Rm w/a Vu

by A. D. Ryan

  “Nah,” I reply, looking out the window at the approaching mountains; they’re breath-taking. “That’s fine… It’s so beautiful here. Cold, but beautiful. How long have you been coming out here?”

  Greyston navigates the streets with ease, which makes sense since he’s vacationed here since he was little. “I was ten when they bought the cabin,” he answers my question. “They could see how much I loved it here over the first few years we’d vacation.”

  “When’s the last time you came here as a family?” I ask, peeling my eyes away form the view and looking at him.

  “It’s been a while. I’ve been busy building the agency, so we haven’t been able to coordinate our schedules.” His smile falters, and his eyebrows pull together. “They’re actually thinking of selling. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to bring you before that happened.”

  His sadness fills the car, and I lay a hand on his lap. “I’m sorry.”

  Greyston shakes it off, smiling again. “It’s just a part of life, I suppose.”

  We arrive at the store a little while later, and I cuddle up to Greyston as we walk through the lot. I clench my teeth to try to keep them from chattering, but it’s no use, and now my jaw hurts.

  Greyston wraps an arm around me, hugging me closer. “You’ll adjust to the colder climate soon, sweetheart.

  “I’m not too worried. Besides, you promised me a cozy night by the fire, so…”

  We walk through the market, aisle by aisle, filling our cart with the necessities we’ll need for our week-long stay at the cabin. We grab plenty of fruits and vegetables, meats, and then a few extra things we don’t need, but figure we may want if the mood strikes—chocolate, ice cream, and a few other various salty and sugary snacks. As we approach the checkout, I realize we’ve forgotten the milk. Naturally, Greyston offers to go get it while I begin to unload the cart, but I go instead.

  I’m gone less than two minutes, and when I return, I find Greyston standing at the checkout…with his arms wrapped around another woman.

  This isn’t exactly how I imagined us kicking off our time away. What it does is reawaken the hurt and betrayal I felt when I found Ben exiting my dorm room after banging my roommate—amplified exponentially, given it’s Greyston in some other woman’s arms.

  I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, the heavy feeling spreading throughout my belly and then moving outward. I grip the milk jug tightly, my right hand shaking, and my eyes stinging. My chest tightens, making it hard for me to breathe, and I force myself to move forward, needing to know what the hell is going on, and I only just catch the tail end of whatever they’re talking about.

  “Well, I couldn’t wait around for you my whole life, now could I?” she says, her voice soft and airy, almost melodic.

  I blink back the burn in my eyes, clearing my throat to force them to acknowledge my presence. Greyston sees me first, smiling as though I didn’t just catch him with his arms around another woman, and when she turns around, her bright green eyes catch mine.

  She’s gorgeous. Her light brown hair is filled with fine highlights and cut down to her shoulders, framing her slender face. She’s about my height, and her smile is wide, showcasing a row of perfectly straight and white teeth.

  Greyston reaches for my hand, pulling me to his side. I’m reluctant, my feet heavy like they’ve been cemented to the ground. He wraps an arm around me, easing the feeling of betrayal that continues to fester and build inside me, and he kisses my temple, taking down the first of several bricks from the wall I’m building to guard my heart from breaking into a million pieces. I can tell he’s trying to assuage my fears that he isn’t attracted to this woman. I feel pretty stupid for even thinking that he would look at another woman in that way—especially since he’s always said how much he despises Ben for doing what he did to me.

  “Juliette, this is Gemma.”

  “Hi.” It’s all I can say as I offer her a slight nod.

  Gemma flashes that million-dollar smile again, reaching out and taking my hand in hers; even her nails are perfectly manicured, making me self-conscious. “Hi!” She turns toward Greyston, the look on her face almost admonishing. “I had no idea you were seeing someone!”

  “It’s still pretty new,” I answer, no inflection whatsoever to my voice. “So, uh, how do the two of you know each other?”

  “Greyston’s my agent,” Gemma offers up, and I feel my body relax slightly. I’m still a little tense due to feeling like an ass for assuming there was something deeper going on.

