Part 104 (1/2)

How am I having such a frank conversation with Nate about this? ”We'll talk about this later.”

”Oh? You have some?”

”No, but-” No, but all I can think about when looking at Nate now is last night, and the effect this is having on me right now. I never, ever get turned on just by looking at somebody, but my hardening nipples are from more than the weather . I can't go anywhere near Nate again without wanting his hands and mouth on me, and I could have s.e.x with him without a condom, if I trusted him. I'm on heavy-duty contraception, but I don't know if I can. I look away. A conversation for later.

”You okay?” he asks.

”You know I'm picturing you naked now, right?”

”Tell me something new,” he says with more than a hint of smug.

I drag my sledge next to his and look down at where he sits in the sledge ready to go. ”I like you, Nate Campbell. Just a tiny bit.”

”Whoa.” Nate's eyes brighten, and he cups my face in his hand as he brushes a finger across my lips. ”Looks like things have changed.”

Unable to resist, I shove the distracted Nate in the back, and he shouts my name as the sledge slips from its precarious position and careers down the hill, Nate grasping the string to try to manoeuvre. Suppressing a giggle, I watch him slow, as he manages to avoid the low drift this time. He stomps up the hill towards me.

”Some things have changed anyway,” he says and shakes snow at me from his jacket. ”You always want the upper hand, don't you? You're wasting your time trying with me.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, the thick material of my silver jacket a barrier between us. ”What happened to the Campbell twin sense of humour?”

”Don't worry; you'll get your own taste of that.”

”Come on, then, race me.”

We position ourselves side by side. Nate complains my sledge is ahead of his. By about ten centimetres.

The cold air batters my face as I shoot down the hill, the thin plastic between me and the compacting snow. The hill is covered in trails from Becca and Jason's earlier play. The concentration on Nate's face amuses me, his compet.i.tive nature written all over it. What's he like with his brother nowadays? Do they fight for superiority the way he does with me?

”Riley!” Nate points from his sledge besides me, voice urgent, and I snap my head around. Too lost in watching Nate, and enjoying the rush of the game, I miss seeing an incoming tree. Desperately I attempt to veer the sledge away, yanking on the rope to slow down, and the sledge tips sideways. I swear as the red plastic flips me over and I'm dumped sideways in the snow.

I lie back and stare at the clear blue sky and suns.h.i.+ne, thankful I'm wearing the stupid coat and boots now half-filled with snow. Normal Riley would be frustrated and embarra.s.sed, but in the silent countryside around, the only person who sees is Nate. I'd never think lying in the snow would be peaceful, but there's a sense of serenity and freedom lacking in my life.

I let go of the remaining tension and laugh, bunching snow in my hands. This is my life, tipped out of control and into the grasp of nature. Everything is different, including the man standing over me with concern in the eyes who once looked at me hard and emotionless.

”You all right?”

”Fine.”

”I love when you laugh,” he says and holds out a hand.

Nate yanks me to my feet, and I wrap my arms around his neck. Slowly, Nate tips my chin and he's joined me in my new world of freedom. His mouth touches mine and we stand together, free from all the c.r.a.p around our normal lives.

He tastes of mint, his lips cool; and when I bury my cold nose in his neck, I inhale the smell of oranges I'll always a.s.sociate with the dichotomy of the Nate I met here. Fierce pa.s.sion and a gentle, strange understanding from a soul stripped bare.

”Is this it? All the c.r.a.p over with?” he asks. He pulls my red hat off and shakes out the snow.

I wish it were. ”It's a good start,” I say.

My cheek warms as Nate whispers against my skin. ”And I won.”

”I hope you mean the race.”

He winks at me. ”Maybe.”

Nate winds a strand of hair around his finger. ”What if yesterday isn't all I want?”

My chest tightens at his words. ”s.e.x?”

”Is that all you want from me?”

”No. I'm worried, that's all. I couldn't cope with the fallout from this if you laugh about me behind my back.”

”Are you worried about your reputation or about us?”

”Both.”

”I have a reputation to maintain too.” He pokes me.

”And that's one of the reasons I'm worried. The way you treat girls, Nate.”

”I think you hit the nail on the head last night. I'm not used to somebody challenging me. You certainly did.” He c.o.c.ks a brow.

”And I will again.”

”That's what I was hoping.” Nate grabs the rope on the sledges, one in each hand. ”By the way, did I tell you we could be out this afternoon?”

”What? And you've dragged me into the snow?”

”I just wanted some more fun with you before we left,” he says as he heads up the hill, dragging the sledges behind him. ”Before you get back to London and morph back into boring Riley again.”

Unable to think of a quick retort, I watch his tall figure stride up the steep slope. Will Nate return to his old self too? What the h.e.l.l happens next?

20.

RILEY.

The nearby town bustles with shoppers stocking up after days cut off from the world too. They're a fraction of the size of the crowds I'd face in London; but after three days of isolation, the sights and sounds a.s.sault me. Snow remains on the nearby hills, patches of green breaking through, but the streets and roads are covered with brown slush.

The taxi we caught from the pub splashes through the street and pulls into a large supermarket car park where Will's large black Audi waits. The taxi driver chatted on the short trip down, throwing questions at us about our time locked away. Roger, the scruffy guy with a slight body odour problem, is friends with George and Val, and his interest was more curiosity over how George and Val coped. He also had plenty of questions about much freedom we had to eat and drink anything we wanted, and opinions on what he'd do in the situation. I made polite conversation, while Nate stared out of the window.

The couple of times I attempt to talk to Nate on the journey, I receive one-word answers, and he doesn't look at me. His unpredictability in mood is a problem. I couldn't deal with more than a physical relations.h.i.+p with this man. If he swings from open to closed too readily, anybody emotionally attached to him would spend life on a roundabout of confusion unless her self-esteem was high enough to accept him as he is.