Smitten (43 page)
“. . . the one thing I’m worried about,” Sawyer was saying.
“It’ll be fine,” Natalie said.
“You know I don’t ski, Reese. And the media will be there watching me making a fool of myself.”
“It’ll be great for the town, though,” Natalie said. “The guests wouldn’t get the full effect of Smitten without sampling our slopes.”
“Maybe I can just sit out,” Sawyer said.
“You can’t do that,” Natalie said. “You should be leading the pack. Smitten’s our home and skiing’s our game—so to speak.”
An idea popped into Griffen’s head and out his mouth.
“We can teach you.”
He felt Reese’s head jerk toward him.
“I was a part-time instructor in high school, remember?”
Griffen said.
Sawyer shook his head. “You saw me on skates. Put me on skis, multiply that by ten, and you’ll get an idea what we’re working with.”
“I could teach a monkey to ski. And Reese here, well, she’s a natural. You know that—and she has all the gear too.”
Griffen looked at Reese and was treated to her
What the heck?
look.
“I think that’s a great idea,” Natalie said.
Reese frowned. “You do?”
“Well, we can’t have our resident star looking like a hippo on wheels.”
Sawyer gave a self-deprecating smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“Oh, you know what I mean,” Natalie said. “And Griffen’s right. If Reese taught me to ski, she can teach anyone. Between the two of them, they’ll have you looking like a pro in no time.”
“I don’t know . . .”
“What d’ya have to lose?” Griffen asked. “You can’t get any worse.”
Sawyer laughed. “That’s true.” Thoughtful lines appeared on his brow. “Though the idea of embarrassing myself in front of our fellow Smittenites doesn’t appeal either.”
“Know what? The Bellinghams are old friends of the family. I’m sure they’d give us access to the mountain before they open one morning. We’d have total privacy.”
Sawyer rubbed his jaw. “Really? Well, that’s tempting. You know, Kate’s been worried the ski day was a mistake. It might be nice to surprise her.”
Natalie leaned forward. “Oh, you should totally do that! She’ll be so impressed.”
Sawyer nodded thoughtfully. “All right. I’m game if you two are.”
Griffen tightened his grip on Reese. “We’re happy to help. Aren’t we, honey?”
Reese gave her high-pitched laugh. “Uh—sure. Happy to help.”
G
riffen released the rope and skied toward the peak of the bunny hill. The morning was quiet except for the grinding sound of the rope tow and the
shhhh
of three pairs of skis slicing through fresh snow. His breath released a puff of fog. It couldn’t be more than fifteen degrees, and even wearing one of Reese’s quality ski suits, he was feeling it.
After an hour, Sawyer had managed the plow and straight run. They’d given him instructions on pointing his way down the slope, and this was his first go.
“Okay,” Reese said. “I’ll head down first. Watch me and follow.”
Griffen watched her descend the gentle slope, her athletic body gliding back and forth effortlessly.
“She makes it look so easy,” Sawyer said, pulling his ski mask into place.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Here goes nothing.” Sawyer pushed off, going straight at first, then trying a turn.
The morning hadn’t gone quite the way Griffen had hoped. There was little time for displays of affection when they were busy keeping a six-foot-two guy on his feet.
It was gratifying to be the competent one, though, and he was enjoying the fact that today Sawyer hardly resembled the country music star all the women went gaga over. Without his cowboy hat he looked like a regular guy; and on skis, well, he looked like a giraffe with broken kneecaps. How could a guy, so at ease onstage, be so awkward on the slopes?
Griffen watched Sawyer totter when his skis crossed. He was losing control. “Plow!” he called, but he didn’t think Sawyer heard because he was skiing a straight run now and quickly gaining speed.
Griffen pushed off. “Plow!” he called again.
But Sawyer was picking up speed and heading toward Reese, his ski poles waving wildly.
Oblivious to Sawyer’s proximity, Reese cut back to the left, right into Sawyer’s path.
“Reese!” Sawyer yelled, and she must’ve heard because she looked back just in time for the collision.
Sawyer snatched her around the middle as he hit her and leaned backward. Their skis clacked together, then there was a thud as they hit the ground. Their skis and poles went flying. Reese landed on top of Sawyer, and he grunted.
“Reese!” Griffen surged forward, not liking their stillness. But then Reese flopped off to the side. When he slid to a stop, they were laughing like maniacs.
“I take it you’re fine,” he said, aware his voice was frostier than the air.
They were laughing too hard to notice. Griffen collected their things, remembering his own recent collision with Reese. She hadn’t found it so amusing then. In fact, if memory served, she’d been a smidge testy. But then, that collision had been with him, not her beloved Sawyer.
Griffen dropped their skis and poles beside them. Sawyer was flicking the snow from Reese’s hat. Her cheeks were rosy pink, her eyes twinkling.
“Right. Going inside to warm up.” Because clearly they were having enough fun without him. Clearly Griffen was only in the way.
Reese worked with Sawyer until he could successfully point his way down the bunny hill. She’d expected Griffen to return by now, but after a while she realized he was giving them alone time—which was what he thought she wanted. She
had
enjoyed Sawyer’s company this morning, just not the way Griffen supposed. And fact was, she’d felt guilty being so alone with Sawyer on the slopes when he was engaged to someone else.
