Maybe Later(34)

“You’re the first real person I’ve opened up to in years. That makes us each other’s steps.”

I reach for her hand and squeeze it lightly. “Thank you,” I say. I relax, and my chest loosens up because I don’t feel alone.

This moment is precious. It might not be our first kiss but it’s the foundation of whatever we become. Maybe later we will confess to each other how we came to be, but for now, I take what she can give me because she’s willing to wait for me.





Chapter Sixteen





Jack


Saturday, April 30th, 9:32 a.m.



I moved to Colorado six years ago. During which time, I’ve lived under the assumption that everyone who resided in this state skis. That was, until now, as we stand outside the rental store and Emmeline’s eyes are wide open and her mouth pressed tightly. She’s either thinking I’m an idiot or wondering how to tell me that this isn’t for her.

“Do you ski?” I dare to ask, almost sure about her answer.

“Do I whiskey?” She smiles coyly or maybe with slight embarrassment.

“You think you’re funny,”

“That’s one of my best talents Jack, and I’m a woman of many, but skiing isn’t one of them.”

“You’re a comedian who can’t ski,” I conclude.

“Exactly.” She gives me a sharp nod. “The only winter sport I ever tried was figure skating. Mom decided I’d be great at it since I practiced ballet and gymnastics.”

“You win any medals?” I ask trying to remember any famous figure skaters.

“None. I sucked. I wasn’t graceful. Honestly, I wasn’t a graceful ballerina either, but I guess if you don’t have blades threatening to cut you because you’re one of the clumsiest people in the world, you can fake being a good dancer.”

“Your mom expected a lot from you, didn’t she?”

She chuckles shaking her head. “You don’t know the half of it. Thankfully it was my trainer who said “You can’t bring her again. Get her out of my rink.””

She laughs, and it’s such a happy and contagious sound that I join her. Emmeline puzzles me, she can change moods so quickly, and I like that she’s usually in a good one.

“Based on the fake accent I’m guessing he was Russian,” I ask once we calm down.

“I think he was Romanian, but I can’t be sure since I never asked. The point of this conversation, is that you won’t see me on a snowboard or a pair of skis.”

She nods once, straightening her shoulders and raising her chin. “Ask me to do a downward facing dog or any yoga pose, I won’t even need to warm up.”

I drop my gaze to her lips and move my gaze to her beautiful wide hips. Big mistake. My brain goes haywire. All I want is to see her on all fours, ass up in the air and—fuck get your head out of your ass—or her ass.

Fine, let’s not go skiing, why don’t you show me those poses—naked.

I don’t want to come on strong. She’s killing me though with all those images of her being bendy and stretchy. Alex once dated a yoga instructor and said it was the best sex of his life. There’s an incentive to make this work. And now I sound like a perverted lunatic.

“Would you like to go shopping then?”

I feel like this date is a bust. She scrunches up her nose as if I just slapped her. That’s when it occurs to me that I should take out my phone and check for used book stores. There should be something around that we can do that doesn’t include winter sports. Google maps only lists the library. Fuck. I tap the VAES app and message Amy. She can get me out of this mess.

“What are we doing?”

“Sending a message to a friend,” I explain.

“Okay?” she sounds a little miffed.

“Not to worry, she knows the area pretty well and can get us out of a bind.”

Is it a lie? I have no idea if Amy knows the area or not, but she always comes through with answers. I’m hoping that if I ask her, she’ll find something for me to do. Those lists on what to do in Denver seemed helpful. Unfortunately I chose Aspen. What a fucking idiot. The app says she’s offline. A second later, an email notification pops up. I open it and groan.





*



Amy Walker, I can’t believe you failed me.

I pinch the bridge of my nose while I try to make a quick decision. There’s an antique store not far away from where we stand. It might not be a bookstore, but this could work. It’s a risk I have to take. It’s better than driving back home.

“Sorry for messing up your date plans,” she apologizes.

“Please, do not apologize. I’m sorry for not considering you might not ski. I should’ve asked what you like to do during the winter,” I say and then rephrase because it’s already May. “Or when you drive up to the mountains.”

“I like cozying up next to the fireplace with a book and watch the snow fall,” she says.

“Walking around while it’s snowing isn’t really my thing unless,” I say. “I’m reading it and the author writes some hot scenes where the hero does an off the charts crazy gesture. Or at least, he describes how these two people walk holding hands feeling as if they’re inside a snow globe and the magic of their love is all they need to keep them warm.”