Page 58 of See You Next Winter
“Oh, because you have so much experience.”
I’m teasing, but how would I know? All those years we didn’t talk about our lives outside of winters. He might have had a hundred girlfriends.
“Sweetheart, I have a lifetime of experience with you.”
He always knows how to get me out of my head, but sometimes he says these things that send me deep inside it. I drink my water while staring out of the kitchen window at the quiet street below us. I took some of my first steps on that street, made snowmen with my dad, held my grandmother’s hand so she wouldn’t slip on icy patches.
Sometimes I long for those simple days, before jobs and worries and boys. Who would have thought the little girl back then would be here now with the boy from up the hill?
Ryan slips the tray of ramekins into the oven, washes his hands, and comes closer. His arms wrap around my waist, and he holds me close to his chest, kissing his way from my temple to my jaw.
He spins me to face him and when our foreheads touch, it’s as if he’s staring into my soul. When it gets too intense, I try to look away, but he tips my chin up and takes his time looking at me, eyes roamingeverywhere. The corners of his mouth keep curling at whatever memory he’s thinking of.
“Now,” he says, kissing the end of my nose. “Eggsen cocottetake twelve minutes to cook. So…”
He unties his apron and hangs it back up with a slow ease that has my heart rate kicking up a gear. His voice dips to a sexy drawl he knows drives me wild. “It may not be very romantic to accept a blow job, but that rule doesn’t work both ways.”
His fingers trace up the inside of my thigh, dancing around where the line of my underwear would sit if I’d worn any.
“Are you sore?”
“A little,” I confess and he kneels before me.
“Let me see if I can kiss it better.”
Chapter 44
Kayla
I’ve kept work toa minimum this week, but when I do have to work, Ryan meets me at the base station afterwards, with a bouquet of wildflowers he’s picked himself. July boasts beautiful days, so we walk down the mountain hand in hand, and plan out our next day.
At home, we take cold beers to the hot tub, then shower together before heading out to dinner. Whether it’s pizza in the village while the sun goes down, or one of the more upmarket restaurants in town, these are the best meals of my life.
In the mornings he cooks breakfast, or we wake up with our hands and mouths all over each other before we’ve even opened our eyes.
I could get used to this. Iamgetting used to this, and that’s a big problem. Pretending is easy when he looks at me like I’ve hung the moon, says all the right things, and acts like this is forever. Except it’s not forever, and with every hour the clock counts down, the knot in my stomach gets bigger and bigger.
On my days off, we pack a bag and head out early to one of our favourite spots. We start our journey the same way we would in winter, by riding theTelecabinmost of the way up the mountain. From there, the chairlift takes you closer to the summit, but we prefer to hike up and take a ride back down.
Today we’re heading for the highest point on our side of the valley, the same spot where we go in winter, then race to the bottom.Whenever I bring clients here, I hang back while they take their photos. The view isn't nearly as stunning without him to share it with.
Our path drifts through thick forests and alpine meadows. In the winter months, snow covers all of this, but now herds of cows and goats roam freely. Apart from the occasional cowbell and the call of black grouse, there is mostly silence. I’ve never known peace like it.
At just under 6000 ft, the peak boasts panoramic views for miles, hills and forests in every shade of green. In the far distance, Mont Blanc shines down on us all, the top still covered in snow and ice even in July.
Once we find a comfy spot, we spread out a picnic blanket and dig our lunches out of our backpacks. There’s barely a cloud in the sky, so I top up my sunscreen while Ryan sprawls out on the grass beside me.
“Hot tub will feel so good later. My legs are killing me.”
I almost tell him he’d get used to it if he lived here, we could come here all the time. That this spot only makes me happy if he’s here to share it with.
Being here with him in winter always makes me contemplative, but in summer my mood is more sombre.
“Will you keep your chalet after your parents die?” I ask him, and he chokes on his electrolyte drink.
“Bit dark, Bunny. Are your parents OK?”
“They’re fine. I’m just wondering what the future holds, I guess.”
