by Stacy Gold
After an eternity, she took the mug and sat as far away as possible. My heart went back to normal speed.
We sipped in silence, staring at the fire through the glass door. I pretended to at least. Really, I stared at her profile out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes were more sea glass than pine tree and tilted up a little at the corners, like a cat’s. The wisps of hair floating around her face made her look sweet and fragile, even though I knew she was anything but.
She sucked in her lower lip and gnawed a corner.
So damn hot.
She glanced over and I got busy picking up my mug and taking a sip.
“It’s late. You want help loading your sled?” She nodded toward the boxes on the counter.
“Nah. It can wait until morning.”
“Wait. What?” Morgan’s voice went up about two octaves on the second word. All the way up to what I guessed was the top of her singing range. “Aren’t you headed back to your place tonight? Like usual?”
“Nope. Ethan’s parents are here, so I gave up my room. Figured I’d help you close up the hut for the season instead.”
“Seriously?” Her voice hit that high note again. She cleared her throat. “That’s okay. I can handle it.”
“I don’t mind.” I smiled my most charming smile.
“Oh God.” The corners of her eyes went tight. “You did all this—” She waved a hand around. “Just to get in my pants, didn’t you?”
I squirmed. “No.” My voice came out like a cow bellowing. I tried again. “I mean, not really. Exactly.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her mug came down hard enough tea sloshed over the edge. “You son of a bitch.” Morgan sprang to her feet. She paced back and forth in the aisle between the stove and the counter, talking more to herself than me. “You have got to be kidding me. How could I have been so stupid? Just when I start thinking maybe you’re a nice guy. That I’d read you wrong all season.”
“I am a nice guy.”
Turning on her heel, she glared at me. “Bullshit. Your reputation does proceed you, you know.”
“What reputation is that?” I took a lazy sip from my mug. Like I didn’t have a care in the world.
“That you’re a man-whore who flirts with anything with tits, gets laid, and never sticks around for a second date.”
Something pinched in my chest. I sat up straight. “I like flirting. It’s fun, and it makes everyone feel good. So, sue me.” I met her glare for glare. “I also like recreational sex, but only if the woman is down with it. We have a good time; they aren’t expecting a second date. It’s all cool.”
“You think it’s cool?” She stood over me, hands on hips. “It’s self-centered as hell. You’re playing with people’s emotions. People’s lives.”
“Like I said, I make sure we’re on the same page.”
“Ummmm. Right. Because no woman ever said she was okay with a one-night stand when she really wanted you to call her the next day.”
“I don’t sleep with anyone I’m gonna see again the next day, anyway. Problem solved.”
“So, you admit it.” She crossed her arms. “You were planning to sleep with me tonight because we’re both leaving tomorrow.”
“I’m not gonna lie. You’re gorgeous, and independent, and smart, and one helluva skier. I’d be an idiot if I didn’t want you. Didn’t want to make you feel as amazing as I think you are. Didn’t hope you might want something to happen tonight too.” I leaned toward her, keeping my eyes pinned to hers. Trying not to fall into those deep green pools. “But I don’t expect anything. I had a blast skiing and hanging with you today. I’m happy to help you tomorrow. It’s all good.”
“What would you do if I told you to get the hell out, right now?”
“I’d pack up the sled and drive back to the resort, and be happy we spent an awesome day together. And a little sad we didn’t get to know each other better sooner.”
****
The words I wanted to say died on my lips. I needed him to be an asshole so I could justify being an angry, self-righteous bitch. Anger did a fine job of chasing away any thoughts I had about my hands on his body, or his hands on mine. Thoughts I should’ve been able to escape when he left for the night. Only he wasn’t planning to leave.
“If you want me to go, just say the word.” His expression was open, guileless. Ruby-gold light played on the planes of his face, so handsome it made it hard for me to take his words at face value. Pun intended.
Did I want him to go?
