Chapter 3 - The Life That Mattered

Two weeks later …

I left my worries over Graham and Lila in Canada—even the weird threesome thing. Really, Lila was a grown woman. If he became the next governor and she willingly quit her job to support him, that was her choice. If she chose to invite other people into their bed, again … her choice. I just knew it would never be me again.

Besides, they didn’t invite me into their bed; they ganged up on me in my own bed.

It didn’t change my feelings for Lila. She was and would always be my best friend, not my twin. We chose different career paths. We had different tastes in culture, sports, future aspirations … and sexual adventurousness.

Our friendship spanned too many years of personal struggles and laughter to let our differences be anything more than the beauty of our own individuality.

In the back room (my lab) of my bath shop, I unpacked a shipment of herbs while Sophie watched the desk. September marked the beginning of holiday preparation with limited edition scents and gift boxes. And decorations. Yes … it was time to start marketing for Christmas. I loved Christmas in Aspen. It was my favorite time of the year.

The bell on the door chimed, signaling customers that we needed. Sophie chirped her bubbly spiel about the shop. I couldn’t make out her words, but I’d heard them before. People loved her gleeful routine and the way so much joy flowed from the pint-sized redhead.

“Psst! My future husband is here to see you. Probably wants to get your blessing. Should I send him back so you can do that?”

I glanced over my shoulder, lifting my eyebrows.

Sophie fanned herself while mouthing, “Oh my god!” Her eyes rolled back in her head for a brief second.

A seizure?

“I’m not sure how to respond. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend since the Ben incident.” I used the code words for he cheated on her. We didn’t talk about it. And we never said the C word.

“I’ll just send him back. Then you can give me all the details later.”

“Um … o—kay.” It was rare for Sophie to come to work high, but that day she might have been on something.

“Hey!” Ronin peeked his head around the corner.

My body shot to attention, swiping my hands along my head to tame my messy hair. It was my lab day which meant recycled hair, threadbare yoga pants, and an oversized long-sleeved T-shirt.

No makeup.

No sexy dress.

Ronin witnessed the opposite of the woman he had dinner with in Vancouver.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Alexander.”

The grin on his face swelled with my greeting.

I’d been home a week. A week of jumping every time the door chimed, constantly straining my neck to look out front, hoping for my handsome ski patroller. That was the first day I didn’t jump when the bell chimed because I’d given up on him, resigned that my gut feeling I would never see him again was in fact true.

It felt fantastic to be wrong, even if I looked rather hellish at the moment.

“I tried to play it cool and not show up on the doorstep to your shop the same day you arrived home from Vancouver.” He slid his hands into the front pockets of his black jeans—silver jacket, black scarf, and a white beanie atop his head of thick jet-black hair.

Wait … what?

He was what? Worried about looking too anxious? Too desperate?

Ronin inspected the shelves filled with oils and herbs. “However, I start my new job soon, so I figured my time to play it cool is limited. Once I start working long hours, I might be all cooled out. So I need to impress the hell out of you while I can.”

The smile on my face took on a life of its own.

He continued, “I thought maybe we’d check out all of the great restaurants in town over the next few weeks. Shut down a few bars. Compare hot cocoa with marshmallows versus hot cocoa with whipped cream sipped around a fire. I’m sure you have some favorite trails we should hike before the first snow. And of course, I’ll need to learn how to make soap. Then …”

Finally … finally he looked at me after a full visual inventory of my lab while rattling off enough stuff to make my heart stop beating.

Ronin spent one day with me, and just like that … he knew from that one day that he wanted more days. More me.

“Then what?” I whispered as he stepped in front of me, looking as tall and delectable as I remembered.

“Then we can just be past that awkward phase where people feel the need to impress each other.”

I laughed, holding out my arms, my baggy sleeves hanging low, a smattering of oil stains on my white tee. “Have you really seen anyone less impressive than me at the moment?”

Ronin grinned. It was so big and delightful. “It’s good to see you, Evelyn,” he whispered. It sounded so seductive, so refreshing, so reassuring that the feelings weren’t one sided.

