to stretch the fabric of his ski pants.
Shit.
I bit my lip to stop my smile from spreading further at the thought. Bit harder to keep the thought from taking on a life of its own.
I’d heard enough about Dan to know he was a one-night stand kind of guy. Rumor also had it that one night with him was pretty incredible. Not that it mattered. Even if he was God’s gift in bed—and I’m pretty positive he thought he was—I was no longer a one-night stand type of woman.
Besides, in the five months I’d worked with him, I’d never even considered Dan sexy.
Almost too good-
looking? Sure, if you liked the scraggy, long-haired, long-limbed, ripped-ab model type. But way too annoying to be truly hot. Not to mention that stupid ponytail. Plus, I liked brunettes and he was blond. And annoying as hell.
Most of the time.
****
Morgan floated through the trees. I’d heard she ripped, but she was something else. Powerful and graceful all at once, like my oldest sister in her senior ballet recital.
Hella, hella sexy.
Made giving up first tracks totally worth it to follow her down the mountain.
I popped out of the woods and on to the cat track at the bottom of the slope, skidding to a stop next to her. I grinned at her. She beamed at me.
“That. Was. Sweet.”
“Totally.” I raised my pole in the air, and she clacked hers against mine.
“I can’t believe I’ve been here all season and never found that stash.” She shook her head, green eyes wide. “Thank you for sharing.”
I nudged her shoulder with mine. “Anytime.”
She pushed back the sleeve of her jacket and checked her watch. “It’s only two forty-five. Another lap?”
“Duh. That shouldn’t even be a question.”
Her laughter rang in my ears like the world’s best music—even better than G&R—and my chest went warm and tight. I loved making people laugh—especially Mom and the girls. But finally making Morgan laugh, after trying so hard all winter? Damn, that was something else.
Chapter Five
Two fucking incredible laps later, we were back at the hut, my favorite old Black Crowes album playing as we prepped for the dinner crowd. Only this time I wasn’t singing alone. Morgan’s sweet soprano lifted my voice to new heights. And the way she shimmied to the beat while she restoked the fire and swept the floors? That made other things lift.
I hadn’t wanted a woman this bad in, well, ever. And I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wanted me back. Hard to handle? Total understatement.
Sucking in a tasty lungful of garlic and roasted veg, I focused on my mental dinner checklist… Parsnip bisque on the stove? Check. Crab cakes prepped? Check. Stuffed chicken breasts and yam mashers? Check and check.
