Chapter Eighteen #2
Lucy rolled her eyes and padded downstairs, feeling a little lightheaded and giddy.
Was that a hangover, or Nate? The bathroom door was firmly locked, so presumably Willem was still in there.
She waited impatiently, desperately needing the loo and taking an inventory of all her bruises.
Her neck felt like she’d scratched it, and her inner thighs ached too, possibly from spending too much time with her legs open.
The door opened in a billow of steam, but it wasn’t Willem, it was Chantal.
‘Oh, hi,’ said Lucy. With no make-up and her wet hair hanging down her back, Chantal looked about twenty, making Lucy feel ancient and haggard in comparison.
‘Hi,’ said Chantal, her eyes widening at the sight of Lucy.
‘Just going to grab a quick shower. My clothes from yesterday are wet, is there any chance I could borrow some of yours?’
‘Sure,’ said Chantal, her eyes drifting from Lucy’s dishevelled hair to the scratch on her neck.
Her eyes hovered there for a moment, and it occurred to Lucy that the scratch was possibly a love bite.
She blushed, mortified that she was a thirty-two-year-old woman who’d spent the night making out like a teenager at a school disco.
And even worse, Chantal knew it too, and presumably within ten minutes everyone in the Guntherhütte would also know it.
‘I’ll leave some clothes on the stairs for you,’ said Chantal, looking like her world had ended.
‘Thanks,’ said Lucy, edging past Chantal and quickly closing the door behind her. The shower was tepid at best, but it still felt blissful on her tender skin and within moments, she was restored to her usual self.
She wrapped herself in a towel that was still damp from last night, and hurried back upstairs to the attic, the cool air on her skin making her shiver.
She imagined Nate waiting, warm and naked and ready, and pushed aside the thousand reservations she had about making this more than a one-night stand.
What else were they going to do while they waited for mountain rescue? Take up knitting?
‘I’ve pumped up the beds,’ said Nate as she closed the door and picked her way back across the floor. Nate had turned the torch on again, but hidden it under his towel so it gave off a soft glow that made him look ghostly pale.
‘Hmm,’ said Lucy, ditching her towel and sliding under the duvet next to him. ‘Not a line you ever hear in sexy movies, is it?’
‘No. What would we call the movie version of this adventure?’
‘What, the story of the Guntherhütte crew?’ asked Lucy, rubbing her cold feet on the mattress. Nate wrapped his arms around her and spooned her cold body into his warm chest.
‘No,’ said Nate, his voice low and seductive as he softly stroked her arm. ‘This story. You and me.’
‘Oh,’ said Lucy, feeling slightly off-balance. ‘Well, that would probably be one of those cheesy Netflix romcoms, wouldn’t it?’
‘Almost certainly, but it needs a name. That’s your speciality.’
‘Hmm . . .’ Lucy felt like she was at one of those crossroads in a conversation where she could keep things light and fun, or head down a path signposted deep and meaningful. Right now, light and fun felt like the safer option. ‘How about Things Snowballed?’
‘I love it,’ laughed Nate. ‘It sounds ridiculous, but romantic.’
‘My bruises aren’t very romantic,’ said Lucy, reaching down to poke the cluster of purple blotches on her knee.
‘Let me take a look,’ said Nate, easing her onto her back and leaning over her.
He gave her another long, smouldering look, then ducked under the duvet and gently kissed her knee before marking out a trail up the inside of her thigh.
His warm breath and the featherlight touches of his lips on her cold, damp skin set her nerve endings alight, and she wondered how she could have worked in an office with this man for over a year and never sensed how spectacularly good in bed he would be.
Lucy had one final, inexplicable thought before Nate’s tongue disappeared between her legs and she entirely lost her mind.
Maybe we don’t need mountain rescue. Maybe Nate and I are rescuing each other.
But by the time they’d decoupled in a panting heap of sweaty limbs half an hour later, the thought had entirely left her head.
‘Could you check on the stairs and see if there are any clean clothes for me?’ asked Lucy, sitting up on the bed with the duvet tucked under her arms as Nate got dressed.
‘I asked Chantal earlier, but I reeked of sex and somebody had left a love bite on my neck. So I’m pretty sure she will have forgotten on purpose. ’
‘Sorry about that,’ said Nate, hopping on one leg as he pulled his jeans on. ‘It’s your fault for being so entirely delicious.’
Lucy shook her head as Nate popped out of the room, reappearing seconds later with a pile of clothes and a huge grin on his face.
‘These are quite something,’ he smirked, dropping them on the bed.
Lucy inspected what were clearly Monica’s aubergine purple polyester leggings with stirrups to go over her feet, which Chantal had paired with a violently floral blouse with a frilly collar.
Actually they were too frumpy and unfashionable even for Monica, so perhaps they belonged to Chantal’s grandmother.
‘Wow, Chantal really hates me,’ said Lucy, holding up a pair of giant, greying granny knickers and some pink socks with yellow pom-poms on the heels.
‘She really does. Are you actually going to wear those?’
‘Yep,’ said Lucy, hauling herself off the floor. ‘And do you know why? Because if I make a fuss I’ll look like an ungrateful twat, and Chantal knows it. So I’m going to style it out.’
Nate shook his head. ‘Lucy, you are one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, but I’m honestly not sure even you can style out . . . whatever these are.’ He took the leggings and turned them around so she could see the sagging in the bottom where the elastic had gone.
‘Watch me,’ said Lucy with a grin. She pulled on the knickers, which came up to her ribcage but were undeniably comfy, then wrestled her feet into the leggings.
The fabric was heavy and unexpectedly lined with some kind of fleece, and because her legs were longer than Monica’s she stretched out the baggy sections.
‘Can you lend me your jumper?’ asked Lucy, tossing the floral blouse to one side. Even she couldn’t make that look half decent.
‘What am I going to wear?’
‘Can you ask Willem? Or Alex? I bet you any money he’s got some spare cashmere in his bag.’
‘Fine,’ said Nate, handing over his navy sweatshirt.
Lucy pulled it over her head; it was far too big, so she let it fall off one shoulder and show a peek of bra strap.
She bundled her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head, then anchored it with a hairband and gently tugged on a few strands to give it some volume.
The whole effect was artfully sexy, and the last thing anyone was looking at were the yellow pom-poms on her socks.
‘Holy shit,’ said Nate, his eyes wide with wonder. ‘You’ve actually gone and done it.’
‘Say what you like about these leggings,’ said Lucy breezily. ‘But they’re actually really warm. Shall we go down and find out what today’s plan is?’
‘Do we have to?’ said Nate weakly. ‘Can’t we go back to bed?’
‘No,’ laughed Lucy. ‘I need food and fresh air and an update from Alex on what’s happening in the world.’
‘Fine,’ said Nate. ‘But I might drag you back up here later.’
‘There’s a possibility I might allow that,’ said Lucy, wondering if the tingly feeling between her thighs was going to be a permanent feature of today. God, listen to me, she thought. One night with Nate, and I’m a pile of smush. A walking romcom cliché.
Nate smiled at her, and for a moment Lucy felt like she was back at the window yesterday morning, taking in the snow-laden trees. Dazzled, speechless, and with only the vaguest idea of what day it was.
Get a grip, she told herself. Before Nate gets the wrong idea, and this snowball turns into something too big for you to handle.