“I feel stupid,” I tell him, dropping my eyes again. “I saw you with her—with Gemma—hugging her, and I jumped to the conclusion that the two of you had a romantic history. Especially when she made that comment about not being able to wait for you.”
My fears are validated when Greyston doesn’t say anything right away. “Oh.” My thoughts start to get away from me again, wondering if this was the ex who made him choose between her and his job. If that’s the case, then I don’t have anything to worry about…but what if she’s someone else entirely?
Greyston’s hand slips over mine, his eyes remaining on the icy roads. “Juliette, it was so long ago, and we were both single and had been drinking.” His thumb moves over the back of my hand, soothing away a small portion of my anxiety. But not all of it. “And it was only that one time. Gemma and I…we’re friends. That’s it.”
Knowing that he and Gemma had some kind of a past—even if it was a one-time thing, fuelled solely by loneliness and alcohol—stung. I know he’s got a past—so do I—but that doesn’t mean I want to hear about it or meet his exes. The last thing I need is to picture them together and wonder if maybe seeing each other again will reignite the spark between them, leaving me in the lurch. While I want to believe Greyston would never do that to me, I can’t help but let my thoughts wander in that direction, given my track record.
I nod, but I am still unable to say anything. It isn’t long before Greyston pulls the SUV to a stop and puts it into park, turning to me. “Look, I’m twenty-seven—I have a history. While I’m sure you don’t want to hear that I’ve been with other women, you know that I have been. The only thing you need to know is that my past is exactly that: my past.” He reaches out and takes my other hand now and places his forefinger under my chin, drawing my eyes up to his. “I want you. Got it?”
I believe him when he tells me this. It’s hard not to believe him when he speaks with an ironclad conviction that makes my knees tremble and my pulse race. And I do—believe him, that is. I care about him far more than I ever thought was possible, and, while I realize that we haven’t known each other that long, I now understand what my mom meant about knowing the instant you meet “the one.” Greyston is that for me. This isn’t to say I’m ready to settle down and get married just yet—I’m still only twenty and beginning my life—but I see a future with Greyston if he’s patient enough to wait for me to finish school and start my career.
I can’t help the corners of my lips from curling upward slightly, and soon I’m smiling. “Yeah. I do.”
I sense his relief as he leans in and kisses me. I can’t stop myself from affirming my feelings for him by placing a hand on the back of his neck and holding him close. Greyston pulls back with a smile.
Laughing lightly, I rest my forehead to his. “Sorry for acting like a jealous freak. I don’t want to be that girl, but after—”
He doesn’t let me finish, shushing me and shaking his head. He places a hand along my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheek. “I know. I get it. Just believe that I would never do what he did to you, okay?”
“Okay.” I sound a little more confident than before, even sitting up a little straighter. “So, uh, I guess we should keep heading to the cabin, huh?”
Greyston smirks and cuts the engine. “We’re already here.” He slips out of the car and rushes over to my side of the vehicle. I don’t expect him to slip on the icy terrain in front of the SUV, especially considering he’s no stranger to the ice and snow. I have to bite back a laugh, and I suddenly feel leery, because if he slips on it, then I’m basically screwed. I can barely walk on a good day; adding unfamiliar elements into the mix isn’t going to bode well for my tailbone. Ice plus the uncoordinated is an equation for disaster.
He doesn’t fall, thankfully, reaching my door a couple seconds later.
“Smooth,” I tease when he pulls my door open, offering me a hand.
When my feet touch the ground, Greyston nudges my side and tickles me. “Let’s just remember who’s never skied before, shall we? This won’t be a repeat of our paintball game a few weeks ago.”
“We’ll see,” I add with a little giggle, trailing behind Greyston as we go to grab our bags.
As I step out of the car, I look up the small hill that the log cabin sits on and smile. It’s even more amazing than the picture Greyston gave me. Stairs lead us up to a covered front deck where two sets of bay windows face east. While I have yet to see the inside, I can only imagine what it will be like to watch the sunrise in the mornings with a warm cup of coffee. The outer walls of the house are those of a traditional log cabin, and I instantly fall in love with the beauty of the home surrounded by fluffy white snow.