Page 14 of Just Shred

“Come on, stuck in the nineteen fifties dad,” I joke, and he grins. “My father got me hooked, and Supernatural,” I confess, sliding next to him.

“You’re fucking with me. I love that show,” he says, locking eyes with me.

“It’s my guilty pleasure,” I say, focusing on the lift exit, which scares me shitless every time we jump off together. “My business has been going like shit for the last couple of months. The music was the only thing getting me through.” The moment the words leave my lips, I want to take them back.

“I never asked what you do for a living?”

“I own a vintage online store,” I tell him, blowing on my hands.

“And that’s not running good?”

I shake my head. “My business partner screwed me over, and now I’m back here in the town I grew up in to get up the courage to ask my Mommy and Daddy for help. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

Dammit. I cringe. Why do those eyes make me want to blurt out everything that’s on my mind?.

“You never told me you grew up here,” he says, looking at me. “And I hope you have more guilty pleasures up your sleeve, Ace,” he jokes, grabbing the bar and helping me off the lift.

I blush a little, holding his hand as we glide to the top of the blue slope area.

We don’t talk about my past again. Instead, he tells me about his brother and how they always used to ride together before work got the best of him. He doesn’t tell me what he does besides teaching, and I don’t press the subject. It’s nice for a change to just talk instead of comparing resumes like I do on all my other dates back in L.A. But this is not a date, I remind myself, although sometimes when he’s looking at me, it sure feels like it.

“So what kind of movies do you like?” he asks while we slowly cruise down the slope.

“Really, you’re going for the movie stage in the relationship? You also wanna know my favorite color?” I snicker.

“I would really like to know your favorite sexual position, but it’s better if we start with something safe,” he says simply, gliding next to me.

I almost lose my balance, and he laughs while I shoot daggers his way. I adjust my helmet and tell him, “Pretty Woman, blue, and everything I haven’t tried before,” I drawl, and waggle my brows.

He keeps looking at me and has to twist his board to avoid a collision with a skier. “Don’t tease a guy like that, Ace of Spades.” He laughs. “And isn’t that the movie where she plays a hooker in Los Angeles?”

“Excuse me? It’s a freaking classic, you culture barbarian.” I hold up my hands. “Don’t tell me your favorite movie is Rambo four?”

He clears his throat loudly, and his eyes meet mine. “How the fuck did you know?”

“Lucky guess.” I laugh, making another turn while he follows me.

He blows out a breath and runs his fingers through his long hair hiding under his helmet. “And what would you like to try?”

My eyes latch onto his back while he whooshes past me. “I’ll never tell,” I yell after him.

He flips me the bird, and I giggle, following him down.

He stops abruptly, and I almost slam into him. “Still don’t know how to break?” A cocky smirk plays on his lips, like he planned this.

“Fudge you,” I counter, holding on to his jacket.

One dark brow arches in surprise, and he grins. “Fudge? Don’t tell me you don’t swear?”

“Oh, I fucking do. Haven’t you been paying attention the last two days?”

He chuckles, and my heart skips a beat. It’s much huskier than before. Like a sexy, low growl. I swallow hard, trying to come up with a good comeback, but I can’t think of anything.

He snorts. “Weighing your comeback answers, I see,” he says, that smoky sound of his voice making me shiver.

“I…” I begin, while my hand lands on his waist. He takes off one glove and reaches out. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” he says, and a deep throaty groan rumbles from his chest while he swipes the snowflakes from my face with his thumb. Heat flushes my cheeks as he traces the line of my cheekbone down to my jaw. “I’m relaxed,” I whisper.

---