What should have been an easy yes had somehow morphed into a very weak maybe, bordering on no. At the very least, I was definitely in I-don’t-know territory.
The self-centered prick I’d originally pegged him for would’ve come at me with a full court press. Convincing me to let him stay. Convincing me to sleep with him.
Instead, he seemed genuinely concerned about what I wanted. About making me happy, not just himself. I struggled to reconcile the obnoxious pretty boy I thought I’d worked with all season with this guy.
If I was completely honest, I’d been enjoying his company. A lot.
But I didn’t want to be honest—with myself, or him.
Chapter Eight
Morgan stood silent. Face tight. I sipped my tea, stared into the fire and acted totally unconcerned. But damn, I wished I could tell what she was thinking. Was she just a little annoyed, or totally pissed? I hadn’t meant to push myself on her. Sometimes I just got excited and didn’t think things through—at least according to my sisters. This might’ve been one of those times.
The longer she stood there, the more I figured she was gonna tell me to get the hell out. Which would’ve sucked, since I really, really liked hanging with her.
Not that I’d argue. She’d called me out legit. Had every right to be pissed. I could find another floor to sleep on.
I am such a fucking idiot. If I were smart, I’d have spent the season hanging out with her, instead of running away as fast as I could get my chores done. Because Morgan was all kinds of awesome, and now I’d ruined any chance of getting to know her better.
I massaged my chest with the heel of my hand, trying to rub away the sharp pain shooting through it.
Nylon rustled, and she sat down next to me and pulled the end of the sleeping bag over her lap.
Yes! Mental fist pump.
“Why don’t you date?”
The thoughts in my head screeched like a needle dragging across a record. My sisters always asked me that, but it was easy to get them to change the topic. All I had to do was ask about their classes or jobs or boyfriends. Or pin ‘em down and tickle-torture them. Pretty sure neither of those options would fly with Morgan.
Setting down my cup, I rubbed my palms on my thighs. Shifted around like changing my position would make me more comfortable inside. Picked my tea back up and wrapped both hands around the mug so the heat ran into my palms.
“Sorry I—” She made to stand, face shuttered closed like a ski resort bar after hours. My heart pinched again.
“No. It’s okay.” I put a hand on her arm to stop her. Something sizzled, louder even than Van’s voice. Or maybe the sizzle was inside me. I pulled my hand away and it stopped, but echoes of it kept floating through my hand. My head. Pretty much every part of me. I struggled to ignore it and get clear on my next words.
Morgan settled back and waited, sipping her tea. I peered into my mug a minute longer. I wasn’t sure how to explain it, but I needed to try.
“My parents, they were so in love. The way they looked at each other. Talked to each other. Loved to hang out together. We’re talking, like, The Notebook kind of love.”
“You’ve watched The Notebook?” Her voice shot up again.
“Two sisters, remember?”
“Sorry. Continue.”
“Anyway, they’d been together almost twenty years when Dad died. Mom was only forty-two, and I’m pretty sure she wanted to die with him. If it hadn’t been for us kids, she probably would’ve.”
“Daniel, that’s awful.” She leaned my way. Pressed her shoulder into mine. The heat ran straight to my heart, and that tight pinching faded. I pressed back.
“Yeah. I’ve never seen anyone hurt that much. Mom always said it was worth it, though. That all the love and happiness they shared outweighed her pain.”
I kept a death grip on my mug. Talking about this brought me right back to my childhood. Back to the days and months and years of hearing Mom crying in her bedroom every night. Of knowing I couldn’t make it better, no matter what I did. Only Dad could do that, and he was gone.
“Even after seeing her so torn up, in high school I was kind of a player.” I put my mug down before I cracked it. “Then my sisters started dating, and I watched them rip their hearts out over guys who didn’t give a damn. Guys who were just stringing them along. I knew I could never be one of those guys again.”
“So, it’s the kind of love your parents had, or one-night stands?”
“Pretty much.” I nodded. “Risking that much pain is only worth it if you really love each other.”
