Reluctantly Austin pulled away and started zipping everything up. Sam, understanding, followed suit, getting her helmet and face mask together. When Austin reached for his gloves, Sam let out a laugh.
“Those things are even older than your cell phone,” she said, finding her mittens on the floor. “What are they, a hundred? A hundred and fifty years old?”
“Nice.” He smirked. “Try a mere fourteen.”
“Fourteen-year-old gloves? That’s awfully specific. Why even keep them that long?”
And in case he started thinking there was something growing here, here it was: the reminder of why he shouldn’t move so fast. Because the words stung. The way she asked, it was like she was laughing at him. He could feel himself clamming up already.
“I already told you, it’s the magic of duct tape. No need to get rid of them when they work fine.”
“That’s what I’m going to need to keep me together once you’re through with me.”
Austin raised an eyebrow.
“The skiing,” Sam shot back. “I was talking about the skiing!”
“Funny,” Austin said, wrapping her in his arms once more. “I was thinking of all the other things I’m going to do with you. None of which have you in this.” He tugged at her parka, slowly unzipping it again. He could keep this physical. He didn’t have to tell her anything more.
Sam grabbed his hand. “I thought you had some place to be, Coach.”
“I can be late,” he murmured, his lips brushed against hers.
“Something tells me you’re never late.”
“That’s why I get a pass today.”
Sam shook her head, pushing him away. “The patrol guys will talk.”
“They always talk.”
“The girls on the team will talk.”
“They talk even more.”
“This is what happens when you get so focused on what’s in front of you.”
“Mmm, like Sam.”
She tasted like winter itself, the cold of her lips, the warmth of her tongue. But she pushed him away and passed him his helmet.
“You lead. I’m counting on you to get me down to the trail alive.”
He flashed a grin at her. “Have I let you down so far?”
“Please.” Sam rolled her eyes. “It’s, like, not even noon.”
“Nope, almost one. That’s when my shift ends. I’ve got to eat something before practice at two.”
“One?” Sam exclaimed. She grabbed his hand and dragged him back to their skis.
“You’ve got somewhere to be?” he asked, confused.
“Two o’clock call.”
“Work?”
“You guessed it.”
He sighed as he buckled his skis. “What’s the meeting about?”
He was just making conversation, but Sam looked frozen on the spot.
“Don’t worry about it. I won’t bug you about the details,” he said, backtracking.
“Sorry, it’s just that I don’t really have time to get into it now.” She wrapped the straps of her poles around her wrists.
“The boss will kill you if you’re late?”
“More like the board. But yeah, that’s the basic idea.”
Austin stared at her. “I was just kidding,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m not.”
It wasn’t the kind of comment he could just drop. What did she do, anyway? And how could she be up here, taking time off, and still have so much to deal with? But she was in a rush, and he didn’t want to get in the way. “I’ll show you the shortcut back to the base. It’s a quick stretch, you barely have to turn.”
“You barely turn anyway,” Sam accused.
“I didn’t think you had a problem with being direct.”
Sam glanced down at her stomach, then flashed a flirty grin. Austin groaned. He had to start skiing or else he’d be on top of her, right there in the snow, not giving a damn about the cold. Or their jobs. Or what anyone skiing by might see.
Chapter Ten
Sam stood in the shower, letting the hot water pound over her. She soaped her stomach, lingering over the plane between her belly button and her hip. Remembering the trace of him, the dirty thrill as she came in and stripped off her clothes.
She’d say she couldn’t believe what she’d done in the woods, but of course she could. Believe it, want it, relive it. Crave it all over again. The rational part of her knew this had to stop. Too bad the rest of her had other ideas.
How fast had she gone from this isn’t happening to head back, legs parted, screaming his name? He’d felt every inch of her trembling around his fingers. She’d come on his face, pressed to his tongue. Grasped him as he came on her, a gesture so deeply personal it felt almost more intimate than fucking.
She pulled on a hotel bathrobe, hair damp and messy, clothes littering the floor. Cleaned up and away from Austin’s touch, her real life stared at her accusingly from the papers and blueprints scattered across her room. This was who she was. Not someone reckless, passionate, and free to do as she pleased, but someone endlessly scrolling through emails. She had a company to run. And, even more pressing, she had to prove herself able to do it.
She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and tied the robe tighter around her. She didn’t look very executive right now, but that was the beauty of the conference call. Nobody had to know that Fortune 500’s top Woman to Watch had just wiped come off her stomach after screaming the name of a man she’d met fewer than twenty-four hours before.
Not that there was anything wrong with that, she reminded herself. Men got to shoot their load wherever they wanted and still be presidents and CEOs.
So she liked sex. So she liked it with the guy her company was pressuring with a hard sell. Was that so wrong? It didn’t mean she had to tell him everything. It didn’t mean she had to get derailed.
Her phone dinged, announcing it was time. She called the office and got the news from the day, the accounts they had in progress, the deals that were already set. When it was Jim’s turn to give an update, he powered through with gruff formality, no indication of the twenty-plus text messages he’d left her before—at last—abruptly dropping the issue, as though if he couldn’t have her, he’d pretend they’d never done anything at all.
