Snow Angel (22 page)

Waking snuggled with Jacob that morning had been an experience. At once arousing and comforting and somehow very right. He looked at her differently these days, too, and not just when she was standing in front of him bare-assed naked.

That might bear some thinking on, but for now...

“Get yourself together, Mel,” she told her reflection. “No more stalling.”

No ideas for handling the awkwardness had come to her yet, but putting off the inevitable would only make it worse. Better to face him now than dread it any longer.

One thing was certain. Night skiing was in. The sexy, scantily-clad, intimate hot tub idea was out of the question. Completely out.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Melinda finally poked her head out the bathroom door, the condo was quiet and empty. Jacob must have already gone next door.

Good. That gave her a few extra seconds to tighten her hold on her dignity.

Stepping into the chilly hallway between condos, Melinda sucked in a deep breath, blew it out, squared her shoulders, and strode the few steps to the second, identical, condo. She opened the door without bothering to knock and walked into a wall of boisterous noise and the rich, enticing scents of dinner cooking.

“
Hola
, my foxy fajita!” Jacob hollered from the other side of the kitchen, and winked at her, a wide, totally normal smile on his face. “Catch!”

He tossed her a small, squishy football in a perfect spiral, narrowly missing beaning Gabe in the head. She caught the neon-green ball one-handed.

“Watch it, bro,” Gabe said, swatting lazily at Jacob and missing him by a wide margin.

“Jacob Robert, no football in the house,” Lois said, taking the rolls out of the oven. “Move it.”

Melinda’s eyes met Jacob’s, and just like that, once again, they were fine. The red-faced image of her nakedness holding court in her mind faded away. She dropped her gaze to the ball, rolling it between her hands.

How did he do that?

No matter how awkward or embarrassed she ever felt, he could make it right with a few silly words and a saucy wink.

Moving to her side, Jacob tugged the football from her grasp and lobbed it into the family room, where Wendell snagged it out of the air by rote, not missing a beat in his conversation with Christian. Jacob slung his arm around her shoulders, squeezed her in, and kissed the top of her head.

“Enjoy your shower?” he asked innocently, though his eyes danced into hers. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Melinda laughed. She couldn’t help it. Elbowing him in the stomach, she shook her head and went to see if the grown-ups needed help with dinner.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

On the slopes later, Jacob surprised her by sticking with her for the evening. The toughest runs were closed for the night anyway, but he claimed he didn’t want to overstress his wrist on a more challenging hill. Melinda didn’t question him, or the warm glow suffusing her heart.

It was a gorgeous night, though bitterly cold. The sky shone with millions of stars on a velvety-black background, and the air was so pure it almost hurt to breathe.

After two full days of crowded skiing, the fresh powder from their arrival had started to pack down, making for faster conditions. Thin sheets of ice had crackled beneath their boots upon disembarking from the shuttle.

Jacob kept up a running commentary the whole night, discussing everything from the conditions to his hopes for the new year, to the Angels’ shot at the World Series in the fall.

Wrinkling her nose, Melinda said, “No baseball talk, it’s still football season! What about the playoffs? I think the Packers’ front line is in trouble.”

“You always think their front line is in trouble.”

“Well, they have been ever since—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jacob said, waving his hand at her. “You and your Packers. They’re not even a California team! I’ll tell you whose front line’s in trouble—”

They argued the point, as they had a thousand times before, neither giving an inch.

Whenever he wasn’t looking, she watched him from beneath her lashes.

The shower incident had put his earlier accident, and her determination to make sure he was all right, out of her mind for a while, but other than very slightly favoring his injured left wrist and a few angry red scrapes on his face, she couldn’t see anything wrong with him physically.

Inside was another matter, but he didn’t bring it up, and she was loathe to broach the subject when they were having so much fun.

He challenged her to races—which she lost—and trivia contests, which she won. He told jokes and one-liners the whole time they were on the lifts, including one about a leprechaun and two tiny green balls that made her throw her head back and howl with laughter. His delivery was such that even jokes she’d heard plenty of times before seemed freshly hilarious. Melinda’s eyes streamed, and her sides ached.

Wendell and Christian joined them for a couple of runs and a short, fierce snowball fight, and the night flew by.

Through it all, Jacob seemed to make a special point of touching her in some way, either holding her hand, or putting his hand to her back to guide her, or slinging an arm around her shoulders.

Despite the frigid air, Melinda existed in a warm bubble of happiness.

She wasn’t ready for the night to come to an end, but all too soon, it was time to return to the condos.

Back on the shuttle, Melinda rested her head on Jacob’s shoulder with a deeply contented sigh. What a perfect night.

“Hey,” Jacob said, his voice low in her ear, “you’ve got snowmobiles tomorrow, right?”

