Page 15 of Snowbound Lovers
I’m surprised that her colorful, vibrant personality is, for once, flat. “You sound sad.”
She looks away. “I am a little … but not because it wasn’t the right thing to do. Luckily we both recognized that we make better friends than lovers. We still see each other occasionally … just for a drink and a catch-up … I guess I miss having that someone special to come home to.”
She exhales a breath, and her sadness is carried away on the release of air because she turns back to me with a sweet smile softening her face. “My four-year-old dog, Ned, is very affectionate with his wagging tail and doggy licks, but he’s not the same as being greeted by a human.”
I smile at the picture she paints with her words. “What type of dog is he?” I always wanted a dog, but growing up in the city, it wasn’t really possible, so I had to settle for a goldfish.
“Ned’s a black labrador, and I love him as much as he loves me. He’s the one that lies beside me on the beach and takes long walks with me in the shallows every day.” She’s smiling again.
I like how nothing keeps her down for long. I offer her a refill when she silently looks down into the empty glass, and as I pour another inch of the dark liquid into the glass in her outstretched hand, she says, “You always seem to be plying me with alcohol.”
“Really, I don’t mean to. Although that’s the only time you appear to loosen up around me.”
“Hey, if I was any looser, I would slide down under the water. This may have to be my last one,” she admits, lifting her glass up in a silent toast. I raise the bottle in reply, my eyes never leaving hers as we each have another sip. Minutes tick by, and still we look at each other through the filmy threads of steam rising up between us.
Chapter 9
Madison
“I’mgladJasmineremindedme about the hot tub on the drive back.” I sigh contentedly. My sore, tired muscles needed the gentle massaging of the turbo-charged warm water. I was so stiff and sore after my not-so-graceful exit from the lift that I was barely able to get out of my ski pants without assistance.
“I’m glad too.” Jarrod’s voice floats over the sound of the bubbling hot tub.
I look across at him again. There’s no longer a need to imagine his body under sweaters and jackets. It’s right there, displayed for me in full glorious, touchable life. A half-naked Jarrod in a hot tub is difficult to ignore. All that gorgeous expanse of chest, six-pack and all, lightly dusted with dark hair. I like a little chest hair. Not too much and not bare. Jarrod has the perfect amount. And then there are those arms with the thick, defined muscles running from his shoulders down to his corded forearms, rippling slightly each time he sweeps his finger across the wooden decking like he’s brushing away a fleck of dirt. I can’t help imagining how good that finger would feel casually rubbing across my nipples in the same way.
No, bad girl with bad thoughts, I tell myself. I must not have dirty thoughts about the moody man in front of me. It will only lead to trouble. This is meant to be a relaxing, fun time with friends to forget about being single during the holidays, not one for me to get all tangled up with a broody new lover.
I finish the remaining whiskey and hold my empty glass out for another refill. Is this my third?
“Okay, mister. It’s your turn to tell me about your last relationship. Or maybe your current one.” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, as I realize I don’t know if he even has a significant other.
His head jerks up to stare at me. “Hey, I’m not dating anyone. If I was, I wouldn’t be sitting here in a hot tub with a beautiful single woman.” I can’t hold back the smile which stretches across my mouth. He just called me beautiful.
“Good to know … Now c’mon, spill the details about your last relationship.”
He releases an audible sigh, then begins. “Okay, so it was three years ago, and we dated for a couple of months. She wanted more, and I didn’t have the time free to give her more.” I stare at him as he clinically states the facts. I notice he’s unable to keep eye contact, and I wish I knew why.
“Follow up question. What was your longest relationship?” I ask, and this question seems to have hit a nerve, as he reaches over to busy himself with having another swig of whiskey from the bottle. I wait for him to finish and answer my question.
“Umm … that was my longest relationship,” he admits reluctantly.
My jaw drops, literally, and I use my hand to close it. “Ever?” His sharp nod and glare tell me he doesn’t want to answer any more questions.
“Wow, no wonder you’re so grumpy,” I blurt out, my tongue loosened by the whiskey like it was truth serum. I really didn’t mean for that to come out, and I quickly add, “Sorry … ignore me … sometimes I say things without thinking.”
He makes a half grunt, half laugh sound, and combined, it’s a deep, sexy noise. “I have noticed. But I’ll let you in on a secret. I like it. I’m so used to being surrounded at work or social events with people who say only what they think I want to hear.”
“I can’t imagine that would be fun. I would hate constantly having people agreeing with me. Look at all the fun we are having disagreeing.”
He coughs out another laugh. “Very true … Are you ready to get out yet?”
“Not really. It’s nice and warm in here and sooo relaxing.” I stretch, my arms reaching high and my legs long in front of me. Oops. One foot connects with firm, hard muscle, and the other with a more intimate area of Jarrod’s body. An area of his body that should have felt softer than it did.
My body instantly retracts, like a turtle back into its shell, and my hands fly to my face. Then, through gaps in my fingers, I look at him and say, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you … there.” I wave my hand generally in the direction of his crotch. But as his crotch is underwater, I could be pointing anywhere.
He laughs loud and long, like for at least a couple of minutes. When he has finally got himself mostly under control, he chokes out, “No damage done … thankfully.” This time it’s me that’s frowning because in my head, I’m adding to my tally of embarrassing Jarrod moments.
“C’mon, it’s time to get out. I’ll go first and get your towel so you don’t get cold.” He appears to adjust himself below the water before standing up in the center of the tub, then turning his back to me and getting out. It’s a wonderful visual display of dripping wet muscled man and clinging thin fabric over the tightest butt I’ve seen up close on a man in a long time. My ex wasn’t flabby, but he wasn’t toned like Jarrod either. Jarrod obviously likes to work out, as you don’t get that muscled deliciousness sitting behind a desk.
