Never Too Late (23 page)

She pulsed for such a long time, breathless, he just held her until the storm passed, kissing her, loving her, caressing her. “God,” he said again. Until she was complete. “Clare,” he whispered.

“Holy cow.”

“Nice,” he said softly.

“Nice?” she asked. She laughed.

“You're incredible,” he said, covering her face with kisses. “I knew you would be like this. Amazing.”

Her fingers on his face, she pulled him down to her lips again. “That was unbelievable. Pete, you've been holding out on me.”

“Well, not intentionally.” He rose above her, looked into her eyes and said, “I never stopped loving you. I managed to stop thinking about it for a while, but I never stopped.”

“I wish I'd known sooner. How you felt.”

He shrugged. “It didn't seem possible. We had other lives.”

She brushed a hand against the hair at his temple. “Well. We have this one now. And it's very, very good.”

He nibbled at her lips. “It is. I'm not letting you get away.”

“You'd have trouble getting rid of me…”

“I have an idea. Let's dress, grab some lunch and take it to my house. Let's have a naked picnic in the bed and then make love until curfew.”

“Curfew?” she laughed. “Jason's with his dad till tomorrow night.”

“Oh, God,” he said weakly. He started kissing her again and before even minutes had passed, his lips were on her neck, her breasts, her belly.

Her hand slid down to him, closed over him, bringing a deep, lusty moan. He heard her softly laugh. “I have a feeling I'm not going to get lunch for a while.”

“Not for a while,” he answered.

“So,” she whispered. “This is deliberate?”

“Not anymore,” he said, seeking and finding her again. “Now it's beyond my control.”

T
he leaves completed their change of color, setting the hillsides of the Sierra on fire, then they fell, leaving the branches bare before Halloween. The clouds of winter came in November, drenching Breckenridge in rain, but covering the mountains in a fresh blanket of snow. Locals and tourists alike flocked to the slopes, and for the first time in years Sarah had a renewed excitement about skiing because of a certain part-time ski patrol.

She had done a lot of skiing as a kid, but later when she was so into her art and operating her shop, had taken only the rare trip to the mountains with her sisters and their kids.

It took no time for Sarah to sharpen her skills. After a couple of days, she was mastering the expert slopes she had visited as a young woman. She closed her shop a few times during the first good snow and went to Afton Alps, Squaw Valley and Alpine Meadows. When her father asked her if she could afford to do this she said, “Of course. Selling that big tapestry to the Afton Alps Lodge set me up. And don't you think I should visit it?”

Sarah bought new gear—a bright pink ski bib, darker pink jacket, skis and poles, awesome polar boots. And it only took a couple of trips to the mountains, which were less than a forty-minute drive, to learn that a certain ski patrol by the name of Jankowski worked on Mondays at Afton Alps.

Well, Monday was an excellent day to close the store. She posted her new hours on the door and waxed her skis.

Ski patrols roamed the slopes, looking for spills and problems, driving around on their snowmobiles, dragging toboggans to ferry injured skiers, marking the restricted areas and posting signs where avalanche was a danger. Every time she saw a red jacket with a white cross on the sleeve, she looked to see if she recognized the face. She skied all day without seeing him, and then on what was to be her last run of the day, she spied him at the top of the expert hill. Ah, he was so beautiful. She made her way toward him and yelled, “Sam! Hey, Sam!”

He turned and squinted in her direction.

“It's me, Sarah,” she said, popping up her goggles and laughing.

He pulled off his goggles and smiled at her. “What's up, Sarah?”

“I heard you did some patrol. Busy day?”

“Nah. Everyone's behaving. We just have to keep the bad boys under control. And bad girls,” he added with a grin that almost brought her to her knees.

“Sounds like a perfect job for you.”

“You up here alone?” he asked, looking around.

Was he looking for Clare? she wondered. “Yes. I decided to take a mental-health day. This is going to be my last run.”

“Big mountain for a little girl.”

“Who are you calling a little girl, big shot? I was raised on this little hill.”

“That so?” he said, grinning again.