I shook my head, but it didn’t shake the grin from my face. “It’s good to be seen.” I lifted my shoulders into my take-it-or-leave-it-but-this-is-me shrug. “Even like this.”

“You’re like the sun, Evelyn. No matter how you try to cover it up or hide it, it’s always shining.” He rocked back and forth on his heels, shoulders hugging his ears with his hands still tucked into his pockets.

I would marry this boy. I just knew it.

Boy.

Yes, Ronin had this boyish charm to him. When I fell in love with him—because I was certain it would only be a matter of time—I would always remember how falling in love at any age felt like taking your first steps. Sometimes it happened slowly, and other times it took off. And all you could do was go with the momentum and hope you didn’t fall too hard.

“Marshmallows.” I grinned.

He cocked his head a fraction.

“Marshmallows go in hot chocolate. Whipped cream goes on pumpkin pie. Everyone knows that.”

Ronin handed me his best smile. I think. It was really good. I couldn’t wait to see more. Then I’d know if he gave me his best one that day.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” He nudged the toe of his black boot against the toe of my pink oil-stained Ugg.

Butterflies. Erratic breaths. Tingling. Goose bumps.

Ronin gave me all the feelings. If he was just a test run, a stop along the way to the man of my dreams, then said man must not have been human. Something told me the bar was not simply high; it was officially unreachable.

“I’m thinking Thai, right across the street. I’ll probably be there around five-thirty. What are you doing?”

He rubbed his lips together, staring at our boots. “Same.”

I nudged the toe to his other boot the way he nudged my toe. “Do you want to share a table?”

He nodded several times, keeping his gaze pointed downward. “Probably.”

Probably. He said that when I joked (but only sort of) about him marrying me. I liked his almost certain response. It set my hopes high but left just enough doubt to make my heart continue to search for something resembling a normal beat.

“Do you ski?” He glanced up.

My lips curled into a grin. “Possibly better than you.”

Nope. That possibility was zero, so I’m not really sure it was a possibility. It didn’t matter. I just wanted to see the look on his face. As he let those expressive eyebrows form into curious peaks, I basked in the slight shock of his expression. For five seconds, I let him believe it—that maybe I wasn’t simply a brilliant chemist cleaning the world one bar of soap at a time, that maybe I was a badass chick on the slopes.

“Really?” He stretched out the word into three syllables.

I swatted at the pesky stray hair around my face that fell out of my ponytail. “No. Not really. I’m a terrible skier. It doesn’t stop me from trying. Graham and Lila love to ski, so I snowplow and sometimes slide on my ass down the runs.”

“You’re joking.” He chuckled.

“No. I was joking about being better than you. The sliding on my ass part is one hundred percent accurate. Graham has literally taken me down the slope on his back while Lila carried my skis. And don’t assume this isn’t an embarrassing revelation about myself. It is because I was born here. Maybe not to an Olympic skier, but I’ve been on skis my whole life. My dad says I ski like a car with square tires. Sure, it’s doable, but never pretty. I’m not athletically gifted at all. Which is weird because I love sports. As in … I will watch any sport. That’s why Graham and I are such good friends. Whereas Lila hates watching sports, but the woman can do anything. You should see her on skis or snowboarding. She’s phenomenal. It’s just not fair.”

Ronin maintained an unreadable expression. Was it shock in his furrowed brow? Complete disbelief? Or something else?

Oh shit!

Was it a deal breaker? Why would a ski patroller want to date a woman who couldn’t ski? I overshared. The butterflies dropped dead in the pit of my stomach; their little wings tried to work against the impossible gravity of my unfortunate confession.

“I made everything in this store. Well, everything except the packaging. I even make my own essential oils. And they’re very pure—medicinal. I’m an excellent chemist.”

Well, there he had it. My dating résumé. Who wouldn’t want to date an excellent chemist? Surely, all tall, athletic, sexy men dreamed of women wearing goggles and white lab coats.

