by A. D. Ryan
He moves onto the next board. “This is a rocker board. These boards float well in powder and pivot more easily underfoot. They also tend to be less hooky at both the tip and tail, which makes them better for landing spin maneuvers when you can’t get enough rotation.”
My laugh travels through the store, drawing a few unexpected stares. “Well, I don’t anticipate attempting any spin maneuvers, so we’re probably safe to move on.”
Grinning, Greyston grabs a flat board. “The flat board is pretty self-explanatory, being flat from tip to tail. This shape splits the difference between camber and rocker styles.” I’m a little confused, but Greyston quickly clarifies. “Its turnability is more forgiving than a fully cambered board, and has more precise edging capabilities than a fully rockered one.”
“Soooo…” I draw the word out longer than normal and laugh.
“You’ll probably want to consider either a cambered board or a flat one,” he gently suggests. “The cambered ones are the favored style.”
I take everything Greyston has taught me into consideration before choosing the cambered style board. In the next hour or so, we go through the store so Greyston can help me locate the rest of the gear that I’ll need, and then head to the checkout. I nearly choke on my tongue when the cashier tells Greyston the price. He hands her his credit card without hesitation, and she smiles at me as though who loves me so much. I balk at the thought, then begin to wonder if that might be true.
Sensing my shock, Greyston looks toward me. “No rush, sweetheart,” he says, repeating his earlier words. “Take your time paying it back.”
Outside, Greyston folds down the backseat of the rental to accommodate my new snowboard, and we head back to the cabin. My sticker-shock doesn’t take long to fade as my excitement to try out my new gear takes its place.
“So, we’re going back to the resort tomorrow, right?” I inquire hopefully.
Greyston doesn’t take his eyes off the icy roads—and that’s fine by me; I don’t wish to be in an accident. “So long as you’re feeling up to it. I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“I feel fine,” I promise him.
He smiles. “Then I don’t see why not.”
When we return to the cabin, Greyston takes my board inside and stores it with his while I carry the rest of my gear. When our purchases are put away, we get a start on dinner, working together like a cohesive unit until our stew is put together and simmering in the pot.
Greyston’s phone vibrates on the counter as a text comes in. One glance and I can see it’s Gemma. Greyston looks before returning to our dinner prep instead of responding.
“Greyston, you can message her back. It’s okay, really.”
He just shakes his head. “It can wait.” He grabs two wine glasses and fills them with a cab sav we tried the other night and enjoyed. “I want to spend tonight with just you. I’ll get back to her in the morning.”
“The fact that she’s called a few times today suggests it could be urgent,” I try to tell him, showing him how understanding I can be. His eyes meet mine, and I smile. “I get that you’re trying to be the perfect boyfriend and not let anything interfere with our winter getaway, but you can take a phone call or two.” I snatch his phone off the counter and hold it out to him. “In fact, I’m going to call Mom and Dad while dinner cooks, so why don’t you take the opportunity to call Gemma back.”
I take the phone and head to the living room to call my parents. There’s no answer on the house phone, so I try my mom’s cell after leaving a message, but it goes straight to voicemail, as does my dad’s. I decide to call again in the morning, knowing full well they’re probably…too busy to pick up, and I definitely don’t want them to think this is an emergent situation.
Greyston joins me in the living room moments later, sitting next to me on the couch after setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table next to my almost-empty glass. “How are your parents?”
I shrug, snuggling into his side as he wraps his arm around me. “No answer. I didn’t want to keep calling in case they were…busy.” Greyston laughs. “Did you get a hold of Gemma?”
“I did.” He takes a sip of his wine. “She wanted to know if we wanted to meet at the resort again tomorrow. I told her we were kind of hoping to spend some time alone.”
A twinge of guilt seeps in, but at the same time, I’m happy. I don’t like the idea that Greyston might feel obligated to avoid her just because I’m a little uncomfortable around her, knowing their past.
“I did, however, offer a compromise,” he confesses nervously.