She skied back to the lodge, leaving Sawyer to practice his new skill. Inside, the lodge was quiet and lit only by the bank of windows facing the slopes. Griffen sat in front of the stone fireplace, staring into the cold grate. On the table behind him sat a cup of coffee he must’ve made himself.
He didn’t seem to notice her approach. Smiling, Reese snuck up behind him and covered his eyes. “Guess who?”
He pulled away, hardly looking at her, and she recalled his departing words on the slope—or rather, the tone in which he’d said them.
Reese plunked down beside him on the bench and rubbed her cold hands together. The mock plan to win Sawyer probably seemed to be working from his perspective, which was exactly what they’d set out to do.
“You seem to be making headway.” He didn’t sound entirely pleased.
“I guess.”
“What do you mean? You were rolling in the snow like a couple of lovebirds.” His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn’t follow.
“Well. It’s a start.”
He nodded. “And then what?”
“What do you mean?”
He looked at her then, those piercing blue eyes, and she knew exactly what he meant. The wedding. The town’s only hope. Her plan, if it succeeded, would ruin it all, and they both knew it.
She felt like a dog for even pretending to attempt it. He must think she was selfish to the extreme. It was right there in his eyes, and she hated it.
God, I wanted Griffen to notice me, but I’m making a mess of it. Now he thinks I’m a jerk
.
A lock of hair had flipped over his forehead and tangled in his long lashes. She fought the urge to brush it away, fisting her hands. She looked back into his eyes, and that’s when it hit her.
She loved him. Not just loved him—she was
in
love with him. Two totally different things. How had it happened so quickly? The line between “love” and “in love” was much thinner than she’d thought.
“What?” he asked.
And she was suddenly sure her every emotion must be sketched on her face.
“Nothing.” She cupped her cold hands over her mouth and warmed them with her breath. How ironic, the way her feelings had flip-flopped. She now felt only friendship toward the man she used to love, and was in love with the man who used to be her friend.
Maybe she should just tell him. Right now. End the charade. Get it off her chest once and for all.
Griffen, I don’t love Sawyer . . . I love you
.
See, she even had the words. They were right there. She opened her mouth to say them, willing the words to make the short journey from her brain to her tongue.
But fear reached up and snatched them from her throat. Only air escaped her parted lips.
He looked away, his jaw twitching.
What a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive
. The old quote scrolled across her brain like a TV crawler.
Griffen was probably hating her, hating himself for his own part in this scheme. Maybe it was time to end this charade. If she couldn’t tell him her feelings, she could at least let him off the hook.
“You know,” she said, “why don’t we just call it quits.”
“What do you mean?”
She tucked her hands in her pockets, warming them. “You don’t want to do this anymore. I get it. I can take it from here.”
“Get someone else to help, you mean.”
She shrugged. Hadn’t thought that far ahead, but the mere thought of another charade left her exhausted. Weren’t things complicated enough?
“No,” Griffen said. “Said I’d help, and I will.”
He still didn’t look too happy about it, but Reese was at a loss as to how to fix the mess. She bumped his shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “You sure?”
Griffen stood and pulled his gloves from his pockets. “I’m sure.”
T
he new bells jangled as the door to Reese’s shop opened. Shelby entered, brushing bits of snow from her shoulders.
Reese shut off the drill and handed it to Griffen. “Hey, Shelby.”
Shelby stopped in her tracks. “Oh my goodness, it’s finished!”
Reese perused the space, trying to see it with fresh eyes. It looked just as she’d imagined. The wide wooden floorboards were spotless, and the plumbing and heat were functional. Tomorrow she’d do a good cleaning, and soon the shop would be packed with merchandise and, hopefully, customers.
“Just about,” Griffen said, heading toward the cooler for a water break. “We’re still waiting on the new countertop, and we need to get it wired for Internet.”
Reese’s eyes followed him longingly. It was already the last week in January.
Eighteen more days
. She could hear the ticking clock and was helpless to stop it.
“I love the new canopy and the sign you made, Griffen. I don’t know how you found the time.”
“Anything for my best girl.”
How many times had he called her that? Now the old pet name was nothing but a punch in the gut.
Shelby gave her a sympathetic smile, then ran her gloved hand along the smooth wooden shelving. “It’s all coming together. Your shop is ready, the media are booked, and the bride has arrived.”
Kate Owens was quickly winning over the town. She was as sweet as she was beautiful. The
Smitten Gazette
had run a nice feature on her three days earlier.
“I can’t believe it’s two and a half weeks away.”
“Me neither. Hey, the reason I’m here—I just spoke with Nat, and we thought we might call an impromptu meeting of the girls since we missed last week.”
“We’re about finished for the day, I guess. Besides, I need to get out of these fumes.” She looked at Griffen, half tempted to invite him along.
“Go on. I want to get that last shelf up. I’ll lock up when I’m done.”
So much for that idea.
“Great. Thanks, Griff.”
Shelby texted Natalie while Reese slipped into her coat and grabbed her purse. As they headed outside, sadness bloomed deep inside Reese. All this time together, all the subterfuge and public displays of affection, and where was she? Square one.