by Cathryn Fox
I give her hand a little squeeze. “Come on. Let’s go check it out.”
We exit the vehicle and I meet her at the front of the car, where I take her bare hand in mine. I’m pretty sure she didn’t pack gloves, but we’re going to need them, and hats too.
“I can’t believe this place.” She looks up to the dark, star studded sky and breathes in the fresh air. “You come here every year?”
“Yeah. The air is so fresh, much different from California, huh?” She nods, then glances at her feet, her thoughts elsewhere. “What?”
“I don’t know.” She swings my hand. “I guess…” She crinkles her nose. “Does it get lonely?”
I shrug. “There’s a big difference between alone and lonely. I think you’ve realized that I’m a bit of an introvert by now. I don’t mind being here alone, eating alone, skiing alone. Sleeping alone, however…” I tease.
We walk up to the massive carved door, and I tug it open for her, and the warmth from the fire inside bursts over us. But it’s easy to tell from the way her brow is furrowed that she has something on her mind.
“What is it, Maize?” We enter the huge lobby and her steps slow.
“Do you…I mean…have you ever brought anyone here with you before?”
“No. Not here. Not ever. This place is my escape.”
She freezes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
I reach for her, touch her shoulders, and give a squeeze to put her at ease. “No, Maize. I want you here with me.” I lean toward her and lightly brush my lips over hers. “I’d rather be here with you than be here alone.” She gives me a worried look, and I shake my head. “I mean it. Now go check out the lobby while I get our room key.”
Her movements are hesitant as she turns and heads toward the huge stone fireplace, a few kids around it, roasting marshmallows. She walks around, looking at the brochures as I head to the check-in counter, my mind going through all the ways I can prove to her just how much I want her here with me. After a fast check-in, I step up behind her and put my hands around her stomach as she reads one of the glossy brochures.
“Find anything good?”
“They have an art museum.” She scoops up a few more pamphlets. “Have you ever been?”
“Nope, but we’ll go, if that’s what you want to do.” The scent of her shampooed hair fills my senses as I breathe her in. “We can do all the things you want to do.”
“What about this ghost tour?”
I shrug. “If you want.”
“No, I’m kind of a chicken,” she says with a chuckle and I pick up the brochure for the snowmobile tours through the mountain.
“What about this?”
“You know how to ride a snowmobile?”
“Yeah, and it would be gorgeous going through the mountains. If your ankle is up for it.”
“It is, but maybe I just want to stay in our room.” She turns and my heart beats just a little bit faster when she goes up on her toes and presses a kiss to my nose. I love seeing her this excited. Up until now, I never knew that pleasing someone else would give me such pleasure. I guess I must be growing up.
“While I like that idea, I want you to enjoy this place. When we get back home, we can stay in our room all we like.” I consider that, and my stomach tightens because yeah, we agreed that she’d go back to her off-campus house when we returned and when did I start thinking of my room as our room. She was packing and getting ready to leave Thursday and I had better get my shit together, because no matter how much I want to keep her with me, she’s not mine. Not really. I grab our bags, and lead her to the elevator. We go to the top floor, and I usher her off and down the hall. The second I open the door to our room, she gasps and looks at me.
“Christian, this is too much,” she blurts out and starts to back up.
I capture her arm and stop her. “This is the room the family always gets. We have a standing reservation for certain times of year, and Thanksgiving is one of those times, but if you don’t like it…”
“Like it?” she says as I drag her inside and shut the door behind us. “I love it. I think it might be bigger than all of Wolf House.”
I laugh. “Not exactly,” I say and head toward the patio doors. I glance over my shoulder. “Come on in, Maize. Make yourself at home.”
She takes a hesitant step inside and brushes her hand over one of the side tables. “Your family is okay if we just use it?”
“It would just go to waste if we didn’t.” I press a button and the blinds lift to showcase a hot tub with the ski hills lit up in the backdrop.
“So gorgeous,” she murmurs, and her gaze drops to take in the hot tub. “No way.” I laugh and she says, “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“You don’t need one.” She grins at me. “Although there is a heated pool outside which you might want to use. There’s a gift shop. We can get whatever we don’t have.”
“I can make do with what I have,” she says and shakes her head. I grin, loving that about her. She’s definitely not a girl to take, which makes me want to give her things all the more.
She spins and admires the massive living area, kitchenette, and big fireplace. “You know,” she says, her voice a low playful whisper that teases my dick. “I’ve never made love in front of a fireplace before.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she pales slightly. “I didn’t mean make love,” she says quickly, trying to backtrack, but the thought of making love to her on that carpet holds more appeal to me than I wish it would. She laughs, but it holds a measure of unease. Her hands go out, palms up. “I think the romance of this place is getting to me.”
Leaving that comment lingering, I flick on the propane fire. “If I get it really hot in here, it’s going to force us both to get naked, and while I like the thought of that, let’s go get something to eat first. That airplane food is just not cutting it.”
We head back to the main lobby, and I put my hand on the small of her back, stepping close to her as I guide her into the elegant dining room with the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a majestic view of the mountains.
