He takes my arm as my board touches the hard packed snow ramp, then I’m standing, wobbling but remaining upright thanks to Mark’s solid hold of me. Safely off to the side, he gives me a brief side hug, and I’m grinning from ear to ear. Until I look up. Jarrod is sitting on the snow, only feet away, looking directly at me. His goggles are pushed up on to his helmet so I can see his eyes, and his dark intense gaze is drilling into me. I stumble and, of course, in my usual clumsy way, fall unceremoniously in the snow, much to Mark’s amusement.
When I’ve gathered myself together again and look up, Jarrod has pulled his goggles down over his eyes. He nods at me, his only acknowledgement, before springing to his feet with an ease that defies his size. I watch him for a minute as he performs perfect quick turns until he disappears over the lower ridge.
“You okay?” Mark asks, offering me his hand.
I smile up at him. “Just slightly dented pride … C’mon, let’s do this.”
With a quick recap from Mark on all the things he taught me today, he sends me off, following behind me to assist when I fall. I only fall twice, which I think is pretty good for day one.
Back at base village plaza, we say goodbye; then he quickly unclips his board and runs over to join a couple of his friends he just spotted. Left alone on my butt on the snow again, I more sedately unclip my board and drag my tired body to standing. What a fun day, but now I’m exhausted.
I slowly weave my way through the returning skiers and riders toward the après-ski bar that Jarrod pointed out to me this morning. I’m a little early to meet the others, but that’s okay. A drink and a sit down in a soft chair rather than the snow is exactly what I need. Or, more accurately, what my sore butt needs.
Outside the bar, groups are gathered around several large fire pits. Some of the children are toasting marshmallows with the help of their parents, and it’s such a festive holiday scene, I can’t help smiling. Christmas back home in Florida will never compare to this. I think I’m ruined for life. Every holiday season from now on, I will want to be making it a white Christmas.
I place my board in the racks outside the bar, making sure it’s in a position where I’ll be able to find it again. There are a lot of boards and skis already lined up. Then I stomp the snow from my boots and push through the heavy wooden door, stepping into the blissful warmth.
This place is really cool, with its scuffed wood floors and huge stone fireplace dominating one corner of the barn-sized space. My eyes scan the room, noticing there aren’t that many spare tables, but maybe I can get one for my friends before it becomes even busier when the lifts close. My eye snags on a familiar figure of a man over at the bar. Great, Jarrod would have to be here already.
I clump across the floor in my boots, wiggling my way through the crowd to stand beside him.
“Hey, Jarrod,” I say, not sure of the reception I’m going to get from him and not really caring after the incident at the top of the lift. I’ve got no time for grumpy, moody men.
He looks down at me with his usual scowl, and all it does is prompt me to smile up at him sweetly. “Did you have a good day?” He squints his eyes at me, and my smile widens. I knew layering on the sweetness would piss him off.
He grumbles back, “Yes, thank you … You seemed to be having a good day, too, with your … new friend.”
“That was my instructor, Mark. He was taking me on a final run for the day. I’m so lucky, as he’s a lot of fun and very friendly,” I tell him, not sure why I’m feeling the need to exaggerate my feelings for Mark. Sure, Mark is nice enough and is doing a great job teaching me the basics, but that’s as far as it goes.
He turns away from me as he mumbles, “I bet he is.” Then, waving at a bartender who he seems to know, he asks, “What would you like to drink?”
I think he’s talking to me, even though he isn’t looking my way, and I reply, “No idea. What do you recommend? I drink most things, so I’m willing to try a local favorite.” That gets his attention as he tilts his head down at me, one brow lifted. I wish he wouldn’t do that, as it makes me think that he’s trying to figure me out.
But in the blink of an eye, he turns his attention back to the bartender and orders twohot house specials. No explanation, no further discussion, and I’m left guessing as to what I’m going to get. But not for long, as shortly after, two squat glasses of steaming golden liquid are placed in front of us. Jarrod picks one up, and I take the other.
“So you’re not going to tell me what’s in the house special?” I ask, breathing in the rich warm scent and already picking up that it includes rum.
Unbelievably, the corner of his mouth ticks up with the hint of a smile. “I think it’ll be more interesting letting you guess.”
Ooh, I love a challenge. I place my hand on one hip, and with my other, swirl the liquid slowly around in the glass, letting the various ingredients waft up to me. I take my first sip of the warm, sweet liquid.
“I think it includes rum, butter, cinnamon, cloves, and maybe nutmeg …” I take another sip, my eyes fluttering closed, blocking out Jarrod and the smirk on his face.
I don’t know what bothers me more, his smirking or grumpy expression. Either way, he’s distracting me from the task at hand. “There is a fruity flavor. Is it … orange?” I open my eyes, and Jarrod is staring intently at my lips.
I take another quick sip of the delicious drink to cover my confusion.What did that look mean?Then, with a shaky hand, I place my glass back on the bar and ask, “How did I do?”
Why do I feel wobbly and untethered when I’m around Jarrod? This is not normal, even for me.
Chapter 6
Jarrod
Thisisbetter.Madisonand I are having an actual conversation. Like adults, not awkward teens. I like her, not that I’m under any illusion that the feeling is mutual. She’s quirky and different from other women I know, and her inability to keep her thoughts in her head is refreshing and entertaining.
After taking another little sip of her drink, she smiles back at me, and there is a hint of smugness. Well, she has every right to be smug, given she named nearly all the ingredients, showing she has surprisingly sensitive taste buds. More than that, she proved she loves a challenge. Another thing to like about her.
“You nearly got it right. It’s similar to a hot buttered rum, but it also includes cranberry juice. Do you like it?” A little crease appears between her shaped eyebrows, and I’m tempted to rub my thumb over it to smooth it out. Not a good idea when she is only just now beginning to tolerate my presence.
