“It was an amazing time.” She smiled. “I guess I was just wondering if I would ever see you again.”
“Myra,” I said kindly. “I had an amazing time the other night. You’re quite the woman. That being said, I find it best for both parties, that when I meet someone out here that is on vacation, I don’t get too involved. I travel from place to place, and you’re going back home. It would never truly work out in the end.”
I stood there staring at her, trying to read her face through the scarf and goggles. Finally, she nodded and smiled, relieving the tension in my chest. I let out a deep breath and smiled at her.
“I understand.” She laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I live in Southern California. I’m miles and miles from where you would ever be.”
“I’m glad you understand,” I said. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, sad, or even unwanted in any way. You’re a gorgeous woman, and I’ll be kicking myself in the weeks to come for not spending more time with you.”
“You’re sweet,” she said, relaxing her shoulders. “No, I promise. You’re absolutely right. There’s no way to make this work. I really did have a good time, though. Hopefully, we’ll run into each other again out here.”
“That would be amazing.” I smiled, feeling a lot less awkward. “Now, are you ready to give this bunny slope an Olympic gold run?”
“Hardly.” She laughed. “But here I go.”
I stood back and smiled at her, watching her push off and down the mountain. When she was no longer looking at me, I wiped the smile from my face and shook my head, realizing I needed to be a bit more cautious. I turned and started back toward the building, looking up to see Glen standing with his arms crossed, smiling.
“Shut up,” I said, looking at him.
“You are quite the hero.” He laughed.
Chapter 4
Bea
Saturday was one of my favorite days, the one day a week that I made sure I had no writing quotas to meet or projects to turn in. I usually spent the day reading or catching up on house work that I had neglected. I was a ghostwriter, which meant that I had to write stories for a publishing company that I would never see my name on. I was okay with that, though. I never did like the limelight too much anyway. Today, I was reading a romance novel, preparing for a book I was starting on Monday in the same series. Romance was never my favorite genre of books. I was more the fantasy or science fiction kind of girl when it came to reading, but research was research, and at least I got to do it in my fleece pajamas by the light bouncing off the glistening snow out the window.
I knew in some ways, freelancing held me back, keeping me from really moving forward in life when it came to relationships and friends, but I was happy being on my own. I was never the girl that liked to be in front of everyone, and I got terribly nervous talking to my bosses. Now, when I had to speak to a client, it was through email or chat, which was much less intimidating. All in all, I loved my career, and I loved that I could spend my afternoons reading other people’s work and get paid for it. It was something that kept me on this crazy six day a week, fifteen hour a day job schedule.
As far as the love story was concerned, it was dreamy and sweet, with a hint of sarcasm, which was my specialty in these types of stories. I had to get down the writing style of the last author so it seemed like the books fit together well. The main character of the story, the strong male lead, was handsome, rugged, sweet, and a little bit wild. He treated women like gold, especially his sudden love interest. The way I imagined him handling her fragile sensibilities and typical, female-character emotional issues, made me slightly jealous of the type of man that existed in the confines of those pages. I knew it was just a book, but thinking about my love status and the fictitious hunk of man-love in the book, I wished that Grant was a little bit more like him.
Grant was hard-skinned. He rarely ever showed affection and wasn’t comfortable with hugging and holding hands, those things that make a girl feel special. I tried to be understanding. He came from a very businesslike family, wrought in handshakes and head nods. He had a mother who was more worried about the club members than putting him to bed on time. His nanny was very professional, that typical award winning English nanny, so hugs weren’t her forte, either. I just wished that he would loosen up a bit, even maybe want to hug me or show me affection. To be honest, sometimes it worried me since I was planning on one day having a family with this man. We had talked about children a couple of times, and he discussed it like b
uying a horse, making sure that they were born and bred for success. I had told him I didn’t want a nanny, but he brushed me off, calling me absurd and telling me that we would talk more about it when the time came. I just let it go, though, knowing he would probably not even be around enough to pay attention to me raising the child over a nanny’s care.
I shoved the thoughts to the side when I heard a key in the front door. Grant was coming over to hang out for a while, like he had promised. When he walked through the door, though, dressed to the nines, I could tell he had a different definition of hanging out. I put my bookmark in the book and walked across the room, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. He looked at me, confused for a moment, staring at my sweatpants and warm socks.
“Darling, why aren’t you dressed?” he asked. “I told you I would be here to spend time with you this weekend. Are you sick?”
“I thought by spending time with me, you meant curling up and watching a movie, not going out on the town,” I said. “Besides, the weather is supposed to be terrible.”
“Oh, come now,” he said. “Go get dressed. Don’t be absurd. You know what I think about sitting around wasting my time watching pointless movies.”
“It’s not about the movies,” I said softly. “It’s about the time we spend together.”
“Which can be done at the Divinci Club where I booked us a table for the night,” he said, starting to get irritated and looking down at the book. “So, this is what you do when I’m not here, sit around reading smut all day.”
“You know that’s not what I do,” I snapped back. “That book is for the project I start on Monday.”
“Oh, yes, your little writing career,” he said, shaking his head. “I guess you might as well get it out of your system while you are still able to.”
“What?” I asked. “My career is actually a career. Last time I checked, I make very close to what you make a month, from my little writing career.”
“Yes, Bea, you make good money now, but we both know it’s not sustainable.” He sighed. “Anyway, get your things. We should be going.”
“No,” I said, taking a deep breath and deciding to stand up for myself. “I want to spend time with you alone, not with some rich, snooty people.”
“Those rich, snooty people pay my bills,” he said. “And award me the luxury of taking my girlfriend, who doesn’t appreciate anything, out to a nice restaurant.”