  “Oh.” I offer her the first genuine smile I can muster. “And what is it you do?”

  “I snowboard.” Gemma looks at Greyston again, green eyes sparkling. “In fact, if you guys want, I could hook you up with passes to the resort while you’re in town.” She reaches into her purse—designer, naturally—and pulls out a business card, handing it to Greyston. “I assume you’re staying at the cabin while you’re here?”

  She’s been to the cabin?

  “We are,” he responds without pause, voice remaining steady. I can’t get a read on whether or not this is strictly a personal relationship, and I’m starting to wonder if my past with Ben hasn’t made me a little suspicious. Okay, a lot suspicious. He hands the card to me, and I look at it: Gemma MacKay.

  “Perfect. Give me a call, and maybe Dom and I can take you to dinner while you’re in town.” Gemma checks her watch, then holds her hand up. “Well, I have to get going, but I’ll hear from you guys soon?”

  Greyston looks down at me for my input, and I don’t want to seem like a fuddy-duddy when I don’t really know what may or may not have happened between them years ago. I give him a nod, and Greyston smiles before responding. “Definitely.”

  Gemma saunters away, and Greyston and I pay for our food before heading back out to our vehicle. The more I think about it, the more stupid I feel. I only saw them hug. That doesn’t mean anything, and I’m growing more and more sure that I’ve unknowingly let what Ben did affect the way I view all relationships now. While I didn’t love Ben, what he did made it hard for me to trust certain situations.

  Greyston suggests we head over to the liquor store for a few different kinds of wine, and I remain lost in thought, not sure if I should say anything or just let it go. Unfortunately, Greyston is more perceptive than I’d like, because once we’re back in the vehicle and headed for the cabin, he places a hand on my lap, drawing my focus to him.

  “I feel stupid,” I tell him, dropping my eyes again. “I saw you with her—with Gemma—hugging her, and I jumped to the conclusion that the two of you had a romantic history. Especially when she made that comment about not being able to wait for you.”

  My fears are validated when Greyston doesn’t say anything right away. “Oh.” My thoughts start to get away from me again, wondering if this was the ex who made him choose between her and his job. If that’s the case, then I don’t have anything to worry about…but what if she’s someone else entirely?

  Greyston’s hand slips over mine, his eyes remaining on the icy roads. “Juliette, it was so long ago, and we were both single and had been drinking.” His thumb moves over the back of my hand, soothing away a small portion of my anxiety. But not all of it. “And it was only that one time. Gemma and I…we’re friends. That’s it.”

  Knowing that he and Gemma had some kind of a past—even if it was a one-time thing, fuelled solely by loneliness and alcohol—stung. I know he’s got a past—so do I—but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it or meet his exes. The last thing I need is to picture them together and wonder if maybe seeing each other again will reignite the spark between them, leaving me in the lurch. While I want to believe Greyston would never do that to me, I can’t help but let my thoughts wander in that direction, given my track record.

  I nod, but I am still unable to say anything. It isn’t long before Greyston pulls the SUV to a stop and puts it into park, turning to me. “Look, I’m twenty-seven—I have a history. While I’m sure y
ou don’t want to hear that I’ve been with other women, you know that I have been. The only thing you need to know is that my past is exactly that: my past.” He reaches out and takes my other hand now and places his forefinger under my chin, drawing my eyes up to his. “I want you. Got it?”

  I believe him when he tells me this. It’s hard not to believe him when he speaks with an ironclad conviction that makes my knees tremble and my pulse race. And I do—believe him, that is. I care about him far more than I ever thought was possible, and, while I realize that we haven’t known each other that long, I now understand what my mom meant about knowing the instant you meet “the one.” Greyston is that for me. This isn’t to say I’m ready to settle down and get married just yet—I’m still only twenty and beginning my life—but I see a future with Greyston if he’s patient enough to wait for me to finish school and start my career.

  I can’t help the corners of my lips from curling upward slightly, and soon I’m smiling. “Yeah. I do.”

