Page 24 of To Her

Geri

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 and candles 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."

"Tell me about it. But he means well."

"I know." I reached across the table and took his hand, a gesture that felt both new and somehow familiar. "It's nice, actually. That he cares so much."

Con's thumb traced circles on the back of my hand, sending little shivers up my arm. "He likes you, you know. Even when he was giving you a hard time, he was just looking out for me."

"I get it. If I had a brother who wasn't a complete ass, I'd probably be the same way."

Con's expression turned curious. "You don't talk about your family much."

I shrugged, taking another sip of champagne. "Not much to tell. Mom's in England with my brother. Dad’s in Seabreeze Haven. We're not close."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's fine. It's just how it is."

Con seemed to sense my discomfort and changed the subject. "So, how are your legs feeling after all that skiing?"

"Like jelly," I admitted with a laugh. "I'm going to be so sore tomorrow."

"Worth it though, right?"

I thought about the morning—the crisp air, the rush of speed, the way Con had whooped with joy as he carved down a particularly challenging run. The way he'd waited for me at the bottom, his face lit up with a smile that made my heart skip.

"Definitely worth it," I said softly.

The first course arrived then—a delicate seafood appetizer that wasn't on the regular menu.

It was followed by a parade of dishes, each more impressive than the last, all specially prepared by Cam.

By the time dessert arrived—a decadent chocolate creation that made me groan with pleasure—I was full and slightly tipsy from the wine that had accompanied each course.

"Your brother is showing off," I said, scraping the last bit of chocolate from my plate.

"He is," Con agreed. "But admit it, you're impressed."

"Thoroughly," I conceded. "I might have to be nice to him from now on."

Con laughed. "Don't do that. He'll think something's wrong."

After dinner, we decided to take a walk despite the cold. The night was clear with stars scattered across the sky like diamonds on black velvet. Con held my hand as we strolled through the quiet streets of Alpine Ridge, our breath forming clouds in the frigid air.

"I keep waiting for this to feel weird," I admitted after a while.

"And does it?"

I thought about it, about the way his hand felt in mine, about the easy conversation over dinner, about the way he looked at me now—like I was something precious.

"No," I said, surprised by the realization. "It feels... right."

Con stopped walking and turned to face me, his expression serious in the moonlight. "It does, doesn't it?"

And then he was kissing me, his lips warm despite the cold air, his hands gentle on my face. I melted into him, all the tension and doubt I'd been carrying dissolving like snow in sunshine.

When we broke apart, I was breathless and giddy, like I'd had too much champagne. But this intoxication had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the man standing before me, his eyes reflecting the starlight.

"I've wanted to do that all day," Con murmured, his forehead resting against mine.

"What stopped you?" I teased.

"I was trying to be a gentleman. Take things slow."

I laughed softly. "Since when have I ever done anything slow?"

His answering smile was wicked. "Is that an invitation?"

Heat pooled in my belly at his tone. "Maybe."

We made it back to my hotel in record time, barely keeping our hands off each other. As soon as the door to my room closed behind us, Con had me pressed against it, his mouth hungry on mine, his hands exploring with a confidence that made me gasp.

"Lily?" he asked between kisses, his voice rough.

"Night shift," I managed to reply, already tugging at his shirt buttons.

"Good."

What followed was far from a blur. Every moment etched itself into my memory with crystal clarity.

Con's hands moved to the zipper of my dress, but instead of pulling it down immediately, his fingers traced the line of my spine, sending shivers across my skin.

"May I?" he asked, his voice low and reverent.

I nodded, suddenly shy despite my earlier boldness. The sound of the zipper sliding down seemed impossibly loud in the quiet room. Con eased the fabric off my shoulders, letting it fall to my waist before his hands returned to my newly exposed skin.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, pressing his lips to the curve where my neck met my shoulder.

I closed my eyes as his mouth travelled along my collarbone, his hands sliding the dress down over my hips until it pooled at my feet. Standing before him in just my black lace bra and matching underwear, I felt both vulnerable and powerful as his eyes darkened with desire.

"Your turn," I said, reaching for his shirt buttons again.

Con caught my hands. "Not yet. I've been dreaming about this for too long to rush."

He guided me backward toward the bed, his lips never leaving mine. When my legs hit the mattress, he lowered me gently onto it, following me down but supporting his weight on his forearms.

"I want to see all of you," he murmured against my lips. "I want to taste every inch."