I bowed my head, covering my face with my hands while I whispered a laugh. “I’m not bragging. It’s just … soap. Yes, saponification is my super power. Impressed?”

“Wildly,” he replied on a soft chuckle.

I giggled, letting my hands drop from my face. Ronin greeted me with a lopsided grin.

Screw it. This is me. Take it or leave it.

“Are you going to recommend soap and lip balm, or should I ask your employee out front?”

“No. I’d prefer you not talk, smile, or look at Sophie again … ever.”

“No?” Ronin followed me out front.

I shook my head, breezing past the cash register straight to the men’s display. “Definitely not. She’s in heat.”

“Who’s in heat?” Sophie asked from behind the register as I pulled products from the shelves for Ronin.

“No one.” I turned with a tight-lipped smile and set the products on the counter. “My entire men’s line.” I wrapped the soaps, moisturizers, lip balms, body sprays, and facial scrubs in paper, then arranged them in a bag.

“Two hundred, thirty-six, seventeen,” Sophie gave Ronin a total for the products.

“No!” I cringed. “He gets the ski patrol discount.”

“The what?” Sophie squinted.

I took half off the total. It was still close to a hundred and twenty dollars in body care products.

He handed me a credit card.

I couldn’t do it.

“We’re starting a free trial program.”

“We are?” Sophie asked.

I twisted my body to face her, eyes wide, lips set into a line. “Sophie, could you go in the back and finish unpacking and inventorying the herbs?”

“Are you going to explain the free trial to me later?”

I relinquished a single nod, maintaining a stiff smile. Sophie shot Ronin a flirty grin before disappearing into the back room.

“I don’t need a discount or a free trial. But that’s really cool of you to offer that to ski patrol. I’ll spread the word. Half off is huge.”

Yes. It really was. It was the discount you gave when you didn’t want to stay in business.

“The free trial is new. Maybe don’t mention it until I get the kinks worked out. But I’d love to see the ski patrol use my products. So … yeah. Spread the word on the discount.”

Just like that … the ski patrol discount became a real thing at Clean Art. Great advertising. As long as all of my customers weren’t ski patrol, I’d be fine.

“There’s no discount, is there?” He chuckled, trying again to hand me his credit card.

“There is now.” I laughed, hugging my arms to my chest. “No. There wasn’t. But there should be because I know they work hard, putting their own lives in danger to keep everyone else safe. Therefore, there is now officially a fifty-percent off discount for ski patrol.”

“They do … we do.” He waved his credit card in front of my face.

I grimaced. “I can’t. I can’t let you pay for anything.”

“Why?” He tapped the card on the counter.

“Because you already admitted that you’d probably marry me. And family gets free products. Or you can think of it as a parting gift because I bet you have no interest in seeing me again since I’ve mentioned marriage twice in two weeks.” I blew out a long breath, releasing the residual crazy from my body.

“Family gets free products? For life?”

My cheeks burned as I bit my lip to keep from smiling too big or laughing too much. Where was he going with this?

“My mom and sister-in-law would love this. And I have two nieces. But if your men’s line is as good as I imagine it is … my dad and brother will want in on the family discount too.”

Twisting my lips, I returned a sharp nod, wide-eyed and dramatic.

“Perfect.” He pocketed his credit card, grabbed the paper bag handles, and then … he leaned over the counter and pressed his lips to my cheek. “See you at dinner, dear.” Ronin strutted out of my store.

My hand inched to my cheek where he kissed me.

It was a game. I started it, so of course I got it. But “dear?” And the kiss? Ronin took the game to the next level.

“Oh my god … who was that guy?” Sophie peeked her snoopy head out of the back room.

“He’s …” I couldn’t even formulate complete thoughts or speak them with my jaw hanging on the ground and my cheek on fire. “Mine.” I scrounged a tiny grin for Sophie. “He’s mine.”

She did her headshake and grumbled before returning to the task I gave her.

“Please be mine,” I whispered to myself with the tips of my fingers still pressed to the exact spot his lips touched my cheek.