Page 45 of Mountain Hero

“Not today.” Circling the island, I come to her side. “Will is running the store today. I’m taking the day off.” I put my arm around her waist and gently pull her down on a stool, then take the one beside her.

As Winter stares at me in confusion, I grab an empty plate and start piling it high with food. “We have plenty of time to eat.”

Her forehead creases. “Why are you taking the day off?”

I put the plate in front of her, then slide a napkin and silverware next to it. “To spend it with you.”

“You are?” A pleased smile lights her face.

“Yes. I have the whole day planned.” I tuck her hair behind her ear and kiss her cheek. “I wanted to do something special for you.”

“Enzo. You don’t have to do anything special.” Winter smiles, and her gaze softens. “I’m just happy to spend time with you.”

“I want to do it.” This time I brush a light kiss across her lips. “And I have lots of stuff planned. So eat up. Then you can find out what we’re doing next.”

“I can’t believe you did all this.”

Winter leans against me, resting her head on my shoulder. Like she’s been doing more and more often, she curls into my side, draping her legs over mine and snuggling into me. Her hair brushes my chin, soft and silky and carrying the light floral scent of her favorite shampoo.

Like our kisses that have evolved from tender to needy, it’s another sign that she feels comfortable with me. Not just comfortable, but like she’s seeking me out, wanting to build the connection between us. From Winter falling asleep next to me as we watch TV, hugging me spontaneously, or shyly asking if I’d sleep in bed with her after a particularly bad nightmare; they’re all reassurances that she wants something with me.

More than friendship, like we talked about the other day. But that can mean a lot of things, and the last thing I want is to move too quickly and scare her. So I’m tamping down my own desires and letting Winter take the lead.

Do I still think about Winter naked every night before I fall asleep? And again when I wake up? Absolutely.

I think about Winter naked a lot, really. It doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it, though. Not until I’m absolutely sure she’s ready.

“It wasn’t that much,” I reply, stroking my hand down the length of her hair. A twinge of regret plucks at my chest. “I wanted to take you?—”

Shit. Stop. Don’t bring up the reason I can’t take her out on a real date.

“It’s been amazing, Enzo.” Winter tilts her head back to meet my gaze. “Breakfast was delicious, and I can’t remember the last time I spent the morning just lounging in bed watching game shows. Probably not since I was a kid, staying home sick from school. I didn’t even realize The Price is Right is still on.”

“I know.” Grinning, I add, “I think it’s a requirement when you’re home sick. Watching Price is Right and trying to guess the value of all the prizes.”

“You’re right.” She laughs. “I always loved the Showcase Showdown. I had a strategy for it and everything. And—” She lifts her chin proudly. “I’ll have you know, I used to win the showcase way more often than any of the contestants.”

I chuckle. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Her lips twitch. “Are you saying I’m competitive?”

“Well.” Gesturing at the game area I set up—complete with a badminton net, cornhole, and an old set of Jarts I found in the garage—I smirk at her. “You seemed pretty competitive when we were playing earlier.”

After our lazy morning, we came outside and spent a couple of hours playing yard games and grilling hot dogs and burgers. I knew Winter was competitive from all the board games we play, but once we started playing badminton, she really let her cutthroat side come out.

There I was, expecting a casual game, lobbing the first easy stroke, and she sent it whizzing back at me like an Olympic tennis pro.

My intention was to take it easy on her. That disappeared around the third time the shuttlecock whipped by my head at the approximate speed of a fighter jet.

I still lost, and I didn’t mind in the least. Not when it meant I got to see Winter smile like that—so happy and excited and proud of herself.

Winter glances at the net before giving me a sheepish grin. “I might be a little competitive. But I blame my parents. Growing up, we’d play games every weekend—board games when the weather was bad, tennis and badminton and bocce ball when it was nice—and they never, ever just let me win.”

“Never?” That seems a little harsh. Now I’m imagining a little Winter fighting tears after she lost checkers for the tenth time in a row.

She grabs my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “It wasn’t bad. When I was really young, we played games I had a good chance of winning. Candyland. Chutes and Ladders. Hungry Hungry Hippos. But when I got older and we moved on to Scrabble and Pictionary and Jenga, my parents didn’t take it easy on me. They wanted me to win on my own.”

A wistful expression moves across her face. “I used to complain about it. Why wouldn’t they just let me win once in a while? But it made me work harder. And when I did win, it meant so much more. The first time I beat my parents in Scrabble, I was so proud. I knew it was a real win, not just something they handed me because I was a kid.”

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