Page 35 of Ticket to You

Adam was taking detail shots of the store but must have caught on because soon he’s on my other side. I feel his knee against mine but can’t bring myself to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the trio, laughing dryly and fanning my face with my hands. “Seeing the two of you together is… It’s incredibly moving. I’m so grateful I could meet you all and hear your story.” My eyes flick to Adam to see his mouth downturned and his eyebrows set low.

After we finish Serena and Anja’s interview, I ask Adam to take a smiling photo of me and Serena, then another with me, Serena, and her grandmother. When we pose, Anja wraps an arm around my shoulder and I again feel the threat of tears.

As we’re packing our gear back up, Adam leans over me and whispers under his breath, “I know you’re the type of person to always say you’re okay, but are you really?”

A thickness in my throat settles in, making it hard to speak. “Of course I am.”

* * *

Adam offersto drive the two of us to the hotel, and I’m grateful because it means his eyes will be on the road, not on my face, which still feels warm and puffy. I flip through Adam’s camera as he drives, falling in love with every photo more than the last. I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from crying all over again when I click through photos of Anja.

The car pulls to a stop. I look up from the camera for the first time, my vision blurry from suppressed tears. “Where are we?”

The nearest building is at least a hundred yards away and has a glass front and bikes lined up on the outside. Clearly, it’s not a hotel.

“We have to go the rest of the way by cable car. It’s about a thirty-minute ride. Come on,” Adam says, already on his way to his trunk.

I step out of the car and press my hands against the hood, bracing myself. “Moreheights?”

“More heights,” Adam says coolly. “And you’ll have to pare down on the bags you’re bringing. We won’t fit in the cable car with an entire closet on wheels.”

I glare at Adam and get to work moving things around between my luggage. It’s practically a miracle, but I fit everything I need for the two-night stay here in one roller suitcase plus my gear bag.

We’re the first ones in the cable car, but it quickly gets crowded with tourists. We get pushed to the back, and my shoulder digs into Adam’s chest. I fold my arms to keep from touching him any more than I already have to.

Being squashed against Adam should annoy me. Though my body tingles with warmth, I know it’s no longer only from hate.

Every day we’ve been together, my view of him has been challenged. He willingly went to a fashion museum with me; he stayed up late the first night of the trip to make sure my grandpa’s watch was safe; he was protective when he thought Henri was making me uncomfortable; he told me about his family. And today, he was genuinely worried about me during the interview.

Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought, but that’s somehow worse. Because now this trip is even riskier. I found it easy to keep distant from a guy who I thought was a jerk and who I thought was dating someone else. Now what’s keeping me away from Adam is Gemma’s reminder that Hoffman Publishing would be upset if it looked like I used company funds for a romantic getaway. The point of this trip was to save my career, not risk it for Adam Abrams, of all people.

“Care to explain why you’re having us stay up at a ski lodge when we won’t even be skiing?” I ask, eager to get my mind off my developing opinion of Adam.

When Adam speaks, his words are tight, and it almost sounds like he’s holding his breath. “Mila, the climber I’m interviewing tomorrow, works at the lodge part time and got us a comped stay.”

Instead of watching the ground sink away from us, I twist my head up and look at Adam, who seems even taller when I’m this close to him. He casts his blue eyes toward the mountains outside, and they appear even brighter than usual as they reflect the snow. He notices my turn towards him and meets my gaze, a muscle in his cheek twitching. I look away quickly, shocked by his smile. Though I try to step forward to put some distance between my shoulder and his torso, it’s no use. We’re packed like models in the waiting room of a casting call, and I spend the rest of the ride ignoring the hardness of Adam’s chest—or trying to.

At least that’s better than spending the entire ride thinking about how at any second we could go crashing to the ground.

Adam takes the lead in checking us in, and we’re escorted to our room by a bellboy with a ski-goggle tan line.

Our room has a carved sleigh bed, a stone accent wall, and wooden beams along the ceiling. A picture-perfect mountainside view is on full display through the balcony’s sliding glass door. The warm evening sun is starting its descent behind the steep, jagged rock faces.

At the same moment, Adam and I throw our gear bags onto the bed.

Bed.Not beds.

Not this again.

We both scan the room. And then once more. No couch.

“I’ll go get us a different room,” Adam says. He hurries out before I can respond.

20

ADAM

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