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“So…you can ski.”
“Yeah. Spent four years on the ski patrol team in college.”
I make a face at him. “That feels deceitful. You looked nervous last night when my brother brought up snowboarding.”
“I’ve never snowboarded, and I considered doing it to try to fit it. To impress you.” He winks at me. “Then I realized I have more direct ways to impress you when we’re alone, and this way I can make sure that you’re safe every time you fall.”
“Falling is a part of boarding.”
“Which is why I’ve never done it.” He leans over and gives me his hand. “Come on. I promised to exhaust every muscle in your body, and that’s going to require you getting up.”
“I thought that was just dirty talk for Nana's benefit.” I take a deep breath and let him haul me to my feet, then clip myself back into my board.
“Oh, that was not for your grandmother's benefit,” he whispers as our bodies sway against each other. “That was entirely for you. But scoring bonus points with your Nan is good, too. She’s a dirty old bird.”
I laugh despite myself. And that makes him laugh. And then his arms are around me, just stabilizing me. Just so we can share this laugh without me falling on my butt again. And it feels good. Nice. Simple.
“Are you ready for a hot chocolate?” He pats my butt. Even through his glove and my snow pants, I feel the brand of his fingers cupping my ass cheek.
I shiver. “I definitely need hot chocolate.”
“You need a lot of things.”
“And you’re the man to give them to me?”
He growls. “The only man. Yes.”
I fix my goggles and jump, taking off down the hill. He doesn’t need to see just how much I like the possessive caveman routine.
It’s all I’ve ever wanted from him, and if he’s going to lean into it while pretending to be my boyfriend for a week, I’m going to enjoy it—in secret.
Unless he gives me a sign that I can trust him with more than just orgasms and over-protective personal ski patrol service.
* * *
The only place to sit when we get our hot drinks—hot chocolate for me, coffee for Jake—is a small two-seat sofa by the fireplace.
Not that I’m complaining.
The heat from the fire is nice. It softens my overthinking brain and dampens my instincts to poke at Jacob and make him react.
I still don’t really understand how we landed here, with me curled up in Jacob’s arms, my head on his shoulder. It doesn’t make any sense, because two days ago he was telling me to stay out of his private affairs, and now it feels like I am at the centre of every one of his deepest, most personal thoughts.
And this cuddle feels like that kind of sign I was just wondering if he might give me.
“You look like you’re thinking hard,” he murmurs.
I take a long sip of hot chocolate, weighing the pros and cons of bluntly asking him what’s on my mind.
I decide to go for it, because if he wants me, has wanted me all this time, it’s not for being a simpering wallflower. “Is this real?”
“You and me?” He strokes my cheek with his free hand. “Yes.”
“Why now?”
“Because I was a fool before.”
I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to come back to work for you.”
