Five
Liam
C hristmas in Kilt Valley can be politely described as chaotic. Normally, I accept any and all private lesson requests that pop up on my calendar—because money doesn’t suck and what I earn in the winter has to last all year—but also because I like what I do. Plus, there is nothing worse than sitting around while there’s fresh powder on the slopes.
All that is to say, it’s unusual for me to have a minute free during daylight hours, especially on a Sunday. So it’s a fortuitous miracle when I pull off my gloves to check my schedule and see that I have a big blank spot in my afternoon. Someone must have cancelled.
Before I second guess my brilliant idea, I text Tabitha.
Liam : Meet me at the Tartan in ten minutes. Wear something warm.
Tab : How did you get my number?
Liam : If you know it’s me, then I must be in your contacts. Maybe I should ask you the same thing
I picture Tabitha blushing, which means I’m visualizing the exact same thing that I thought about all morning. Now ask me what I thought about all night. Hint: I replayed her gorgeous voice reading Sandman to me over and over. I practically have the entire book memorized at this point, helped by the fact that I own it and have read it many times.
I’m still wondering how Tabitha picked one of my favorites out of a lineup without breaking a sweat. I’d suspect Lyra told her but I question whether my sister even knows I’m a closet reader.
Tab : What if I’m busy?
Liam : Get unbusy. I know the store is closed today, so we’re moving session #3 to now. Better hurry
Tab : What’s session #3? Is this one of your choices?
Liam : *locks lips* The key will be produced when you arrive
She makes it in nine minutes. That white blonde hair of hers is unmistakable, even half tucked up under a knit cap that I immediately love on her. It’s gray with cat ears that stick up.
This woman. She’s so unexpected. And I want to pull her into my arms to greet her properly—a kiss, of course, accompanied by as much touching as possible in a public place—which would be the quickest way to ruin everything.
I’m actively trying to fix everything. But the longer this goes on, the less I’m sure how to accomplish that. Other than to keep putting on this act, the one that convinces everyone I’m a flirty player with zero cares. That part I know. Maintaining my slacker-don’t-care reputation is ingrained, even when it comes to something I want as badly as Tabitha.
“Liam,” she calls, breathless, and it’s my new go-to voice for any and all late night replays. I might start hearing it in my dreams if I’m lucky.
“Impressive timing,” I say with an eyebrow bounce as she weaves between guests and strategically placed piles of giant presents decorating the lobby. “Glad to see you’re open to possibilities.”
Tabitha cocks her head and looks at me with a puzzled little wrinkle between her brows. “I am. Open to possibilities, I mean. I don’t always have to stick to the plan.”
“Good. Because we’re going snowboarding.”
Her jaw unhinges. “We’re, um…what? Liam, I can’t snowboard.”
“Well, no, not right this minute you can’t.” I laugh. “But in a bit, you absolutely will be. I’m going to teach you.”
She shakes her head like a toddler being ordered to eat broccoli. “Today is supposed to be body language.”
I give her a look. “And it will be. Trust me.”
There’s a moment when I think she’s going to refuse and then she shocks me again by nodding. “Okay. I trust you.”
What had been a throwaway phrase on my part suddenly has value that I’m not expecting. Tabitha Douglas trusts me. I cannot lie—the flood of things in my chest overwhelms me for a hot second. And then I remember that I’m the last person on the planet she can trust.
Because I can lie. And I am lying to her , on a daily basis. She has no idea I’m ShreddingPages and no idea I’ve spent the last two sessions alternately trying to talk her out of meeting her online crush, managing her expectations about how it’s going to go down, and last but not least, falling for her in new and unexpected ways.
I mean, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t in love with Tabitha. That’s the real secret for why it’s so easy to blow through the female population paraded in front of me—none of them are her. But actually being in her presence, talking to her, reveling in the small moments shows me that my feelings for her have barely scratched the surface.
“Great,” I say gruffly and motion Tabitha to follow me.
Mike works the equipment rental counter most days and he lifts a brow at me when I help Tabitha select her boots and snow gear, but he doesn’t call me out. Normally, it’s his job to manage the equipment, and people show up for my sessions already outfitted. But this is a special situation.
She picks a board that’s too long for her and probably not soft enough if she’s never been on one before.
“Here.” I step closer and lean in to select a beginner board that I think will work best for her, a solid black with pink lettering. “Try this one.”
As she accepts the board, she glances up from beneath her lashes and sways toward me. Just a little, but enough that I catch a whiff of strawberries. Her shampoo, most likely, but it knocks me for a loop, infusing my blood with something dangerous.
“I didn’t know there was a difference,” she murmurs. “In snowboards. Good thing I have an expert on hand.”
“I’m good at a lot of things. Lesson one, if a guy is into you, he’s going to find ways to touch you. Like this.” The cat ears are a little crooked, so I adjust her hat, and no, I am not above using it as an excuse to slide my fingers through her hair as I go.
