Page 46 of Chef's Kiss at the Chalet
I splashed him again.
“I have a little sister, remember. You’re not going to win this game.”
And just for that, I splashed him a third time. Which turned into an all-out splash war, the two of us chasing each other around inside the tiny pool until he wrapped me up in his arms to tickle me. And when he pulled me tight against his chest to stop my assault, our faces came just inches apart. My pulse raced. He stared at my lips. This time, I went to him, rising up to press my mouth to his.
This was a terrible idea. Every time I let this man wiggle a little further under my skin, I was setting myself up for even more of a disaster. Because there was no way this could end well. It was tempting fate. But then, the heart was irrational. And our attraction was undeniable. That damn boy-crazy girl in all of us that swooned at a square jaw and dimples.
Charles grabbed the backs of my thighs to hoist my legs around his hips. I tangled my arms behind his neck and held on, breathing him in with the fresh scent of pine and cold mountain air, the subtle fragrance of his skin and the taste of his tongue on mine. His fingers squeezed, pressing against my flesh while flashes of our night at The Snowdrift danced behind my eyes.
I wanted more. As I deepened our kiss and lightly dragged my nails through his hair, I wanted to forget all the reasons I’d regret him and just give in. Give myself over to our instincts. And when Charles pressed my back against the hot, smooth rocks that surrounded the pool, I was sure he felt the same. Both of us were desperate to relive that release.
Like he could hear my thoughts, Charles exhaled and pressed his forehead against mine.
“You’re seriously trouble, you know that?” he said.
“Me? You’re the one who lured me into the woods to go skinny-dipping.”
“I don’t know.” He teased his fingers up and down my ribcage while I held myself to him with my legs locked around his hips. “Lure is a strong word. Tempted, maybe.”
“Right. Because you’re just that irresistible, girls will follow you anywhere.”
He shrugged, playfully impressed with himself. “Your words, not mine.”
The arrogance won him another face full of water as I ripped myself away to splash him again.
“Now you’re in for it,” he growled, before launching a wave of water at me.
I quickly scrambled out of the spring.
“Come on,” he chided. “Don’t run away just because you’re losing.”
“And just for that,” I said, quickly tugging on my clothes and shoving my feet into my boots, “I’m taking your pants.”
Chapter 17
“You play dirty,” Charles said, climbing into the Land Rover and cranking up the heat after putting his pants on at the side of the road. “Not cool.”
I hadn’t stopped laughing since he came sprinting out of the forest in his coat and boots, bare legs hanging out.
“Worth it,” I said, giggling. “You should’ve seen yourself.”
“Just for that, you owe me dinner.”
“Sort of a hollow threat. It’s literally my job to make you dinner.”
“Good point,” he said, putting theSUVin gear and pulling back out onto the road. “In that case, let me buyyoudinner. I know just the place.”
The sun was just dipping behind the tallest peaks when we arrived at the mountaintop bistro by gondola. I’d read about this place but never considered dining here, because its menu was famously exorbitant and reservations were basically impossible.
“The owner of the restaurant group is a friend of the family,” Charles told me as we were escorted by a waiter in a black vest and bowtie to a window-side table with stunning views of the snowcapped landscape. The lights of the town twinkled in the distance below. “You have to try the elk. It’ll change your life.”
Exposed beams were juxtaposed with white plaster walls, white linen on the tables, and centerpieces of pine cones, magnolia leaves, and votive candles. One end of the dining room featured a fireplace large enough to stand up inside. At the other, the stainless-steel open kitchen with white subway tile walls framed a large wood-burning oven.
“I feel incredibly underdressed,” I whispered as the waiter placed a white linen napkin in my lap. “And my butt’s still wet.”
Charles smirked, ordering us a bottle of wine. “Mine too.”
Yet it was easy to feel completely comfortable around Charles. He made the slight embarrassment entirely melt away. His smile, his effortless confidence. I guess they sort of rubbed off. Or else enveloped everyone around him, creating a shield of self-assuredness that kept the bad thoughts away. About how that one bottle of wine cost more than my entire electric bill. And how he’d traipsed through the forest in an outfit that probably cost more than my rent.
