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The door to the room opens, and Spencer bursts through. “Clark, let’s go, let’s hit the slopes.”
I stretch my full body, my feet hanging off the bed. As I do, Spencer lands a fist in my ribs. “You’re wasting time.”
I lunge forwards and grab him, pulling him into a headlock. “I’m bigger than you in every way, little man, and the only reason I’m not going to kick your arse right now is that I intend to give you a damn good beating on the slopes.” But for good measure I drill my knuckles into his scalp until he waves the proverbial white flag.
I pull on a jumper as we head to the lounge, where Dayna is hugging Amy, then Tim and Matty. “I love it,” she says as she dangles a thin silver necklace in the air. “You really shouldn’t have.” I lean a shoulder against the wall and give myself a moment of pure pleasure, indulging in the sight of her lips pulled wide in a smile that makes her irises sparkle.
She hands the necklace to Matty and bends her head forwards, pulling her long hair across one shoulder. Envy churns my gut as he fastens the necklace around her. I wish I was him, his fingers, and I wish she’d be that comfortable under my touch again.
“You were supposed to get married two weeks ago.”
Spencer stands beside me, but I don’t move my attention from Dayna. “I know,” I say.
He pats my shoulder as he moves towards the others. “It suits you,” he says to Dayna, all charming and confident as hell. Damn him.
Teddy and Yvette come down the stairs. “Right. Are we heading out?”
Dayna catches me lost in appreciation. She holds my stare just long enough for me to feel a flicker of hope. “I’m in,” she says. “Where are we going?”
“Off-piste?” I ask, walking into the group.
“Yvette wants to break herself in today so we’ll stay on the blues this afternoon,” Teddy says.
“Mmm, yep, me too,” Rachel adds, followed with similar sentiment from Amy.
The other men rise to the challenge. That doesn’t surprise me. Tim and Matty are big guys, butch. They won’t shy away from a tough run. Spencer’s a fearless rogue and, to be fair, shit-hot on his board, so I don’t need his confirmation.
That leaves one. Turning to her, I say, “I take it you’ll be on the baby slopes, too?”
I think I meant to tick her off, just the way she can touch a nerve in me. So when Dayna mirrors my pose — shoulders back, legs hip-width apart — and wears a look that could turn a man to stone, I expect nothing less than a sassy retort. “Because women are weak, right, Clark? Not strong enough to play in a man’s world?”
She. Is. So. Fucking. Hot. I instinctively take a step towards her. She holds her ground, unflinching. “Prove me wrong.”
“That’s what you want to do? You want to provoke me?”
Oh, you have no idea. She takes a step closer, and I can’t deny the way she makes my pulse jump, the way the air between us shifts, thickens with unresolved tension of every kind.
“I’m in for whatever you want to throw at me, Layton, and I’ll give you a damn good run for your money.”
Layton. This isn’t just about the ski. This is about everything — how I hurt her, that I turned up here. Oil. “Oh I hope so, Cross.”
She leans in towards my neck, and I hold the air in my lungs. One nose full of her and I’ll be putty. “I’m not the sweet girl you walked all over.” Her breath heats my flesh.
She walks purposefully to the cloakroom, her fine arse sculpted by tight leggings, her checked shirt sliding off one shoulder.
As we all follow, Matty throws me what is unmistakably a territorial glare. Yeah, you and me both, bud. You and me both.
Even in a pair of grey salopettes, Dayna looks damn fine. Once she’s in her gear, she messes around on her mobile then leaves it on the side — a sensible choice in case she falls off-piste. She grabs her helmet and skis and heads outside with the others. I finish tightening my boots, all the while looking at the lit-up screen of her iPhone. I really don’t want to look, but I’m like a moth to a flame. I know it will end badly, potentially disastrously, but I’m fixed on the phone, honing in on the heat. I cast a safety glance over my shoulder then pick up Dayna’s phone and open her email. The subject heading I recognise is three down in the chain. I hover over it, unable to open the email, unable to walk away.
“Clark! Let’s go!” Teddy shouts. I look to the doorway then back at the phone screen, which has faded to black. She’s ranked first or third. I guess I’ll have to find out another way.
We head across the snow, sinking in the freshly laid ground. “Here, give me those,” I say, taking Yvette’s skis from her as she struggles to drag them along, hoisting them onto my own shoulder.
“You trying to make us look bad?” Tim asks good-humouredly.
“It’s just another tick in the box, Tim, not the only one.”
He laughs and Dayna tuts. God, if I wasn’t already miserable at the moment she’d certainly get me there.
