Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“I think I liked it better when you hated me. Is there a dunk tank around here? Or some sort of forest pond I can push you into?”
I laughed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
He stopped walking and looked around. “God. It’s so fucking pretty here, isn’t it?”
“It is.” I’d gone a few steps ahead of him, but I stopped too, looking around. Then I tipped my head back to catch a few snowflakes on my tongue.
He watched me, then slowly caught up. “I know you’re going to think this is bullshit, but I have to say it.”
I looked at him warily. “What?”
“You’re really fucking beautiful.”
“Gianni, I already said no more sex.”
“I’m not saying it because I want to have sex. I mean—I do, but that’s not why I said it. I said it because it’s true.”
“Stop it. I’m a mess right now.” But I could feel my cold cheeks warming. “No makeup, I didn’t even brush my hair today let alone take a shower, and my nose is probably bright red.”
“It is.” He smiled, and for once it was genuine, not arrogant. “And yes, your hair is kinda messy, but you don’t need makeup, and I’m not close enough to smell you, so the lack of a shower isn’t really an issue. By the way, this isn’t anything new. I’ve always thought you were beautiful, but it really struck me just now.”
“Oh.” Self-conscious, I touched a mitten to my hair. “Well, thanks. Maybe it’s good light out here or something.”
“It’s not the light.”
I met his eyes, and my heart performed a few acrobatic tricks. He was close enough that he could have leaned over to kiss me, and I would have let him. God help me, I wanted him to. I imagined his tongue on mine, warm where the snowflakes had been cold. I looked at his mouth and let my lips fall open.
But he didn’t kiss me.
“Should we go back?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder the way we’d come. “It’s going to get dark soon. I don’t want to lose our way.”
“Sure. Yes. Let’s go back.” Flustered, I tried to pivot in place, but one of my snowshoes somehow caught the edge of the other, and my left ankle wrenched painfully. Crying out, I tipped over sideways in the snow.
“Fuck! Are you okay?” Gianni tossed his poles aside and reached for me.
“I’m fine,” I said, although my ankle was throbbing. “I just twisted my ankle.”
“Can you stand up?” He took me by both arms and lifted me to my feet. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s not too bad.” Gingerly, I put some weight on that foot. It was bad, but not excruciating. “I think I’m okay.”
Gianni looked up the trail toward the motel. “It’s a ways back. Do you want me to go see if I can get a snowmobile or something?”
“No!” The prospect of being left alone out here as it got dark was terrifying. “Don’t leave me.”
“Okay,” he said, his voice soft and reassuring. “I won’t. Here, give me that other pole, and lean on me.”
I handed him my left pole and looped my arm through his, grateful for the support. We took a few tentative steps.
“How’s that?” he asked. “Do you need to go slower? Put more weight on me?”
“No, I’m good.” The ankle still hurt, but something about leaning against his solid body and knowing he wouldn’t let me fall was taking some of the pain away. “Just don’t let go.”
“I won’t. And when we get back, I’ll find you some ice.”
“Thanks. Sorry I ruined our walk.”
“You didn’t ruin it. You made it more memorable. We’ll never forget it.”
I half-groaned, half-laughed. “No, we won’t.”
Slowly and carefully, we made our way back to the motel. It was dark by the time we reached our door, where Gianni helped me out of my snowshoes, then insisted on carrying me inside, taking off my boots and lowering me onto the bed. Then he pulled off my snow pants and hung up my coat.
“Gianni, I’m okay. This isn’t necessary.” But my heart rapped with pleasure at his sweet attention.
“Let me see that ankle.”
Sighing, I tugged off my sock and hitched up my pant leg, glad I’d shaved my legs yesterday. I also made a mental note to thank my mother for encouraging me to get nice pedicures even in the winter. “See? It’s barely swollen. And I can move it.” I pointed and flexed my foot gently, but I winced. “A little.”
“Stay there. I’m going to find some ice.”
“Okay, thank you. Hey, I have some ibuprofen in my purse, could you grab it for me?”
“Definitely.” He brought me my purse and a glass of water before heading out the door.
I watched him leave, wishing my pulse wasn’t galloping quite so fast. Hopefully, he hadn’t noticed how badly I wanted him to put his mouth on mine out there in the woods.