Finding Cupid

by B. E. Baker

  “It’s freezing, and I can’t take my wheelchair outside when it’s snowy, which you know.”

  “I could take you for a piggy back jog.”

  She slaps my arm. “I’m not a kid, B.”

  “I know that, but you weigh about the same as one.”

  “Oh shut up. So why are we up here?” she asks. “I expected you back in Denver. In fact, when Mom said you were routing to Vail, I assembled a pile of files. We’ve got a lot of good ones to choose from, now that we’ve closed out three of our biggest ventures.”

  Brekka’s the brains of our entire operation. I run the numbers and handle client interface and negotiations, but she has an uncanny knack for finding projects that will succeed, which is the only thing a venture capital firm really needs to get right. I got lucky with Paul and Luke way back when, but she can spot which ventures will yield a thousand percent return almost every single time.

  The same talent that helps her spot the baloney with business presentations makes it hard to lie to her. She spots every evasion and omission, even small ones. It started with her knowing every time I took a piece of her Halloween candy, and it’s grown from there.

  “I wanted some mountain air.”

  She doesn’t reply, just says, “Mhmm.”

  “I haven’t been out here in weeks. I wanted to ski.”

  “Trig.”

  I roll my eyes. “Fine, okay? I’m doing Luke a favor.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that? Because there’s more to it, that’s why. Spill.”

  I swear. “Fine, maybe Luke didn’t ask for the favor, but it is for him. His wedding planner is checking out Vail as a wedding venue.”

  “And you’re introducing him to Charles?” Brekka lifts one eyebrow.

  “Charlie, yes. I’ve got to call him, actually. Thanks for the reminder.”

  Charlie agrees to meet me Saturday at ten, happy to help me out. He really does owe me a favor. “And one more thing,” I say into the receiver, lowering my voice. I notice Brekka’s face is angled my direction and drop my voice a little more. “The girl I’m bringing? I want to take her skiing. She’s never been.”

  “Of course, man. You don’t even have to ask, obviously.”

  “I know. The skiing isn’t the favor. She doesn’t want to ski, so I’m going to need help convincing her. If you could have an emergency half an hour or so into our meeting and ask us to ski for a while until you’re free again. . .”

  “You sly dog. How hot is she?”

  I clear my throat. “Just have an emergency, and keep your paws off, okay?”

  “I’m offended you think I’d try to poach your girlfriend. I actually do well on my own, thank you very much.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. And when you see her, trust me. You’ll want to poach.”

  When I hang up and turn around, I nearly trip over a very smug Brekka.

  “You like this very female wedding planner.”

  I collapse onto the dining room chair, defeated. “What if I do?”

  “Why didn’t you give her a ride here? Why are you meeting her there?”

  I shrug.

  “Oh come on B, just tell me.”

  “Fine, okay, I offered her a ride. Twice. And she turned me down flat both times.”

  “Whoa, you like someone who didn’t immediately fall at your feet? I like her already.”

  “She likes me too, I can tell. But she’s too polite. She didn’t want to cost Luke and Mary extra money, since one way tickets cost more than round trip.”

  Brekka’s laugh sounds like the tinkle of bells. “Oh, B. You’ve taken a liking to a fiery one. You’re too entitled to know this, but that’s a lie.” Her fingers fly over the buttons on her phone and she turns the screen toward me. “Round trip. Seven hundred.” Her fingers fly again and she spins her phone again. “One way, five hundred.”

  My jaw drops. She actually doesn’t like me?

  “I think I misspoke before. I love her already.” Brekka’s still smiling.

  She’s a traitor.

  “So what am I doing wrong? I told her she was beautiful.”

  “Is she?” Brekka asks. “Beautiful, I mean? Because if she’s really, truly stunning, she’s sick of hearing that particular compliment. Or she won’t believe it no matter what you say, depending.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Brekka shrugs. “Most women like being told they’re attractive. After all, who doesn’t like a compliment? We all want to think people like to look at us. But breathtaking women often fall into one of two types. The first never quite believed people and worked hard instead of coasting on their looks. They shaped something from the raw material of who they are. If she’s type one, she’s going to ignore people who compliment her, because she will believe they only see her outside and not what she’s chiseled herself into. Any compliment will feel like an objectification. Like you’re shoving her into a box, and she’ll fight it.”

  I narrow my eyes. My sister can be annoyingly perceptive, but in this case, I’m grateful for the knowledge. “And the other option?”

  “Most models fall into this category. When they spend a lot of time thinking about their looks, they put all their value in them. No compliment, no matter how genuine or effusive, will ever be enough. And they’ll live in constant fear that if their looks slide, they’ll be worthless. One carefully placed insult can shatter them. It’s a dangerous place to live, and too many men will have taken advantage of their utter vulnerability. So while they’ll know they’re better looking than almost everyone they meet, they’ll never feel safe in that. They’ll never be confident, not like an average woman who has based her self-esteem on something that grows instead of shrinking with time. Because no matter how stunning she is, there’s always someone else who’s prettier, and even if there isn’t now, one day there will be. I call them evil queens. You know, from Snow White. Mirror mirror.”

  I shake my head. “She’s definitely not an evil queen. She didn’t even want to hear me compliment her. She brushed me off like I was irritating her, or worse, insulting her.”

  “Plus she’s a wedding planner. That hints strongly at version one, because most of the evil queens I’ve met are in professions that directly relate to their appearance.”

  “She could definitely have been a professional model,” I say.

  “I like her more and more. Doing something harder with your life, something that will grow and not fade, it takes gumption. It’s the hard path, even if it’s the more fruitful one. Not that I think modeling is easy, it’s not, but I think you get what I mean.”

  I nod. “Well, I like her too.”

  Brekka’s sly smile sets me on edge. “Don’t get excited. I don’t like her, like I want to get married and have two point four kids.”

  She quirks one eyebrow. “Three point six kids?”

  I chuckle. “No. I’m still not interested in getting married and having a family. I don’t want anyone waiting at home while I skydive and ski and surf, tapping her foot and telling me little Johnny needs his dad. I’ve got too much living to do. But if I could loosen her up some, I might have fun doing that public service.”

  “Not every wife in America is like Mom.”

  I exhale heavily. “But enough of them are. The odds of me finding a wonderful woman who will support me and lift me up aren’t great. And our wealth kind of dooms us both. Don’t pretend you don’t know it.”

  Brekka doesn’t argue, because she knows I’m right. We were raised in the same house.

  The next morning, I’m wearing my favorite pair of black ski pants when I walk into Charlie’s office. I’ll never admit to anyone how many times I changed my sweater. Except Brekka of course, since she was right there telling me which one looked better.

  Charlie’s wearing a suit, but even so, I can tell he’s lost some weight. Gone is the chubby guy from last ski season. I wonder what prompted this.

  “Looking good,” I say. “Impressive. How much
weight have you lost?”

  Charlie stands up, his desk chair rolling backward. “Bern. Good to see you.”

  “It’s Trig,” I mutter.

  “Whatever you say,” Charlie says. “And it was because of a girl. Breakups look good on me, I guess.”

  I whistle. “I’m sorry to hear it. Maybe she’ll come to her senses.”

  “Probably not, but I’m better without her, am I right? Two single guys. We should go out sometime.”

  I nod. “We should, actually. I’ll text you.”

  Charlie’s secretary buzzes his office. “Mr. Corning, I have a Miss Polson asking about you. She claims she has an appointment. I told her you’re with an old friend, but she insisted I let you know she’s waiting.”

  “Send her in,” Charlie says. “We’re expecting her.”

  “Oh.” His secretary’s voice sounds surprised. “Yes sir. Right away.”

  When Geo walks through the door, Charlie’s face goes blank and I’m pretty sure he looks just like I did at that pizza place. I pat his back and walk toward where she’s standing in the doorway in a form-fitted grey suit with a knee length skirt and stiletto heels. “Geo, you made it. Welcome to Vail. This is my old high school chum Charlie Cornish.”

  She really meant it when she said she had no intention of skiing judging by her outfit. Good thing Vail boasts a killer ski shop.

  “How was your flight?” Charlie asks. “I hear the weather is stirring up out there. We monitor things pretty closely, and it looks like the storm expected to swing north didn’t get the memo.”

  “My flight was wonderful, thanks.” She smiles at him and I feel the same slack-jawed look sneaking up on me again, too.

  My recollection of Brekka’s words snaps me out of it. I can’t have Geo thinking I only like her because she’s breathtakingly beautiful. “I told Charlie about the dates we’re looking at. He’s got another event that weekend, but he can make it work. How many guests are you planning to have?”

  Geo navigates the business end of things with Charlie effectively, quoting numbers and asking about Vail policies.

  “What kind of friends and family discount do you offer to friends of old high school friends?” she asks with a sparkle in her eye. “I already noticed you have an off-season booking discount, as well as an eco fee for green weddings. We’d qualify for both.”

  Charlie turns toward me and gulps. “You didn’t tell me your girlfriend studied negotiations at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t know, probably because she’s not my girlfriend. I just met her a few days ago.”

  But I realize that I wish she was, which sort of makes my shoulder blades feel too tight for my sweater.

  Geo and Charlie talk about numbers for another moment, including the deposit amount, and then Charlie rubs his hands together. “How about I show you our banquet hall and one of our meeting rooms that could be used for the rehearsal dinner?”

  She nods graciously. “I’d be pleased to see those. And some rooms too, of course, including a honeymoon suite. And the groom has young children, so we’d want rooms that could accommodate them with their grandparents.”

  He nods.

  I follow them, content to watch Geo do her job. When Charlie pulls out his phone in the banquet hall and groans in dismay, I almost forget his crisis is fake.

  “Uh oh,” he says, “I’ve got a little problem to attend to. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Geo says. “You’ve been so accommodating to meet with me on such short notice. Please, do what you need to do.”

  “I may be a little while. After I resolve this issue, I have a lunch appointment. Can we resume around two p.m.? You could ski or relax in the spa—”

  Charlie cuts off when he sees me shaking my head vehemently. “Err, actually, I heard this morning that they’re booked up right now. But you could hang out in the bar or ski, for sure.”

  I nod.

  “And of course, anything you order or need is comped. We really value this chance to earn your business.”

  I follow Charlie out the door and whisper, “Thanks.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he says in a low voice.

  “What does that mean?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “That’s not some empty-headed model. She’s beautiful, but man, she’s sharp too. Don’t screw up or I will poach her.”

  “Some friend,” I say.

  “All’s fair,” Charlie says. “But I’m giving you first shot.”

  “How kind of you.” I scowl at him and walk back inside.

  “So, any interest in skiing? Because I hear the barstools here suck.”

  She smirks. “I’m hardly dressed for skiing, Mr. Thornton.”

  “Please,” I say. “Call me Trig, seriously.”

  “Trig, I obviously can’t ski in this.”

  “It would be my pleasure to buy you some ski gear.”

  “I couldn’t possibly accept that,” she says.

  “Fine, then let Charlie comp it. Business deduction, you know. Plus, having you wearing their clothing is like an advertisement.” I regret the words the second they leave my mouth.

  She closes up like a flower at sunset. “I think I’ll wait in the lobby. I have some work I can do on my laptop.”

  I grab her hand, and she turns toward me. “Seriously Trig, I have a lot of work to finish. And I should take some photos and send them to Luke and Mary.”

  “Luke and Mary wouldn’t mind you taking an hour or two to do something fun,” I say, my voice soft. I might be imagining it, but it seems like she’s inching toward me slightly. Her eyes certainly relax.

  “I would look idiotic on the slopes,” she whispers. “I’ve never even been sledding.”

  A smile grows on my face. “I’ll be there. You’ll be fine, I promise. Trust me. I could teach Sponge Bob to ski.”

  She rolls her eyes and I know I have her. Geo is going to love skiing.

  5

  Geo

  I detest skiing.

  Trig very sweetly bought me the cutest ski outfit I’d ever seen, a fitted, navy blue, retro 70s suit with adorable red and blue chevrons at the sleeves, shoulders and hem on the pants, but it was all downhill from there, and not in a good way.

  “Don’t take this wrong, but I kind of hate you,” I tell him. “I look idiotic on this toddler slope, where all the kids are doing fine and I’m completely panicking.”

  “You don’t look idiotic. You look—“

  “Don’t you dare say I look cute or adorable or anything you could use to describe a child under the age of sixteen.”

  He snaps his mouth shut.

  “My neck hurts, and my back hurts, and I’m sick of doing this. Can you toss me over your shoulder and ski me down to the bottom?” He’s kind enough to point out that it’s not actually very far away. Which just reminds me how good he is, and how much I suck. “What am I saying? You can do that with your eyes closed, I’m sure.”

  He laughs. “Your neck and back only hurt because you’re doing it all wrong.” He points down the slope. “This hill is almost flat. You don’t need to cut back and forth like you were. It looks like you’re trying to decorate a cake. You can actually point your skis downhill and…” He gestures with his hand. “Slide. The sliding, or skiing as some people call it, is kind of the goal.”

  I glance at the allegedly flat hill he’s taken me to the top of. It’s not flat at all. In fact, it looks so steep that if I point downward in the slightest, I’m sure I’ll plummet to my death.

  “I don’t kind of hate you. That was a lie to spare your feelings. I straight up want to shoot you between the eyes. The only reasons I haven’t are that I don’t have a gun, and I need someone to drag my body back down the hill to my mom.”

  He laughs. “Trust me, Geo. Try pointing downward and letting go.”

  “I don’t let go.”

  “I’m gathering that. But just this once, try it.”

  I grit my
teeth and try taking his advice before I have time to overthink it. My poles fly backward and my hair flattens to my face, some strands sticking in my mouth and eyes, but the feeling, oh the feeling!

  It’s unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced. I love it. I zoom past a little kid clinging to his mother’s leg. I squeal as I pass a teenager poking buttons on her phone, and I coast to a stop near the base of the ski lift where the snow turns dirty and clumpy.

  When I turn back, Trig’s smiling down at me, only a foot away from where I stopped. He, of course, skis like a professional, but for a moment, for one shining moment, I don’t even begrudge him all that natural skill and coordination.

  “Again,” I say.

  He doesn’t gloat. In fact, he doesn’t say anything at all. He merely takes my poles and helps me shuffle over to the lift and take my seat as it flings around on its trajectory back up the slope.

  The second time I ski down the bunny hill is the most fun I’ve ever had in my entire life. When we reach the bottom and Trig looks down at me, my heart lifts and I do something stupid. I lean toward him.

  His head curves over me and his eyes lock on mine. His face moves closer and closer, slowly so I could totally pull away. I should pull away, because I don’t date. I don’t even want to date, and you definitely don’t do this when you aren’t dating. I never date, which means I really never ever ever kiss anyone.

  But I want Trig to kiss me, so I don’t move.

  His golden eyes shine brightly in the cold air, and his lips part, steam puffing out from them. My eyes follow the movement until I’m staring at his mouth.

  He murmurs, “You did it.”

  I nod dumbly. “I did.”

  “You delight me, you know.” Then his mouth closes the inches between us and his lips cover mine.

  I was wrong before. This is the most fun I’ve ever had. Trig’s mouth over mine sets off a chemical reaction in my body, or maybe an emergency evacuation of all my senses and willpower. I drop my ski poles and wrap my arms around his neck, and his hands circle my waist. I’ve never worn more clothing, but I’ve also never been more aware of where a man’s hands were. Likewise, I’ve never been in a colder place in my life, and yet the heat from his mouth where it’s locked on mine leaves me warm from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.