So I found myself eating breakfast pastries in the coffeehouse across from the lodge while I sipped at an Americano and read. I was deep into my book so it took me a second to realize someone had taken the other seat at my bistro table.

I looked up from my ebook and my heart thumped hard in my chest at the sight of Gray. This was followed by a flutter of butterflies that shocked the heck out of me since the last time I could remember having butterflies over a guy was when I was thirteen and still dancing ballet. I’d gone to a ballet “summer camp” of sorts in London to prepare for my audition at RSC (The Royal Conservatoire of Scotland). There I’d met Mikhail, a fourteen-year-old Russian dancer, who was superb, brooding and beautiful. He’d been my first kiss.

Butterflies. Wow. I didn’t think a grown woman could still get those.

Oh boy, was I in trouble.

Gray wore a small smile as he studied me. I noted he was in a warm jacket and jeans, like me, and not in full snow gear. He still hadn’t shaved.

Yum.

“You want to finish that coffee and meet me on the slopes?”

I shook my head. “I’m not skiing. I hate skiing. What are you doing here? Don’t you have work to do?”

“Nope.” His gaze dipped to my ereader. “What are you reading?”

“The Devil in Winter.”

He chuckled. “Is that a joke?”

I couldn’t help but smile. The man made me want to smile all the time. What was that? “It’s not actually. Just ironic. It’s an historical romance. My favorite book.”

For some reason this made him grin. “Your favorite book, huh? See, now I’m getting somewhere.”

“I also told you I hate skiing,” I reminded him for some bizarre reason. I shouldn’t encourage the flirt, something I’d decided this morning after a night’s rest. As much as I was inexplicably drawn to this man, the whole reason I’d come to Montana was because people (mostly boyfriends) had tried to take advantage of me my whole life. I wanted to be the open person I was but I didn’t want to be vulnerable. I had to toughen up and find out who I was before I allowed myself to trust another man.

No matter how sexy he was.

“Yeah, I’m not sure I believe that.”

I rolled my eyes. “No, you don’t want to believe that because the slopes are your life.”

“They’re not my life.” Gray crossed his arms on the bistro table and leaned toward me. His proximity meant it was impossible for me to look anywhere but into his eyes. Eyes that were incredibly warm and sparkled with humor and intelligence. Goddamn this attraction! “They are a big part of it but not my life. I’m not an instructor here. I’m just helping Jacob out—the lodge owner. Grew up in Cunningham Falls so I’ve been skiing my whole life, know what I’m doing. During high season they can use all the experienced instructors they can find. I own a construction company that takes me around the state but these last few years the winters have been so bad we can’t work. Sometimes we get work out of state but not this year, which means my ass is on the slopes. If I’m going to be here anyway I don’t mind helping the lodge out when they’re struggling to keep up with demand for ski lessons.” He smiled. “See, now you know something about me, too.”

“Isn’t that rough?” I asked, while mentally kicking myself for enjoying conversation with him. “Having months of no work?”

He shrugged. “I’ve learned to manage it well. The company is successful. I work it so we make enough during the year to see my guys through the winter.”

“Your own company. That’s impressive for someone your age,” I hedged.

Gray chuckled. “You want to know my age, angel, just ask.”

“Fine. What age are you?”

“Thirty-three. What age are you?”

“Twenty-five.” Thirty-three. Owned his own company. Was definitely confident in his own skin. I suddenly felt too young for him in every way and I was extremely annoyed that this disappointed me. It was, however, also a reality check. It wasn’t as if anything could happen between me and Gray. We lived on different continents for a start.

“You’re just a baby,” he teased.

You have no idea. I decided then and there we had to end this flirtation. I liked him too much. When he smiled I felt that flutter of butterflies. And I had the overwhelming desire to ask him to come to my room for no holds barred sex that would blow my mind, which was so unlike me. Time to put a stop to it all. “I am. Young, I mean, in comparison to you. In more ways than one. Plus, I really, genuinely don’t like skiing. Excluding the fact that I broke my leg during a high school skiing trip, I just don’t like skiing. It’s wet and cold.” I leaned forward now, too, and ignored the shiver that sprinkled down my spine at the way his eyes dipped automatically to my mouth. “I’m not outdoorsy. At all. I like reading.” I gestured with my ereader. “I like shopping. A lot. I like dancing. I like going to the ballet. To the movies. To the theatre. I like cooking. I love baking. I like organizing things, from my well-stocked closet to events. I don’t like”—I gestured to him—“skiing, chopping wood, running, mountain biking, hiking, fishing, hunting, or whatever the things are that mountain men like to do.” I sat back in my chair, a little breathless with exasperation. “So, I don’t know who you think I am but I’m not her.”