by Ana Huang
I mimed gagging. “Unless you want my vomit decorating your fancy ski suit, I suggest you stop talking and start teaching.”
“I can’t teach without talking, genius.”
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”
After another few minutes of bickering, we strapped on our skis and got down to business. I wasn’t a total novice, so I picked up the basics quickly. In theory, anyway.
I had the etiquette down pat, but we hit a tiny bump when Josh ran me through a series of exercises designed to make me more comfortable on skis.
“Shit!” Frustration welled in my stomach when my ass hit the ground for what must’ve been the dozenth time.
I didn’t remember it being so hard the first time around. I prided myself on being a fast learner, but we’d been at it for the better part of the morning and I’d only marginally improved.
“Let’s try again.”
To my surprise, Josh had remained calm during our entire lesson, never yelling or teasing me for not picking up what eleven-year-olds around us were accomplishing so spectacularly. Every time I messed up, he repeated the same three words. Let’s try again.
For the first time, I saw what he must be like in the emergency room: cool, level-headed, patient. It was strangely comforting, though I’d never admit it.
“I don’t think I’m built for skiing.” I pushed myself off the ground with a wince. “I propose we ditch the slopes for hot chocolate and people watching. We can guess who’s here with their mistress and who’ll be the first to hook up with a staff member.”
The we slipped out without thinking. Since when did I voluntarily include Josh in my activities? But people watching was no fun without someone to appreciate my insights, and since Ava was preoccupied, her brother was my only option.
Josh walked toward me, his steps slow and precise, until he was so close I could smell the faint, delicious scent of his cologne.
I forced myself not to shift beneath the weight of his scrutiny.
“We could do that,” he said. “But that would be quitting. Are you a quitter, Jules?”
My pulse kicked up at the sound of my name in that deep, slightly husky voice. Had he always sounded like that, or was I going crazy? His voice used to pierce my eardrums like nails dragging across a chalkboard. Now, it was…
Nope. Not going there.
“No.” I held his stare even as another bead of sweat rolled down my spine, leaving a trail of heat and electricity in its wake. “I’m not.”
The mere suggestion I was a quitter made my teeth clench.
“Good,” Josh said, still in that calm, even voice. “Try again.”
I did, again and again, until my muscles screamed and exhaustion clawed at my bones. But I would get the hang of this. I’d mastered harder things than skiing, and failure wasn’t an option. I needed to prove to myself I could do this. My pride wouldn’t allow anything else.
All the torture finally paid off an hour later when I completed all the exercises without falling and Josh proclaimed me ready for the bunny slope.
“Good job.” The corners of his mouth pulled up just the tiniest bit. “You caught on faster than most people.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to detect any hint of sarcasm, but he sounded sincere.
Huh.
We walked to the top of the hill, where Josh gestured toward a spot in the distance.
“We’ll take it easy,” he said. “I’m going to stand there, and I want you to ski down and stop in front of me using the snowplow. Do you need me to go over how to do it again?”
“No. I got it.”
My stomach jumped with nerves and anticipation as Josh took his spot and motioned for me to join him.
Here goes nothing.
I took a deep breath and started my descent. I was going a little faster than I should, given the short distance to Josh, but that was fine. I could just snowplow early.
Honestly, this wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of exhilarating—the wind in my face, the fresh mountain air, the smooth glide of my skis against the snow. It was nothing like my weekend with Max. I might even—
“Stop!”
Josh’s shout yanked me out of my rambling thoughts, and alarm kicked me in the gut when I realized how fast I was speeding toward him.
Shit. I pushed the backs of my skis out to form an inverted V, the way he’d taught me, but it was too late. Velocity propelled me faster and faster down the hill until—
“Fuck!” I crashed into Josh with enough force to knock both of us to the ground.
My breath whooshed out of my lungs in a painful rush, and he let out an audible grunt as I landed on top of him, our limbs akimbo, snow spraying up and sprinkling us with tiny white crystals.
“What part of stop don’t you understand?” he growled, annoyance stamped on every inch of his face.
“I tried to stop,” I said defensively. “It didn’t work.”
“Obviously.” Josh let out a small cough. “Christ, I think you bruised my ribs.”
“Stop being dramatic. You’re fine.” Nevertheless, I glanced down to make sure we weren’t bleeding and that our arms and legs weren’t bent at unnatural angles. I couldn’t see bruised ribs, but his face wasn’t scrunched in pain or anything, so I assumed he wasn’t dying.
“You could’ve killed me.”
I rolled my eyes. And people said I was a drama queen.
“It was a fall, Chen. You could’ve moved out of the way.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised you’re blaming me for something you did wrong. You’re something else, JR.”
“Stop calling me JR.” It was an inane argument to have while we were plastered together on the snow, but I was so freaking sick of that nickname. Every time I heard it, I lost a fraction of my sanity.
“Fine.” The annoyance evaporated from Josh’s expression and gave way to lazy mischief. “You’re something else, Red.”
“Red. How creative,” I said flatly. “I’m baffled by how you come up with such unique and totally not obvious nicknames.”
