Pride (11 page)

Harper would have been pleased to help her—right over the edge. But Adam, on the other hand, would be nothing but a gentleman, only too happy to lend his services. And once she’d sucked him back in with the needy routine, she’d never let him go.

Kane was nothing, no one, she’d claim. A horrible mistake. Adam was her one, true love.

It was nauseating, even as a hypothetical.

Adam would resist at first. He was nothing if not loyal.

But Beth would beg and Beth would plead—and then, Harper knew, Beth would cry. And she’d look so beautiful and so fragile standing out in the snow, throwing herself on Adam’s mercy, that eventually, he would just give in. After all, he would surely reason, Harper’s tough, she can handle it. Beth is the one who really needs me.

If only he knew.

It was crazy, she told herself. Totally unlikely—certainly no more likely than a chance meeting in the halls of the high school or the cramped streets of their tiny town. But still, she couldn’t stand the idea of Beth out there having
Harper’s
dream vacation.

Harper whipped out her cell phone, determined to get her mind off the whole horrible thing. But who to call? Even Miranda was out on the slopes, having fun. Harper was alone. There was only one person she could think of who might have time to talk, distract Harper from her living nightmare—and it wouldn’t have been her first choice. Or her fifth. But she was out of options, and sometimes you just had to play the hand you were dealt.

She hit talk.

“Hey, Kaia—yes, it’s Harper. Just thought I’d check in, give you the download on the trip so far … what? No, nothing too exciting—wait, I
do
have some hot gossip. You’ll never guess what our trusty chaperone’s been up to. Let’s just say he’s got his hands full. Or should I say, his lap….”

He didn’t notice her until he’d sat down beside her on the chairlift—and by then, it was too late.

This
really
wasn’t his day.

They recognized each other at the same time, just as the lift swept their feet off the ground. Now there was no turning back—they were trapped together until they reached the top.

“Hey,” Adam grunted.

Beth nodded and looked down. Most of her face was hidden by a thick blue scarf—only her eyes were visible, and he couldn’t decipher their expression. Once, he’d been able to read her thoughts, just from the look in her eyes. It felt like a long time ago.

They rode in silence for several long minutes, watching the skiers dart around beneath them. Adam swung his skis, gently rocking them back and forth.

“Could you not do that?” Beth asked. Adam looked over and noticed how tightly she was gripping the guide bar. For a moment, he considered swinging his legs wildly, just to see her face fill with fear. But he suppressed the impulse—and hated himself for it.

“Sorry,” he said awkwardly, and stopped. “So, uh, how’s the skiing?”
And where’s your
boyfriend? he added silently. Nice of Kane to send her off by herself. Typical. But no more than she deserved, he supposed. And she was a big girl. She could handle it.

“It’s fine,” she responded unconvincingly. “It’s great. Kane and I are having a great time.”

“It doesn’t look it,” Adam snapped.

“What?”

“If you two are having such a great time together, where is he?”

She looked away. “That’s really none of your business,” she said bluntly. “Did I ask you where Harper was?”

“She’s—”

“I don’t care,” Beth cut in. “That was my point.”

“Fine. Sorry I said anything at all,” he retorted.

“Me too.”

Beth hopped off the chairlift as soon as her skis could reach the ground. She couldn’t get away from Adam fast enough. She hated what being around him did to her. Half the time she was an emotional wreck, ready to throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her back, the other half she was this cold, sarcastic monster she barely recognized.

He deserved it, of course—what right had he to comment on her relationship, act so wise and superior, as if he were just waiting for her and Kane to fall apart? He didn’t know anything about them—or anything about her, not anymore.

She was so angry that she forgot to be afraid as she launched herself down the trail. So busy fuming about Adam that she failed to notice the icy patch until it was too late—her legs went skidding out from under her—one ski off to the right, the other off to the left, and just when it felt as if she would snap in half, her skis snapped off instead, and she landed, facefirst, in a pile of snow.

