Page 19 of Against All Odds

“Anytime, Bambi.” I lightly tugged on the edge of her helmet. “Now, let’s grab some food before you turn into a human icicle.”

CHAPTER 6

sable

“Where are we going for dinner?” I asked him when I could feel my hands again. It had been cold despite the gloves because we’d been in the snow for a good three hours. “And may I buy it as a thank you?”

“We’re going to my place for dinner, and no, you can’t buy because I’m cooking. However, if you reallymust, the chef likes to be paid in kisses.” He was busy maneuvering his vehicle while he spoke like this was standarddate stuff.

I hadneverhad a date cook for me. I’d never had anyone cook for me, ever, not counting the times when some of Jack’s friends invited us for dinner at their place. But that was a party. This here was a man who was going to put together a meal for me and wanted me to pay him in kisses.

“Just because you’re going to feed me doesn’t mean I’m going to put out,” I joked, pretending my heartwasn’t beating faster than it ever had and not because I was standing atop a bunny hill in skis for the first time.

The sun was just dipping behind the mountains as we pulled into Heath’s driveway; the sky was streaked with pinks and golds, making the snowcapped peaks look like it was out of a postcard. It had been a good day. No—scratch that. It had been anamazingday. Skiing had been more fun than I ever imagined, but what stuck with me more than the rush of sliding down the bunny slope was Heath smiling at me like I was good enough.

For once, someone had done something just for me, without expectations or strings attached. He hadn’t teased me for being a beginner, hadn’t rolled his eyes at my anxiety, and, most importantly, hadn’t made me feel like I was a burden, like he was doing me a favor.

I found that Heath lived in Snowmass like me, though I was closer to the main village. Heath was high up, where the views were more expansive. It was also isolated, which told me he liked his privacy. I had looked at homes here, but they were out of my budget.

From the outside, his sleek, modern house, with floor-to-ceiling windows, looked impressive. It was on a ridge with wide-open views of the surrounding valley and peaks.

When I stepped into his house, my chest gave a little hitch. It was gorgeous—clean and open, with windows that framed the mountains like art. A home like this could feel cold and impersonal, but not the way Heath had set it up. Is this who Heath was? Simple, unfussy, and somehow effortlessly warm.

His art collection was eclectic and felt personal. It included black-and-white photographs of Aspen's peaks and San Diego’s sun-drenched beaches, a vibrant abstract painting that brought an unexpected pop of color to the living room, and a framed charcoal sketch of a lone pine tree that tugged at me. On one wall, there was a carved wooden mask that felt old and full of history, alongside a simple watercolor of the Roaring Fork River in spring, and one of a European city, cobblestone streets included. Nothing matched, but it all worked together, as if he had chosen each piece because it was important to him, not because it fit a theme. It gave his minimalist house a warmth that made it feel like a home.

“You have a beautiful place.” I trailed my fingers over the back of the sleek, blue couch as I wandered into the living room.

“Thanks.” He set his keys on the counter. “It took me a year to make it mine.”

I glanced at the bookshelves flanking the fireplace, lined with hardcovers and framed photos. There was a restraint to the whole house. No frills, no clutter—just thoughtful details, carefully chosen. It was a sharp contrast to my old home with Jack, which had been filled with furniture I didn’t like and decor I didn’t pick.

“You’re a minimalist.” I glanced back at him.

He smiled. “I’ve had enough clutter for a lifetime. Now, I stick to what I actually like. No more gold-framed mirrors or chandeliers that look like spaceships.”

That made me laugh, and I could well imagine Alexa having that kind of over-the-top taste. “I moved into mycottage just a few months ago, so I’m still figuring out who I am and what I like.”

“Yeah, I know that process. Alexa and I were together for years and, somewhere down the line, I wasn’t sure what was her taste and what was mine. I knew what I didn’t like, but I didn’t know what I liked.”

“Looks like you figured it out.” I waved a hand around the house.

“You will, too,” he assured me. “Just takes a while…it’s a process, going through a divorce, isn’t it?”

I licked my lips. “Why did you get divorced? Is it okay for me to ask?”

He looked at me keenly and nodded. “Sure. We grew into different people who no longer shared the same values.”

I folded my arms and rested against the back of the couch, facing him and the well-appointed kitchen behind him. I liked his open-plan home. The ground floor, it appeared, was the living space, and the stairs probably led to bedrooms.

“I don’t think Jack and I ever had the same values.”

He arched an eyebrow.

I chuckled in self-deprecation. “You’re probably wondering why I married him then.”

He came close to me and cupped my cheek. “There’s no judgment from me. I know you keep expecting it, and I understand that’s been your experience, but that’s not who I am.”

I swallowed and leaned into his touch. He had bighands. They were warm, and I liked them on me. Skin to skin. Comfortinganderotic.

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