She blushes and makes a move to step away, but I stop her with a hand to her elbow.
“Second lesson,” I say a little more pointedly. “If you’re into the guy, you don’t back off.”
Her eyes are huge and beautiful and I have never been more aware that I’m not the guy for her. She needs someone who can be honest with her about…well, everything. I can’t even tell her I joined her book club strictly because she’s in it, let alone that I’m not acting at this precise moment. Or any moment that I’m with her.
“Oh. I didn’t know that we’d started on the body language coaching,” she stammers, her gaze drifting to the ground.
I tip up her chin with my finger, a weight on my chest. Because this is about to get really difficult. “You don’t need coaching. What you need is confidence. Forget about the plan. Forget about meeting anyone under the mistletoe. For the next hour, I’m going to show you what it feels like to have a man pay attention to you. Your job is to respond as if you’re interested. That’s it. You literally cannot get this wrong. Okay?”
She nods and reaches up to adjust my hat, her fingers lingering near my jaw, which makes my pulse take off like a skyrocket. I totally deserve that. And anything else she can dish out. I’m not the important one in this equation.
“Like that?” she whispers, which pretty much makes me lose my mind.
I clear my throat. “Perfect. Let’s hit the slopes.”
And by slopes, I mean the flat area with the gentle gradient we call The Park because it’s for beginners. It’s right next to the tubing hill and the playground with forts for snowball fights.
The weather is perfect, with no clouds, and the sun still high enough in the sky to add some warmth. Tabitha wears a puffy down jacket but I elect for a form-fitting insulated layer that will make it easier for me to hold her up.
The joke is on me. There is nothing easy about this.
Tabitha cannot snowboard to save her life. She falls immediately, hitting the snow hard enough for me to wince.
“Okay, you’re balancing all wrong,” I tell her as I pluck her from the ground. She’s so light that I overcompensate and she falls again. Into my arms.
I am in so much trouble.
She fits up against me as if we’d each been crafted for exactly this position, with each other and only each other. Her arms slide around my waist and I know she’s only holding on so she doesn’t hit the deck again. But the part of my brain that handles logic is on fire.
“Don’t let go of me,” she whispers.
“Never.” My voice is unrecognizable, it’s so low and gravelly. If this moment went on for eternity, it would still be over too soon.
But then she pulls away, trying to stand on her board, which she absolutely should be doing, and my biceps strain with the force required to keep her upright. Not because she’s heavy. From the effort it takes to keep from yanking her right back into the hollow of my chest.
Somehow she ends up balanced. Because I’m no fool but simultaneously a complete idiot, I snake a hand under her slick puffy jacket so I can support her via the small of her back. Strictly for grip purposes. And a slew of other reasons that I will deny under oath.
I walk with her as she slides about six feet. The expression on her face is pure delight and it nearly knocks my knees out from under me as she beams it in my direction.
“I did it!” she exclaims and I press my tingling lips together.
Now would be the most opportune moment in the history of the world for a celebratory kiss. A combo of Tabitha, sunshine, and snow? Yes, please. I can practically taste the blend of cold and hot and strawberries that would be fresh and sweet against my mouth.
But I can’t. I would have to be someone else, someone who can own his choices. Most of the time, I’m fine with flying under the radar, with being that guy who has perfected the art of pretending he doesn’t have much going on under the surface. I’m good at disappointing the people in my stratosphere. And I refuse to add Tabitha to that list.
“You did it,” I echo firmly. This is about snowboarding lessons. Only. “Let’s try to go further. Keep your knees bent and focus on your center of gravity.”
She happily complies, heavily leaning on my hand, which is still anchored firmly in place at the small of her back. Dynamite wouldn’t be enough to separate it from her waist. Except she gets her snow legs about then and it’s unfair of me to hold her back.
So I let go. She does as I tell her to, keeping herself low and it works like magic. She glides nearly half the distance of the slope but then starts to wobble as her speed reduces.
I dash toward her, my boots slipping on the more compact snow in this area, but I reach her just as she loses her balance. Her arms flail and she reaches for me at the same moment I reach for her. Momentum seals us and our fate together as she knocks into me sideways.
I hit the ground, careful to twist so she lands on me instead of the ground. Her lips are inches from mine, and I bless the puffy jacket between us because it’s camouflaging my pounding heart.
The moment draws out as oceans of possibility unfold in her gaze.
Her dimple flashes which finishes me off. I’m dead.
“How am I doing?” she murmurs. “At body language. Do I get a gold star for acting like I’m interested?”
I have to laugh. It hurts too much to do anything else. Because I get it now. This torture is my due punishment for the crime of not being honest with Tabitha about my feelings for her.
And I signed up for two more days of this.