Page 28 of Suddenly Tempted
“I grew up with nothing,” he said, eyes firmly shut. “We were so poor, my dad was useless, he was in prison half the time. Mum did her best, she was amazing, but we never had anything. I earned every penny I’ve got, and I’m not ashamed of it.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
She looked at his face, studying the worry lines on his forehead so closely she didn’t realise he’d opened his eyes. He gave her a silent look that made her chest constrict and the skin on her neck prickle with heat.
He breathed deeply, then nodded.
“If your head gets worse, or you feel severely dizzy or sick, then tell me,” he said. “High altitude pulmonary or cerebral oedemas are no joke. They can be fatal.”
He pulled the packet of pain relief from his pocket and offered her two pills.
“This will help, wash it down with some snow.”
She did as he told her, removing a glove and scooping up some scratchy snow, dissolving it in her mouth. It lifted her mood a little. Her snow scooping hand soon started to sting with the cold and wet, but as she tried to pull her glove back on, it stuck to all her fingers and hung off them like the branches of a willow tree. Devlin pressed his lips together and put down the case.
“Here,” he said. “Let me help.”
Darcy watched as Devlin pulled off the glove from his good hand with his teeth and started to tug at hers. He sighed as the glove slid easily, his chest rising and falling, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His fingers brushed the skin of her wrist, and for a moment it was like he was holding her hand. Darcy’s breath caught in her throat. Her skin tingled. And she was almost certain the sharp intake of breath came from Devlin and his realisation of how it looked. He dropped his hand like Darcy had electrocuted him, turning to pull back on his own glove.
“Thanks,” Darcy said, her voice husky. Devlin gave her a nod and they started back on their way, walking side by side.
Every so often Darcy would feel Devlin turn and inspect her, as though she was about to fall or faint. She could see the concern even from the corner of her eyes and it made heat pool in all her softness. She was suddenly too hot in her layers of clothing, and she tugged at her collar in a futile attempt to cool down, grateful that Devlin didn’t mention her rosy cheeks. The quiet of the mountain pressed too hard — she needed to fill it.
“You’re good at this.”
“Good at what?” he asked.
“Walking,” she replied. “Through snow. You’re a cross-country skier, right?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I love it.”
“You’re crazy,” she said, out of breath again. “Why would you do this for fun?”
He laughed.
“I like the challenge of it,” he said. “It’s good to test yourself. Cross-country skiing is one of the hardest things you can do, but youcando it. There’s really nothing as exhilarating as pushing yourself to your limits, and nothing as rewarding as crossing the finish line. I’ve competed a few times, mainly in Canada, but Scandinavia too. Cross-country skiing, and marksmanship.”
“I heard you were competitive,” she said, her foot slipping on a loose rock beneath the snow. Devlin was beside her in an instant. “Like,reallycompetitive.”
“I am,” he said, stepping back into line as Darcy walked on. “But it’s not like that. I don’t care if I win or lose. It doesn’t matter where you come in the ranks, as it’s not about who you beat. The only person you should be competing with is yourself. Do better. Be better.”
“Are you actually Devlin Storm?” Darcy asked, smiling. “I remember reading an interview with you where you said you enjoyed nothing more than crushing your opponents.”
Devlin shook his head. “Yeah, that sounds like something I’d say. Pompous and ridiculous and self-aggrandising.”
“But that’s not you,” Darcy said. Devlin stopped walking, turning to her and fixing her with his intense gaze.
“Can I tell you something?” he asked, speaking more quietly now that they were face to face. “Something you probably won’t have read in many interviews.”
“Sure,” she said, following his lead as he walked on again, his arm brushing hers as they went. It was a solid contact that felt good in this wide expanse of pure, white nothingness.
“I wasn’t called Devlin Storm growing up. Devlin, yes, but I had my dad’s name, Priestley. I hated it because I hated him. He was the least priestly person you could ever meet. His name was a joke. Mum had his name, too, and her maiden name was Smith, which felt far too dull.”
“How did you end up with Storm?” Darcy asked. She’d heard the name Priestley before, it was a common fact that he’d changed his name, but she had never heard the reason why.
“Mum was a quiet woman,” he went on, his voice even softer now, so that she had to lean closer to him to hear it over the sound of their crunching feet. “That’s why dad liked her, I think, because he could order her around. She used to do everything for him, and I never once heard him ask nicely, or say thank you. He was the same with everyone. He just had a way of making you feel small, small enough that he could boss you around, use you. I used to hate it so much, the way he was.”
He took a moment to think about his own words, his green eyes seeing something that Darcy could not.
