Chapter Seventeen Make a Bold Move
Chapter Seventeen
Make a Bold Move
Aspen, Colorado
Saying goodbye to Hart at the international terminal was more difficult than I anticipated.
He flew off for New York, and I departed for Nairobi.
I spent the next month making fantastic headway on our work to drill a new well near the site of the school, selecting a curriculum, and interviewing for headmasters.
I spoke to him often through text, email, and video calls when our schedules allowed and our time zones synced.
Now I’m in another airport. The tiny, almost kitschy terminal in Aspen, Colorado, where he begged me to come skiing with him and his friends. We wanted to make plans as soon as possible after I’d arrived back stateside; I just didn’t expect it would be this.
“Do you ski?” he asked.
“I do ski.”
They’ve had an early snowfall this year and already several storms big enough to bring the base to a respectable sixty inches. So off I went on another flight. My undereye concealer is really working overtime these days.
Once the shuttle arrives, I secure my skis and poles in the back and lug my carry-on inside.
It’s toasty on board, the heat cranked. The picturesque town of Aspen looks like something out of a postcard.
Twinkling lights and adorable shops, huge snow drifts along the street.
Since the airport is fifteen minutes outside town and the sun has already sunk behind the mountain by the time I arrive, I don’t actually get to see too much of it.
I half expected Hart to tell me that his family owned a property here, too, but instead we’re staying at a hotel.
A four-bedroom suite at a five-star ski-in/ski-out luxury hotel in the heart of Aspen.
The ski concierge takes my equipment, and the bellhop helps me to the suite.
It’s the size of an apartment, decorated in a palette of cream, blue, and chocolate.
There’s a cozy living room with a stone fireplace.
I drop my bags and meet everyone at Element 47 for dinner.
When Hart spots me, he rises to his feet immediately. He asked me to text him when I landed. But I’m mature enough to get myself from the airport to the hotel, so I didn’t bother. He crosses the room in three easy strides, and then he’s pulling me close.
“You didn’t text me.”
“Surprise.” I grin.
His mouth lowers to mine, and he kisses me—deeply—right there in the center of the restaurant.
My knees tremble, and I wrap my arms around his trim waist.
“Hi,” I say when he pulls back.
“Hi.” His expression holds a glimmer of amusement. “Why didn’t you text me? I would have picked you up.”
I’m distracted by his mouth. “What was that?”
He laughs. “Come on.”
He takes my hand and guides me to their table in the back. All the faces I remember—Whit, Hayes, and Vaughn are seated around a table.
“Alessia!” Vaughn says, jumping to her feet to give me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’m usually outnumbered at these things.” She’s dressed in a form-fitting black turtleneck and baggy purple cargo pants.
“My lobster in crime, it’s good to see you again.
” I chuckle, appreciating her warm welcome.
The last time I hung out with Hart’s friends, I fled the New York club scene like a middle-aged ninny.
After meeting her in the Hamptons, I did some digging on Vaughn and found out she is an activist for causes she believes in, like ending animal testing and promoting wildlife conservation. It’s kind of endearing.
Messy-haired Whit hands me a menu when I sit down. “We haven’t ordered yet, but we are two drinks ahead of you.” He winks.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Hart leans close, nuzzling my neck while I read the menu. Goodness, he’s distracting.
Hayes doesn’t give me quite as warm a reception. He’s wearing a scowl and peering down as though he’s captivated by the words on his menu.
“What are you drinking?” I lean close to ask Hart.
He looks so cute in a pair of dark jeans and snow boots, a thick thermal shirt, and a woolly cardigan. I’m equally as bundled up in a chunky red sweater and leggings, but somehow he makes it look refined and very appealing.
“An old-fashioned. Order whatever you like.”
I know I told him that come the first of the year, I’d be committed to staying in Nairobi for a while, that I wouldn’t have time for him. Now, being in his irresistible presence again, I’m wondering if I can sneak away from my work to meet him somewhere else ...
But the fantasy is put on hold because we order dinner and then listen to Vaughn and Whit bicker and flirt. I sip wine and watch them interact, wondering if there’s something more going on.
“So, Alessia,” Hayes begins, sawing through a piece of steak with a knife, “tell me about this school you’re building in Uganda.”
“It’s in Kenya, actually,” I correct him.
“I’ve been traveling there since I was a child, and I’ve always prayed that the young girls there could have as many opportunities for their futures as I did for mine.
Eventually, I decided to do something about it.
With any luck, the school should open next year. ”
Hart watches me with a look of rapt interest. His mouth twitches with a half smile as he listens to me talk, obviously very proud of me.
“And you’re how old?”
Whit chokes on his beer, coughing into his elbow.
“Hayes!” Vaughn scolds. “You don’t ask that of a lady.”
I hold his challenging look, unafraid, unwilling to look away. “It’s fine, Vaughn.”
Even Hart looks ready to tear his cousin’s head off; his handsome face is etched with a scowl.
“It’s fine,” I repeat, more to myself than to them. So much for feeling like I fit in ... when my second glass of red wine is delivered to the table, I take a large gulp.
“I’m ready to tear up the slopes tomorrow,” Whit says, trying to steer the conversation.
“Same,” Hart says, kissing my shoulder. “In fact, we should probably get to bed early tonight.”
