Page 10 of Christmas with My Ruthless CEO
The gesture is small but meaningful, and I'm surprised by how much it affects me. "Thank you."
Spencer clears his throat. "Right, well, I'll leave you two to your race. Remember, the trail loops back around to the eastern ridge. Stay on the marked paths, storm's coming in faster than predicted."
As he walks away, Sloane turns to me with challenge in her eyes. "Ready to eat my snow, Morgan?"
"In your dreams, Parker." I move to the second snowmobile, a sleek red machine that purrs to life under my touch. "First one to the eastern ridge wins."
"And what does the winner get?" There's a playful edge to her voice that makes my pulse quicken.
"Bragging rights?"
She shakes her head, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Boring. How about... loser has to wear whatever the winner chooses to the charity auction next week?"
The thought of Sloane in one of the designer dresses I've imagined her in more times than I care to admit flashes through my mind. "Deal."
"Hope you like flannel," she teases, revving her engine. "Three, two, one, go!"
She takes off with a spray of snow, leaving me momentarily startled before I accelerate after her. The powerful machine responds instantly, surging forward as I lean into the first curve of the trail.
Sloane navigates the path with the confidence of someone who's been riding these mountains her entire life, taking corners with practiced ease. But what I lack in local knowledge, I make up for in competitive drive.
I close the gap between us as the trail widens, the exhilaration of the race burning through my veins. The cold air whips against my face, and I find myself laughing, actually laughing, as we speed across the pristine landscape.
Sloane glances back, surprise evident even behind her goggles when she sees how close I am. She guns her engine, pulling ahead as the trail narrows through a dense section of pines.
I follow her lead, noting the subtle way she shifts her weight before each turn. By the time we emerge into an open meadow, I've learned enough to make my move.
I accelerate hard, pulling alongside her as we race across the open expanse. She turns to me, and even through her face covering, I can see her competitive grin.
The eastern ridge looms ahead, the trail splitting, one path curving wide and gradually upward, the other cutting a steeper, more direct route to the top.
Sloane veers toward the gradual path, clearly expecting me to follow. Instead, I make a split-second decision and take the steeper route, cutting across her path with inches to spare.
Her surprised shout follows me as I power up the challenging incline, the snowmobile's engine roaring with the effort. The steeper path is rougher, requiring all my concentration to navigate, but it's shorter, and if I can make it without wiping out, victory is mine.
I crest the ridge seconds before Sloane's path converges with mine, pulling to a stop at the designated finishing point and turning to watch her approach.
She arrives moments later, cutting her engine and pulling off her goggles, face flushed with exertion and what looks suspiciously like admiration.
"You cheated," she accuses, but there's no heat in her words.
"I improvised," I correct, removing my own goggles. "There were no rules against taking the steeper path."
"I can't believe you risked that incline." She shakes her head, but she's smiling. "Most first-timers would have wiped out halfway up."
"I'm not most people."
"No," she agrees, her voice softening. "You definitely aren't."
We stand there, surrounded by the pristine white landscape, the silence of the mountains broken only by the distant rumble of the approaching storm and our still-rapid breathing.
"So," she says finally, "I guess you won."
"I guess I did." I step closer, drawn to the pink in her cheeks and the snowflakes caught in her eyelashes. "That means I get to choose your outfit for the charity auction."
"God help me." She rolls her eyes, but there's a flutter in her breath that gives her away. "Nothing backless or shorter than my fingertips, Morgan."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Parker." Though the image of her in the midnight blue gown I'd seen in a Milan boutique last month flashes through my mind.
