Rm W/a Vu (50 page)

“You need to take your ability level into account when choosing a board,” he begins as I trail my fingers over a sleek black board with a bright blue design. “Because you’ll want one more fitted to a beginner or intermediate skill level, this won’t be your last board.”

“Okay,” I reply, moving onto the next one and taking everything he says into consideration; he is the more experienced boarder, after all.

“You’ll want to look at the width of the board.” I nod again. “Your board shouldn’t be too much wider than your boots. If they extend over the edges too far, then you run the risk of them hitting the snow during hard turns, resulting in a wipeout.”

“So I should pick boots first, right?” I shrug. “I mean, if sizing is anything like how regular shoe companies operate, then they could be different.”

“You’re exactly right.”

Abandoning the boards for a moment, I try on several pairs of boots before I find a pair that fits comfortably, and then we revisit several boards I’m interested in. Upon further investigation, I notice that some of the boards have a slightly deeper curve to them, and that some curve up while others curve down or are flat. When I inquire about this, Greyston explains the different riding styles and how board length plays into that, too. He then tells me that I would be fine to look at any board suited to an All-Mountain style, and that it’s what I borrowed from Gemma. Then he starts to explain the different board curves—or rockers, as they’re apparently called.

“The ones that curve upward are
cambered
boards,” he tells me, pulling a board out and showing me the upward bow. “It’s the most traditional style of board, and is most popular because it will offer the most energy and pop. It has a smooth arch underfoot and touches near the tip and tail when unweighted. When the rider’s weight is added, it will provide a long, evenly pressured running surface and edge.”

He moves onto the next board. “This is a
rocker
board. These boards float well in powder and pivot more easily underfoot. They also tend to be less
hooky
at both the tip and tail, which makes them better for landing spin maneuvers when you can’t get enough rotation.”

My laugh travels through the store, drawing a few unexpected stares. “Well, I don’t anticipate attempting any spin maneuvers, so we’re probably safe to move on.”

Grinning, Greyston grabs a flat board. “The flat board is pretty self-explanatory, being flat from tip to tail. This shape splits the difference between camber and rocker styles.” I’m a little confused, but Greyston quickly clarifies. “Its turnability is more forgiving than a fully cambered board, and has more precise edging capabilities than a fully rockered one.”

“Soooo…” I draw the word out longer than normal and laugh.

“You’ll probably want to consider either a cambered board or a flat one,” he gently suggests. “The cambered ones are the favored style.”

I take everything Greyston has taught me into consideration before choosing the cambered style board. In the next hour or so, we go through the store so Greyston can help me locate the rest of the gear that I’ll need, and then head to the checkout. I nearly choke on my tongue when the cashier tells Greyston the price. He hands her his credit card without hesitation, and she smiles at me as though who loves me so much. I balk at the thought, then begin to wonder if that might be true.

Sensing my shock, Greyston looks toward me. “No rush, sweetheart,” he says, repeating his earlier words. “Take your time paying it back.”

Outside, Greyston folds down the backseat of the rental to accommodate my new snowboard, and we head back to the cabin. My sticker-shock doesn’t take long to fade as my excitement to try out my new gear takes its place.

“So, we’re going back to the resort tomorrow, right?” I inquire hopefully.

Greyston doesn’t take his eyes off the icy roads—and that’s fine by me; I don’t wish to be in an accident. “So long as you’re feeling up to it. I don’t want you to overdo it.”

“I feel fine,” I promise him.

He smiles. “Then I don’t see why not.”

When we return to the cabin, Greyston takes my board inside and stores it with his while I carry the rest of my gear. When our purchases are put away, we get a start on dinner, working together like a cohesive unit until our stew is put together and simmering in the pot.

Greyston’s phone vibrates on the counter as a text comes in. One glance and I can see it’s Gemma. Greyston looks before returning to our dinner prep instead of responding.

“Greyston, you can message her back. It’s okay, really.”

He just shakes his head. “It can wait.” He grabs two wine glasses and fills them with a cab sav we tried the other night and enjoyed. “I want to spend tonight with just you. I’ll get back to her in the morning.”

“The fact that she’s called a few times today suggests it could be urgent,” I try to tell him, showing him how understanding I can be. His eyes meet mine, and I smile. “I get that you’re trying to be the perfect boyfriend and not let anything interfere with our winter getaway, but you can take a phone call or two.” I snatch his phone off the counter and hold it out to him. “In fact, I’m going to call Mom and Dad while dinner cooks, so why don’t you take the opportunity to call Gemma back.”

I take the phone and head to the living room to call my parents. There’s no answer on the house phone, so I try my mom’s cell after leaving a message, but it goes straight to voicemail, as does my dad’s. I decide to call again in the morning, knowing full well they’re probably…
too busy
to pick up, and I definitely don’t want them to think this is an emergent situation.

Greyston joins me in the living room moments later, sitting next to me on the couch after setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table next to my almost-empty glass. “How are your parents?”

I shrug, snuggling into his side as he wraps his arm around me. “No answer. I didn’t want to keep calling in case they were…busy.” Greyston laughs. “Did you get a hold of Gemma?”

“I did.” He takes a sip of his wine. “She wanted to know if we wanted to meet at the resort again tomorrow. I told her we were kind of hoping to spend some time alone.”

A twinge of guilt seeps in, but at the same time, I’m happy. I don’t like the idea that Greyston might feel obligated to avoid her just because I’m a little uncomfortable around her, knowing their past.

“I did, however, offer a compromise,” he confesses nervously.

“Which was?”

“Dinner on our final night here.” I turn my head to look up at him. “I’ll make it an early dinner, and they’ll only be here a couple hours.”