Ouch.

It took her a moment to catch her breath and make sure all her limbs were still attached and in working order. Yes on both counts. She sat up and brushed the snow out of her face, taking stock. One ski lay a few feet away, and there were her two ski poles, but the other ski …

Beth’s heart sank. It was nowhere in sight. Had it slid down the mountain without her? She wondered how much it would cost to replace a rental ski—and how in the world she’d make it down without it.

“Lose something?”

Adam skied to a stop just in front of her—and he was holding her missing ski.

“I saw it go flying,” he explained, “and figured … are you okay?”

She nodded and, with some hesitation, took his hand and let him help her up.

“I saw you go flying too,” he told her, “and I thought …”

“It looked pretty bad, I guess?” she asked with a wry smile.

“No, no,” he assured her as she snapped her boots back into the skis. “You were doing great until you fell. You’re a natural.”

He’d been watching her? Beth felt her face warm, and was glad her scarf would hide the blush. The scarf made her think of Kane—and that made her think it was time to go.

“Well, I guess I should get back on the horse,” she said, taking a tentative step forward on the skis, only to topple over once again—and this time, she pulled him down with her.

“I take it back,” Adam said, rolling over and spitting out a mouthful of snow. “You totally suck.”

He burst into laughter and, after a moment, Beth broke out in giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, trying to get hold of herself. “Let me help you up.”

“No, don’t touch me,” he warned, but he said it with a warm smile on his face. “I don’t want to risk another human avalanche.”

He picked himself up and then, again, hoisted her to her feet.

“I guess I should have paid more attention in ski school,” Beth admitted ruefully.

Adam flicked a clump of snow off her shoulder, and Beth realized how long it had been since he’d touched her. But just a moment ago he’d grabbed her hand and pulled her upright as if it were nothing.

Which, she supposed, it was.

“I could—I could help you out a little,” he suddenly suggested, looking surprised to hear the words pop out of his mouth. He couldn’t have been as surprised as Beth.

If he’d asked her ten minutes earlier, she would have laughed in his face. Accept help from Adam? As if.

Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea. “I guess we could do that,” she accepted shyly. “If you want.”

“Okay, then,” he said, in his can-do voice. She knew it well. But then, she knew everything about him, every inch of him, well. Or, at least, she had. “The first thing we need to do is work on your stopping skills. Did they tell you in your lesson about ‘making a pizza’?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Not you too! I still don’t understand what skiing has to do with fast food. It’s so ridiculous.”

He gave her a playful shove. “Now I
know
you’re not mocking the pizza—not the very bedrock of our skiing society!” He looked so stricken that she burst into laughter again.

“I wouldn’t dare,” she promised. “Bring on the pizza.”

He positioned her on the skis, and they practiced stopping and slowing down and, eventually, “French fries,” for when she wanted to speed up, and soon, Beth was no longer terrified by the out-of-control flight down the mountain—she was exhilarated.

Despite all that was unspoken between them, and all the horrible words that had been said and could never be forgotten, things could still be easy between the two of them. She felt she was rediscovering something, or someone, that she hadn’t even realized she’d missed. Not Adam—or not just Adam—but herself. The person she had been—before. She thought she’d lost that person forever. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been wrong.

By the time Adam returned, flushed and sunkissed from his day in the snow, Harper was seriously bored—and seriously cranky.

She’d gossiped with Kaia, made small talk with the steady stream of losers who’d returned to the lodge with bumps and bruises of their own, read through this month’s
Vogue,
twice—at one point she’d gotten so desperate for something to do that she’d actually called her
mother
. In short: It had been a painfully long afternoon—made even longer by the fact that Adam showed up twenty-three minutes later than he was supposed to. (And yes, she’d been counting.)

But she played the good girlfriend—she put on a happy face.

“How are you doing?” Adam asked, greeting her with a kiss and laying a gentle hand on her wounded ankle.

