Make Me Stay (Men of Gold Mountain)

by Rebecca Brooks

  “Don’t forget about the mind-blowing sex.” She waved her spoon at him.

  He sat up straighter. “Mind-blowing? Really?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “As I was saying,” he teased, “I lure you here and get you all comfortable, so by the time you realize it’s mostly leftovers or whatever’s happening at Mack’s, it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?” Sam asked, and Austin flushed. He’d better watch himself before his mouth ran away with him. It was easy to say these things. It was much, much harder to follow through.

  “Just too late.” He took a sip of beer. “That’s all.”

  He thought he saw her give a half smile, but her hair fell over her shoulder and shielded her face. He reached over and brushed the strands back. He was right, she was smiling. It made something well up inside him. “I have to tell you something,” he said.

  Sam looked at him in immediate concern. “It’s not a big deal,” he said quickly, wondering what she thought he was about to spill. “I just wanted you to know I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

  “Where?”

  “The shelter. On the mountain. I don’t just mean for, you know.” He waggled his eyebrows. “I mean I’ve never shown it to anyone, period.”

  Sam lowered her spoon. “Never?”

  “I’m sure other people know about it—I’ve seen tracks. But I’ve never brought someone there. I’ve never been there with anyone else.”

  Sam looked at the fire. He wondered what she was thinking. Maybe it was stupid and didn’t mean a thing. Maybe it meant everything and would scare her away. But right when he was about to tell her to forget it, it was just a thought that had popped into his head, because he hadn’t wanted her to think he was taking all sorts of women to his special sex spot or whatever—he could say this with a laugh, he was already practicing his indifference in his head—she set her bowl out of the way and scooted closer to him. She rested her head on his shoulder, her hair cascading down his arm, and he knew she understood.

  “You were supposed to show me your knee,” she said after a long pause in which they watched the flames leap in a mesmerizing show.

  Austin laughed, a nervous tightening inside. Just because he’d told her one thing didn’t mean he wanted to get into everything. “I was just kidding about that.”

  “It’s the whole reason I came over. Your ass is so-so. I really wanted you naked so I could see that sexy patella of yours.”

  “You know, you’re kind of an asshole,” Austin said. “I’ll have you know some women have appreciated this very fine behind.”

  Sam burst out laughing. “Oh, honey.” She stroked his arm. “I’ve been called so much worse.”

  Austin wanted to know what that was supposed to mean, but she was already going after him so she could flip off the blanket and get to his knee. He let her pin him down, commenting how much he liked the view as her breasts hung close. She pressed her palm over his mouth to silence him, then replaced her hand with her lips and kissed him.

  “The knee,” she murmured, sliding her naked body along his. “Tell me the story about your knee.”

  He hesitated. The need to tell someone ached constantly inside him, just like the pain in his knee. If only he could get it out, unlock the secret from that place it was buried, maybe all his old hurts would finally heal. He pictured himself saying the words, telling the story, as though that was all it would take to make him okay.

  But he couldn’t do it. As he shifted to show Sam where the pins and wire bored in to keep his leg together, he heard a thud that might have been Chloe upstairs or might have been in his mind. His mother’s suitcase dropping as his father lunged. Glint of metal. Somebody’s cry.

  His heart raced, sweat on his brow. It was too much, he couldn’t say it, he couldn’t let her know how weak he was, how unlike the person she thought she knew.

  Sam was looking down and didn’t notice what was happening to him. She traced the mess of scars with her fingertips. “Ouch,” she whispered, and pressed her lips to his knee.

  “Sometimes it’s stiff,” Austin said, trying to keep his voice steady. “But you get used to the pain.”

  She drew herself up so she was nestled against his shoulder, the blankets pulled around them as the fire sputtered and danced.

  “The accident really happened two weeks before the Olympics? You couldn’t have had worse timing.”