Sarah thought she could die a happy woman if she could just look into those blue eyes as she went. It was true she'd been raised on this mountain. They'd done plenty of skiing as kids, but she was clearly the best in the family. Jason was going to pass her soon—on his snowboard—with Lindsey a close second behind him. “When do you get off work?” she asked.

“In about a half hour. I'm going to head in now.”

“Have a drink with me?” she dared, though she was quaking inside.

“Um…I don't drink at the lodge. Image, you know.”

“How about the pub at Lander's Pass? Not too far out of the way.”

He hesitated, thinking about it for a second.

“Just a beer, Sam,” she pushed.

“Why not?” he finally said.

She got an impish gleam in her eye, snapped her goggles into place and said, “If you can catch me!” She pushed off and headed down the difficult slope at a rate of speed that frightened even her. He was right on her heels, keeping up with her effortlessly. When she came upon the moguls, she jumped, landing soft as a feather. She bent at the waist, her poles tucked under her arms, and flew. “Slow down!” he yelled, but she was not for going slow. No more holding back. She was, literally, throwing caution to the wind. She shifted her weight right, then left, then right again, traversing the steep slope, carving turns in the soft powder. She could hear him jumping each mogul behind her. And it was exhilarating.

It took them a few minutes to get down and when he pulled up beside her, she was laughing.

“You're good,” Sam said. “You were showing off.”

“I was,” she chuckled. “I wanted to see what you had.”

“No,” he said, the smile huge. “You wanted me to see what you had. You could be a little more careful.”

“Why? I had a ski patrol on my tail. I felt safe as a kitten. Should I meet you there?”

“I have to change out—You'll beat me.”

“Take your time. I'm sure the fire is warm and cozy.”

“See you in a while,” he said. And she watched him as he made his way to the patrol station.

Sarah's heart was high as she drove down the pass to the pub. He didn't appear to be dying of a broken heart. It was good that he was going to follow her in a few minutes. She'd use that extra time to fluff her hair and make sure her makeup was perfect, concerns that hadn't even occurred to her a couple of months ago. It would also give her time to slow the hammering of her heart and appear composed, though she was far from it.

By the time Sam arrived, she was sitting by the fire in the pub, nursing a glass of white wine. Sarah reminded herself not to sigh in longing just at the mere sight of him. It completely escaped her how Clare could give him up. Sarah had not been this moved by a man in her life. Now, if the angels were on her side, the snow would fall, the pass would close and they'd be stranded for the night.

He pulled off his gloves, stuffed them in the pockets of his jacket and hung it on a peg inside the door. There weren't many people in the bar and she had secured a cozy, private spot near the fire.

“This is a good idea,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I like this place. Do you come here very often?”

“Only once in a blue moon. I'm usually in a rush to get home and relieve my mom of Molly, but I called and she said to take my time.”

“When do you work at Afton Alps?”

“Mondays. Then I try to take Molly skiing on Saturdays or Sundays. Saturday, Sunday, Monday are my days off from the department.”

“Do you like being a cop?”

“I love it. Almost as much as skiing. Policing is good work. And how long have you been an art teacher?”

“About eight years—but teaching isn't my primary job. The studio, store and my own art is how I really support myself. I have some of my work hanging at the Afton Alps Lodge. That big tapestry? I did that.”

“No kidding? You
made
that? That's amazing.” The waiter appeared and Sam ordered a beer. “I'm surprised I haven't run into you before now. If you ski a lot.”

In fact, she hadn't before she went on the Sam hunt, but she was blessed with a skill that looked as if she was there a lot. “You only work one day a week, Sam,” she said.

Sarah asked him questions about Molly and his mother, told him about her work and exhibitions. They talked a little bit about where they went to school, who their friends were in town, and not wanting it to end, Sarah ordered a second glass of wine. But Sam didn't have another beer. She sipped slowly, hoping he would, but after a little more than an hour had passed he said, “I guess I better get going.”

“Me, too. I suppose.”

“Let me get the tab and I'll walk you out.”

“It should be my treat,” she said. “I invited you.”

“Naw, get your coat,” he said, disappearing toward the bar.

She stood by the door, watching his back, his shoulders broad under his heavy sweater. God, he was magnificent. And sweeter than a puppy. Those hands, large and strong and neat. He turned toward her and smiled. With that face and body, he should be on a coin.