Stifling a yawn behind her hand, Melinda nodded. “Yeah, why?”

Man, she was tired. She would have no trouble getting to sleep tonight.

“Want some company?”

Surprised, Melinda sat up to consider him. Jacob looked back at her with studied innocence, his eyebrows raised, awaiting her answer.

“You’re going to give up a whole day of skiing,” she said. “To ride a snowmobile. With me.”

Jacob shrugged, eminently casual. “Sure, why not? They’re fun.”

“For the whole day? I’m not planning to come back in early.”

“Yeah,” he said with another shrug. “A change of pace sounds good.”

Something was definitely up. He hadn’t traded more than a half-day of skiing for snowmobiling since they were twelve, riding on the backs of their parents’ vehicles.

“What about your wrist? Won’t the handling be hard on you?”

“It’s fine,” he said, brushing off his injury. He studied her closely in turn. “Unless you want time to yourself?”

Technically, she’d have company, since her dad was going with her. Since she was under twenty-five, she wasn’t old enough to rent a snowmobile on her own, but Stan would let her meander as she chose.

She’d planned to take her new camera—a Christmas gift she’d not devoted proper time to yet, with all the drama over Mitch and then getting ready for the trip—and go for a leisurely ride, seeing what photographic opportunities she could scare up.

Her dad, who shared her passion for photography, took a snowmobile day for that reason every year, but he always got so engrossed in what he was doing that he wouldn’t miss her company.

A day with Jacob suddenly sounded far more fun than lugging around her camera alone.

“No, that would be awesome,” she said, her smile blossoming.

This was Jacob, making an obvious and unusual change in his plans in order to spend extra time with her.

For no other reason except that he wanted to.

Her heartbeat kicked against her ribs, and the heat of a blush flushed her cheeks with pleasure.

Friends they might be, even best friends, but he’d never given up a whole day on the slopes specifically to hang out with her before. Not when he could hang out with her any time he wanted, without having to give up one of his favorite activities on earth.

Melinda ignored the little thrill zipping through her bloodstream, hoping he couldn’t detect her emotions in her eyes. They were simply two friends who were going to spend the day together.

Nearly alone.

Like they had more times than she could count. She shouldn’t read anything more into it.

But there was that zippy thrill...

Jacob smiled in response, and the rest of the short drive passed in silence. Melinda stared out the window, chewing her lower lip and wondering what the hell she was thinking and why the hell her whole body tingled now every time Jacob touched her in even the most casual way.

When he’d asked her if she would change her plans to stay in Pasodoro to follow the right guy somewhere else, had he meant himself?

She had to be reading too much into it all. It seemed too much to hope that Jacob could truly view her as more than a friend. He’d never indicated otherwise.

But if…

If he did, if they fell in love, if he wanted her to go with him, would she?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Pressing a hand to her belly, Melinda breathed deeply to calm the jumping frogs that had suddenly invaded her stomach.

Jacob, Jacob, Jacob.

No one else on earth could even make her think twice about her decision to stay in Pasodoro. It was what she’d always wanted.

But…

Was staying another security blanket? Another way to not be brave, like sticking to the intermediate ski slopes, another way not to push herself?

Maybe she was more of a coward than she’d ever realized.

Was it cowardly to want to stay in the place she loved, with the people she loved? As a nurse-midwife, she’d most likely find work wherever she wanted, but she wanted to serve the needs in her hometown.

And it wasn’t only that.

There was also her work for Seth’s nonprofit and the fundraising for the scholarship in his name. Maintaining the memorial garden, the annual rodeo.

Things that were deeply, personally important to her, and to Pasodoro.

Low-grade anxiety tightened her throat. Even the idea of leaving made her scared and sad, but there was no point in getting wound up about it now. It was nothing but pointless speculation.

Unless and until something happened between herself and Jacob, she didn’t need to stress out over making such a monumental decision.

Comforted, Melinda relaxed again, and the rest of the short ride passed in soothing silence.

They disembarked and trudged up the incline to the condo building, the rest of their group as boisterous as ever. Gabe and Danny had met a couple of girls on the slopes and stayed behind to hang out with them in the lodge bar. Rick, Christian, Wendell, and Eddie grumbled good-naturedly over their lack of female companionship, tossing the traditional insults amongst themselves and calling each other’s manhood into question.

Behind their backs, Melinda snickered at Jacob’s dramatic eye-rolling and beating on his chest in a great me-Tarzan imitation.

Once inside the first condo, Melinda dealt with her gear and sat for a few minutes with her mom and Jacob’s, talking over the day and the plans for the next morning. As soon as she could, she made her excuses and called goodnight to everyone.