“Which was?”
“Dinner on our final night here.” I turn my head to look up at him. “I’ll make it an early dinner, and they’ll only be here a couple hours.”
“Okay,” I respond. “As long as we’ll still have plenty of alone time before we have to head back home.” My stomach flops, knowing we won’t be here much longer.
Greyston’s lips touch down on the top of my head, and I feel them curve up into a smile. “Now,” he mumbles into my hair. “Didn’t you say something last night about a surprise for me?”
Biting my lip, I remember the lingerie still sitting, unused, in my suitcase, and I debate which one I should test out first.
Chapter 32
As promised, Greyston takes me to the resort the next day. I’m extremely excited to use all of my new equipment—even if the price of it still shocks the hell out of me. If I hadn’t fallen in love with the sport that first day, though, I’d think it was a bad investment, but I’m fairly certain that I’ll get a lot of use out of it.
Well, only if Greyston and I come out here every year. Though, I suppose we’d have to rent a place, which sucks, because I’ve grown quite fond of this place.
Considering it’s only my second day, I do better out on the slopes, and Greyston and I even hit a more intermediate trail. I fall down, of course, and I also hit a few sad excuses for jumps—they’re really just tiny snowdrifts or packed down snow—that drop me flat on my ass when I can’t land them. Given how small they are, it’s humiliating, but all part of the learning curve. Unsurprisingly, Greyston makes it all look so effortless, and he assures me that I’m doing really well. I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to make me feel better.
The next day, New Years Eve, Greyston has plans that he seems pretty excited about. Apparently there’s a yearly celebration where families come out for music, crafts, food, dancing…and ice skating.
It shouldn’t, but I’m a little surprised when I manage to do better with ice-skating than I did snowboarding. Now, I’m still not skating circles around him or anything—not many people are, to be honest—but I manage to hold my own, even though it’s been well over ten years since I’ve been ice-skating in one of the indoor arenas that Phoenix has. While I’m obviously a little rusty, Greyston, naturally, excels at it. Jerk.
The chilly winter air only adds to the experience, and we’re having a great time as the night wears on. Surprisingly, I’ve only almost fallen a couple of times—which my tailbone continuously thanks me for—and, after about thirty minutes, it starts to snow lightly. Everything about this night out—being with Greyston, the cool evening air, the snow falling almost whimsically, the music—is absolutely beautiful, and it’s only made a little more perfect when the countdown begins and Greyston and I share our first kiss of the new year.
We’re standing in the middle of the rink, surrounded by what feels like hundreds of people—some on the ice, others just off to the side—and everyone is counting down, waiting for the stroke of midnight. When the time comes, fireworks boom overhead, and Greyston turns me to face him, placing his gloved fingers beneath my chin and tilting my face up to his, but before capturing my lips, he smiles. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says as the fireworks continue to light up the night sky.
Stepping up onto the picks of my skates, I wrap my arms around his neck and smile. “Happy New Year,” I reply. “I can’t wait to see what the nex
t year has in store for us.”
He lowers his lips to mine. They’re soft and warm, even with the winter chill in the air, and he kisses me with so much passion that it takes my breath away.
Breathing heavily as we break apart, I’m able to see our breath in the frigid night air. I lower back onto the blades of my skates, sliding back a little and losing my balance. Greyston’s quick to steady me with a chuckle. “Come on,” he says, tucking me into his side as we skate for the arena exit. “Let’s head back to the cabin.”
By the time we arrive, it’s almost one in the morning, and Greyston suggests we head straight to bed since we have a lot to do tomorrow to prepare for our dinner with Gemma and her fiancé. Up in our room, I grab my pajamas and toss them on the end of the bed before I begin to undress. I’ve just grabbed the hem of my sweater when Greyston steps up behind me and covers my hands with his, taking over and pulling the soft fabric off my body.
