Chapter Fifteen

When the morning light peeked through the shades, Starr slid out of bed, fighting the urge to snuggle into the muscular, naked, and very warm body lying next to her. She grabbed her T-shirt and panties off the floor and stared at Spencer, who continued sleeping.

What had she done?

She’d returned from Mount Rose yesterday determined to focus on herself and her needs.

Her mind flashed through images from mere hours ago with Spencer, and she couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over her lips—or a blush over her cheeks.

Spencer had done a very good job of focusing on her needs.

But now what? It’s not like he was staying, not that she wanted him to—did she? Sure, he was sexy, with his cocky smile and his confounding gray eyes and his mind-messing kisses. But there was more. Past the arrogance and perpetual need to be right, he was thoughtful and funny and caring. Was he playing her? Was she a game to him, just a different kind than the Xbox games he’d used to enthrall JJ?

No, she couldn’t believe that, not after how he’d acted last night. When he looked at her, she’d felt beautiful. He’d caressed her body like she was a rare treasure and given her pleasure—he’d made sure of that. Then he’d fallen asleep spooning her. And sometime in the middle of the night, when she’d shifted under the weight of his arms, he’d kissed the top of her head.

But that was his specialty, right? Special one-nighters. He wasn’t here for the long-term, and even if he were, he didn’t believe in long-term relationships. When she’d asked him if she were wrong about him, he hadn’t denied it; he’d avoided the question. Now when he woke up, he’d no doubt be ready to move on.

She wasn’t going to be some anchor he had to cut loose. She should leave now, save them both the agony of that morning awkwardness.

He shifted under the covers and then, seeming to realize he was alone in bed, groaned and opened his eyes. He blinked several times, orienting himself, no doubt. Starr braced for a look of disinterest, or worse—regret.

“’Morning,” she whispered, slipping into her panties.

His gaze rested on her, then traveled down the length of her body and back up. He paused at her hot pink panties, his expression totally different than the devilish excitement he’d shown hours ago while sliding the thin silk off her body—with his teeth. His eyes narrowed, his forehead crinkled with confusion, as in, what the heck happened last night? She felt her face flush.

“What are you doing?” Dang, his gravely morning voice was enough to make her come a fourth time. Her cheeks heated more at the thought.

“Shh. JJ will hear you. Us.” She scanned the floor for her jeans. She couldn’t think standing here in just panties. She grabbed her T-shirt hanging from the bedpost and slide into it in one quick motion. Where had she been when she’d wiggled out of her jeans? Edge of the bed, right? She shuffled to the foot of the bed, snatched them off the floor, and pulled them on. “I have to get out of here before he wakes. I’ll make coffee. You want coffee?” Coffee was a must.

“What time is it?”

“Ten after five.” Truth was, she’d been wide awake since four thirty, enjoying his spooning, reliving the night…and dreading the exact moment of this new day when he would give her the thanks-for-a-nice-time speech, which was all it was. Like she didn’t already know.

A slow smile spread across his face. “Come back here.” He held up the covers. “We’ve got at least fifteen minutes of snuggle time.”

Back to bed?

His smile broadened. “Or we can do more than snuggle,” he said, no doubt misreading the contradictory look on her face.

“We can’t.”

He raised a brow. “We already have. More than once.” His words were annoyingly slathered with pride.

“No,” she said. “I mean, it’s morning; there’s no snuggling.” Snuggling was for couples, for people who cared about each other. Not them. Definitely not them.

“Says who?”

For the love of God, was he purposely being obtuse? When she didn’t respond, he threw off the covers and pushed out of bed. He stalked toward her. Stark naked. Totally in control. He stopped in front of her, his smoky gray eyes never leaving hers. He lifted a finger to her lower lip and traced it with his fingertip. Holding her chin, he kissed her cheek, letting his lips linger until it was anything but chaste. Then he stepped back. “You’re right. Let’s start with coffee and go from there.”

Coffee—excellent idea. With one shaky hand, she grappled for the bedroom doorknob and, once found, scooted out of the room and beelined for the kitchen. She set the coffee to brew and paced the cool linoleum.

Start with coffee and go from there? Her heart palpitated at the thought of where they’d gone last night and the places they still could go. The places she wanted to go. With him. What had he done to her? Her blood raced, heating her skin until moisture accumulated on her brow and forehead. She tugged at her T-shirt collar, suddenly high and tight across her neck. Since when had April gotten so dang hot so dang early in the morning?