“Much better, now that you’re here,” she said truthfully. “So how was your afternoon?”

“Awesome!” he beamed—then looked down at her and quickly corrected himself. “I mean, it was okay. You didn’t miss much.”

He was so adorable when he tried—and failed—to be a smooth operator.

“It’s okay, Ad, I want you to have fun,” she assured him. It sounded like the right thing to say … even if it wasn’t quite true. “So you didn’t get too bored, skiing all by yourself? Or did you hook up with one of the guys?”

“No …” He stepped behind her, beginning to rub her shoulders. “Actually, I spent most of the day …”

His voice trailed off, and Harper tipped her head up to catch a glimpse of his face. What was he thinking?

“Spent most of the day doing what?” she prodded him.

“You know, skiing, just enjoying the outdoors,” he said quickly. Too quickly? “But I missed you—how’s your knee?”

“It’s a little better,” Harper said, easing herself up off the couch and balancing on her good leg. “I think if I can lean on you, I should be able to … make it back to your room.” She hadn’t intended for her voice to rise at the end of the sentence, as if it were a question—but then, she didn’t know what to expect. Not after last night.

“You can always lean on me, Gracie,” he teased, hurrying to her side and slinging an arm around her waist. “Let’s just take this one step at a time.”

They hobbled out of the lounge and back toward the rooms. Harper smiled. It was so nice to be cradled in Adam’s arms, letting him guide her and support her, that the pain in her knee was almost worth it. Almost.

And then Beth crossed their path—and her smile disappeared.

“Hi, Adam,” The Blond One said shyly, ignoring Harper. “You ran off so quickly before … when Kane came over … well, I just wanted to say thank you for helping me today.”

Harper looked sharply over at Adam, whose normally open face was shut up tight. She couldn’t read him at all. And she didn’t like it.

“And what did this wonderful guy do for you today?” Harper asked, in a sugary sweet tone. She leaned her head against Adam’s chest. His heart was pounding.

“He didn’t tell you?” Beth’s oh-so-innocent smile widened. “He spent his whole afternoon teaching me how to ski. I’m sure you would much rather have been off on the black diamonds or something.”

“No, I—” Adam looked down at Harper and cut himself off. He continued in a much more formal, measured tone. “I was happy to help, Beth. Now, we should really get Harper back to the room.”

Beth gave Harper a weak smile. It wasn’t returned.

“Okay, well—thanks again,” she said, offering Adam an awkward little wave. “It was … good to catch up.”

“Yeah.” Adam tugged Harper away, and they began shuffling down the hall as fast as Harper could hobble.

“That was very sweet of you,” Harper said carefully, anger and fear simmering in her chest.

“I didn’t plan it—,” he began.

“Oh, of course not.”

“But you should have seen her out there.” He chuckled at the memory. “She had no idea what she was doing.”

And that was your problem how?

But Harper stopped herself before the words could pop out of her mouth. She had a choice. She could follow her territorial instincts and make sure Adam knew just how wrong he’d been to spend the day with the enemy. And then lie about it. She could pick a fight with him that would probably end up with her limping back to her room, alone. She could leave him secure in the knowledge that she was a jealous, unforgiving harpy—and leave him free to chase after the sweet and innocent princess of his dreams.
What would Beth do?
she wondered. It was galling to even ask herself the question—but, given the starry look in Adam’s eyes every time that blond hair crossed his field of vision, maybe it was also her smartest move.

Beth, the doormat, the good girl would likely just bite her tongue. Smile. Tell Adam she was happy to see him move on from his anger. Beth wouldn’t care if Adam befriended an old girlfriend—or if she did, she’d know it wasn’t her place to say anything. It was the kind of behavior that made Beth into such a limp dishrag, at least in Harper’s estimation, but it was also the kind of behavior that made Adam love her. And if that’s really what he wanted, maybe it was worth a try.