Rebound (Boomerang #2)(51)

Jasmine stops speaking as Paolo leans over to Sadie and whispers.

“Paolo is starving,” Sadie says. “He wants to know if he can eat while you explain the rest of the exercise.”

Jasmine smiles. She leans over and pushes Mia’s curls out of the way, whispering.

Mia’s lips twist a little as she listens. “Jasmine says, go ahead and eat.”

The exercise is entertaining for a while.

Sadie whispers to Paolo, then Paolo says, “Sadie wants to know if she’ll get any time at the spa because she’s a huge diva that way.”

Sadie whispers again, and Paolo delivers another message from her: “She just told me I’m an even bigger diva.”

Then Philippe speaks for Cookie: “Cookie thinks you’re both imbeciles.”

It goes on like this, controlled chaos, as we dig into ravioli and salad.

Ali hasn’t whispered anything in my ear yet, and I haven’t said anything to her. I’m more than satisfied, for now, just to sit next to her and enjoy my marketing team’s antics. I’ll be spending a lot of time with her over the coming days—exactly what I wanted.

When the conversation’s at a dull roar and the rules about who’s speaking for who have relaxed a little, I lean toward Alison. Her winter smell surrounds me, a clean elegant scent that takes me back to Halloween night, and it’s all I can do not to brush my lips against the soft skin in front of her ear.

“You look incredible, Ali,” I say. There’s been a lot of whispering at this table tonight, so no one notices us. We’re invisible, right here in front of everyone. No one even sees the small shiver Ali gives at the sound of my voice, or the way she leans closer to me. “I can’t take my eyes off you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I settle back into my chair. Sparkling blue eyes regard me for a moment before she leans by my ear. “Is that just for me, trust partner, or would you like me to share that with the group?”

I don’t bother whispering this time. “Tell anyone you want,” I say to her as the conversation swirls around us. “It’s happening, Ali. We are. Trust me.”





Chapter 29



Alison


The air is crisp and carries that fresh mountain smell, like linen and pine, as our team tramps across a snow-packed hillside. It’s too early—just past dawn—for the two full-scale snowball fights that have already broken out among the others, though Philippe’s wild pitch, which knocked Cookie’s ear muffs right off her head, almost makes it worth it.

I’m bleary, wooden-limbed, and it feels like there’s not enough coffee in the world to prepare me for the day ahead. I couldn’t sleep all night, thinking about Adam whispering to me at the table, his breath warm in my ear, just the nearness of him turning my body warm and liquid.

I can’t stop thinking about you, he said. And even though I deflected that, I can’t stop thinking about him, either. I can’t stop thinking about his brilliance and ambition, his gorgeous tapered fingers wrapped around a wine glass, his appraising gray eyes taking everything in, the faint shadowing of lines at the corner of his lids that speak of days out in the sun, in the bracing salt air.

His face gives so much, I think, as I watch him chat easily with Philippe beside me. His body even more so. But then there’s that shadow, too, that wall I can never breach, the place where deep inside he’s locked away pieces of himself, locked away his own history.

On that front, my father’s campaign to drive me insane has reached new heights. Eight texts before I went to bed last night. I tried to placate him, to tell him that Adam and I had been paired for the weekend, that I’d have plenty of opportunity to find out what he wanted to know. But he just kept firing at me.

The group reaches a plateau where Jasmine Star stands in front of a broad wooden platform about shoulder height. Next to it rises an elaborate climbing wall with the caps of rough-hewn logs jutting from it and lengths of bungee cord shuffling together in the wind. On the ground, a Day-Glo fuchsia line brightens the white terrain.

Jasmine claps her hands excitedly at our approach. She’s bundled in a patterned alpaca coat that looks like she fashioned it from one of the lodge blankets.

“Good morning, lovelies!” she calls. “And here’s my magnificent partner!” she cries, homing right in on Mia, who seems even more clumsy and slow this morning than I feel. “Look at all that hair! You’re like a Botticelli!”

“It’s just really hard for me to find a hat to go over it,” Mia says.

“Well, it would be a shame to cover it,” Jasmine exclaims then dashes a few steps toward us to give Mia a morning kiss—on the lips. “Minty!” she exclaims.

Mia angles a “just shoot me” look at Paolo, who laughs and gamely leans in for his kiss from Jasmine.

Then it’s a flurry of kisses and pats in sometimes questionable places. Her hands are cool against my skin as she pulls my face toward hers. I can see every pore, see the manic delight in her hazel eyes, and the spray of capillaries on her ruddy cheeks. “Good morning, you beautiful creature of light,” she says to me. “Who are you going to trust today?”

Even the word sends a dart of panic into my solar plexus. “Um, my team? I’m . . . I’m going to learn to trust my team.”