thinking about her, and their mountaintop kiss had brought everything back.
At least she’d go soon. Leave him to his solitary routines. He needed his peace of mind again after she’d stirred up long-buried emotions. His body tightened into a wrung towel thinking it over. Time to stop replaying the other night and remember all the reasons they didn’t work.
Strangely, Noelle, the front desk clerk, and a large, straight-backed man with a military haircut, gave the group hugs and handshakes. They seemed to be thanking Julie, the groom and the families for something. After a flurry of kisses and bro-hugs, the mass moved out to the parking lot, leaving Julie talking animatedly to the couple.
He stared at Julie, tall and curvy in a cobalt ski suit that looked more suited for the slopes than a car ride to Connecticut. That brilliant color accentuated her braided hair, glossy as chestnuts, and emphasized her naturally dark pink lips.
Where was her luggage?
“Austin!” She looked exhausted and it aroused every protective instinct in him.
Several male heads turned as she hugged Noelle goodbye and strode in his direction, her dark eyes like a sparkling Christmas night. Something in the way she moved, in the straight back and swing of her shoulders, her quick-fire expressions, made it impossible to look away. When she drew close, her vanilla sugar-cookie scent perfumed the air and he breathed in deeply, silently.
“I’m sorry about your wedding.”
A cloud passed over her expression and her smile fled completely. “Me, too. I really messed up. Hurt Mason.”
“Better he knows now than...” He bit off the mental comparison he made to his own tortuous year. The roller coaster she’d put him on. One he wouldn’t ride again, no matter how much she called to him.
“Yes. Much better. For everyone.”
He pulled his keys from his coat pocket. Time for him to cut ties, too. “Have a safe trip home, Julie. And I’m sorry about the other night. I never should have crossed the line.”
“I’m not.”
Surprise cemented his joints. “Not what?”
“Not sorry about the kiss. And not leaving.” The way she stood—hip cocked, chin tucked, eyebrows up—underscored her defiant words.
“I don’t follow.”
Julie gave him a small hooded smile. Intimate. She pulled him to a more private corner of the room where a crystal bowl surrounded by cut-glass cups dominated a mahogany table. Eggnog swirled inside, nutmeg sprinkled across its frothy surface. He eyed it, suddenly needing a drink.
“Austin, I realized something important these last two days, but I’m not going to tell you what it is. Not yet.”
“And you brought me over here to share that?” His lips twitched, amused. She might not like surprises, but she never failed to catch him off guard. Kept him on his toes...and he enjoyed every minute of it, much as he wished he didn’t.
An unladylike punch smacked his shoulder.
“Nice.” He rubbed it as though it hurt. “You’ve always had great manners.”
Her cheeky grin shot adrenaline into his bloodstream. “I try. But listen—Dad wants Mom to stay and get spa treatments. Since I’m on my own for the next few days, I thought you could show me the sights.”
He stepped back and his hip jostled the table, the bowl tipping.
Julie lunged and their hands brushed as they righted the glassware. His fingers traced hers for an electric second before he stuffed them in his pockets.
“There must be someone else...”
“My maid of honor is at the spa and Mom will be busy with treatments. Come on, Austin. It’ll be fun. Like old times.”
That was the last thing he needed. The other night, he’d wanted to run back through time with Julie, but in the cold dawn hours, he’d come to his senses and dismissed that fantasy. She hated risk and he thrived on it. A future for them was impossible.
A pianist settled himself at a black baby grand piano beside a towering Christmas tree. The balsam branches swung two stories high, alive with light twirling on glass and tinsel. The first notes of “Silent Night” drifted across the room.
“I’m not the best tour guide, Julie. If you head downtown, there are a lot of shops...vintage ones, too. You could add to your collection of cream-and-sugar sets.”
“I’ll have to get them out of storage,” she said absently, shifting her gaze away from him. “Anyway, I’m going skiing today and hoped you could teach me.”
Austin looked at Julie, full-on and curious, as if he was seeing something new. All the years they’d dated, she refused his offers to take her to the slopes. Why the change of heart?
As he puzzled it out, the pianist swung into a spritely version of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” his smooth baritone attracting a small crowd.
“You’re going skiing,” Austin repeated, trying and failing to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
She tossed him a look that read equal parts fear and challenge. “Yes.”
“But you used to think skiing was risky.”
“Exactly why I’m doing it.”
Austin looked at her for so long that she started to look uncomfortable. She dropped her gaze and grabbed a glass of punch.
“What’s going on, Julie?”
The nylon of her jacket swished as her shoulders raised and lowered. “I’m too cautious. Don’t take enough chances. It’s time I changed that.” She downed half a glass.
His eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Her fingernails drummed on the side of the cup.
“Not to me.”
She snorted and gulped the last of the punch. “Right. Fine. It’s because I’ve missed out on too much worrying about what I didn’t know. Important things that I now regret.” She looked him directly in the eye.
He shifted under her scrutiny. If she meant him, he wasn’t getting his hopes up. “That’s a big change.”
“Tell me about it. Have you seen how terrifying that bunny slope looks? Check it out online.” She shot him an involuntary smile, her face betraying a mix of hope and alarm, before twisting around to place her cup on the table.
He grinned. Her quirky sincerity always got to him. “You really think you can do it?”
“Are you kidding?” A breathless laugh escaped her. “I’ll be eating snow all day, but I want to try.”
“I meant throwing away your anxiety.”
She inspected the razor-sharp edge of one of her braids. “I don’t know. Guess that’s why I’m asking for your help. Who better than Mr. Daredevil, right?”
An elderly couple joined the piano player and belted out “Blue Christmas,” the older man swiveling his hips and crooning like Elvis as his wife giggled and swatted his arm.
They looked happy. Companionable. Their roles—husband as show-off and wife as appreciative, though protesting, audience—were firmly entrenched. They reminded him of his parents. And grandparents. He’d always wanted to be part of a team like that. Had once thought Julie would be the ideal teammate. But it had fallen apart. Did he dare spend time with her again? Could she really change?
There was only one way to find out, but he’d keep his guard up. It was noble of her to try, and he’d help her, but that’d be as far as things would go between them.
“Give me five minutes and I’ll grab my gear.”
She