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She pouts. “You sound like a parent.”
“Did you forget who your daddy is?”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“We’ll do the Exhibition. It’s part green, part blue.”
“Green?!”
“Keep it up, and the only slopes you’ll get are the bunny hills.”
At that she buttons her lips. After the second time through the run, however, I can see why Casey wasn’t ecstatic initially. She cut through the snow fairly easily and seemed to delight in going ahead of me. We try a more challenging run next. She’s in her element, taking the steeper drops without hesitation. Although I’m decent on the board, Casey is clearly better. I could let her go on the tougher runs, but with her sleep deprivation and the waning daylight, I don’t want to risk her running into a tree. I tell myself it’s because I wouldn’t want anything happening to my bargaining chip. Nothing more.
We get in a few more runs before heading up to High Camp. There, with night falling, Casey and I can still make out the mountain tops and the thick of pine trees below.
“I’ve never snowboarded at night,” she comments, seeing the lights on one of the few runs open late.
“Maybe if you’re extra good,” I find myself saying, though the truth is, I’d like to take her on that run regardless. Her face has glowed with joy the whole time we’ve been here. I’ve never been up close to such enthusiasm before. And I don’t think I’ve ever felt it before. I’ve had highs—my first six-figure arms deal that I did on my own before my father retired is perhaps my most memorable—but they’re usually fleeting. I move on to the next thing, looking for something bigger and better, like the AI that Callaghan currently holds.
Casey looks at me with sparkles in her eyes. “I’ll be good! Like, super extra good!”
My body warms at what that could mean. Pulling her to me, I drink in the sight of her, her cheeks still flush from our last run. It’s crowded at High Camp, but the people around us might as well be miles away. The space between Casey and me is our own. My gaze hones in on her lips. I realize I don’t know what they taste like, what they feel like. This is a part of her I haven’t claimed yet.
But I’m about to.
Anticipating the kiss, she tilts her head up as I lower mine. But the buzzing of my phone pulls me away. I want to ignore it, but I needed it. Kissing Casey in some romantic backdrop is not part of the plan. Hell. Taking her snowboarding wasn’t either. I’m losing my focus. I didn’t expect Casey to be so…tempting. Her enthusiasm, so unadulterated and child-like, is contagious, and I wanted some of it.
She looks disappointed when I pull away to pull out my phone. It’s a text from Andrian. He’s on his way.
Chapter seventeen
Casey
“Youhungry?”Jackasksme after putting away his phone.
“Starving,” I reply, but what I really want is to get back to the moment right before he got a text. He was about to kiss me. I know it. And we haven’t kissed yet. We’ve had plenty of sex, sure, and it’s not like I’ve missed kissing. Until now. Almost like in that old rom-com,Pretty Woman.I mean, I don’t think that kissing should only be reserved for people in love, but I want to be kissed by Jake.
He looks around at the crowd of people. “How about someplace a little more quiet if you’re not itching to get out of your snow gear? There’s a bar outside Truckee, sort of where only locals go.”
“Quiet sounds good,” I say. “And I don’t care about walking around in snow pants.”
On the drive over, Jake’s fairly quiet. Not that he’s ever been much of a talker, but he seems lost in his thoughts. I probably should take the time to do my own reflecting, maybe try and figure out what might have happened to Chase. If he lost me, is he going to go to my dad and tell him everything? I can imagine my dad popping a vein in anger. He’ll probably be most upset that I wasn’t with Kenton.
Not wanting to dwell on my dad’s potential reaction, I try to draw out Jack. “So, what do I have to do to be extra good?”
“What do you think?” he returns.
“Well, what do you mean by ‘good?’ A good girl or a good sub?”
“You capable of being a good girl?”
“Did I already tell you I signed up to volunteer?”
He looks at me, possibly skeptical, though I don’t see what’s so hard to believe.
“Yeah, for this nonprofit group that teaches kids from disadvantaged backgrounds how to ski,” I explain. “Of course, I’d teach snowboarding.”
He doesn’t respond right away, so I find myself prattling on. “I know it’s not like saving lives or anything, but a lot of kids don’t have the opportunity to try a winter sport. Usually, winter sports are not like soccer or football where all you need is a field and a ball. It can be expensive for a lot of people, especially something like skiing where you have to rent equipment and buy lift tickets.”