  I sense his relief as he leans in and kisses me. I can’t stop myself from affirming my feelings for him by placing a hand on the back of his neck and holding him close. Greyston pulls back with a smile.

  Laughing lightly, I rest my forehead to his. “Sorry for acting like a jealous freak. I don’t want to be that girl, but after—”

  He doesn’t let me finish, shushing me and shaking his head. He places a hand along my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I know. I get it. Just believe that I would never do what he did to you, okay?”

  “Okay.” I sound a little more confident than before, even sitting up a little straighter. “So, uh, I guess we should keep heading to the cabin, huh?”

  Greyston smirks and cuts the engine. “We’re already here.” He slips out of the car and rushes over to my side of the vehicle. I don’t expect him to slip on the icy terrain in front of the SUV, especially considering he’s no stranger to the ice and snow. I have to bite back a laugh, and I suddenly feel leery, because if he slips on it, then I’m basically screwed. I can barely walk on a good day; adding unfamiliar elements into the mix isn’t going to bode well for my tailbone. Ice plus the uncoordinated is an equation for disaster.

  He doesn’t fall, thankfully, reaching my door a couple seconds later.

  “Smooth,” I tease when he pulls my door open, offering me a hand.

  When my feet touch the ground, Greyston nudges my side and tickles me. “Let’s just remember who’s never skied before, shall we? This won’t be a repeat of our paintball game a few weeks ago.”

  “We’ll see,” I add with a little giggle, trailing behind Greyston as we go to grab our bags.

  As I step out of the car, I look up the small hill that the log cabin sits on and smile. It’s even more amazing than the picture Greyston gave me. Stairs lead us up to a covered front deck where two sets of bay windows face east. While I have yet to see the inside, I can only imagine what it will be like to watch the sunrise in the mornings with a warm cup of coffee. The outer walls of the house are those of a traditional log cabin, and I instantly fall in love with the beauty of the home surrounded by fluffy white snow.

  I sling my carry-on bag over my shoulder while Greyston carries both of our suitcases, and then he nods me toward the snowy path that leads to the front deck. The snow crunches beneath our feet as we approach the stairs. He sets his suitcase down and grabs the key from his pocket to unlock the door.

  If the outside of the cabin impressed me, it really shouldn’t come as a surprise when I am rendered breathless upon stepping inside. I drop my bag suddenly, stepping farther into the room and looking around. The main construct of the building remains intact, with large solid wood beams supporting the upper floor, and a staircase to my left that leads upstairs, where I assume the bedrooms are located.

  The main floor is completely open-concept, with the living room off to the right, well-lit by the two front windows that sit on either side of a large fireplace. The furniture is modern and plush, and I can tell that Greyston’s mother has decorated it; she’s got a certain style that seems to have carried over into her work on Greyston’s place back in Phoenix as well. Just past the living room, beyond the couch and the table that sits behind it, is the kitchen and dining area. They are both awash in the light of the setting sun behind the house that streams in through the wall-to-wall windows there.

  “Oh, wow. Greyston…” I begin to say, my voice soft and barely above a whisper.

  The door closes softly behind me, and I hear the quiet click of the lock sliding into place before Greyston’s arms wind around my waist and his lips touch down on the exposed skin of my neck. “Welcome to Whistler, sweetheart.”

  Chapter 29

  “This is…” I try to find the words to describe how I feel, but anything I think of seems lacking. “Well, it’s incredible.”

  With his lips moving up and down my neck, he chuckles, sending a shiver through my body as he removes his arms from my waist and picks our luggage back up. “Come,” he says. “Let me show you upstairs.”

  I grab my carry-on again and follow him up the stairs, my eyes still taking in the simplistic beauty of his home-away-from-home. Upstairs is no different: everything about the house structurally remains original with its visible wood beams supporting the roof and the older wooden window casings. There are two bedrooms toward the back of the house, a large bathroom along the north wall, and a third, slightly larger bedroom along the entire east wall. Upon further investigation, I can tell that the bathroom has been remodeled with a more modern vanity and tub, and the bedrooms have this cozy feel to all of them, made even more inviting by the large beds and thick, fluffy duvets.

