Hadn’t wanted to admit that to herself. As a matter of fact, she hadn’t been able to let those emotions out until this morning.
Coffee and breakfast weren’t going to sweeten her mood now. That she understood, so she got dressed as quickly as she could, gathered her clutch and her tiara and walked out the door before Carter came out of the bathroom.
She needed time and distance. Not the distraction that he provided.
IT DIDN’T TAKE a Stephen Hawking–level genius to figure out that Lindsey wanted to be left alone. But Carter hadn’t achieved all he had in the world of snowboarding, or in life, by not going after what he wanted. And after last night, it was pretty damned clear to him that he still wanted more from her.
He took a shower, got dressed, ate the breakfast he’d ordered and then went out to find her. She worked at the lodge, and he suspected she must live pretty close to it. They’d both been serious athletes for the majority of their lives—if Lindsey was anything like him, she’d want to be close enough to the mountains to spend all her free time on the slopes.
He texted Will Spalding, the other groomsman from the wedding, whose girlfriend, Penny, was friends with Lindsey, asking if he knew how to get in touch with Lindsey.
He put his head on the steering wheel, feeling like a complete and utter fool.
This was nuts.
Will texted back that he’d ask Penny. A few seconds later he texted a phone number and the word why.
Yeah, Shaw, why do you need her number? he asked himself.
He texted that he wanted to talk to Lindsey about the event they were working on at the lodge and wished Will and Penny safe travels as they headed home later in the day.
He was still sitting in his rented SUV, trying to figure out which of the many slopes she’d been taking a run on this morning, when he caught a glimpse of her walking from her car to the lodge. She was wearing a pair of dark pink ski bibs and a cream-colored puffy jacket. Her Nordic blond hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, her hair held back by a ski band around her head.
She looked for all the world as she always had. As if nothing had changed.
He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking that maybe for her nothing had.
It hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that prim-and-proper Lindsey Collins, darling of the Alpine ski community, might have used him to get her rocks off on New Year’s Eve. It wasn’t the first time he’d been a woman’s illicit thrill, but on every other occasion he’d known what he was getting into. And he’d been prepared for it.
He’d thought Lindsey was different. He shut off his SUV, got out and followed her across the parking lot and up to the ski lodge and the après ski café. She sat at one of the tables nestled near the big fireplace and facing the slopes. The expression on her face wasn’t peaceful or serene.
She looked angry and lost.
Why was Lindsey upset?
Maybe he’d screwed things up when he’d taken her to his bed last night. Another sin to add to his list where this woman was concerned. He walked over to the bar, ordered two hot chocolates and then went to her table.
He set one down in front of her and took the seat next to her so he, too, could look up at the mountain.
“Carter.”
“Lindsey.”
She pulled the mug closer to her and wrapped her fingers around it, staring down into the whipped cream on the top like a fortune-teller searching for answers.
“What’s this for?”
“I’m not sure.” He raked a hand through his hair and sighed. “I think I might need to apologize.”
“For what? I know I should for walking out. But my head’s not in the right place this morning. I might do or say something stupid, so I figured I better clear out until...”
He got it. This he understood. He’d spent most of his life clearing out and searching for answers that he still hadn’t found.
“No need. I get that. Let’s start over,” he said.
“How? Do we pretend we never met at seventeen? Or do we act like last night never happened?”
“None of that. Let’s just start the morning over.” He reached over and clasped her hand in his. “I’m dying to get up on the slopes. You want to go with me?”
“I... Really? I thought you’d want to take it easy.”
“I didn’t anger all the resort owners here by taking them on and demanding they let snowboarders on the slopes just to be a douchebag. I did it because when I look at that mountain I see something I wanted to conquer. Besides, it was elitist to try to keep us out.”
“I never saw it that way,” she admitted, staring down at their entwined fingers. “But then, Alpine skiing is accepted everywhere.”
“So want to take on the slopes? We can race for real this time,” he said. “Not against the clock but against each other.”
She slowly withdrew her hand and took a sip of cocoa. “I can’t.”
He leaned back in his chair and glanced at her. She wasn’t watching him but was staring at the mountains again. “I’ll go easy on you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t go down the mountain.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. “You were my bit of fun last night, Carter. We’re not friends and I—”
“I don’t see that you have any friends here right now. Not trying to be mean, but it’s obvious—even to this bit of fun—that you need someone.” He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check. “I’d like to think over the years I’ve at least showed you I’m not a total loser.”
“I never think of you that way,” she said, turning to face him.
He saw something in her expression that he’d never glimpsed there before. It was something more than fear, and if he had to define it, he’d say it looked a lot like disappointment.
“I’m scared, Carter. I can’t go down that damned mountain, because every time I’ve taken the ski lift up there I freeze. I’m fine showing kids what to do in their lessons, but I can’t go down a big slope.”
His anger instantly cooled. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Lindsey was afraid? It didn’t jive with the bold, fearless woman he’d always known. She’d been throwing herself down the toughest, fastest runs since she’d been ten, or something. She’d gone over sixty miles per hour routinely, and now she was afraid?
“Okay, fair enough,” he said. “But we’re going to get you over your fear.”
She shook her head and took another slip of her hot chocolate. “I don’t think so. You’re sweet to suggest it, but let’s face it, the only thing we’ve ever had between us is an adversarial—”
“We have more now. We spent the night in each other’s arms.”
“That was sex,” she reminded him. “You always act like sex is just a physical thing. Nothing emotional there.”
“Was it for you?” he asked in a low, deceptively calm voice.
“Wasn’t it for you?” she countered.
She gave nothing away. Why was he surprised? This was Lindsey Collins, and she never let him have an inch.
* * *
LINDSEY DIDN’T WANT to talk about her