Her eyes squeezed shut, and she hoped when she opened them, the world would make more sense. He was supposed to be an ass this morning. Where was his one-and-done attitude? Instead, he’d wanted to snuggle, for God’s sake.

She opened her eyes and focused on the school books and art supplies scattered throughout the kitchen, and on the walls plastered with Grace’s photos and JJ’s drawings and cute little we’re-a-family knickknacks. For a split second, a tiny ping of jealousy twanged Starr’s heart. She didn’t belong here anymore. Heck, even her own father knew that.

She needed to get her head back in the game. Today was her day to reclaim her life. Her real life. She was a skier, not this interloper character she was trying to become.

Starr didn’t belong here any more than Spencer.

…

“Coffee smells good.” Spencer meandered into the kitchen. A plain dark purple T-shirt stretched across his chest. Her fingertips tingled, remembering the feel of his skin. He stood there, assessing her. “Last night…”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“You don’t have to say anything to let me down easy or set me straight on how things are or whatever.”

His jaw tightened. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m making it easy on you. Last night was…nice.” Amazing. The most amazing night she’d had since forever. “A nice, one-time thing. Today’s a new day, right?”

His jaw dropped, and then he closed it and his brows creased, as if he was debating how to respond. Clearly, he was the one who usually did the dismissing. He walked past her to the coffeepot, grabbed a mug from the cupboard, and filled it. “So, what’s your plan for today?”

When he turned back toward her, there was no residual tension on his face. See, she’d made it easy for him and he’d moved on.

You’re welcome.

Then why did it feel like she’d been poked in the stomach with a sharp stick?

“Um, tonight, I’m taking Matt to the Rescue Mission. He’ll show this time,” she added quickly.

He grunted.

“But this morning, I was thinking I’d head up to Mount Rose. I’m sure you have work to do, so you’ll have the house to yourself.”

“You’re going skiing?”

She tightened her stomach muscles before she answered to block out the fear she felt every time she contemplated snapping into a pair of skis. “Yes.”

“I’ll go, too.”

He couldn’t. This was her day. She needed to focus, concentrate on the task at hand. Without an audience.

“If you don’t mind,” he added.

Yes, she minded, very much. Especially after last night. He had practice moving on and not looking back. But she needed to put some space between them, something to dim the memories of his body on top of her, under her. Surrounding her.

“You’d be disappointed. We’d only have a few hours to be back before JJ’s bus. It really wouldn’t be worth it for you, the equipment rental, the ticket.” That sounded good, almost convincing.

He shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

But she did. What if she couldn’t ski? She didn’t want him to see that. Not him. “You don’t even have the right clothes.”

“I saw a pair of snow pants in the closet that should work. It’ll be nice.” He emphasized “nice” and then raised a challenging brow.

It was true: payback was a bitch.

He stood there, watching her, no doubt trying to decipher the slew of emotions billboarding on her face as she wracked her brain for another valid reason why he shouldn’t come.

“Fine,” she said, grinding her teeth. “Be ready in an hour. You’re right. It will be nice.”

…

Sitting in the passenger seat, Spencer watched Starr navigate the curvy, single-lane road up to Mount Rose. She’d surprised the crap out of him when she agreed to let him come with her. But if she was determined to play the ambivalent card—his card—after their “nice” night, then so be it.

Nice? Who was she kidding? He’d seen her reaction all through the night, watched her lose herself in ecstasy. In desire. Heard her call his name as she came. He liked it so much he made sure she did it several times.

Damn, what a night.

He’d woken up that morning and didn’t know which way was up. He’d even offered to snuggle. Him—snuggle. And once the words were out, he hadn’t even wanted to rope them back in.

Then she’d turned him down. Crazy, really, since of course, he’d only offered to ease the transition into “the morning after.”

To his surprise, she’d transitioned just fine, declaring the evening over and moving on, or at least pretending to. Her way to rationalize their night together, maybe? He didn’t know and doubted she did, either. He’d seen the confusion in her eyes, along with a host of other emotions he couldn’t decipher. And he wouldn’t. There was no point.

It was better for both of them this way.

So here they were, driving up a mountain together on this fine new day.

Starr whipped around the twists and turns of the road like a racing pro. He couldn’t help but clutch the grab handle above his window, what Jase referred to as the oh-shit handle. Heights had never been a problem for Spencer, but the cliff wall on their right was little comfort to the precipitous drop of thousands of feet on their left with only a three-foot guardrail as a boundary.