  Austin imagined jumping up, grabbing her clothes, sending her into the night. Hitting the gym until he couldn’t breathe from exhaustion instead of from the fear tightening his throat. He wanted to forget, not bring it up all over again.

  There was no way he could tell her the truth.

  He found, though, that he couldn’t follow through with his usual lies.

  “I used to spend every second wishing things had turned out differently. But you know what?” He shifted so he was facing her, their legs intertwined. “I can’t say what might have happened instead. I might not have medaled. I might have been injured later, in some other way. I could have had an amazing career. I could have been disappointed.” He shrugged. “I guess there’s simply no way to know.”

  “You sound at peace,” Sam said softly. She ran a finger along the side of his face. Austin pretended to snap his jaw to catch her finger in his teeth. She pulled back just in time, then reached for him again. Her eyes were soft. He wondered what she was thinking, if she believed him. It sounded so good, he almost believed himself.

  “When you do something where you could be injured, you always know everything you’ve worked for could be over in a heartbeat. Sometimes I feel like I made my peace before I was even hurt. I knew it was coming. I knew what I was going to do.”

  The truth surprised him. He was talking about skiing, but he was also, unbeknownst to Sam, telling her about his father. In some way, he’d known exactly what was going to happen when his father reached for that hammer. And he’d let it happen anyway.

  “Other times I feel like you’re never prepared. Even when you choose, even when you think you know, you can’t predict what’s going to happen. You can’t say where your life is going to go.”

  You can’t understand, when you’re yelling at your father to hit you, exactly how long twelve months of rehab is going to feel.

  Sam leaned back, resting her back against the couch. “I guess I’m still at that crossroad, trying to think everything through. I think I know what I’m doing and then…”

  “And then what?” Austin asked when she didn’t go on.

  “And then, surprise, I have no idea what’s next.”

  “Well, yeah. That sounds about right.” Austin shifted and started stacking their dishes, ready to move the conversation onto less personal ground. He knew this was a chance for them to open up more to each other, but he’d said all he could. He didn’t want to push Sam to share what she was referring to and then have her turn around and ask the same questions about him. Questions he never answered, for anybody, no matter how beautiful they were. Especially when they were only around for such a short time.

  “Dessert?” he proposed.

  “You think of everything.” Sam began to scramble up.

  “Stay there,” Austin said. “I’ll bring it to you. I hope you like chocolate.”

  “Naked chocolate eating? Have I died? Is this heaven? Are you real?”

  Austin laughed. “Do you mind if I let Chloe down? She’s used to being the only girl I have in front of the fireplace.”

  “Not at all! I didn’t mean to make her jealous.”

  “She’s a little spoiled, I’ll admit. Just wait here and I’ll be back in a sec.”

  He was happy to see her draw the blankets around her and get comfortable on the couch, apparently undisturbed by his revelations—or lack thereof. He could feel his heart rate settling back to normal, the sudden sweat that had broken out beginning to cool. He hadn’t said too much. He didn’t have to be afraid.

  They spent the rest of th
e evening in front of the fire, the remnants of cake and coffee on the table. Chloe lay on her bed while Sam and Austin curled up together on the couch. He didn’t know when he fell asleep, only that when he woke up the fire had died down to embers and Sam was asleep, too. He tried to get up without waking her, but she stirred.

  “Hey,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her cheek. “It’s late.”

  “Mmm,” she murmured.

  “I can drive you back if you want.”

  Her eyes opened sleepily. “Hmm?”

  “I said I can drive you to your car.” He paused. “Or you can spend the night here.”

  “Driving back means cold and cold means clothes and clothes are terrible.” She tugged the blanket tighter around her.

  “I like the way you think.”

  “Will you think I’m too presumptuous if I admit I brought a toothbrush with me?”

  “Now I really like the way you think. But let’s go upstairs, it’ll be warmer. There are blankets on the bed and you can borrow pajamas if you’re cold. Unless of course you brought your own?”

  Sam grinned sheepishly. “Part of my presumptuousness meant I wasn’t exactly thinking about clothes.”