Hayes snorts. “Before you started seeing Alessia, you’d be happy to barhop until 2:00 a.m. Go home with some rando. A lot’s changed.”
Hart gives him a firm look. “Yeah, I guess a lot has.”
I’m not easily scared off—especially not by a spoiled kid who doesn’t want to share his toys—so I stand my ground, staring straight ahead at Hayes, who’s yet to meet my eyes.
Staying calm under pressure has always been a strength of mine, and I’m certainly not about to crack now.
I’ve come too far, risked too much to bow to someone who’s too timid to even meet my eyes.
Our walk back to the hotel is snowy and cold and somewhat drunken.
Hayes and Vaughn sing loudly—the lyrics to a song I don’t know.
Whit walks ahead of us, leading the way, and Hart and I stroll, arm in arm, along the icy streets, huddled close.
The others decide to cross the street to stop at a bar for another drink, but Hart and I wave goodbye and head back to the hotel.
“Thanks for coming,” he whispers.
I dare a glance at him. “Thanks for inviting me.”
“And I’m sorry about Hayes. He’s not normally such a dick. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately.”
I wave him off. “It’s fine.”
It’s not fine, but arguing with his cousin won’t solve anything. I’m here for Hart, and I’m going to make the best of it.
Remembering the Hart I first met in Italy, I realize how much has changed. The guy I met there tried to cheer me up and offered to rough up my ex. I know him so much better now. Know how fragile he really was, how much he has to offer the world, how much he tries to take care of those around him.
Once we’re alone in the hotel suite, Hart turns on music and lights a fire in our bedroom’s fireplace, which manages to be both cozy and undeniably sexy.
I turn to face him, uncertainty swimming inside me.
His hands slide up the side of my neck and into my hair.
His eyes are half-closed. He brings his mouth to mine and kisses me slowly.
So achingly slowly that every emotion I’ve tried to deny rushes right to the surface.
This kiss feels like the answer to a question I didn’t know I had.
I never feel helpless—in my work and in my life, I’m confident enough to call the shots.
To make hard decisions and deliver tough messages when needed.
But that’s exactly what this man makes me feel—utterly helpless.
Powerless. I can’t stop myself from falling even when I know I can’t possibly stick the landing and will be hurt upon impact.
When he pulls back, I feel painfully naked, though I’m fully clothed.
He sees everything. All the parts of me that I try to keep hidden.
The quiet insecurity. The secret parts of my heart that are fearful and uncertain.
The question mark about us, and if this growing thing between us could ever really work.
He seems to recognize this moment has shaken me. “Nervous?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I admit. “Would it be crazy if I said yes?”
He takes a step closer, his fingertips grazing my shoulder. “Not crazy. Honest.”
He coaxes me to the bed, and we lie side by side.
He watches me with a look of wonder, stroking one finger along my cheek, my neck, like he’s memorizing the feel of my skin.
The only sounds are my heartbeat and the crackling of the fireplace.
The weight of the moment and what comes next is undeniable.
I wait for some sign—something from the universe that whispers turn back now —but it doesn’t come.
I touch his jaw, turning his face to mine, and kiss him again.
He takes his time with my sweater, slowly drawing it over my head.
Appraising me with a soft look. Pressing a tender kiss to my shoulder.
Unhooking my bra. Another kiss against my spine.
I can feel how much he wants me. The wait is maddening, and my heart hammers out a wild, frantic rhythm.
I’m entirely at his mercy, needing this moment more than I ever expected to.
“Hart,” I beg, impatient, wondering what on earth he’s waiting for.
“Swear I’m good at this,” his deep voice murmurs.
He adjusts himself and finds the right angle, joining us as sensation surges through my body. It’s too much. But also exactly enough. Being with him this way is excitingly new and also deeply familiar, all at once.
I sigh in sweet relief, gripping his shoulders, running my hands over the expansive muscles in his back. Hart is just as overcome. He pauses for a moment, whispering a murmured curse word against my throat.
Then there’s nothing left to say. There is just him, and me and this moment. Time seems to slow, and I drink in every perfect detail. The sound of his jagged breaths, and the way he moves.
I haven’t been with anyone since Sean, and even that was .
.. boring is the wrong word. Obligatory , I decide.
Like scratching an itch. Being with Hart is like detonating a nuclear bomb.
I’ll never be the same. A torrent of emotions I’m unprepared for rocks through me, stealing the breath from my lungs; all sense of time and space disappears.
After, I feel delirious, in disbelief at what just happened. This unconventional, sometimes confusing, but blooming new relationship.
We lie together on the bed, the sheets tangled around us.
I’ve never felt this safe. This sure. This steady. This loved, my brain supplies. No, I correct myself. This isn’t love. This can never be love. Of all the things this is allowed to be—fun, daring, hot, temporary—love cannot be one of them.
Cuddling, we talk about mundane things .
.. what age we lost our first tooth—I was six; he, nine.
He got a real sailboat from the tooth fairy, which sends me into a fit of giggles.
I got a dollar. I don’t know exactly how much money his family has—I only know it’s in the billions—but all the money and influence in the world mean nothing to me, because to be here with him, in this moment, my head resting on his shoulder, is the most valuable thing in the world.