I shiver when he pulls my hair from my neck, and I sigh when his lips touch down on the goosebump-riddled skin of my shoulder. Warmth blooms beneath my skin, pushing out any remnants of cold that remained only moments ago. Pleasure trickles through my body and down my limbs, making the tips of my fingers and toes tingle—at least, I hope it’s the pleasure causing it and not the onset of frostbite. That would suck.
In the weeks that we’ve been together, we’ve had sex with wild abandon, opening my eyes to new experiences and the possibilities of our future together. We’ve also shared sweet, tender moments where I’ve never felt more special.
This is one of those times. We ring in the New Year with Greyston moving slowly above me. The way he looks at me is so intense that it moves me, his right hand trailing down my body, eyes following hungrily. He hooks his fingers behind my knee, hitching my leg up higher around his hips as he thrusts forward. His hand skims over the skin of my thigh, our hips slowly rolling in tandem as my release slowly builds. My eyes close, and my teeth tug on my bottom lip as I get completely lost in the passion that fills the room like fog.
I’m close…so close…
Then his hips slow, and when I open my eyes again, I see him staring at me once more. He cradles my face gently, urging my face toward his and molding his lips to mine. The kiss deepens quickly, our hips finding their previous rhythm, and my fingers curl into Greyston’s back. My orgasm continues to coil, tightening in every part of my body with each forward thrust of Greyston’s hips until it releases and I cry out against his lips. Any and all of my energy in my body shoots through the tips of my fingers and toes, my arms and legs trembling in the wake, and soon Greyston’s body stiffens as he groans, his hands gripping me firmly through the final stages of his own climax.
He rests his head against my collarbone, his warm breath wafting over my damp skin, and sighs. A lazy smile spreads across my face, my hand trembling as I raise it from his back and run my tingling fingers through his soft hair. After a moment, our breathing regulates, and my legs stop shaking, making it easier to walk down the hall to the bathroom after getting off the bed.
It’s late by the time Greyston and I are both back in bed, and he pulls me into his arms, my back resting against his chest. He holds me tight, pressing his lips to the base of my neck. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers.
Sighing, I lace my fingers through his. “Goodnight,” I reply softly.
I feel his lips curl up into a smile against my skin. “Let’s get some sleep.”
And, with that, I snuggle back into his embrace, close my eyes, and we fall asleep.
Everything is in order for our dinner party with Gemma and her fiancé. Greyston and I had spent the day cleaning the cabin while our roast cooked in the oven. By three in the afternoon, the smell that fills the air makes my stomach growl and my mouth water.
Because we’ll be packing up and heading home the next day, we also worked to pack up most of the Christmas decorations so the caretaker wouldn’t have to. I’m just reaching up to pull the mistletoe from the hook above the fireplace mantle when a pair of strong hand grabs me around the waist and spins me. I melt into Greyston with a moan of approval, letting his warm lips mold to mine.
I whimper when he pulls away, opening my eyes when the backs of his fingers stroke my cheek. “Leave it up,” he suggests with a smirk.
Arching a brow, I stare up at him. “Because you need an excuse to kiss me?”
He ponders my teasing for a moment. “Well, no, but surprising you like that garnered me a very positive reaction from you.”
I’m just about to respond when there’s a knock on the door. I pull free from Greyston’s arms and cross the room, pulling the door open to find Gemma, hair perfectly straight and pulled over her right shoulder, and a man almost a foot taller than her. He’s built like Toby, thick and muscular. It’s obvious he works out—maybe even a little too much.
“Hi,” I greet with a smile, holding my hand out toward him. “I’m Juliette. Greyston’s girlfriend.”
Dom returns my smile and takes my outstretched hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” He looks past me to Greyston and shakes his hand next. “Gem’s told me so much about you.”
A cold breeze slips past us, making me shiver. “Please, come in,” I tell them, ushering them inside. “Let me take your jackets. Greyston, why don’t you offer our guests some wine?”
