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“Come on, cranky pants, let’s get you down. I think you need a drink. Hell, I need a drink after this back and forth,” he says, motioning between us.
“No,” I tell him, crossing my arms.
“No?” he taunts, crossing his arms as well, towering over me while he balances on his board like it’s nothing.
He takes off his helmet and hands it to me, revealing his panty-melting long hair. “Put this on,” he orders, brushing a gloved hand through his locks. Reluctantly, I take the helmet from him.
“You place it on your head,” he explains, miming the action like I’m three.
I roll my eyes but do as he tells me. He tries to hide a laugh behind a cough when the black helmet immediately covers my eyes, blocking my view of him. “It’s much too big. Man, you have a big head,” I mutter to myself.
He snorts. “That’s what they all say.”
I groan. I can’t help it; it’s funny, especially the way he says it all serious-like. He kneels down in front of me, his knees disappearing in the snow. Taking off his gloves, he shakes his head and grins, staring into my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I ask, leaning back.
“I’m trying to fix the strap around your chin. Relax, will ya.”
“Oh, okay then.” I bite down on my lip, still having trouble with my breathing. We lock eyes, not saying anything as he closes the strap, his calloused finger moving over the line of my jaw.
Goosebumps break out all over my body, that touch of his going right to the pit of my stomach. “Are you cold?” he asks, staring into my eyes.
“A little.” I’m not really, only my butt is, but I’m not going to tell him that. Or for him to rub it warm. I really need an off switch.
“Come on,” he says as he stands, balancing on his board before pulling me up from under my arms.
I fall against his chest, but he stands his ground. “Whoa, give a girl some warning before you do that.” My voice is muffled against his chin. The way the scruff of his jaw scrapes against my cheek makes me shiver in his arms.
He grunts, adjusting the front of his snowboard pants, still holding me up with one arm. “Fuck, you’re annoying,” he says, taking a deep breath. “And heavy.” He laughs.
“Heard that last one, fucker,” I counter, looking up into his dark gaze, trying and failing not to smile.
I push against him some more to get my bearings. My hand slips, and I touch something hard through his snowboard pants, and it sure as shit wasn’t his phone. Great, now I’m violating him right on the slope. It’s like I’m the star in my own personal slapstick from hell. His chest vibrates, and he’s officially laughing at me.
“Luckily, you’re goofy, and I’m regular,” he says, rubbing a hand through his hair.
“Excuse me?” I ask, frowning. Leaning back, I almost lose my balance, but he holds me upright. Why does that sound so familiar?
“The way you stand on your board,” he explains.
Looking down, I rack my brain. What is the guy is talking about?
“You have your right foot forward and I have my left.”
“Ah, right?” I swallow, holding on to his chest for dear life, memories of my childhood rushing back.
“Makes it easier to tango down the hill,” he drawls, a slow grin stealing across his face.
“Sure, tango.” I don’t sound too convincing, and seriously, the way he talks is like it’s in code; secret snowboard code. My brothers and dad used to talk like that. I catch myself smiling while I adjust his helmet.
“What’s that smile?” he grunts.
“Nothing,” I murmur, hoping this nightmare will end soon.
“Nice try, babe. Here—” He takes his gloves off, and grabs mine as well, putting them down in front of his jacket.
“What are you doing?” I ask, exasperated. And great… now he stole my gloves.