“Christian, welcome back,” Sandra says with a big wide smile as she grabs two menus, her gaze moving over Maize with deep curiosity. “How have you been?”
“Doing great.” I glance around the near empty restaurant. I love being here this time of year. The slopes open on Thanksgiving weekend and it’s usually fairly quiet. Christmas however, it’s insane. Maybe I’ll go back home at Christmas. Maybe Maize and I can hang out. “Happy to be back here for the weekend.”
“We’re happy to have you, and your…friend.”
I laugh, because subtlety is not Sandra’s forte. “Sandra, this is Maize. We both go to Kingston.”
They exchange pleasantries, and then Sandra guides us to the best table in the place, asking me about my classes and football like we’re long lost friends. I do consider her a friend. I ask her about her husband and her son Ben, who was accepted to Penn State this year. We sit, and when Sandra leaves, I find Maize grinning at me.
“What?”
She shakes her head and laughs. “What is it with you and all the middle-aged hostesses anyway?”
I laugh out loud. “I don’t know. I guess they all think I need a mother figure since my own is so absent.”
“Your mother never comes here?”
“She has, when I was younger, but we did our own thing, and I’m not really sure the staff liked her all that much.”
She reaches out and takes my hand. “I think it’s nice the way you treat everyone as equals. No matter who they are or what they do for a living.”
It’s clear to me that she had preconceived notions about those with money. I can understand it, considering how she was treated in high school. Our server comes and Maize orders a glass of wine, and I get a beer.
“I really wish I could hit the slopes with you,” she says as she gazes longingly at the mountain, a few skiers dotting the hills.
“I don’t have to ski. I ca
n hang out with you.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not keeping you from the slopes. Besides, I brought my books, and reading by the fire sounds just about perfect. I like my alone time too, Christian.”
Our drinks arrive and we clink glasses before taking a big sip. “Did you tell your mom you were coming here?” I ask.
She chuckles. “No, I didn’t have time. You mentioned it Thursday and I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath before I was getting up at the crack of dawn to catch a plane.”
“You had all of Friday to call her.”
Her smile falls off, and worry moves in to take its place. “I don’t really want to tell her about us—not that there is an us, but you know what I mean. She’s always saying I work too hard and every Thanksgiving she asks if I’m bringing someone home.”
Understanding she doesn’t want me to meet her mother—and not sure how I feel about that—I lean toward her. “I like that she cares so much about you. I wish I had that kind of closeness with my family, to be honest.”
“You have all the servers and hostesses mothering you wherever you go.” She gives me a smile, but we both know it’s not the same thing.
“I’d never want to be an absent parent.” My humorless laugh curls around us. “Not that I’d know how to be a present one.” She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can get a word out, someone speaks over her.
“Christian,” a familiar female voice says as her steps come to an abrupt stop at our table. “I thought that was you.”
I turn, not at all surprised to find Cynthia Saunders smiling at me. I stand and pull her into my arms. “Cynthia, it’s so nice to see you.”
“You too.” I break the hug and she smiles at Maize.
“This is my friend, Maize,” I say, waving my hand toward her. “We go to Kingston together. Next year though…” I give her a wink. “She’ll be in Harvard Law, just like you.”
“Really?” she asks. “That’s fantastic. I look forward to getting to know you. Any friend of Christian’s…” She gives a laugh. “Although I must warn you. The dean is kind of a tyrant. I’m not sure I’m going to do well at the interviews. We might not be classmates at all.”
“He’s a tyrant?” Maize’s eyes go wide, a little frightened.
“Maize, this is Cynthia Saunders, Dean Saunders’s daughter. She’s kidding. Sort of.”
“Oh,” she says with a laugh, as she playfully taps her head. “I get it. A little slow. Sorry.”
“Not slow at all. It’s been a long day,” I say to Cynthia. “We just got in, actually.”
“I’m not going to keep you, then.” Her brow arches hopefully. “You need to get all the nourishment you can for the slopes tomorrow. Can’t wait to race you down, Christian—and win of course.” She gives Maize a wink. “He’s yet to beat me.”
“That’s because you cheat,” I say as I lean in to give her another hug. “I don’t know how you cheat, but you do.”
“Such a frail male ego,” she says with a laugh. She lowers her voice and whispers into my ear. “I like her, Christian.” We break the hug, and she turns to Maize. “See you guys later. Enjoy dinner.” She walks off and I smile as I sit back down, remembering all our fond times together.
“She’s really pretty,” Maize says.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. I think of Cynthia as a sister. We spent a lot of time here together as kids and teens.
“Did you two ever…” She holds out an index finger and circles it.
I mimic her actions. “Did we ever circle our finger at each other?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s getting at.
She whacks my hand away. “You know what I mean.”
“No. We’re just friends.” I take in the tightening of Maize’s lips. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were jealous.”
She gives a fast shake of her head. “I’m not, not at all. I was just curious.”
“She’s a childhood friend,” I explain again, and lift my beer to salute her before taking a long pull.
