Page 54 of Love Me Reckless

He stares at the window display. “Okay, that’s what I’ll do.”

“Let me help,” I say. “We could meet there on your days off.”

“Don’t people know you there too?”

“Yeah, but they won’t knowyou.” An idea forms in my mind, and I can’t hold back my grin. “Let’s go in. I think I have a plan.”

Inside the shop, a fit-looking salesman with a scruffy beard and wearing a flannel and chinos comes to greet us. “Help you guys find anything?”

I scan the racks of ski clothing. “Yes please, my cousin here is visiting from Sweden and he’s going to need outfitting for the ski season.”

Sawyer makes a sound like I’ve punched him. The sales rep gives Sawyer a quick up-down assessment. “Sweden, huh?”

“Yep,” Sawyer says, flicking a murderous gaze my way as the sales guy leads us to the men’s ski clothes section.

“The tags have US and euro sizing, so finding the right fit shouldn’t be an issue,” the salesman says, then launches into a quick tour of the different choices. Insulated vs. non, bibs vs. pants. “Let me know if I can help.”

I’ve already collected several items as he gave his spiel, so once he’s gone, I move to the next rack and start flipping.

“Sweden?” Sawyer asks in a low tone.

I bite my lip. “It’s what popped into my head. And we do have distant family relatives there. Or maybe it’s Denmark.”

“Isn’t everyone in Sweden born with skis on?”

“Cross-country skis, yes. Not a lot of people downhill ski. Surprising, I know.”

“This is a terrible idea,” he says, gritting his teeth.

“Do you want to learn to ski or not?”

“I don’t like lying to people.”

“Apparently you already did, remember?”

He huffs a sigh. “You’re right.Shit.”

He looks truly distressed, so I look him in the eye and give him a reassuring smile. “It’s not like this is a lie that will hurt anyone. And it has an end date.”

I hand him the bundle of jackets and ski pants. “Dressing room’s over there. Get started and I’ll bring more.”

He gives me a pained look before spinning away and heading for the row of dressing rooms. I grab another few garments, then breeze through the thermal layers section for long underwear. My tummy flutters when I picture these next-to-skin layers being next tohisskin.

Stop it. Long underwear is not sexy.

I arrive at Sawyer’s room just as he peeks out wearing a dark teal jacket and black ski pants.

“Do you like them?” I place the new items on a chair outside.

“They’re warm.”

“How’s the fit?” I ask, peering around the door.

Sawyer is looking at himself in the mirror, a blank look on his face. He lifts each knee, making the fabric swish. “Good, I guess. It’s fucking noisy though.”

I get the feeling he doesn’t like the idea of drawing attention to himself. “It looks good on you, Karl.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Karl?”

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