At the bathroom sink, I wash my face with handfuls of freezing water, and the shocking cold is doing its job and waking me up.
I turn to my left as I reach for my ski pants and catch a glimpse in the mirror of a dark two-inch-long bruise on my right hip. Damn, if I fall on that today, it’s going to hurt. I carefully pull the pants on, along with my other snow gear, keeping an eye on the time.
I’m not looking forward to facing Jarrod this morning, and I don’t need to compound the problem by being late.
Chapter 10
Jarrod
Idon’tknowhowI managed to find the strength to walk away from Madison last night. The way she stretched her arms up over my shoulders and hooked her hands behind my neck. Her nails scratching through the short hair there when I buried my face into the crook of her neck. Her sweet scent shooting an arrow of desire straight to my cock.
I really wanted to sweep her away to my bed or hers—it didn’t matter which. I wanted to spend the night with her, exploring the attraction that has become glaringly obvious. But I knew she’d had way too many whiskeys the moment she stumbled out of the hot tub, then literally fell into my arms. That is a hard line for me. I may have had too many casual flings with women over the years, but I have never, and will never, take an inebriated woman to my bed.
When I’m with a woman, I want her completely in the moment with me. And we had both had too much to drink to be together last night.
Scott passes another snowboard to me, reminding me of the current task. We are loading up the gear as we wait for the others to come out. The front door opens, and I hear Jasmine shout a cheery good morning to Madison. I look over my shoulder. And there she is, as cute and tempting as she was last night. I groan.
“Did you say something?” Scott asks from where he is stretched over the back seat of the SUV, pulling up the extra seats so that the six of us will fit.
“Nothing. I just bumped my hip,” I lie.
Last night over dinner, we all decided to spend the day together at Aspen Mountain. Well, all of us except Cassie and Luke, who are going back to Snowmass. Though they have promised that they will meet us at the end of the day for après-ski. This will be the start of our Christmas Eve celebrations. Not that I’ll be making it a big night, as I’m hoping sober Madison may give me a second chance.
I jump down from where I’ve been stowing the gear in the rooftop cargo box and turn to say “Good morning” to the others. My eyes go straight to Madison, who murmurs a quick “Morning,” then bends down to adjust something on her boot. I don’t miss the flush on her cheeks before her face is hidden behind an abundance of brown curls. I guess that confirms it. She is back to avoiding me again.
At least with us all spending the day together, I should have an opportunity to apologize for getting her drunk in the hot tub and then rejecting her offer formorein her room.
Blake interrupts the back-and-forth in my head. “There was a big dump of fresh powder last night. It must have blown in around midnight, as it was still clear when we went to bed.”
“Nice soft landing when you fall, mate,” chimes in Scott.
The few inches of snow overnight means the drive down to the gondola is going to be a slow one on the icy, freshly cleared roads. A price worth paying to get to the slopes in near perfect conditions for riding. I need some fresh, cold mountain air slapping me in the face to blow away the remaining vestiges of my hangover.
We all pile into the car, Blake and Scott arguing good-naturedly over calling shotgun on the front seat. Blake winning on size alone, claiming his extra two inches at six foot five means he should have the roomier seat. I have to laugh when I look over at Jasmine and Bec, who are standing with hands on hips, shaking their heads as they watch their men argue. I’ve learned from spending time with the guys in the past that this kind of argument is common.
Finally, everyone is buckled up and in the car and I’m reversing out of the driveway, looking in my rearview mirror so I can see Madison in the back rather than relying on the reversing camera. She catches my eye in the reflection and quickly looks away. I’m going to have to do some smooth-talking to make things right between us again. Not really something I’m known for.
A short while later, we’ve parked, unloaded again, and taken the shuttle bus from the parking area to the gondola, each of us with a board tucked under our arm. With the mass of other skiers and snowboarders, we climb the steps toward the Silver Queen Gondola. The girls have decided to spend the morning around the Ajax Express, doing the blue runs in that area. The boys and I will be taking on some of the more challenging double black runs on the mountain. We are all expert boarders, having learned when we were kids.
Similar to my family, Blake’s family has various vacation homes around the world, one being in Courcheval, France, which is where he learned. Scott’s family in Australia are also very wealthy, and he grew up skiing and snowboarding in Australia, New Zealand, and Europe. Who knew they had ski resorts in Australia? What makes me laugh is that the ski resorts closest to Sydney are in an area called the Snowy Mountains. Only the Australians would call a ski area such an obvious name. He’s promised that one year he will take me to his favorite resort, Perisher.
Maybe we’ll be able to make a regular thing of this, as I’d love to go to Courcheval too. I’ve only been to Val D’Isere in France, and that was years ago when I was in college.
As we wait for the gondola, Madison keeps a person between us at all times, but what she fails to factor in is the close confines of the actual gondola. There is nowhere for her to stand except beside me as the six of us pile into the moving cabin.
When everyone else is excitedly chatting and paying no attention to us, I lean down to her and ask, “How is the head this morning?”
She turns to look up to me, her reflective sunglasses firmly in place. “Fine,” she replies curtly before swiveling away to face the wall of glass with a bird’s-eye view over the valley as it recedes below us. I guess we are back to one-word responses.
However, my suspicious mind doesn’t believe her answer this time. I’ve noticed she always takes her sunglasses off when talking to others, but with me, she leaves them on. I suspect it’s so I can’t see what she’s really thinking. Even after only a few days, I’ve worked out that her expressive amber-colored eyes can tell me some of what goes on in her clever, quick-witted brain.
At the top of the gondola, the doors open, and I step back to let her pass. Her perfume as she brushes by is a fleeting reminder of last night when I buried my nose in her neck and breathed in her sweet, fruity scent. We shuffle our way out onto the slopes with all the other skiers and boarders, searching for a space on the snow to sit and clip on our boards.
I watch for a minute as Madison and the girls adjust their bindings, and when they are ready to go, they stand, shout a quick goodbye, and begin to slide slowly down the slope to the top of their trail. The girls are going right, and us boys left. Turning back around, I notice Scott and Blake staring at me.
Blake, of course, is the one who speaks first. “Is there something you want to tell us about you and the lovely Madison?”
Scott slaps Blake on the chest. “Don’t be a dick, mate. Besides, I have no desire to hear the dirty deeds he may or may not be getting up to at the end of the corridor. If he tells me, I’ll have to tell his sister, and that ain’t happening.”