She looks at me thoughtfully. “So how does an NFL draft work?” she asks, changing the subject. We order our food, and I spend the next half hour talking about the draft and how it works, and that I’m a draft prospect, and chances of getting picked up are pretty good. She listens intently as our meal comes and we eat, and I know she’s not faking interest because she nods and asks questions at all the right times. I finally set my fork down.
“I’ve been hogging the entire conversation,” I say with a laugh.
“I like hearing about your future.” She wipes her mouth and sets her napkin down on the table. “You said you wanted to be a teacher someday, after your NFL career. Do you think you’ll settle in California?”
“You know, I’m close to my grandmother, but living in California isn’t a must. I can live and teach anywhere. What about you? Where do you want to practice?”
She laughs. “I haven’t thought that far ahead. All I can think about right now is getting into Harvard.”
The server comes back with dessert menus, and we decide to get a big piece of chocolate cake to take back to our room, and I’m glad. I want to get behind closed doors and relax with Maize, no interruptions.
After our cake arrives, we make our way back to the room, and I shut and lock the world out behind us. The place is smoking hot, and I’m beginning to rethink my brilliant plan of leaving the fire on.
“Ohmigod, Christian, it’s a million degrees in here,” Maize says and swipes at her forehead.
I crack the patio door to let the heat out, and when I turn back, Maize is stripping her clothes off, and in that instant, I decide leaving the fire on was the absolute right decision.
She plays coy and glances at me over her shoulder. “Are you going to stand there and gawk, or are you going to help me check sex in front of the fire off my bucket list?”
“Like you even have to ask.”
I rip my shirt off and make my way to her, my heart beating faster than it should, because no matter how hard I try, how much I know I have to, I’m not sure I can let her walk out of my life. She turns, drops to her knees, and pops the button on my pants. Her hands capture my cock, and I groan as her sweet lips wrap around me. That’s when I realize just how fucked I really am.
In so many ways.
18
Maize
“This is only the best chocolate cake I’ve ever eaten,” I moan before I shove another forkful into my mouth.
Christian laughs, and glances at the clock. “Cake always tastes great at eight in the morning.”
“Hey don’t judge me.” I point my fork at him as I cross the room, and sit on the coffee table across from him as he sips his coffee. “We’re on vacation, and what we eat, and when we eat, doesn’t matter.” I cut into the cake and hold it out for him. He takes the bite and moans. “Also,” I add. “Calories don’t count on vacation either.”
“You might be right. That is the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Or maybe the second.” He grins and points between my legs. “Or third.” He points to my right breast. “Or fourth.” He points to my left breast. Laughing he adds, “I guess you get my drift. It’s the best thing I’ve put in my mouth, after you.”
I laugh and he hands me his coffee. I take a sip to wash down the cake. It’s weird, sharing food and drinks like this. Deeply intimate. I almost laugh. We’ve been having crazy sex, and yet I find drinking from his mug more intimate. That ball to the head must have messed me up more than I realized.
A knock comes on the door. “That’s breakfast,” he says and pushes to his feet.
I set the cake plate down. “I didn’t know you ordered.”
“You were in the shower.”
“Is that who you were talking to when I came into the room?” A short while ago after showering, I entered the room and found him on the phone, talking quietly, like he didn’t want me to overhear him.
Instead of answering, he reaches for
his wallet and walks to the door. Okay, so avoiding that question isn’t strange at all. Unless it wasn’t room service he was talking to.
A burst of old insecurities crash through me and I quickly push them down. I am spending this last weekend with him, and I damn well plan on enjoying every second. If he was on the phone making plans with some girl for when our time together is over, it’s none of my business.
I glance at the full tray with silver domes covering the plates as he rolls it toward the table. “How much did you order?”
“I wasn’t sure what you felt like.”
My heart wobbles. He really is so sweet. “I think I might be too full from the cake.” I didn’t realize he was ordering in, and when I came from the shower and saw the cake from last night, I couldn’t help myself. Usually, I’m much more disciplined. I think Christian is ruining me, and I’m not even mad about it…because of that decadent cake.
“If I had known, I wouldn’t have eaten the cake.” I stand and head to the table. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His smile is so soft and tender, it wraps around my stupid heart and squeezes. “Because if you want cake, you should have cake.”
He begins to remove the silver domes and a silly laugh catches in my throat. “I have never had room service before, Christian.” As I take in the abundance of food, it drives home the fact that Christian and I really are from different worlds.
“You’re kidding. Not even when you traveled for competitions?”
“Nope, we all ate like cattle in the buffet line.” I take the lid off one and find a plate of bacon. I snatch up a slice and bite into it.
“I thought you were too full.”
I give him a look that suggests he’s insane. “There’s always room for bacon.”
He laughs and gestures for me to sit. “So fancy,” I say as he removes all the lids and puts the plates in the center of the table. “Want to hear something funny?”
“Always.”
He sits and we each help ourselves to what we want. I go straight for the strawberries. “When I was young, do you know what represented wealth to me?”