“Okay,” I respond. “As long as we’ll still have plenty of alone time before we have to head back home.” My stomach flops, knowing we won’t be here much longer.

Greyston’s lips touch down on the top of my head, and I feel them curve up into a smile. “Now,” he mumbles into my hair. “Didn’t you say something last night about a surprise for me?”

Biting my lip, I remember the lingerie still sitting, unused, in my suitcase, and I debate which one I should test out first.

Chapter 32

A
s promised, Greyston takes me to the resort the next day. I’m extremely excited to use all of my new equipment—even if the price of it still shocks the hell out of me. If I hadn’t fallen in love with the sport that first day, though, I’d think it was a bad investment, but I’m fairly certain that I’ll get a lot of use out of it.

Well, only if Greyston and I come out here every year. Though, I suppose we’d have to rent a place, which sucks, because I’ve grown quite fond of this place.

Considering it’s only my second day, I do better out on the slopes, and Greyston and I even hit a more intermediate trail. I fall down, of course, and I also hit a few sad excuses for jumps—they’re really just tiny snowdrifts or packed down snow—that drop me flat on my ass when I can’t land them. Given how small they are, it’s humiliating, but all part of the learning curve. Unsurprisingly, Greyston makes it all look so effortless, and he assures me that I’m doing really well. I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to make me feel better.

The next day, New Years Eve, Greyston has plans that he seems pretty excited about. Apparently there’s a yearly celebration where families come out for music, crafts, food, dancing…and ice skating.

It shouldn’t, but I’m a little surprised when I manage to do better with ice-skating than I did snowboarding. Now, I’m still not skating circles around him or anything—not many people are, to be honest—but I manage to hold my own, even though it’s been well over ten years since I’ve been ice-skating in one of the indoor arenas that Phoenix has. While I’m obviously a little rusty, Greyston, naturally, excels at it. Jerk.

The chilly winter air only adds to the experience, and we’re having a great time as the night wears on. Surprisingly, I’ve only almost fallen a couple of times—which my tailbone continuously thanks me for—and, after about thirty minutes, it starts to snow lightly. Everything about this night out—being with Greyston, the cool evening air, the snow falling almost whimsically, the music—is absolutely beautiful, and it’s only made a little more perfect when the countdown begins and Greyston and I share our first kiss of the new year.

We’re standing in the middle of the rink, surrounded by what feels like hundreds of people—some on the ice, others just off to the side—and everyone is counting down, waiting for the stroke of midnight. When the time comes, fireworks boom overhead, and Greyston turns me to face him, placing his gloved fingers beneath my chin and tilting my face up to his, but before capturing my lips, he smiles. “Happy New Year, sweetheart,” he says as the fireworks continue to light up the night sky.

Stepping up onto the picks of my skates, I wrap my arms around his neck and smile. “Happy New Year,” I reply. “I can’t wait to see what the next year has in store for us.”

He lowers his lips to mine. They’re soft and warm, even with the winter chill in the air, and he kisses me with so much passion that it takes my breath away.

Breathing heavily as we break apart, I’m able to see our breath in the frigid night air. I lower back onto the blades of my skates, sliding back a little and losing my balance. Greyston’s quick to steady me with a chuckle. “Come on,” he says, tucking me into his side as we skate for the arena exit. “Let’s head back to the cabin.”

By the time we arrive, it’s almost one in the morning, and Greyston suggests we head straight to bed since we have a lot to do tomorrow to prepare for our dinner with Gemma and her fiancé. Up in our room, I grab my pajamas and toss them on the end of the bed before I begin to undress. I’ve just grabbed the hem of my sweater when Greyston steps up behind me and covers my hands with his, taking over and pulling the soft fabric off my body.

I shiver when he pulls my hair from my neck, and I sigh when his lips touch down on the goosebump-riddled skin of my shoulder. Warmth blooms beneath my skin, pushing out any remnants of cold that remained only moments ago. Pleasure trickles through my body and down my limbs, making the tips of my fingers and toes tingle—at least, I hope it’s the pleasure causing it and not the onset of frostbite. That would suck.

In the weeks that we’ve been together, we’ve had sex with wild abandon, opening my eyes to new experiences and the possibilities of our future together. We’ve also shared sweet, tender moments where I’ve never felt more special.

This is one of those times. We ring in the New Year with Greyston moving slowly above me. The way he looks at me is so intense that it moves me, his right hand trailing down my body, eyes following hungrily. He hooks his fingers behind my knee, hitching my leg up higher around his hips as he thrusts forward. His hand skims over the skin of my thigh, our hips slowly rolling in tandem as my release slowly builds. My eyes close, and my teeth tug on my bottom lip as I get completely lost in the passion that fills the room like fog.

I’m close…
so
close…

Then his hips slow, and when I open my eyes again, I see him staring at me once more. He cradles my face gently, urging my face toward his and molding his lips to mine. The kiss deepens quickly, our hips finding their previous rhythm, and my fingers curl into Greyston’s back. My orgasm continues to coil, tightening in every part of my body with each forward thrust of Greyston’s hips until it releases and I cry out against his lips. Any and all of my energy in my body shoots through the tips of my fingers and toes, my arms and legs trembling in the wake, and soon Greyston’s body stiffens as he groans, his hands gripping me firmly through the final stages of his own climax.

He rests his head against my collarbone, his warm breath wafting over my damp skin, and sighs. A lazy smile spreads across my face, my hand trembling as I raise it from his back and run my tingling fingers through his soft hair. After a moment, our breathing regulates, and my legs stop shaking, making it easier to walk down the hall to the bathroom after getting off the bed.

It’s late by the time Greyston and I are both back in bed, and he pulls me into his arms, my back resting against his chest. He holds me tight, pressing his lips to the base of my neck. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers.