We weren’t the Porters. Since having children, we experienced what it was like to live paycheck to paycheck. Even with not having a mortgage, the cost of living in Aspen was insane. Was I too proud to ask for help from Graham? Hell yes.
I didn’t even have the guts to ask my parents for help so I could spend more time healing right along with Lila. The thought of my skeptic father handing me money, for a condition he questioned, made me nauseous. I just … couldn’t.
Two months passed without major incident.
Madeline fought more frequent headaches, but she managed to stay out of the hospital. That gave Evelyn hope. I worried about that hope, and so did her parents. Lila made a near-full recovery. Her leg had fractured in more than one place, requiring a longer healing time, but she managed to use crutches and occasionally a scooter to get back to her daily duties as First Lady.
With the end of the ski season, I opted out of working as a paramedic with the fire department (per Evelyn’s request) and stayed on with the resort, providing safety services for bikers and hikers, as well as organizing tasks to improve safety for the next ski season. We spent as much time as possible taking the kids on the trails and enjoying all the facets of mountain living.
“How do I look?” Evelyn turned in a complete circle, showing off her new strapless red dress. Her birthday dress.
“Like you won’t be wearing that dress long.” I adjusted my black tie, giving her a conspiratorial look in the full-length mirror opposite our bed.
“So I look hot. Forty is the new thirty, right?” She slipped on her matching red heels.
I wasn’t kidding. That dress was minutes away from finding a new home on the floor of the bedroom, next to the black thong I saw her slip on minutes earlier and those shoes. On second thought … I decided the shoes could stay on.
“You look stunning.” Satisfied with my tie, I brushed past her to get my shoes from the closet.
She grabbed my tie to stop me. “I don’t want to look stunning. I’m forty. I need more from you.”
I chuckled, prying my tie from her death grip before she wrinkled the hell out of it. “Evie, I’m not sure I can find a word better than stunning. I mean … it trumps beautiful. Or were you thinking more along the lines of sexy.” My gaze swept along her lithe body. She was definitely sexy. And as I adjusted myself, she grinned.
“More than sexy.” She rubbed her glossed lips together, batting her mascara-covered lashes at me.
Smokey eyes.
Red lips.
And some sort of aphrodisiac as her perfume. I was ready to eat her alive in every way imaginable.
“More than sexy?” I raised a brow at her.
“If I were standing here naked, what would you call me?”
“Evelyn … I’m seconds away from tearing that dress off you. Why are you teasing me with these questions?” I took a step toward her.
She took a step back, her backside hitting the wall. I rested my hands on the wall above her head, caging her in with my body.
“Evelyn Alexander.”
“Yes,” she whispered, mid-swallow.
“You look so damn fuckable.”
The sexiest grin crawled up her face as I said the words she needed to hear. “Thank you.”
I shook my head, failing to hide my own grin. “You’re one depraved woman.”
“Thank you.” She pushed against my chest until I surrendered, letting her escape.
The only reason she made it out of the bedroom with that dress still on her body was because it was her birthday, and Graham had a jet waiting to take us to Denver for a surprise birthday party at the Porter estate. She thought we were just meeting Graham and Lila for dinner.
“You should open your gift now.” I pulled it out of my nightstand. “I don’t want to forget to give it to you later when I have you tied to the hotel bed, wearing nothing but those heels.”
She turned. Lips parted. Cheeks extra flushed. Still … after years of marriage, I could make her blush. I could make her bend to my will with one look, make her scream, make her beg, make her mine a million times over again.
After I straightened my tie a bit more and winked at her, she rubbed her lips together again and swallowed. “A gift, huh?” She picked up the small box and opened it. “A … soap dish.” She inspected it carefully. “How … nice.”
“I carved it out of wood from that broken branch, the one where your grandpa hung the tree swing for your grandma.”
Her hand flew straight to her chest. “Oh my god …” she gasped. “Ronin …”
“Kidding … I got it from the gift shop at the lodge. Someone hand carved it. But I thought it would have been really amazing of me to have done it with some wood from that branch. Then I remembered I have no artistic talent and a terrible gift-giver reputation to uphold, so I bought this one from the shop. After the fact … I noticed you have a whole display of soap dishes at your shop.” I shrugged. “Go figure.”