  Austin fed Chloe and steered Sam upstairs, the blanket trailing behind her as she walked with it wrapped around herself. He liked this funny, sleepy side of her, a little out of it, too tired to be clever or on guard. For a moment something clenched in his chest at the sight of the light through the crack underneath the bathroom door—this was his space, no one was supposed to be here. But when she came out, still naked, hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep, he couldn’t help but reach for her again. They fell asleep wrapped tightly together in the middle of the bed, even though there was plenty of room.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sam woke up alone.

  “Austin?” she murmured, but nobody answered. She looked around the bedroom, the bathroom, peered over the edge of the overhang down into the living room below. She didn’t hear him in the kitchen. She didn’t know where he was.

  She opened his closet, scolding herself as she did so. She shouldn’t go through his things. But her clothes were downstairs in a tangle on the floor. The reminder sent heat coursing through her, mixed with a heavy dose of—no, not regret, she checked herself. Sadness.

  Sadness that it all had to end.

  She pulled on a button-down shirt of his that went to her thighs and found a pair of thick socks. She knew she looked ridiculous, but she liked the idea of making him laugh.

  Wherever he was.

  At least this wasn’t the equivalent of waking up in her hotel room and finding him gone. He wouldn’t peace out on her in his own place, right?

  She used her fingers to make her hair semipresentable and padded downstairs. There was coffee in a pot, and she poured herself a mug. No Chloe, no Austin. She found her phone in her jeans pocket and picked up just enough signal to log in to her email. She sat at the kitchen table and tried to tackle the onslaught of work that had rolled in since she’d been gone. She had to admit the whole thing seemed to be running fine without her. But there were emails to respond to, deals to keep on top of, new clients to woo. Major clients didn’t like feeling they were paying an arm and a leg to be bounced around among subordinates. This was what Kane Enterprises was selling—the personalized touch.

  Not the very personal touch she’d given Mr. Reede, but she’d come to Gold Mountain to give him the attention needed to see this sale go through. She’d had her night, and now it was time to face what she had to accomplish today.

  Before she could think through how that was going to work, the front door opened and a very snowy German shepherd bounded through.

  “Good girl, Chloe,” Austin cooed. “You tell those squirrels who’s boss.” Then he caught sight of Sam at the table. “Sorry.” He winced as Chloe shook the snow out of her fur right where Sam was sitting. “We try to do that outside, but it doesn’t always work.”

  Sam laughed, shielding her phone. Chloe promptly stuck her nose in Sam’s lap, no doubt attracted to the scent of Austin’s shirt. Sam ruffled the scruff of her neck. “Did you have a good walk?” she asked the dog. “Did you terrorize the mean little squirrels?”

  “Have you been up long?” Austin asked as he hung up his jacket and took off his boots.

  “Maybe twenty minutes. I got some coffee.”

  “I meant to leave a note that we were out. I guess I’m not so used to having company.”

  The admission startled Sam. No girlfriends? Not even one-night stands?

  She pushed the thought from her mind. She didn’t want to think about Austin with other women. She didn’t want to think of herself as a one-night thing.

  When Austin rattled off options for breakfast, Sam knew she couldn’t transform into work mode just yet. “I make a mean French toast,” he said. “No Connor necessary.”

  “I definitely think you should show off for me,” she said.

  “Shit, now the pressure’s on.”

  She stood and hooked her finger through his belt loop, pulling him toward her. Snow still clung to his lashes. She pictured him rolling around with the dog, racing her through the woods behind his house. The woods they wouldn’t be able to run in once Sam had her way, because they wouldn’t be his anymore.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Don’t think that, don’t think that. “I’m not wearing any panties under this shirt of yours,” she whispered. “If you make a girl a good breakfast, wonder what you’ll get in return?”

