Page 35 of Worth the Rush
“Had a lot of practice,” he answers simply.
“You’re full of surprises, huh? A doting uncle, a helicopter pilot, snowboarding extraordinaire, and a therapist? What else?Do you headline at the local strip club?” I ask, and he tosses his head back with laughter that makes my bones rattle.
When his laughter settles, and my smile isn’t forced, he asks in a low voice, “If I did, would you be paying for a private room?” My hand is still on his warm chest, covered by his larger one. I’m unwilling to pull it away yet.
“No,” I answer thoughtfully, then can’t help but tease, “I don’t think I’d have to pay to see it.” My voice is soft and husky. I’m thinking of Alder losing items of clothing and moving hips that I know hold power. I’ve seen him use them on and off his snowboard.Okay, Ivy. Calm down.
“You’re making me sound easy, princess.” He sounds hurt.
“No, not easy—just willing,” I taunt. He smiles, blue eyes sparkling, brushing off the comment with ease. He’s so secure in himself. It makes me a little weak in the knees. He doesn’t mind when I bite. And now I’m picturing biting him.Get a hold of yourself, Ivy.I shake my head, and he sighs.
“Unfortunately, I have to shatter your fantasies of me dancing on a stage that you’re shaking your head to get rid of. I left those days behind me a long time ago.” Now it’s my turn to laugh. Surprised, belly laughter. It sputters out of me, and I bring a hand to my mouth. “You find something funny about that?” he asks me, mock offense front and center.
“Not at all,” I reply once I settle. I’m trying really hard not to think about this man in front of me shirtless. “So no moonlighting. Got it,” I confirm.
“Don’t get too disappointed. I do snowboard shirtless for charity every year, and I’ll make sure to put it on that calendar in your office.” He winks. That wink does things to me. So does thinking about his shirtless, muscular torso on a snowboard.
“Snowboarding shirtless…for charity?” I wonder out loud, still trying to shake the image of bare skin and pecs I never got the chance to lick. “That sounds like a crowd-pleaser. Maybe we could do an event like that at The Edgemont,” I muse. I do still need one more thing to bring in some revenue.
“You wanna snowboard shirtless with me, Ivy?” he asks suggestively. I roll my eyes, but on the inside, I give myself whiplash with my quick nods.
“I’m thinking more of a black-tie affair. At the lodge,” I tell him. They were never my thing, but they do bring in a lot of money, and I’m thinking a portion of it will go to a good cause as well.
“That’s definitely not a no,” he quips back.
“I guess it's not.”
“Are you feeling better?” he asks, and I guess we’re going to talk about that.
“I am. I’m embarrassed you saw me like that,” I admit.
“I can think of five things off the top of my head that you’ve done since I’ve known you that are way more embarrassing. This? Doesn’t even make it on that list.” He says it so matter-of-factly that I can’t help but believe him. He means it, and that hits me somewhere in my chest. Not quite in the heart, but in the vicinity.
“Ah, another list enters the chat,” I tease. “Well, thank you. For helping me.”
“Anytime,” he states simply and nods. “Are you staying for the caroling?”
“Are you singing?” I ask back, and he smiles.
“I never plan on it, but Mary Holloway always finds a way to get us all singing by ‘Oh Holy Night.’” He tells me.
“As much as I don’t want to miss that. I’m feeling prettytired after…everything. I think I’d better get home for the night,” I say.
“Are you okay to drive yourself?” His question should piss me off, but it doesn’t. I saw how he responded to me earlier. I see now the genuine concern on his face. He truly cares about my well-being. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that before.
“I’ll be fine. You snapped me back fairly quickly. I’ve recovered. Promise,” I tell him honestly. I’m used to brushing off my panic attacks. Telling the people around me that I’m fine when I’m not. They don't ask because they care. They just want to feel justified in having asked. Like the asking alone is what makes you a good person. Alder isn’t like that, and I’m not sure how to handle his natural kindness. His empathy.
“If you’re sure,” he says. It's a question but isn’t.
“I am. Thank you. And please tell your family that I had a wonderful time with them tonight. It’s been a while since I was surrounded by a big, happy family.” Or forever. “You’re very lucky to have them.”
“I am,” He agrees, no buts.
“I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” I murmur, backing up. We have that large group coming in and the private lesson at eleven,” I say, needing to get back on track. Back to my plan. Back to only seeing him as a colleague.
“I’ll be there.” He nods, and I turn to walk to my SUV. I get two steps, and he calls my name. When I turn, he’s got his hands in his coat pockets and a glint in his eye, but his face isn’t giving anything away.
“I’m just down the road,” he tells me, then swallows. “If you need anything.” My blood heats at his words. I need not to feel flustered. I need to be in control.