I don't stand a chance, she thought.

“Ready?” he asked, grabbing his jacket.

He took her arm as they walked to her car and she thought, this is probably going to be the most I ever get from him. A little friendly conversation, a walk to the car. But I'll take it.

“Thank you,” she said. “And thank you for not asking about Clare.”

He shrugged. “I assume she's fine?”

“Great.” She pulled her jacket tighter. “I think I'll plan on Mondays being ski days. Maybe we can do this again sometime?”

“I'll watch for you,” he said, opening her car door. “I'll follow you down the mountain. Make sure you don't have any problems.”

“You don't have to. I've been down this pass a million times.”

“It's narrow in places. And I already know you have a need for speed.”

“Just on the slopes,” she laughed. “I trust skis a lot more than cars.”

“That's probably smart,” he told her, shutting her door.

All the way down the mountain she grinned like a Cheshire cat. And asked herself how she could last until the next Monday.

The next two Mondays were like heaven at Afton
Alps. Sarah managed to find him during the day, let him know that she was there, even ski with him a bit and ride the lift up with him a few times. She longed for a phone call during the week, but it appeared those Mondays of skiing with a beer afterward were all the time he had for her. She tried not to be discouraged, but it was hard. She wanted to ask him if he was seeing anyone, but fear of the answer kept her silent.

She cautioned herself not to pursue him too dramatically; there was an expression that sometimes crossed his features that told her he could be frightened away easily; there was definite caution in his eyes. Besides, Sarah was still a little shy with him. Her renewed style had helped her gain some confidence, but not so much that she could summon the courage to throw herself at him, which she thought was a good thing. While they had their drinks, she did manage to work into the conversation questions like why hadn't he married, and answered the same question with, “I've been too consumed by work. But I've decided it's time now to venture a little farther from the studio, be a little more social.”

When he left her at her car, she would tilt her face up toward his, ready. But he would only open her car door and say good night.

 

The last Thursday of November was Thanksgiving, held at George's house as usual. It was the typical loud affair with three teens, six adults, televised parades and football. When dinner was done and the sisters were cleaning up, Maggie said to Clare and Sarah, “Something's going on with you two.”

“What?” they asked in unison.

“Oh, now that was almost guilty. Someone's having sex.” Both displayed heightened color on their cheeks. “Oh!” Maggie exclaimed. “You dogs!”

“
I'm
not!” Sarah insisted. And she thought,
damn it!

But Clare looked away.

“Clare?” Maggie said.

She looked back and in a whisper said, “I haven't told Jason yet. Or anyone for that matter. Can you keep it quiet until I do?”

“Of course! What are you hiding?”

“I've been seeing Pete Rayburn.”

Dead silence answered her. Maggie finally asked, “How long has this been going on?”

“Well, hard to say. We reconnected last August when I took that teaching job. We got together for coffee, had a few conversations, and it just sort of grew from there. Out of friendship. It came into full bloom Homecoming weekend.”

Maggie leaned closer. “Are you sleeping with him?” she asked in a whisper.

Clare smiled devilishly. “There's hardly any sleep involved.”

“Is it…? Is it…?” Maggie couldn't make herself form the question.

“It's unbelievable,” Clare said with an involuntary shiver.

This news caused the sisters to squeal. Sarah couldn't have been more relieved—this meant that Clare had moved on and had no lingering feelings for Sam. But Sarah wasn't talking. She didn't want to jinx it. Her mind was made up, she wasn't going to tell about Sam until he professed his undying love for her. And at the rate they were going, that could be a while. She just
hoped and prayed it would occur to him to kiss her before the spring thaw. So far there had been only the touch of his hand on her arm as he walked her to her car.

Another Monday of skiing came and went. Then, a couple of days later, early in December, Sam came into the shop and she beamed with pleasure when she saw him. It was the first time he'd made any contact with her besides those Mondays. He was on duty and she almost fainted at the sight of him in that dark blue uniform. “Oh Sam, look at you,” she said. “Are you propositioned every time you try to give a woman a parking ticket?”

He favored her with a wide smile. “That's against the law, Sarah.”