Dashing Through the Snow

by M. Leighton

  “A woman answered your phone. I was…I was surprised. You hadn’t mention you’d started seeing anyone. I didn’t feel like talking to you after that. But I’m fine now. I hate that you made the trip.”

  “She’s just a friend. She has a twisted sense of humor. Thought it might be my mom, checking in on me because I was running late.”

  “A friend, huh?”

  “Yes, a friend. Like I said.” He shrugs. “She’s dating Chase. You remember Chase, don’t you?” He doesn’t give me time to answer. “If I’d started seeing someone, I’d have told you. You know me better than that, D.”

  His use of his pet name for me, just the letter D, causes a little shiver of unease to skitter through me. That and the look on his face.

  “I…I’m actually glad you called, and then didn’t answer. It more or less forced me to do something I’ve been wanting to do for a while and just haven’t had the balls to do.”

  “Jake, I—”

  “No, Dilyn, let me finish. I…I made a mistake when I broke things off with you. I’ve never loved someone the way I loved you and it scared me. I’m man enough to admit that. I acted like a total pussy and pushed you away instead of trusting you and telling you how I felt, instead of waiting for you to get to a place where you could commit. I’ve regretted it ever since, but you seemed to recover so quickly, I didn’t think you felt the same way. At least not until the other night in my office.” Jake steps closer to me, moving through the doorway and into the cabin to put his hands on my arms. “I know you still have feelings for me, and I came to ask you to give us another chance. I’m in love with you, D. I’ve never stopped being in love with you. I don’t think I ever will. I tried to stop, but I just…I couldn’t. I can’t. You’re the one for me, and if you’ll just give me a chance, I think I can prove that to you.”

  I take a step back. Oh God. Oh, God!

  I’m hyper aware of a sleeping, very naked Dash, lying on the other side of the sofa, curled up on a bear skin rug we had hot sex on a few hours ago.

  “Jake, I—”

  “I’ve known this for a long time. Two years, in fact, but I know this must feel sudden to you, so please, take all the time you need. I only ask that you consider it. Consider giving us another chance. At least that way you won’t look back and have regrets like I do. Give it another chance. Please.”

  I rub at my forehead, wishing I could ease the ache behind it. This is too much. For right now, for early in the morning, for this situation—it’s just too much.

  “Can we talk about this later? I didn’t get much sleep and I—”

  “Of course. Yeah, yeah. Of course. Why don’t you get your stuff and I’ll take you back to town with me? We can fly out today.”

  My brain…it’s spinning. My heart…it’s torn.

  I can’t deny that I’ve wished to hear something like this from Jake. But that was before Dash.

  Dash.

  Something in my chest, something in my gut twirls and dances at the thought of him. At the thought of what we shared. At the thought of what we could have.

  I consider my conclusion from last night when Dash pushed me to evaluate my love for Jake. I was the one who shed doubt on my feelings.

  “If I had any real feelings for Jake, there is no way I’d have been so attracted to you.”

  “Did you think you were still in love with him? Prior to that, I mean.”

  My answer had been fairly clear. Final.

  “I used to love him, and I miss him, and, at that moment, I really wanted him to kiss me.”

  But then after that, I slept with Dash, and I loved every single second with him. More than I could’ve imagined. And now I want more with him. There’s no question. Yes, I’m attracted to him physically, but we connected on a deeper, emotional level, which has taken me by surprise.

  Could we have something more?

  But then reality intrudes.

  He’s a celebrity. A celebrity athlete who goes through beautiful women like some men go through cases of beer. This...last night…it might not have meant anything to him. It might have just been a great night and now it’s over. Time to go back to regular life. But I can’t know yet because we haven’t talked about it.

  Then again, would we have? Would we have talked about it today? It was just one night. One amazing night, but still just one night. Does one night ever change anything? Especially for a man like him, one who admittedly gets his adrenaline highs from being a daredevil because he doesn’t love anyone enough to stop?

  I’d be a fool to risk something that could be real on the chance that Dash could like me. Just like. Not love. We don’t even know each other. Of course he doesn’t love me.

  Like I don’t love him.

  Right?

  A crack opens up right down the center of my heart simply thinking those words. Because what if I do love him, or at least what if I could love him? Is it worth everything to see, to try, to find out?

  I’m so confused, and it’s making it so much worse that Jake is standing here, staring at me and Dash is lying a few feet away with no clothes on.

  “O-okay. Why don’t you keep the engine running and the heat on while I pack up my few things and brush my teeth? I’ll be right out.”

  I give him what I hope is a natural smile and step back. He returns it, looking more than a little relieved, and turns to walk back the way he came. When he’s off the porch, I shut the door and lean back against it.

  Oh, Lord, have mercy. What in the world have I gotten myself into?

  I walk lightly, quietly around the couch to where Dash is still asleep in the floor, completely oblivious to what just transpired and what kind of a conundrum I’m in. Oddly, I wish he were awake so I could talk to him about it, which seems insane considering he’s one of the biggest issues. But I do. I wish he’d open his eyes, ask me what’s wrong and hold me as I talk it out with him, tell him how I’m feeling, hope that he tells me something similar.

  And he would talk this out with me, just like he pushed me last night to work through what was on my heart. Jake’s not dating someone else. He loves me. Wants me back. But Dash…

  Only he’s not awake. And waking him now, to this, might be worse than taking some time to think things through and see where I am, emotionally. Or, more importantly, to see where he is emotionally.

  Hurriedly, I gather my laptop and case, taking a pen and pad from the front pocket, and scribbling him a note with my phone number on it. I’ll leave the ball in his court. That’s the only way I’ll know for sure. If this was just one night, he’ll walk away and never look back. If it was more…he’ll want to find me. He’ll need to find me. So I’ll make it easy for him.

  I fly through the room, silently collecting my things, collecting myself, and fighting back tears every time I look down into Dash’s gorgeous, gorgeous face. He’s perfect—body, face, heart. He’s not just handsome and funny and brave and amazing in bed, but he’s a great guy. Maybe too perfect for the likes of me. Maybe even thinking that I could mean more to him is like Icarus flying too close to the sun.

  By the time, I’m dressed (still without panties), packed, and making my way to the door, my throat is tight, but not as tight as my chest. This shouldn’t hurt so much.

  But, God, it does.

  I open the door and turn back, taking one final look around the chalet. So beautiful. So private. So full of amazing memories. A place where I found myself in a lot of ways. But maybe a place where I lost myself in a lot of ways, too.

  I step onto the porch and pull the door shut behind me. I straighten and wipe the single tear from my cheek with the back of my hand, wondering why walking away feels like giving up a piece of my heart.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Dash

  It’s only been three days since I walked into a private chalet in Aspen to find a beautiful reporter waiting for me, but it feels like an eternity. I wanted Dilyn Hart instantly, of course. I’m neither blind nor dead. But what surprises me—and th
rills me, believe it or not—is how much more I want from her now that I’ve had her.

  It’s been years since I’ve been to Philly, and it’s been never that I’ve chased a woman halfway across the country. Yet here I am, swinging into the headquarters of the online magazine Dilyn works for, smiling like it’s Christmas all over again.

  My flight got in just after four, local time, but for some numbnuts reason, I listened to Manny and accepted a short interview with a guy who met me at an airport restaurant. That put me later getting to the magazine than I’d planned, but the main door is still open, so I’m hoping Dilyn will be here.

  I walk past the abandoned reception area and through one of only two doors that open off the lobby, striking gold with the first one. It’s the bullpen—the wide, partitioned area as deserted as the rest of the building seems to be.

  It’s dark outside and there’s one light on at the back of the room, so I head in that direction. The simple fact that it has walls and a door leads me to believe that the boss resides there, and if Dilyn isn’t here, I’m betting he can tell me where I can find her. It’s presumptuous to think he might, but there are advantages to being a celebrity. Getting unlikely favors from people in positions of power is just one of them.

  I approach the partially open door, raising my hand to knock. As I do, I get a glimpse of the people inside. It’s Dilyn. And a guy. A guy I’m assuming is her boss. The one she thought she’d been in love with. The one she’d called to invite to the mountains with her. His hands are cupping her face and he’s kissing her with enough fire to burn down the office we’re standing in.

  My lungs feel like they’ve collapsed under a sudden weight that crushes in on my chest. Like being punched in the stomach, only higher. And more painful.

  I say nothing, just spread my fingers and use the tips to push open the door. It makes a creaking sound and the two lovers spring apart like I fired a gun in the air. The guy looks first surprised then angry. Dilyn just looks…shocked.

  My fist closes more tightly around the package I’m holding, disappointment and humiliation and something more raw simmering in my gut. I brace against it, my abs clenching protectively, and I smile. I smile like this is nothing less than what I was expecting. I smile like it doesn’t bother me to see the woman I’ve been obsessing over in the arms of another man only days after she was in mine.

  I smile like it doesn’t hurt.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I say, my voice gruff but steady. “I was in town, so I thought I’d return something you left at the chalet.” They watch me, the guy’s mouth forced into a thin, tight line, Dilyn’s mouth hanging slightly open, as I lean in to toss the silk-wrapped package on a chair by the door. “I’ll let you get back to…work.”

  As casually as I walked in, I turn around and walk out. My steps aren’t hurried, my posture isn’t stiff, and my demeanor gives nothing away. Like always. I’m as cool as the snow I ski on.

  On the outside.

  On the inside…well, that’s a whole different story.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dilyn

  My entire body is frozen. Solid. Like a flesh-colored popsicle. I haven’t heard from Dash. Not one word. Not a call, not a text, nothing. His silence only confirmed what I half-expected might happen—he’d go on like nothing changed. Like I didn’t matter. Like we didn’t matter.

  The thing is, I only half expected it.

  The other half of me thought he’d surprise me. Thought he felt something for me, too. Thought that the time we spent together, alone in the woods in a snowstorm, mattered.

  That’s why the disappointment nearly crushed me.

  I didn’t tell Jake what happened in Colorado. Not only was it none of his business—we weren’t a couple then and we aren’t now—but telling him after his confession seemed…callous. At least until I could figure out how I felt about him. About everything.

  I’ve done a lot of soul-searching since Jake brought me back from that mountain, and the only concrete answer I’ve managed to excavate is that, as unlikely and ludicrous as it sounds, I fell in love with Dash Grainger in less than twenty-four hours.

  Or at least I’m well on my way.

  Whatever label my feelings deserve, I’m not fool enough to pursue something with another man, whether I loved him once or not, until I come to terms with what my heart is telling me about Dash. Only Jake doesn’t seem to get that. He’s been courting me, hard, since our plane touched down in Philadelphia on Christmas day. It’s as though the ride down to Aspen and the flight back home were all the time he could give me before he started trying to convince me that I need him as much as he says he needs me.

  A few days ago, I’d have loved every second of it. But a lot can happen in a few days. A lot of unlikely, crazy-sounding shit.

  Like the man I can’t get out of my head turning up at my office, late in the evening, when my ex is kissing me.

  That thought is like kerosene to a small flame. Realization blazes to life then rages through me in a fire of desperation that results in my legs unfreezing and carrying me at breakneck speed through the office chasing after Dash.

  “Dash, wait!” I call, hoping he’ll hear me even though he’s out of sight.

  I sprint through the reception area and lurch through the door, out into the frigid night air just in time to see Dash ducking into a cab.

  “Dash, wait,” I repeat.