“Didn’t realize you spent so much time thinking about my nicknames for you.” Josh tugged on a lock of my hair, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. “And I’m not calling you Red because of your hair color. I’m calling you Red because you make me see red half the time. Plus, it rolls off the tongue better than JR.”
My answering smile contained enough sugar to give him diabetes on the spot. “I can see how two syllables might be too much for your puny brain to handle.”
“Babe, nothing about me is puny.” Josh lowered his hand and let it drift to my shoulder, where it lingered long enough to sear through layers of fabric and into my bones.
My breath caught in my throat. An unwitting mental image of his nothing flashed through my mind, and a hum of electricity surged through my blood, so swift and unexpected I lost my words.
For the first time in my life, I couldn’t think of a single comeback.
Instead, I was suddenly, painfully aware of how close we were. I still lay on top of him from our fall, and our torsos pressed so tight against each other I could feel his heartbeat—fast, erratic, and completely at odds with his languorous drawl. The white plumes of our breaths mingled in the tiny distance between our faces, and a brief zing of surprise traveled through me at the sight.
Considering the tightness in my chest, I hadn’t thought I was breathing at all.
Josh’s smile faded, but his hand remained on my shoulder—a whisper-light touch compared to his earlier hair tug, yet enough for me to feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
I licked my parched lips, and his eyes darkened before dipping to my mouth.
The hum of electricity transformed into a bolt of lightning, lighting me up from the inside.
I should get off him. I needed to get off him before my thoughts wandered down even more disturbing paths, but there was something so reassuring about the solid weight of his body beneath mine. He smelled like wi
nter and heat all wrapped into one, and it was making me light-headed.
It’s just the mountain air. Get yourself together.
“Jules,” he said softly.
“Yeah?” The word stuck in my throat before it came out all wrong. Weird and raspy and not at all like my normal voice.
“On a scale of one to ten, how badly do you want to fuck me right now?”
The moment shattered into a thousand pieces.
My skin flamed as I shoved myself off him, making sure to jab my elbow into his face as I did so.
“Negative one thousand,” I hissed. “Times infinity.”
Josh’s laugh erased any goodwill he’d accrued during our ski lessons.
I couldn’t believe I thought he might be somewhat tolerable. One semi-decent morning didn’t change the fact he was the same insufferable, cocky ass he’d always been.
The worst part was, he wasn’t entirely wrong. There had been a moment, just the briefest one, when I’d imagined what his hands would feel like on my skin. What his mouth would taste like, whether he liked it long and slow or fast and hard.
A ball of angry embarrassment formed in my throat. Clearly, I needed to get laid, and fast, if I was fantasizing about freaking Josh Chen.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” Josh pushed himself up, his mouth curved into a smug grin even as his eyes simmered with banked heat. The sight made me feel somewhat better. At least I wasn’t the only one affected by our proximity. “We can make it happen, you know. I’m no longer opposed to the idea. Our relationship is progressing.”
“The only relationship we have is in your dreams.” I yanked my cap off and ran a hand through my tousled hair. “We’re done with lessons.”
“Quitter.” The soft mockery prickled against my skin, but I didn’t take the bait again.
“I’m not quitting. I’m postponing.” I jutted out my chin. “I’ll sign up for real lessons with the resort tomorrow. Maybe I’ll get the guy from the lobby as my instructor.” Blond hair, eager smile, muscled body. Lobby Guy might as well have Ski Bro stamped on his forehead. “I’m sure I’ll actually enjoy my time with him.”
Josh’s grin took on a hard edge. “Whatever you need to tell yourself, Red.”
Instead of responding, I turned on my heels and stormed away as gracefully as I could in skis. I should’ve taken them off before my grand exit, but it was too late now.
The dull ache of irritation throbbed in my stomach and intensified the closer I got to the lodge. God, I was an idiot. I should’ve known better than to—
Out of nowhere, the ache escalated into blinding pain. It ripped through me like a serrated blade and forced me to double over with a small gasp.
No. No, no, no.
My pulse roared in my ears.
It was too early. It wasn’t supposed to happen until next week.
But when another spike of pain caused tears to form in my eyes, it was clear Mother Nature didn’t give a damn about my schedules.
It was happening now, and there was nothing I could do about it.
12
JOSH
After Jules stormed off, I squeezed in one run down the advanced ski slope before I met up with Alex and Ava for lunch.
I assumed Jules had returned to the lodge after our failed ski lesson, but the fourth spot at the table was conspicuously empty.
I eyed it, distractedly answering Ava’s questions about how my morning went, before I asked, “Where’s the redheaded menace? Off sticking pins in a voodoo doll somewhere?”
Considering the way she’d stomped off, I wouldn’t be surprised if the voodoo doll was of me.
I didn’t know what possessed me to offer her ski lessons in the first place. I blamed it on the mountain air and the champagne I’d imbibed on the flight, but spending a morning with Jules hadn’t been as terrible as I’d expected. Plus, it’d been worth it for her reaction alone when I asked how badly she wanted to fuck me.
My mouth tugged up at the memory of Jules’s crimson cheeks. She could deny it all she wanted, but she’d thought about it. I’d seen it in her eyes, felt in the shallow rise and fall of her chest against mine.