“Wow.” She paused. “Have you ever had a serious relationship?”
“In high school. I dated an amazing girl my junior year. Her dad got a job in Texas and they moved away and I was crushed.” I glanced at her. “You?”
“A few boyfriends. Nothing serious.” Her lips pressed into a flat line. “Don’t you ever worry about getting a woman pregnant?”
“That’s what condoms are for.”
“Condoms break.” Her voice was hard. Brittle.
I shifted around to face her, even though it meant our shoulders wouldn’t touch anymore. I took one of her hands and wrapped it in both of mine instead. Rubbed my thumb over the rough callouses from her splitting wood all season.
“Morgan, seriously, no matter what anyone tells you, I am not a man-whore. I haven’t even gotten laid all season. Which puts my chances of breaking a condom at exactly zero.”
A pink flush crept up her neck. “I’m sorry, Daniel. I had no right—”
“It’s okay.” I squeezed her hand. “Just because I love women, and I like to flirt and make them feel beautiful, people think I sleep around. I’m used to it.”
“Probably doesn’t hurt that you look like an underwear model.” She cringed.
My heart soared like it’d just launched a twenty-footer into deep powder. “Aha. So, you do think I’m good looking.” I did that face again. The one where I crossed my eyes and hung my tongue out the side of my mouth.
“When you look at me like that? God, yes.”
Her giggle made my heart float all the way up to the ceiling. “You know what we need?” I squeezed her hand again, memorizing the way it fit in mine.
“No. What?”
“More chocolate torte.”
****
We lay side by side, our heads toward the fire. Its glow accentuated the high planes of his cheekbones and the strong line of his nose. Van sang one of my all-time favorite songs in the background.
Daniel’s chin rested on one hand. With the other he traced patterns in the wood grain of the floor, his lips falling open in concentration. The kind of lips that begged to be kissed.
I swirled my tongue through my mouth, savoring our second round of dessert. If we kissed, it would taste like chocolate and raspberries.
“What are you thinking about?”
Shit.
I hesitated, not wanting to lie, or tell him the truth. Except Daniel had been nothing but honest with me. “Kissing you.”
His finger stilled for a second, then continued its loops and lines and circles. “What do you think about it?”
“I think I want to. But I also think it’s a really bad idea.” I rolled onto my back and stared at the rough-hewn ceiling timbers. “We’re both leaving tomorrow, and I don’t do casual sex any more.”
“Any more?” His sleeping bag rustled. “Why not? What happened?”
I got fucked, literally and figuratively. And I realized it wasn’t worth it.
“It’s a long story.” A long story no one knew except me, my sister, and one guy. I kept my eyes glued to the big beams supporting the roof.
“I’ve got nothing but time.”
I looked over to find him on his side facing me, his eyes a soft gold in the firelight.
“If you don’t want to tell me, no worries.” He reached out to trace a hank of my hair where it lay on my sleeping pad. “If you do, no judgment. I promise.”
He gave a gentle, playful tug that went to all the wrong places in my body. Wrong since I wasn’t going to jump his bones. Ever. No matter how nice or funny or thoughtful or sexy he’d turned out to be. I could never take that kind of risk again.
I swallowed passed the tightness in my throat, and forced myself to push the words out. To tell the ceiling timbers what happened.
“I finished my Master’s last spring, and spent the summer backpacking around Europe to celebrate. I met an amazing Australian guy in Madrid, and we traveled together for almost a month. Then he left to do volunteer work in Kenya, and a week later I caught a plane back to the States.”
“Tough breakup?”
“Not really. He was smart and nice and funny and we travelled well together, but we both knew it was a vacation fling. Even though we exchanged email addresses, I never planned to get in touch or hear from him again.”
“But you did.”
“I did.” I pulled the sleeping bag higher on my shoulders, letting its warm weight cocoon me. “Because six weeks later I discovered I was pregnant.”