Escaping upstairs, Melinda hustled through a few quick yoga poses and into her pajamas while the downstairs was still in an uproar.

One by one, people called out their own goodnights, and the condo quieted, though Wendell and Christian had thrown
The Avengers
into the DVD player—a relatively current movie, for once, they were quick to point out—and had the volume tuned to a dull rumble.

Through it all, she thought of Jacob.

“So,” Jacob said as he climbed to the top of the twisting staircase. He lowered his voice so the guys downstairs wouldn’t hear him, but his words sparked through Melinda like firecrackers. “Whose bed should we sleep in tonight?”

“Jake!” she said with a giggling gasp. “Be quiet!”

Eyes wide, Melinda sprang from her bed and peered over the rail into the family room. Wendell and Christian were engrossed in their film. She resisted pressing a hand to her pitching belly, or admitting, even to herself, how good the suggestion sounded.

To be held all night in his arms again, breathing the same air, breathing
him
, his scent.

Heaven.

Jacob chuckled. He looked sexily warm and snuggle-able in his pajamas. Melinda licked her lips.

Flicking off the overhead light and throwing the room into partial shadow, he tossed the covers back on his own bed and climbed in, his long, long legs hanging off the end of the too-short mattress.

“Spoilsport,” he admonished her. He waggled his eyebrows at her the way he had in the kitchen earlier.

“Oh, shut up,” she said, and flounced into her own bed, pulling the covers beneath her chin.

He only laughed again and tucked his hands beneath his head, elbows splayed, to stare at the ceiling.

“Goodnight, Mel.”

Sighing, Melinda clicked off the bedside lamp and turned on her side to face the window, staring at the stars hanging above the shadow of the mountains. “Goodnight, Jake.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning dawned in white and gray, with giant flakes of snow swirling lazily from the overcast sky. It wasn’t yet heavy enough to cut their visibility on the snowmobiles, though her dad would have checked conditions several times since rising, just in case.

“Happy New Year’s Eve, sweetie,” her mother greeted her once she reached the kitchen.

Bill and Lois, still on their first cups of coffee, mumbled their acknowledgements, their eyes half-lidded. Her dad’s hair stuck up in every direction.

“Apple fritter,” Jacob said, coming down the stairs behind her and giving her shoulders a quick rub.

“Bear claw,” Melinda answered.

She took the offered cup of hot chocolate from her mother and sipped, her eyes closing in pleasure.

Breakfast was hurried, the rest of the guys whooping over the new fall of fresh powder and eager to be off. Rick and Eddie didn’t even bother coming in, only threw the condo door open with salutes to the elders and catcalls to Wendell and Christian to get their butts in gear, the day was wasting.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go with them, Jake?” Melinda asked, noticing his eyes following the others out the door.

“No way, pork chop, you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

“They’re going to the bag jump,” she said warningly.

Jacob shrugged. “I’m not feeling it today.”

Melinda peered at him, still having trouble believing he really wanted to spend the day on a snowmobile, but she let it go. He was a big boy, capable of making his own decisions, and she would enjoy his company.

Her dad rinsed his mug in the sink and set it on the sideboard, then gathered up the cooler containing their picnic lunch.

“Ready?” he asked.

By the time they reached the rental office, the snow was swirling down with a bit more attitude, frosting their eyelashes and forming an icy scrum on the ridged seams of their winter gear.

Melinda and Stan had reservations for their own vehicles, since they’d planned for their outing well in advance, but the lot behind the rental building was already almost empty. Jacob lucked out and claimed the last sled available for the whole day.

“You folks in’erested in a guided tour?” the rental agent asked, his head bent over a small stack of paperwork he filled out with a barely legible scrawl. He smelled faintly of cinnamon and pipe tobacco and reminded Melinda of her grandfather.

Stan raised his brows questioningly at Melinda and Jacob, who both shook their heads.

Addressing the mountain of a man, who was decked out in red-and-green Christmas-patterned flannel and ancient jeans held up by snappy reindeer-covered red suspenders, Stan said, “Thanks, but we’re good.”

The man, whose name was Clay, shrugged his massive shoulders, his muscles lifting heavily and straining the seams of his festive shirt.

“Alrighty, then,” he said, and launched into an obviously much-rehearsed spiel on sledding operations and safety. “Got it?” he asked, finally winding down and peering at them with stern gray eyes.

Three heads nodded in answer, and he continued.

“Trails’re posted. Stay clear o’ ledges and away from the ski slopes. Folks in the backcountry go where they please, never mind no trails, so watch fer ‘em. Vehicles’re due back half-hour before closing at four.” Pausing for breath, the agent returned to his papers to finish the final sheet and handed the stack and his pen to Stan. “Sign here, here, ‘n here, initial in them four spots on each sheet. That’s for the young’uns.”

