by B. E. Baker
He murmurs against my mouth, “I’m glad you relented.”
I’m not sure whether he means about skiing in the first place, actually zooming down the slope, or about dating someone. I don’t really care. “Me too.”
Someone behind me giggles and my eyes open and track toward the sound. A very annoyed mother scowls at me. “You’re blocking the lift.”
“Oh,” I say. “We didn’t mean to.”
“Terribly sorry.” Trig lifts me, dragging me and my skis around in a circle, and setting me down again. “Please proceed.” Once the woman and her child have moved past us, he mutters. “I certainly intend to.”
He kisses me even slower this time, and I hear the little girl giggling as she floats away on the lift. The teenager who still lives deep inside me wants to giggle with her. When Trig finally pulls back, the girl in the purple ski suit is gone, presumably whisked up the hill, but I’m still giddy.
I brush away the hair that’s fallen forward into Trig’s face, tucking it under his cap with one gloved hand. “Should we go again?”
He nods and helps me on the lift. We ski the bunny hill three more times before he convinces me to try a blue slope that’s only one extra ride up.
We’re halfway up that lift when my ski pops off without warning and drops into a snow drift below us. I lurch forward, alarmed, and Trig’s hand shoots out and pulls me back. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it. It’s fine.”
“How?” I ask. “How will we get it?”
He shrugs. “I can ski down and grab it for you. It’ll just take a minute, but don’t lean forward like that. You gave me a heart attack.”
I gave the insane skydiver a heart attack. Whoops. “Fine.”
I don’t say anything on the way to the top, too nervous thinking about how I’m on my first blue slope with just the one ski. As the end of the lift approaches and I think about the mechanics of getting off with only one ski, my stomach ties in a hard little knot. “I can’t do it.”
Trig takes my hand and squeezes. Then he wraps one arm around my waist and carries me off the lift. I fumble and bobble, doing my best to topple over and take him with me, but it’s like trying to flip a buoy. He’s unshakable. He tugs me gently over to a huge pole holding up the lift above us, and pats the snow. “Wait here, and I’ll be back with your ski in a few minutes.”
“I feel like an even bigger idiot than before right now.”
He shakes his head and cups my face gently. “No, don’t. This had nothing to do with you. It has happened to most all of us, at some point or another.”
I swallow. “Okay.”
He leans over and kisses me gently. “I really will be right back. Don’t fret.”
I nod this time and wave him off. Then I sit at the top alone while he flies down the hill and practically leaps to grab my ski from a huge snowdrift. I half expect him to ski back toward me uphill, but of course he just turns to wave and continues down the hill toward the lift.
While I’m waiting for him to come back, I notice a little girl skiing on only one leg. Her other leg is tied behind her back. No lie. She’s coming from above me, clearly headed home after a long day up on the black diamonds. I hate feeling pathetically inadequate, but she’s an adorable little girl. She smiles at me and waves, her pigtails bobbing.
“Great job, sweetheart,” I force myself to say.
She beams as she zooms past.
By the time Trig circles the corner on the lift and slides easily over to where I am, I’m relieved to click my awkward boot back into the stupid ski. “Thanks,” I say.
I wish I sounded more grateful. Trig has been trying ridiculously hard to make sure I have fun. I’m sure he’s not having a very good time on these stupidly simple runs.
As if to punctuate that thought, a beautiful blonde, her golden hair streaming behind her pale pink ski suit, flies past us, her cheeks rosy, barely glancing at the course. She’s clearly an accomplished skier. A far cry from me, clutching at Trig’s sleeve like a drowning woman.
I refuse to be a pathetic, clinging barnacle.
I turn my newly attached skis downward and shoot down the hill, clearing the blue with only a few heart stopping moments, and hurtling down to the bottom of the bunny slope easily.
“Ready for a break?” Trig asks.
I notice the blonde in the pink suit blowing on a hot chocolate at the bar. I want a hot chocolate so badly it almost hurts, but I want Trig to be proud of me too. Inexplicably. Skiing might have knocked a screw loose in my brain.
I shake my head. “Let’s try the next slope up.”
“It’s a black,” Trig says.
“I thought you loved those.”
He frowns. “I want you to like skiing Geo, not hate it.”