“Where are we on the Gold Mountain deal?” a VP demanded as soon as the first items on the agenda were done.
She was sitting on her bed with the sheets pulled back, legs crossed, bathrobe gaping so she could see the swell of her breasts in the mirror over the desk across from the bed. She looked like a stranger to herself, someone whose thighs were sore from skiing, from moguls, from clenching tight as she pressed her back against a worn wooden wall. But when she spoke, she was Samantha Kane all the way.
“As Steven has informed you, I’ve made contact with Mr. Reede. We’ll be ironing out the details tomorrow, Friday at the very latest. I will of course keep you informed.”
She meant it to sound final, but a volley of complaints rose through the phone.
“This is the best way to ensure Mr. Reede submits to the deal.” She nearly choked on her word choice but powered through. “I’ve made more progress with him in twenty-four hours than we did in months of letters and calls.”
She didn’t know how she’d become this person who lied so easily, to Austin that she knew nothing of the Kane deal, to her board that she was getting that very deal done. But this was the only way to keep them from closing in on her like vultures circling their prey.
“We’ve received a call from the Hendersons’ lawyer,” Jim said. “They’re threatening to find another buyer if there’s any more delay.”
“No one can match what we’re offering,” Sam said dismissively. “It’s posturing. They’ve waited this long—they can live through another day.”
“And if Mr. Reede proves as intractable as he’s always been?” She could hear the wry amusement in Jim’s voice. He wanted her to sweat in front of the board. He wanted to show
that he could make her dance.
Sam stood and tightened the bathrobe around her. Body posture alone could change how you sounded on the phone. She used to practice for hours how to stand, how to breathe, speaking from low in her diaphragm, finding the register to make it sound natural, like nothing anyone would dream of arguing against. The hardest parts of the job worked only when they seemed effortless, when everyone was fooled.
“Mr. Reede is signing tomorrow,” she repeated. “Then the completed proposal goes to the Hendersons. We’ve waited years for this. We can wait another day.”
“What assurance do we have?” another voice piped up, followed by a diatribe about wasting company time and money on a “wild-goose chase.” “As your board, we’re authorized to take a vote if we deem you unfit to—”
“I suggest you think long and hard about what you’re insinuating before you finish that sentence.” Sam’s voice became so cold it would have terrified her had she been on the receiving end.
“If you could tell us what you’re doing to get Reede to change his mind—” Jim started, like he was too ballsy—or stupid—to care what Sam had just said. She cut him off. There’d be no more questioning her professionalism in front of the team.
“I’ll be on email the rest of the day and will send a memo when the sale is complete. In the meantime, we still have other accounts. I want those action items for the Trident building.”
She ended the call before she could hear whatever quips and gripes came through before they fully disconnected their phones. That was how she’d first heard her nickname, one person complaining to another that the wolf was at it again.
So let them have their names. It was probably good for morale, or bonding, or whatever. The sale would come through and then they’d see.
Tomorrow. She’d spend the night with Austin, get this thing out of her system, and then she’d present him with the papers he needed to sign. As much as she hated to admit Jim was right, she did need to remember her priorities.
Still, two days of skiing wouldn’t ruin anything. Some people even took vacations for multiple days! In a row! She sat back down on the bed. She was going to close her eyes for a second. Then she’d call the Hendersons to reassure them the ink on their final part of the deal would be dry by the end of the week.
The next thing she knew, it was dark in her room and the phone was vibrating in her hand. She’d fallen asleep on top of the covers, still clutching the phone, and Austin was texting her.
I picked up those things I needed, he said.
Condoms, he had condoms. Sam felt a flutter rising inside her again.
Lucky me, she wrote back.
Her phone buzzed with his response. It’s going to be a tough competition for luckiest.
She didn’t have to rack her brain for a response. Too bad for you I always win.
She smiled in the dark, her lids heavy, her legs even sorer than when she’d fallen asleep. Her yoga instructor would kill her if she knew how Sam had flopped into bed without stretching. The text came back right away: 7 pm. Dinner at my place. I’ll pick you up. It’s on.
Perfect. He could drop her back at her car at Mack Daddy’s when they were done.
The Dipper, she reminded herself quickly. Better use the proper name if by the end of the week she was going to officially own all this land, including the peak, the resort, half of Austin’s property, and the restaurant.
She checked her email again, dealing with any fires that needed to be put out while flagging whatever could wait. She was just going through the motions, though, her mind entirely elsewhere. Usually getting ready for a date involved some kind of song and dance. Would they or wouldn’t they? What exactly would the night entail? But Austin had specifically let her know that he had condoms. They’d left it with the promise that he was going to—fuck her, that’s what he’d said. She felt a warm flush spread across her chest. Was it a booty call if there was dinner involved? If it was at his house? If she really, really liked him?
Could she still like him if she knew there was no potential there?
She hoped the sex would be good enough to make up for how angry he was going to be.
But she’d known from their first kiss that it would be worth it.
It already was.
