“It’s a thing I do to help with feeling out of control. So when an opposing player scores a goal or something I give myself four seconds of frustration before I get my head back in the game.”
Our eyes shift and then lock in the wake of my explanation.
“Are you feeling out of control right now?”
“No.” My reply comes a little too quickly.
She nods, teeth pressing into her bottom lip. Her eyes spark with a challenge. And then she says, “Come in.”
“No, thank you. I bet it’s freezing.”
“Didn’t know they grew ’em so soft out at Wishing Well Ranch,” she taunts, sliding her arms away and pushing herself further back.
“Don’t go too far,” leaps from my mouth before I can stop it.
“What are you gonna do?” Her legs kick under the water, pushing her further away. “You’re too scared to come in here.”
I press my thumbs into the pads of my fingers and count to four again.
“What would Beau do?”
I stop and stare at her blankly. Only she would have the balls to throw that in my face right now. Everyone else has been walking on eggshells, but her constant stream of consciousness won’t allow it.
It’s refreshing.
I reach my right hand over my shoulders and pull my T-shirt off from the back of my neck. It falls to the sand, and I catch Sloane’s eyes tracing my torso before she forces herself to look away quickly at the peaks surrounding us.
The silence is almost deafening. All I can hear is the soft swish of water lapping at the sandy shore and the quiet hum of highway traffic in the distance. I make quick work of my jeans and socks before pulling one arm across my chest into a stretch, hoping she doesn’t watch me too closely.
“What would Beau do?” Her head flips in my direction at the sound of my voice, and I grin at her, feeling instantly lighter somehow. “He’d run in there and dunk your snarky little ass.”
And that’s exactly what I do. I charge into the glacier lake and dive in, going straight for her, ignoring the way the icy water sucks the air from my lungs.
She tries to swim, but I catch up to her in no time. My hands slip through the water and over her smooth skin as I grab her, heft her up, and toss her through the air.
Her playful squeals take me back, and when she hits the water with a loud slap, I bark out a laugh that echoes around us, bouncing off the mountains. I don’t know where Beau is, but I do know he’d approve of this. And somehow that brings me comfort.
She surfaces, sputtering and wiping at her face. “Jasper Gervais! You did not just do that to me!”
“I did. And you squealed like a pig.”
She gasps in faux offense. “Take that back!”
“Okay, fine. You squealed like a piglet. Far more high-pitched and lady-like than a plain old hog.”
“You dick!” She’s laughing breathlessly as she launches herself at me. Her strong thighs wrap around my rib cage, and she brings her hands onto the top of my head, trying to push me under.
The position puts her breasts right at my eye level. And god. I try to be a good friend and not stare, but the bra pushes them up in the most distracting way. The cool air and even colder water has goose bumps dotting the tops of them. Nipples straining against the flimsy fabric.
“You’re going down, Gervais!” She keeps pushing on me, giggling and wiggling and trying her hardest. She’s strong, but not strong enough, and her words are so open to misinterpretation, I can’t even handle it.
“Oh, I’ll go down, Winthrop. But I’m taking you with me.”
And with that warning, I flop back, plunging us both down into the icy depths. For a few beats, it’s silent and dark.
She grabs at me, and I give myself four seconds of insanity in our private bubble beneath the lake.
Our hands roam frantically over one another’s bodies, sluicing through the water. My hand, her thigh. Her hand, my ribs.
Are we playing? Wrestling like when we were kids?
Or are we taking liberties we’d never take above water?
On the fourth second, I push up and away and we both crest the water, panting and staring at each other. Her tongue darts out over her lips, tasting the glacier water clinging there, and her eyes drop to my mouth as I mirror the motion.
The water between us doesn’t feel so cold anymore. I let myself stare at her for another four seconds. The tension expands in my chest, pushing until it feels like it might burst.
“Reminds me of playing in the river when we were kids. Jumping off the bridge on the back quarter.”
She blinks, like I’ve just shaken her awake, and plasters a flat smile on her face. “Yeah. I never did quite get the nerve up to jump off that bridge.”
“Next summer,” I offer, letting myself float away from her so I don’t do something colossally stupid like let myself get all handsy with her again.
“Yeah.” Her teeth chatter as the word passes between her lips, and I nod toward the shore.
“Let’s go. Get you warmed up. Track down some food.”
“I could really use a drink,” she says.
Fucking same I think to myself.
We swim until we can stand. The tiny pebbles dig into the bottoms of my feet, and I work to keep my focus on where I’m going rather than letting my eyes wander over Sloane’s body in the departing light.
She’s too tempting and I’m too confused.
Her eyes stay on the ground too.
On the shore, she dries off with her robe and tries to hand it to me to use as a towel, clutching her arms over her mostly naked body. But it’s her wide eyes that catch my attention. I can’t place the look in them, but I know I’m not letting her walk back to the room uncovered and cold.
I smile and shake my head, pulling the robe from her hand and wrapping it around her shoulders.
“But you’ll be cold,” she says while I give a brisk rub up and down her arms a few times once the garment is in place.
I grab her hand and start walking back to our room. “You don’t need to worry about me, Sunny.”
I don’t look back when I hear her soft response.
“I always worry about you, Jas.”
14
Sloane
Sloane: This waitress is a fan.
Jasper: Sloane.
Sloane: What? She looks like she’s going to gobble you up.
Jasper: Don’t.
Sloane: Are you blushing?
Jasper: She’s a stranger. Doing her job. She isn’t looking at me like anything.
Jasper: Don’t make that face.
Sloane: If you need space, just leave a sock on the hotel room door.
Jasper: Sunny, shut up. I’d never do that to you.
The waitress seats us next to one of the enormous windows overlooking the lake. We didn’t know what to expect at Rose Hill Reach, only that it was right next door to the hotel. It’s a lovely spot though. All windows face the lake and one door opens to a long dock with a wide landing that I’m assuming could function as a patio in the summer.
Inside it’s all vaulted ceilings and dark woods. River stone fireplaces and butcher block tables. In one corner, there are even pool tables and dart boards.
It’s cozy. I almost feel like I’m at a ski lodge as I remove my jacket and scoot down into the rounded wooden chair, gazing out over the water. The water where Jasper and I just . . . well, I don’t know what we were doing.