“Are we anywhere near where that party got stuck in the pass and resorted to eating each other?” he asked, his left hand clutching the oh-shit handle tighter.

Starr shook her head. “Donner Pass is off I-80, west of here.” She shot a quick glance at Spencer. “Don’t worry, it’s probably too late in the season for a snowstorm of that magnitude.”

“Probably?”

“Besides”—she winked—“I ate breakfast.”

He hmphed, then nodded out the window to the right. “What’s that?”

The large, faded Snow Bear Cavern sign, decorated with an illustration of two kids and their parents, all in ski gear, stood proudly in front of a small ski area.

“A not-for-profit ski school.”

“With their own mountain?”

“It’s been around for decades. It’s run by volunteers, even the instructors.” She glanced at him. “I taught Matt there.”

“Delinquent Matt skis?”

She ignored the comment. “It’s a great program. The parents and volunteers all work together.” She nodded. “It was fun to teach there.”

Her tone was almost wistful. Spencer couldn’t help but smile. Starr could probably charge hundreds for a private ski lesson but of course preferred to do it for free.

A few minutes later, they turned into the Mount Rose parking lot. Spencer assessed the place, then checked his watch. Eleven o’clock. Incredible that it’d taken them less than an hour to arrive at this fairly substantial ski resort. He opened his door, then turned back to Starr. She sat perfectly still, staring up at the mountain, as if waiting for it to erupt.

“Something wrong?” he asked.

His words seemed to break her from a trance. “No, not at all.” She hurried out of the car. “I’ll go with you to rentals,” she said, going to the trunk for her equipment.

“No need. After I rent my stuff, I’m going to warm up on the green runs. It’s been awhile since I’ve skied.” Spencer followed her to the back of the Jetta with the intention of carrying her skis. A moot point, as she’d already slung them over her shoulder and started toward the ticket booth. “You do your thing,” he said, following her. “There’s no way I’ll keep up with you.”

“There’s nothing to keep up with.” Frustration boiled in her voice. He heard her take a deep breath, long and slow. “I have to buy a ticket first, so I’ll at least show you where the rentals are,” she said in a more measured tone. “I didn’t get a pass this year. I’m…recovering…from a minor accident. Doc says I shouldn’t overdo it.”

Accident, right. He’d forgotten about Grace’s comment, what with the Triad stakeout and all. “What kind of accident?”

“It was nothing,” she clipped. “A small tumble. No big deal.” She quickened her pace toward ticketing. “Come on. I’ll get you started then see you out there. I want to get several runs in, and we have to be back before JJ’s bus.”

Thirty minutes later, Spencer was outfitted like a pro, thanks to Starr’s pre-rental advice. She’d left him as soon as he was able to convince her he wasn’t a total novice, and he didn’t expect to see her again until their agreed-upon meet time in a couple hours.

He walked up to the snow alone, taking in the majestic view of the snow-covered mountain. Snow, sunshine, no lines. He could get used to this. He clicked into his skis and pushed off toward the Wizard, a four-man lift that would take him up to the first of the greens. As he neared the lift, he saw Starr off to the right before the lift. Interesting that she was still warming up on the greens. He’d expected her to beeline for the black diamond runs.

He watched as she ski-stepped toward the lift, like a lumbering robot, slow and stiff. Totally out of her element. A just-don’t-look-right feeling sprouted in his chest. He pushed up to her and then past her, not wanting to make her feel awkward, and waited several feet ahead.

Once Starr reached him, Spencer slid up to the lift entrance. “Ready?” he asked over his shoulder to her. Watching the chair approach, he positioned himself on the marked line and then looked back for her. She was frozen at the line entrance, a horrified look on her face.

She slid one ski forward, then fell to her knees in the snow. “I can’t!”

The lift reached Spencer and pressed against the back of his knees to scoop him up. Starr…he had to get to Starr. He pushed against the chair. It didn’t yield. It continued to plow forward, intent on running him over.

“Stop the lift!” he yelled. The lift operator punched the stop button, and the machine jerked to a halt. Spencer maneuvered around the stalled chairs to Starr’s crumpled body. With his pole, he released his boots from his skis, kneeled next to her, and released her boots from her skis. Then he gathered her in his arms.

“It’s too heavy. I’m so cold,” she whimpered. “I can’t.”

He rocked her in his arms. Was this the result of the “small tumble”? Whatever it was, he’d make it right, at least for today. “You don’t have to, honey, I promise.” Without a second thought, he lifted her up and carried her off the snow and to the car.