She hadn’t been the only one thinking impure thoughts.
Our fall had been an accident, but the way her curves molded to my body had been a revelation. We’d both been bundled up in winter clothing, but in my mind, we might as well have been naked. I could picture it so vividly—her silky skin, her lush curves, her aggravating snark melting into a moan as I fucked her senseless…
Fuck.
I snapped open my napkin and placed it over my lap. My cock strained against my zipper, and I prayed neither Alex nor Ava noticed my uneven breaths as I reached for my glass again.
I didn’t know what was in the air that made me fantasize about Jules so much today, but it was fucking with my head. I’d been this close to doing something crazy earlier, like—
“She texted and said she’s not feeling well.” Ava sipped her water, her expression cagey. “She’s resting at the cabin.”
My arousal cooled at the new information. “She was fine an hour ago.”
Alex arched an eyebrow. “How do you know?”
Shit. “I, uh, ran into her on the slopes.”
“Jules said she didn’t go skiing.” Suspicion flared in Ava’s eyes. “She stayed at the lodge after she picked up her phone from the cabin.”
Double shit. “Maybe she went to the ski run first, then changed her mind.” I lifted my shoulders in what I hoped was a casual shrug. “Who knows? Her mind works in strange ways.”
A tiny smirk touched Alex’s mouth.
Luckily, the waiter arrived and saved me from further interrogation. After we placed our orders, I shifted the conversation to Ava’s latest assignment at World Geographic magazine, where she worked as a junior photographer. Nothing animated her more than talking about photography.
I half-listened as my sister rambled on about her project documenting the city’s street art scene. I loved her, but I gave zero shits about photography.
My eyes strayed again to Jules’s empty seat. Knowing her, she had a minor headache and was claiming near-death symptoms.
Probably.
Maybe.
She’s fine. I cut into my chicken with unnecessary force.
Whether Jules was being her usual dramatic self by forgoing lunch or actually dying, I didn’t care. It had absolutely nothing to do with me.
By the time lunch ended, I’d pushed Jules out of my mind…for the most part. I didn’t blink when Ava left to check on Jules and bring her lunch, but my muscles knotted when she insisted Alex and I hit the slopes without her.
I’d avoided one-on-one interactions with Alex all morning. It seemed my luck had run out.
I fixed my eyes on the horizon as we walked toward the triple black diamond, our conversation consisting of nothing more than the soft crunch of our boots in the snow.
We’d exchanged a few sentences here and there at lunch, but Ava and I had dominated the discussion while Alex ate quietly.
That had always been our dynamic, even before our falling out. I talked, he listened. I was the extrovert, and he was the introvert. Ava used to jokingly call us yin and yang.
I could say the same for her relationship with Alex. Her sunny optimism was as far removed from Alex’s icy cynicism as the sun was from the moon, but they somehow made it work.
“Fifty bucks says Ava stays with Jules and doesn’t join us,” Alex said as we approached the ski run.
I snorted. “No bet. Jules always drags her into shit. I wouldn’t be surprised if we returned to the cabin and found the place on fire.”
Unless, of course, Jules really was incapacitated. Ava hadn’t elaborated on what she’d meant when she said Jules “wasn’t feeling well.”
Was it a migraine? A stomachache? Was she hurt after she’d crashed into me earlier?
Worry clawed up my throat before I forced it back down. She’d stomped off well enou
gh after my joke. She was fine. If she wasn’t, Ava would’ve freaked out more.
Before Alex could answer, our phones emitted simultaneous pings. We checked our messages, and I shook my head when I read the texts.
Ava: I’m staying with Jules for a bit. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you at dinner.
Ava: Have fun! xx
“You called it.” I pocketed my cell. I wasn’t sure whether Jules needed Ava to stay with her, or if this was another one of Ava’s attempts to force me and Alex to make up. Probably both. “What’s up with Jules, anyway? Ava didn’t say.” I kept my tone as casual as possible.
“I didn’t ask.”
Of course he didn’t. Alex only cared about two people, and both their names started with an A.
“Well, I’m sure she’s okay.” I slid my goggles off my head and over my eyes.
“You seem unusually concerned with her well-being. I thought you hated her.”
My spine turned rigid at the implication. “I’m not, and I do.”
“Right.”
I ignored his knowing glance and angled my head down the hill. “Race you to the bottom.”
It was part olive branch, part distraction. I’d been handing out a lot of those lately. But if I could thaw my relationship with Jules—only a little bit, for short bursts of time—perhaps I could do the same with Alex.
It didn’t mean I forgave him. I had no trouble holding onto a grudge, but actively hating someone was exhausting, especially when you were stuck in close proximity to them for an extended period of time. And these days, I was just so damn tired all the time. Even when I was physically fine, I was mentally exhausted.
Life chipped away at me, bit by bit, and I didn’t know how to reclaim any of the pieces I lost.
Surprise passed through Alex’s face before the tiniest of smiles graced his lips. “Loser buys drinks for the rest of the weekend.”
“Considering I’m a struggling medical resident and you’re a fucking millionaire, I’m getting the short end of the stick,” I grumbled.