Sam grabbed her hat, scarf, and gloves and put on her boots. On her way out she stopped at the small shop on the first floor of the hotel. She walked through the aisles seeing the blueprints overlaid in her mind, where the walls were going to be knocked down, the store expanded to stock gourmet prepared foods and quick meals to supplement the full grocery store that would open farther down the access road.
She lingered over a bottle of wine but wound up grabbing a chilled six-pack instead, not sure what Austin liked but remembering he’d had beer the night before. At the register she had another idea. She bundled up and walked to the main lodge at the base of the mountain. Inside was a ski store, and she found exactly what she was looking for, including a man working the floor who tried them on for her, making sure they’d fit. “Warm but breathable,” he promised. “Trust me, your boyfriend will love them.”
She almost corrected him, then let the comment stand. What was she going to say? They’re just for the guy I’m fucking tonight. A little thank-you for how hard he already made me come once today. She hoped the clerk couldn’t see how much she was blushing from her own thoughts.
She walked back to the hotel and waited for Austin outside, minimizing the risk of a run-in with the concierge. She wondered what his place was like inside, where his friends lived, what they thought of Austin holding out against the Kanes. Were they all out here in the woods? Did they like it? Did they long for anything else?
The thought of Connor’s beet burger made her mouth water. Whatever Kane Enterprises wound up doing with the Dipper, they were going to have to convince Connor to stay on. Maybe they’d tear it down and build something with the same kind of charm that wasn’t actually falling apart. Mack could be the bartender, not just beer but a full bar, cocktails…
She was getting ahead of herself. She held the paper bag with her purchases close to her chest. Food, sex, sleep, sale. Maybe she could fit in an afternoon of skiing after everything was done. No matter what, by this time Friday she’d be driving toward the city lights, over four billion dollars’ worth of land and property in her company’s name.
Or maybe the order was sex, then food. When Austin pulled up, Sam almost kissed him right when she got into the truck, except the valet guys were there. He wore a black beanie loose on his head, bits of hair sticking out underneath. He smelled of soap with a hint of wood smoke. When he pulled up to his house, she knew why. Smoke rose from the chimney, a fire burning low in the fireplace. He stoked it back up and added fresh logs when they walked in.
“I should have asked you before, but are you okay with dogs?” he asked.
Before Sam could say yes, an enormous German shepherd with a glossy coat came up and stuck her wet nose to Sam’s outstretched hand.
“Sorry, she’s way too friendly. Give her a chance to come in, Chloe,” he scolded. “Not everyone wants to be your new best friend.”
Sam laughed and let Chloe sniff her. When the dog seemed satisfied, Sam reached out and ran her fingers through her fur.
“I didn’t know you had a dog,” Sam said, then felt silly, because even though she’d driven by his house before—which she was never going to tell him—there were a million things she didn’t know about Austin. Like what he’d done after his injury. Or what he liked to do besides ski. A million things she’d never ask, because she didn’t want him turning the questions on her.
“It smells great in here,” she said to cover her blunder, and pulled the six-pack from the bag.
“Nice,” he said. “Leave your things by the door, I’ll get a bottle opener. Do you want a glass?”
“Bottle’s fine,” she said, pulling off her boots and hanging up her jacket.
Bachelor in the mountains coul
d go very, very wrong. But the house, though small, was inviting. The doorway opened into a living room with comfortable furniture, a matching heather-green sofa and love seat angled around the fireplace, a television mounted above. Stairs led to a lofted bedroom—she could see the edge of the bed, and what looked like the feet of an antique wood dresser upstairs. Next to the living room was a dining area with a large round table, and behind it an open kitchen where something delicious-smelling bubbled on the stove.
She went to stand by the sliding glass doors and looked out at what she could make of the view in the dark. There was a backyard covered in snow, and then behind it, nothing but trees. There were no neighbors, no lights, no intrusions from the outside world. Hell, she could see why he was so attached.
“It’s not much,” Austin said, coming up with two opened beers. “But it’s home.”
Sam smiled as she took her beer. “It’s perfect,” she said. And so are you, she almost added, eyeing him up and down with a quick flutter in her chest. He was wearing a button-down fitted tight across his pecs, the sleeves rolled up to expose the blond hair on his arms. She wanted to sink to her knees right there and yank off his belt, feel the satisfying slide of the leather as she pulled it through the loops, drawing out his pleasure, her fun.
Instead, he gestured for her to sit on the couch. So they were going to be polite about it. Okay. At the last minute she remembered her gift.
“I have something for you.” She brought him the other package.
He eyed her uncertainly as he unfolded the bag.
“Not much of a wrapping job,” she apologized.
“You weren’t supposed to get me anything.”
She shrugged. “I wanted to. Come on, open it.” She was getting excited anticipating the look on his face, how grateful he was going to be. Men were so hard to shop for, and yet as soon as she’d had the idea, she’d known it was perfect. The best presents were the ones there was no reason for. Just a simple way to show she’d been thinking of him.
But when he reached into the bag, his face froze, his jaw tightening in a way she’d never seen before. Even before he said, “I can’t accept this, Sam,” she knew that somehow, without meaning to, she’d done something wrong.
Make Me Stay (Men of Gold Mountain) Page 9