Page 49

"Tomorrow?" I suggested. "Dinner? A proper date this time?"

Con's smile was radiant. "I'd like that."

He kissed me again, slower this time, a promise of things to come. When we parted, I felt light-headed, giddy with a happiness I hadn't felt in years, maybe ever.

"Goodnight, Geri," he whispered against my lips.

"Goodnight, Con."

I watched him walk away, turning once to wave before disappearing around a corner. Then I headed inside, my steps lighter than they had been in months.

Chapter 20

Geri

The next day we hit the slopes and skied all morning. We both had the day off, except Con had the early morning shift that ended at 8 AM. By the time I had crawled from bed, he was waiting with coffee in hand and snowboard in the other.

How had I missed this? How had I missed the fact that he had been looking at me like this the whole time?

I had to admit doubt had started to creep in. That old "shit, what have you done" in the back of my mind. What if this didn't work out? I would lose him as my friend, and I cherished that.

I knew he would never know the real me—Oleander, the me who I keep hidden—but maybe he didn't need to know her. Maybe he only needed to know me now. I could leave the past where it belonged and just be who I was today.

We had skied all morning, until it was 2 PM, then headed back to our hotels. Con had carried my skis the whole way, showing off those muscular arms of his, which again, I never truly noticed. I mean, sure, I knew the guy was good looking, but when you stopped and looked, you saw the things I had been overlooking.

The green of his eyes was like a forest in summer, bright and open. He was quite pale-skinned and blushed pink easily. He always had a five o'clock shadow, like he was too lazy to shave daily but remembered every 2-3 days. His hair was always styled, always, and he always smelled like cinnamon and food, like that lingering smell of the kitchens just stuck to him.

He was always in shorts or jeans and a t-shirt. Even when we went up for slopes, he would wear baggy ski pants and a t-shirt that was just a little too tight, showing off that broad chest and muscular arms and abs that led down to the V that disappeared under his pants. How did I know this? Easy—he always wiped the sweat off his face after runs on the snow with the bottom of his top, leaving all that creamy skin on display. It was just now that I was really taking it in, enjoying the view as they say.

He told me he booked dinner at his hotel for us and laughed, saying his brother would have to cook our dinner, like it was an inside joke. I wasn't sure what it meant, but hey, if it was funny to him, then I would laugh along too.

Con's brother Cam was also a chef, and they both worked at the same restaurant. Cam was head chef and Con sous chef, which means Cam was Con's boss in the kitchen, a relationship I wouldn't be able to muster with my own brother and I. We didn't get along at all; in fact, I hadn't heard a word from him in over 8 months now. He lived overseas with my mom. She I heard from—she called me weekly just to check in. It was never long, just a simple "Hey, you alive? Good," and "I hope you have a good week." My father called once a month to check in, again the same conversation: "You alive? Good. Bye." I liked it this way. I'm sure they would have been closer if I had allowed it, but we all knew that wasn't me. Emotionally closed off was my thing, and I liked it that way.

We arrived for dinner at 7 PM. The restaurant at Con's hotel was more upscale than I expected, with white tablecloths andcandles on each table. The hostess greeted Con by name and led us to a corner table with a view of the mountains. It was the kind of spot you'd reserve for a special occasion, and the thought that he'd gone to the trouble made a warm feeling spread through my chest.

"You clean up nice," Con said as we sat down, his eyes taking in my outfit—a simple black dress I'd borrowed from Lily, paired with the only heels I'd brought to Alpine Ridge.

"You don't look so bad yourself," I replied, and it was true. He'd traded his usual casual wear for dark jeans and a button-down shirt that brought out the green in his eyes. His hair was styled as always, but with a bit more care than usual.

A waiter appeared with menus and a wine list, but Con waved them away. "We've got something special arranged," he told me with a smile that held a hint of mischief.

"Should I be worried?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Depends. How do you feel about surprises?"

"Generally suspicious," I admitted, which made him laugh.

"Fair enough. But I think you'll like this one."

Before I could press him further, the waiter returned with two glasses of champagne.

"Compliments of the chef," he said with a knowing smile at Con.

I took a sip, the bubbles tickling my nose. "Cam's doing this, isn't he?"

Con nodded, looking both amused and slightly embarrassed. "He insisted. Said something about making sure our first official date was 'worthy of the effort it took to get here.'"

I snorted. "Your brother has a weird way of being supportive."