  His head turns. His eyes meet mine. His lips lift in a small half-smile. Then he looks away, mouthing something to the driver before the cab pulls from the curb.

  “Wait!” I cry, waving at the red taillights as they melt into the busy traffic.

  But they don’t stop.

  They don’t wait.

  They just keep going.

  And Dash rides right back out of my life.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dilyn

  I don’t know how many minutes tick by as I stand on the sidewalk, watching the place where Dash’s cab disappeared around the corner. I only know the deep, bone-chilling ache of loss. I’ve lost him. Even though it wasn’t what it looked like—Dash walking in on me kissing another man (or, more like being kissed by another man) only days after making love with him. I know how it must’ve seemed. And I know what he’ll think if he doesn’t give me a chance to explain.

  But he’s gone.

  And I have no idea how to find him.

  Eventually, I feel Jake’s warm hands on my cold arms. I have no idea how long he’s been standing beside me. I only know that I’m numb when, without a word, he guides me back into the building.

  Turns out, I’m as numb inside as I am outside. Numb and confused. I don’t ask questions. I don’t offer explanations. I just follow the direction that Jake is urging my leaden feet to go, shuffling along beside him until we get back to his office and he plunks me down in a chair.

  He doesn’t say a word to me. Not for several long minutes. He just keeps casting me sidelong glances that ask all the questions I hoped he wouldn’t. I know by his expression that he understands all the things I haven’t been able to say. I see the disappointment, the sadness, the hopelessness written all over his face. It had never been my plan to hurt Jake, though.

  After several minutes in silence, Jake tosses something soft onto my lap. With unseeing eyes, I look down, puzzled. It looks like a Christmas gift, all wrapped in midnight silk and bound with a big red velvet bow. But Dash knows how I feel about Christmas.

  Or at least how I did until I spent Christmas Eve with him.

  That might’ve been enough to heal me. But this…this will only break me more than I already am.

  My fingers tremble as I tug on one end of the bow to loosen it. I part the folds of the small, oddly shaped parcel, tears instantly filling my eyes when I see my light pink panties lying on the black silk, with a handwritten note pinned to the front.

  I’m not used to missing people.

  Blunt. Simple. Honest.

  Just like Dash.

 
; He came to the office because he missed me. And found me in the arms of my boss. My ex-boyfriend.

  Oh, God.

  I look up at Jake, whose expression tells me that he understands exactly what’s going on. Finally. Even though I didn’t have the nerve or the heart to tell him. He knows, so that’s why I don’t bother with explanations. I only tell him, desperation ringing in my voice, “I need his number, Jake.”

  He shakes his head, something akin to satisfaction lightening the dark blue of his eyes. “I don’t have it. I never did.”

  “Then the number of the person you talked to. Whoever set up the interview. It doesn’t matter who.”

  “I’m sure not just anyone can get a hold of him.”

  “Then maybe I can at least get a message to him. I just…I have to get in touch with him, Jake. I have to try to reach him. I need to explain. I…I can’t just leave things like this. I need him to know…to know…”

  I feel frantic with the need to get to him before he disappears. A man like Dash Grainger will be impossible to find if he chooses to be. People with that much money can buy an island to hide out on if they want. My window to find him is narrow, and time is wasting.

  With lips pinched into a thin line, Jake gets me Dash’s agent’s number. I don’t even leave the room with it; I just pull my phone out of my pocket and start dialing.

  It goes straight to voice mail. Of course.

  I rack my brain for any other way, any tiny thread that might be able to connect me to Dash. But my search only underscores how very different, how very far apart our worlds actually are.

  Then I remember the business card his manager, Kelly, left. What was her assistant’s name? Vilma, wasn’t it? She left it for me at the chalet.

  I’m encouraged for exactly three seconds, right up until I remember that I picked up the card, looked at it, and then laid it back down on the table, never to think of it again.

  Until now.

  “Can you think of anyone else? Anyone at all?”