Stan followed his instructions, signing the last initial with a flourish.

“You sled before?” Clay asked with another piercing stare for each of them in turn. When they said yes, he gave a satisfied jerk of his chin. He held a closed fist out to Stan and said, “Here’s your keys.”

They fell into her dad’s waiting hand with a dull clink.

They left through the rear of the shop and headed for the last three snowmobiles. Melinda turned back to see that Clay had followed them out. He stood on the back step, arms akimbo, his dark, wooly beard collecting a wreath of white as he watched their progress across the snowy lot.

The sleds were old two-seaters with two-stroke engines only, instead of four like newer models had, but they seemed in good condition. Only the bumpers showed the wear, where they’d run into trees or boulders, and the windshield on her dad’s had taken some abuse but was clear enough to see through.

Stan tossed a key each to Melinda and Jacob, used a couple of bungee cords to strap their cooler to the rack on the rear of his sled, then climbed aboard.

Once they were all seated, engines revving, Clay lifted a hand in farewell and disappeared into the warmth of his shop, slamming the door at his back.

“Follow me to the trailhead,” her dad shouted over the low roar of their engines. “It splits three ways after about a hundred yards, so you two can decide which way you want to go or stick with me. You have your map, Mel?”

“Yeah!” she yelled back.

“If we split up, meet me at the top of trail three for lunch at twelve-thirty,” Stan said. “Call if you’re going to be late. Ready?”

In answer, she and Jacob raised into kneeling positions mimicking her dad’s, one foot firmly planted on the running board, the other knee on the seat for easier maneuvering while they rode across the road to the top of the trail.

Squeezing the throttle lightly to keep her speed down, Melinda sledded after her dad, Jacob bringing up the rear. Snow continued to fall in a steady rush, but visibility wasn’t too bad. Once they reached the triple-tined fork in the path, Stan lifted his hand in farewell, opened up the throttle, and took off for a long open stretch down the left-hand side in a plume of white.

Melinda and Jacob exchanged identical grins.

To the right, the trail led to the base of a steep hill and nearly straight up. Melinda tilted her head in that direction, and Jacob nodded in agreement.

At the same time, they squeezed hard on the throttle and raced side by side down the straightaway, standing upright on the boards for better visibility, and giggling maniacally.

Hitting the slope at speed, Melinda bore down on the throttle for even more juice, leaned forward over her handlebars, and shot up, ahead of Jacob.

Riders at the top preparing to descend yielded the hill, whooping and hollering to egg them on as she and Jacob flew.

He nearly caught her, but with a last burst of speed, Melinda crested the slope, shot past the cheering sledders, and jetted down the path cutting across the mountain.

She tossed a victorious grin over her shoulder, then squealed when she saw how close he was. Face forward once more, she whispered and coaxed her ride for yet more speed as though encouraging a race horse.

“Anyone ever tell you you ride like a maniac?” Jacob yelled as he pulled alongside.

“Every time I ride with you, little girl,” Melinda shouted back, laughter ringing.

Maybe Jacob hadn’t gone snowmobiling with her in a long time, but they raced ATVs every summer, and Gabe had been one of her personal driving instructors long before she turned sixteen. He’d taught her almost everything he knew about driving—and racing—all sorts of vehicles.

Behind a wheel or gripping handlebars, heights or no heights, she knew no fear.

Secretly, she loved it when Jacob referred to her as a psycho Mario Andretti on crack.

“Race you to that tree,” Melinda hollered, pointing into the distance at a massive evergreen towering over the edge of a wide clearing.

Seeming to consider it, Jacob gave her a look. “I don’t know…”

“What’s wrong, you chicken?”

“Of course I am,” he said with a loud snort. “The last time I beat you at anything, you bit me.”

“I was five. And you bit me back!”

“Still.”

“Come on, don’t be a baby, Jakey,” she wheedled. “Besides, you won’t beat me, anyway. Then I won’t have to bite you.”

Jacob huffed when she blew a saucy kiss at him. “We’ll see about that, pipsqueak. Let’s go!”

He took off on a shout, catching her by surprise. With a wild laugh, she flew after him, pouring on the speed.

And she beat him.

The scenery blew past with exhilarating speed, as did the time. They raced over all sorts of terrains, alternately standing, kneeling, or posting, shifting their weight on the sleds to account for the bumps and falls, the heights of the hills, and the depth of the snow.

Before they knew it, it was time to meet her dad for lunch.

They circled back and lightened up on the throttles, chatting about the ride, the continuing snow, the rest of the week, and the New Year’s Eve party scheduled in the lodge that night.