His hand cupped my far shoulder, almost but not quite in a hug. Like he wanted to offer me support, but worried about getting too close. Still, that warm weight did more to steady the nervous clenching in my gut than the sleeping bag, by a long shot.
“What’d you do?”
“I emailed him. But I knew he wouldn’t have much internet access. So, after two weeks of no response and a lot of soul searching, I made an appointment for an abortion.”
“Oh, shit. That must’ve been rough.” He pulled me in close, tucking me against him until we spooned. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on my biceps.
I wiggled in closer, relishing the comfort of his strong arms around me, and the way his front heated my back.
“The decision wasn’t that hard, actually. Fresh out of school and single, with a mountain of debt and no job? Not exactly how I plan to welcome a child into the world. I wasn’t ready to be a mom, let alone a single mom.”
“Yeah, but making that decision by yourself? Going through all that alone? That’s tough.” He gave me a squeeze. “My oldest sister had an abortion. She was pretty torn up even though she knew it was the right choice. And she had all of us supporting her, whatever decision she made.”
“I didn’t go through it alone. My sister stayed with me. And I did finally get a supportive email from the guy. So, it all worked out fine. No regrets.”
“Except now you don’t enjoy casual sex.”
I stiffened. “I can’t. Because there’s nothing casual about sex. Not when you can use birth control and still end up pregnant.”
“Good point.” His fingers smoothed the hair away from my forehead. His face hovered above mine, those oh-so-edible lips inches away.
“I hope it won’t keep you from ever finding a guy who makes you happy.”
“It won’t.”
“Good.” He pressed his lips against my temple. Chaste. Sweet. “Because you deserve someone who totally blisses you out on the regular.”
Chapter Nine
I wouldn’t mind being that person.
Wait. What?
Morgan’s body fit up against mine just right. She was tall, so her soft curves and hard muscles pressed against pretty much all of me. And she was brilliant. And independent. And so fucking brave. And really, too damn good for me.
I nuzzled her hair. Committed her scent to memory, all rich and woodsy, with a hint of fire smoke.
&
nbsp; Being wrapped around her wasn’t enough. I wanted to curl right up inside her. Not just with my dick. “You know, if you decide you want to kiss me, I’m good with that.” I pulled out my best smile and threw a little humor into my tone. “Just to kill your curiosity.”
Morgan shifted in my arms, turned toward me but didn’t pull away. She studied my face until, eventually, her eyes locked on my lips. Yes!
“Thanks, but no thanks.”
My heart sank a little, but I ignored it. “No worries. Just wanted you to know where I stand.” I kicked my grin up another notch. “In case you change your mind.”
“So thoughtful of you.” Her smile did nothing to cover the sarcasm in her voice.
“I do my best.” I winked.
She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched. As long as Morgan was smiling, even only on the inside, I was good.
****
“Hey, I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh.” My stomach hitched and fluttered. My shoulders tensed. I had a lot of ideas too, all of them unwanted. God only knew what Daniel was about to suggest. I scooched out of his arms until I lay flat on my back again, the mattress beneath me colder than I remembered after the heat of his body. “If it has anything to do with kissing you, I don’t want to hear it.”
Liar. Liar. Pants on fire.
“Lay on your stomach.”
“What?”
“Roll over.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s really hard to give you a back rub when you’re lying on your back.”
I cringed and set my jaw. “I told you, you’re not getting laid.”
“Seriously? Don’t you think I know that?” He sat up and put his hands on his hips. “You don’t trust me.”
Guilt flooded the back of my throat with bile. “I trust you. I trust you. Sorry.” I flipped over.
“You’re lucky I forgive you.” His sleeping bag rustled, and his knees gripped my waist as he straddled my back. “This time.”
All my focus went to the points where his thighs rested against me until one strong palm pressed into the always tense zone between my shoulder blades, digging deep into the muscle. I moaned. Daniel shifted his weight over my hips and pressed again, lower. I managed to keep my moan in my mouth this time, but… Wow.