  She meant to pull away—it was just a tease, she was only trying to play—but Austin had her pushed against the wall so quickly it took her breath away. He kissed her hard, his hands sliding up the bottom of the shirt, over her hips and her ass, along the inside of her thighs. He pressed his thumb to her clit, just hard enough to make her throb. Not hard enough to stop her from trying to press down.

  “And what is it you want?” he panted in her ear. He flicked his other thumb over her nipples, hard and straining through her shirt. “Hmm?”

  “Guess I should know not to tease a man in the morning,” Sam murmured, straining to get closer to him and relieve the ache he was making build between her thighs.

  “You’re lucky I let you sleep in.”

  Sam pictured him climbing on top of her, his cock throbbing, not waiting to take what he wanted from her. She knew he could feel her dampness in his hand. “You should have woken me up.”

  “Next time I just might.” He brushed her clit. Her thighs clenched in response. That “next time” seemed to ring out between them.

  “I was promised French toast,” she said with a squirm.

  He pulled away so suddenly her whole body ached. “I know. I’d better feed you before I fuck you.”

  Sam tilted her head back so it hit the wall and let out a sigh she felt all the way to her toes. Oh, God. She was in trouble.

  “That’s what I thought last night,” she said, “but that wasn’t the order I wound up wanting.”

  “Tough luck.” He kissed her nose. “I’m starving.”

  He really did make good French toast, sprinkled with cinnamon and maple syrup from just over the border in Canada. She cut up strawberries and made more coffee and they sat at the table, Sam’s leg curling up the inside of Austin’s thigh.

  “Where’d the recipe come from?” she asked. “I’m picturing childhood brunches, parents being all cute together… Do you have siblings?” She licked maple syrup off her fork. She knew she was being reckless, making things too personal, but the fact that this was ending today made it impossible not to soak up what she could.

  She was surprised when Austin’s face darkened. But then the cloud was gone, so quickly she wondered if she’d made up the shadow she thought she’d seen. “Not so much from my parents as one of the things I picked up along the way.”

  “So, an ex-girlfriend,” Sam concluded.

  “Whatever, she was always too stingy with the cinnamon.” Austin rolled his eyes and s
lid a hand up Sam’s bare thigh.

  “At least you got something good out of it.”

  He shrugged. Her phone vibrated on the table. She never should have turned it on to check her messages. The momentary respite had been too good to last.

  “Work?” Austin raised an eyebrow.

  “Sorry,” she grumbled.

  “Better than a boyfriend.”

  Sam stared at him. “You think I’m cheating on someone with you?”

  “No, but you haven’t really told me much about yourself. I don’t even know what you do.”

  “I told you—sales.” Her palm felt slippery as she reached for the phone.

  “Twenty-four seven? With a scary-sounding board?”

  She shrugged. “That’s the job.” She glanced briefly at the text—Steven wanting to know when the meeting for today was set. At least he hadn’t typed the words “Mr. Reede,” but she put her phone facedown on the table anyway. “It’s not life or death, though. There’s nothing I have to deal with now.”

  Couldn’t Steven wait? She wasn’t going to corner Austin while she was wearing nothing but his button-down shirt.

  “What about you?” she asked, changing the subject. “What do you have to do today?”

  “I’m not on ski patrol this morning.”

  He said it casually, but Sam narrowed her eyes. “Is that usually the case? Or just a nice little coincidence?” She plucked a strawberry slice off his plate and popped it into her mouth.

  “No need to concern yourself with the inner machinations of Gold Mountain staff.”

  She laughed. “You were awfully cocky, thinking I was going to stay over.”

  “You’re the one who brought your toothbrush.” He swatted her hand away from his plate where she was cleaning up the last of his breakfast. “I feel bad, though. You’re paying through the nose for that hotel room and you didn’t even use it.”

  Sam shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’s just one night, and anyway”—she winked—“I’d say last night was better than sitting in bed by myself with pay-per-view.”

  “Why watch it when you can live it.” His hand, her thigh. She spread her legs in the chair.