Saving Grace (Love Under the Big Sky, #2.5)(7)

“I’ll be glad to get rid of these boots,” she says with a wrinkled nose. “They’re heavy.”

“It’s a workout, indeed.”

“Indeed,” she mimics.

“You enjoy teasing me about my accent, love.”

“I don’t mean to be offensive,” she rushes to assure me. “It’s my stupid sense of humor. You can tell me to shut up.”

I pull her to a stop and drop my face close to hers. “I think you’re charming and delightful, and I don’t want you to shut up. I was teasing you in return.”

“Okay.”

“I told you before, I’m enjoying your company very much.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, let’s ditch this gear and get you warmed up.”

“I wonder if I can order a hot chocolate in the lobby and sit by the fire.”

“I’m quite sure you can order whatever you like,” I reply. You can have anything you want.

I’ve known the woman for a matter of hours and I’m ready to offer her the world.

Jesus Christ, grow a pair, Bax.

We turn in her equipment and walk back to the lodge, avoiding the icy patch that she slipped on earlier.

Watching her fall had my heart in my throat.

“Jeanette,” I call as we walk through the lobby to the fireplace. “Would you please order us two hot chocolates?”

“Of course, Bax,” she replies with a knowing smile. She’s such a mother hen. Always trying to set me up with someone.

Maybe this will shut her up.

“Have a seat, love.” I lead her to a plush love seat, but instead of sitting next to her, I sit on the ottoman across from her and take her boot off of her left foot, pull it up into my lap, and begin to rub it vigorously over her wool sock.

“You do not have to touch my sweaty foot!” She tries to pull away but I hold strong.

“I’m warming you up, Grace.”

“The fire will do that for me.”

I raise a brow and watch her quietly as I continue to rub her slender foot. She finally relaxes and sinks back into the cushions of the couch.

“God, you’re good at that.”

“We can’t have your toes fall off from frostbite.”

“I don’t think I was quite there yet,” she replies with a laugh. “But thanks for having my back.”

“What did you think of your lesson?” I ask and turn my attention to her right foot. I want to strip her naked and explore every inch of her tiny body, lose myself in her for hours on end.

Once I started, I don’t know if I could ever let her go.

And where in the bloody hell are these thoughts coming from?

“I had fun,” she replies with a soft sigh. “I didn’t fall once, thanks to you.”

“I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

“You might have to come with me to Aspen. Who needs poles when they have Jacob to keep them upright?”

She laughs, and I smile at her, but my insides still. The thought of her in Aspen, with another ski instructor paying her the same attention I am, pisses me the f*ck off.

And that’s absolutely ridiculous.

“Jacob?”

“Yes, darling.”

“Where did you go? You zoned out there for a minute.”

I shake my head and join her on the couch as our drinks are delivered.

“Here you go, Bax.” The young room service attendant places the tray holding the hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies on the ottoman before us. I slip my hand into my pocket, pull out some money, and hand him his tip.

“Thank you, Michael.”

“Anytime.”

“Your coworkers are very respectful to each other,” Grace observes, and nibbles a cookie.

Now is the time to tell her. It shouldn’t be all that difficult to mention that I’m not merely an employee, but the owner of the place. However, the thought of her anger and embarrassment is like a punch to the gut.

I’m just a normal bloke, having a conversation with a woman. Not the playboy billionaire from London.

I rather like the way this feels.

“Thank you,” I reply instead, and take a sip of the warm chocolate. “It’s a nice place to work.”

“Hmm,” she agrees. She’s leaning back in the seat, her eyes growing heavy as she sips her drink, lost in her thoughts. I watch her for a while, wondering what she’s thinking, but not wanting to ruin this quiet moment.

“We’d best get back to our rooms so we can change out of these clothes for dinner.” I stand and hold my hand out to her, pulling her to her feet beside me.

“I’m on the fifth floor,” she says. “Where do you stay?”

“I have a place here in the lodge.” I don’t mention that my living quarters are a three-bedroom suite that I’ve commandeered. “I’ll walk you to your room.”

“You don’t have to.”

“A gentleman always walks his lady home.” I ignore the looks that the staff sends us as I lead her to the elevator, and once we reach her floor, she leads me to her door. She’s in one of the standard king rooms. They’re top of the line, comfortable, and perfectly fine. But I also know in this moment that regardless of how many nights she’s reserved to stay in this room, and I intend to find out, she’ll spend only one night in this room.