  Naturally, I assume the larger room is Greyston’s parents’, so when I begin to exit it with my bag, he stops me. “Where are you going?”

  “Across the hall?” I reply questioningly.

  “This is our room,” he tells me, setting our bags down at the foot of the bed. “My parents let me have first pick when I was a kid, and naturally, I wanted the biggest room in the house,” he explains, lifting his bag onto the bed and opening it to unpack. “Since they had the master suite back home, and we really only stayed here a few weeks a year, they let me keep it.”

  Greyston and I work on unpacking our bags quickly before retrieving the groceries from the already chilly SUV and putting them away. By the time everything is done, the sky has darkened a little more, and my stomach is growling. Smiling, Greyston hands me the telephone and leads me back to the living room.

  “Why don’t you call your parents, let them know we made it to the cabin, and I’ll start on dinner?” he suggests, motioning for me to sit on the couch while he starts a fire in the fireplace and then lights a few candles on the coffee table in front of me. When he shoots me one of his sexy smirks, pairing it with an equally panty-wetting wink, I know he’s got his own agenda for tonight.

  After he’s finished, he leans down and kisses me softly. “I’ll bring you a glass of wine and then start on dinner. You just sit back and relax.”

  Greyston leaves me alone in the living room, the smell and crackle of the fire relaxing me even more than I already was, and I dial my parents’ number. It rings twice before Dad answers.

  “Hey, Dad,” I say happily. “How’s it going?”

  “Pretty good, kiddo. How was your flight?”

  I pause for a quick second, thinking about just how “good” the flight really was, and I smile. “It was great. Over before we knew it.”

  “And the drive to the cabin?” he asks, sounding excited to hear about my trip. “Greyston drove safely, I gather?”

  Once a cop, always a cop. I laugh. “Yes, Daddy. We drove very carefully.”

  I talk to Dad a few minutes more before Greyston reappears with my wine and then retreats to the kitchen again to start dinner. I tell Dad all about the cabin and the weather before he tells me he has to let me go so he can get ready for work.

  “Okay. Love you, Dad.”

  �
��Love you, too, Jules. Here’s your mother,” he says, handing the phone off.

  Mom and I talk for a bit while the air around me is infused with the smell of dinner. My stomach rumbles several times before I tell my mom that I should go help Geyston. After saying our goodbyes, I hang up the phone and set it on the end table, grabbing my half-full glass of wine and joining Greyston in the kitchen.

  Making my way for the stove where Greyston is hard at work, I set the glass down on the counter next to his and wind my arms around his waist. I stretch up onto my tiptoes to peer over his shoulder at what he’s cooking, but it’s futile; he’s too darn tall, so I settle for kissing the skin above the neckline of his sweater. He seems to appreciate this, because he groans and reaches behind him with one hand to run it over my hip and ass.

  “Careful,” he warns playfully. “Wouldn’t want me to burn dinner because you’ve distracted me, now would you?” He turns his head to look at me, and I push my bottom lip out into a mock-pout. This makes him laugh as he pats my backside lightly and returns his attention to dinner.

  When he declares the meal done, I help add the finishing touches before we plate the chicken, steamed vegetables, and potatoes and sit next to each other at the dining room table. Greyston lights a couple of tall pillared candles and refills our wine glasses before pulling the shades back from the window so we can watch the fresh snow falling from the sky. Once again, I’m rendered speechless as I watch the already-thick blanket of snow growing, and a big part of me can’t wait to get outside tomorrow.

  “I know I’m going to start sounding like a broken record,” I say, reaching over and placing my hand over his, “but this is so amazing. Thank you again for such a wonderful gift. You really are perfect.”

  Greyston chuckles, giving my hand a squeeze. “While I appreciate that you think so, I’m far from perfect,” he tries to tell me, even though I have yet to see one thing that would tell me otherwise.