We were nearly halfway up. Just enough time to…
Parker leaned into me. Closing my eyes, breathing in the cold, crisp air, I met him halfway. His lips were soft and warm, like a sip of that hot cocoa we’d talked about, making my insides all melty. Our tongues met, and we immediately picked up where we left off last night. I could have kissed him for hours, but thankfully one of us realized we were still on a ski lift. He pulled back just in time.
The lift operator must have seen couples like us all the time. He didn’t even blink as we scrambled to ski off. Thankfully, even between being rusty on skis and that kiss, I was able to stay on my feet.
“Green Valley work for you?”
“Sure,” I said, following him to what I knew was one of the gentlest slopes. My father taught me to ski here, and it was the first one I’d ever skied on my own.
“Race to the bottom?” he asked as we slowed at the top of the hill. “Kidding,” he said, before I could respond. “Just take it nice and slow. There’s hardly anyone here.”
I was just about to push off when he added, “You’ve got this, cupcake.”
Jamming my poles into the ground, I stopped. Looked at him. And nearly said something I probably would have regretted. Instead I simply smiled and said, “Thanks. I’m ready.”
Parker stayed with me the entire time, and like down below on the flat surface, it really did come back quickly. By the time we got to the bottom third, I was already letting myself pick up speed.
You’ve got this, cupcake.
I nearly blurted, “I love when you call me that,” but, thankfully, I caught the words before they came out of my mouth. It was one lesson my mother had tried to instill, to think before I talked, that I never quite followed. She said it made me appear flightier than I really was, but I never really agreed with her. Being honest, saying what was on my mind, was just… me. For better or worse.
“See?” he asked as I immediately skied back to the short lift line.
“You were right,” I said as the couple in front of us boarded.
Just like that, we were on our way up again. This time, Parker didn’t wait. As soon as the safety bar was down, he leaned into me. This kiss was not at all like the last one. His mouth opened immediately, Parker and I melding together as if we would consume each other.
“If I’ve ever tasted anything sweeter in my life,” he said, pulling back, “I can’t remember it.”
“Stop,” I said, swatting him. “That’s such a line.”
“No,” he said, serious. “It’s not. Although I’m pretty certain if your lips taste that good, there is one thing that will taste even better.”
Before the shock of his words could register—Parker was the “nice” one, after all—it was time to dismount. I’d have talked to Parker about what he said, except the devilish man skied right over to the run. With a quick look back to ensure I was there, presumably, he was off. This time, I did race him. My ski legs were back, much more quickly than I had anticipated.
And so it went.
Lift after lift. After the fourth kiss when Parker asked, “Where do you like to be kissed most?” just as we dismounted, I decided to take him to task on the next run. We’d graduated to one of the steeper green runs, and I thought a challenge might be fun. So when he pulled the bar down, I said, “You obviously like bets, the whole bachelor thing and all.”
“That’s more of a pact than a bet,” he said.
“Maybe a little of both?”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “What are you thinking?”
“If I try an intermediate run”—Parker’s eyes widened—“you have to say the dirtiest thing you can think of on our next lift.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” I teased. Flirting with him had become my new favorite pastime. “Obviously you’re a bit of a dirty talker.”
He tried not to smile. “Noticed that, huh?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Does it bother you?”
Was he serious? “No, just the opposite,” I admitted.