While I hang the thick winter jackets in the main closet, Greyston shows them to the living room before he heads to the kitchen and pours the wine. I join him, helping him carry the glasses to our guests, and we sit on the loveseat across from them and engage in conversation while our dinner finishes up.
“So, Gem tells me this is your first time in the mountains?” Dom asks me.
I sip my wine and nod. “It is. It’s pretty amazing, too. Cold, sure, but a truly wonderful experience.” I look at Greyston as he settles his hand on my knee. “Unforgettable, really.”
Greyston leans over and presses his lips to mine. When I glance back at our guests, I notice Gemma has looked away and is taking a large pull from her glass.
The timer on the oven goes off, so Greyston and I excuse ourselves to make the final preparations on dinner. While he carves the roast, I butter and season the vegetables and mash the potatoes. I make a quick gravy, and Greyston sets the table before calling Dom and Gemma to join us.
As we sit around the table, Dom talks about his job as a personal trainer. Turns out, he and Gemma met at the gym; he was her trainer during her off-season. They’d been seeing each other for just over a year when he proposed, and they tell us that the rest is history.
After dinner, Greyston offers up a chocolate cream pie and coffee with Bailey’s for dessert, and we head back to the living room to enjoy it. About halfway through our dessert, Dom’s cell phone rings, and he excuses himself to take the call, grabbing his jacket and stepping out onto the front porch for some privacy. The three of us carry on our conversation, Greyston telling Gemma how this might be his last time staying in the cabin because his parents are planning to sell. She seems sad to hear this, but is quick to offer up alternative solutions for him to keep vacationing out here.
Even with the fire roaring, I notice Gemma shiver when she sets her plate on the coffee table. “Cold?” I ask, confused, because I’m quite warm, and no one else has complained. Though, her shirt is a little on the lighter side while I’m wearing a sweater, so that could have something to do with it.
“Freezing.”
Feeling generous, I set my coffee down and stand up. “I’ll go grab you a sweater,” I offer.
“Oh, Juliette, that’s not necces—“
“Nonsense. I’ll be right back.”
As I ascend the stairs, I hear Gemma exclaim, “Oh my God! I remember this!”
Greyston’s voice is barely audible, but I catch a few words and deduce they must be looking at one of the photos on the mantle. A flare of jealousy fills my belly again. I don’t like that they have a history, regardless of how much he reassures me that it was just
that: history.
Laughing at myself, I shake off the feeling, because Greyston isn’t Ben. He’d never do anything to intentionally hurt me, and I know it’s just my past insecurities that are making me question everything.
I grab a sweater from my suitcase and head back downstairs to rejoin the dinner party, but as I hit the bottom stair, I stop dead in my tracks and watch Gemma press her lips to Greyston’s. I’m about to make my presence known when Greyston pushes Gemma away from him, eyes narrowed, cheeks flushed, and chest heaving.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demands.
It takes me a moment to fully realize what I just walked in on, and it isn’t until Greyston asks her what the hell she thinks she’s doing that I fully comprehend.
Every fear I felt before came rushing back, slamming into me like a tidal wave and pulling me under. I struggled against the riptide of emotions, trying to see through it all clearly in order to act rationally.
“Juliette,” Greyston says, his eyes wide with panic when he sees me standing there. I only glance at him for a second before I hone my icy glare on Gemma as she turns to face me.
“Oh, hey,” she says innocently, as though she wasn’t just making a move on my boyfriend while her fiancé is outside. She approaches me, eyes darting around nervously as she tucks her hair behind her ear. “Great sweater. I bet that blue looks killer on you and brings out your eyes.” She reaches for it, but I yank it from her reach just as the front door opens.
“You need to leave,” I tell her through gritted teeth. “Now.”
“Gem?” Dom says from the doorway.
I ignore him as he enters the house after his phone call, instead holding Gemma’s gaze and refusing to back down. Eventually, she laughs lightly, trying to brush off what I walked in on as nothing. “Juliette,” she says in a light and airy voice. “We were just joking around. There was mistletoe…”