“I am having fun,” I say. “At least let’s try the blue again.”
He grins, “Who knew you were such an adrenaline junkie? Okay, let’s go.”
This time I slide over next to him on the lift and he puts his arm around my shoulders. I notice the blonde girl staring at us as we float up and I can’t help smiling. I haven’t had another woman glare at me with jealousy in years. It feels good. This is feeling decidedly like a date, but of course, it’s just a break in one work meeting. And in a few hours, I’ll fly home and I won’t see Trig until the wedding.
It’s fine.
“Thanks,” I say. “I’m glad you twisted my arm.”
Trig’s whole face is transformed when he smiles, like sunrise over the ocean. His smile exposes depths of emotion I didn’t expect to see.
On the second lift, after he puts his arm around me, he leans over and kisses me gently. “You’re not at all what I thought I’d find when Luke told me Mary wanted to set me up with her wedding planner.”
“I don’t dislike you nearly as much as I did.”
He laughs. “What a ringing recommendation.” He brushes his lips over mine again and then turns and looks at the slope. “I’ve been skiing this slope with my sister since we were in preschool, but it’s like I’m seeing it anew with you here.”
“I can’t even imagine sending a preschool child to ski.”
“You don’t even get poles at that age. Mom and Dad didn’t want to be bothered with us too much when we were growing up,” he says. “Or maybe Dad did, I’m not sure. But Mom was far too busy.”
“With what?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “She was working. I should be grateful she’s so adept with business matters, I know that. Dad had a sizable trust fund when they got married, but Mom, well I didn’t get my business sense from my Dad, that’s for sure. Mom seized control of my dad’s family money and instead of spending every dime she could like all the other spouses, she tripled it. Quadrupled it maybe, within five years. I have no idea how many times she’s doubled it since, but she manages the corpus for the entire Thornton clan at this point.”
I want to ask how much money they have, how much money he has, purely out of curiosity. But that seems hugely tacky so I don’t say anything. And then we’re exiting the lift. I point toward the next lift. “Come on, let’s go up one more.”
Trig takes my hands in his, my poles dangling by my wristbands. “One of the most important things you have to learn when you’re risking something new is to never exceed your limits. You’re a brand new skier. There’s no rush. That black will be waiting for you. We can try it tomorrow if you want, but let’s not ruin today.”
His eyes are so warm, so full of contentment, that I should be enjoying this, but something he said set off warning bells.
Tomorrow.
I can’t ski with him tomorrow. I need to be on the next flight out. Even one more day and it would be like we were dating. And I may have slipped a little, but this isn’t strictly a date. My rules have worked for four years, and I’m not going to start changing things willy nilly now, because I like hot cocoa and the little shiver that kissing him sends up my spine.
“You’re right,” I say. “I know my limits, and I s
hould stick with what’s safe. The blue is fine, plenty for me.”
We’ve barely pointed our skis downward when the pink clad blonde flies off the lift behind us. “Bernie, is that you?”
Bernie? Trig flinches when she calls him that. She must’ve known him longer than, when did he say he got the nickname Trig? College? And I’ve seen her several times, so I’m sure Trig has too. It’s almost like she waited for him to notice her, and once it became clear he wasn’t going to, she pretended to see him for the first time.
Trig turns toward her. “Nat. What a surprise to see you here.” His tone is flat, like it’s not surprising at all.
She cocks her head coyly. “I can’t believe my luck—at being here the same day as you. It’s been way too long since we got together last. Actually, I’ve been wondering whether you sold your gorgeous cabin.”
He shakes his head. “Nope, I’m staying there now.”
“I should come by later. I’m just around the corner, and I look for any excuse to take the snowmobile out.”
He frowns. “I’ve got a huge pile of work to do. Brekka would kill me if I push it back.”
“Don’t tell me she’s in town too? Nat frowns. “I just want to cry every time I think about—”
“We better get going,” Trig says. “I’m here with someone and I wouldn’t want to be rude.”
Natalie’s perfectly defined eyelashes fly wide, her eyes full of faux innocence. “I am so sorry, I hadn’t even noticed her. Who is this?” Her smile would make a mannequin jealous, as plastic as I’ve ever seen. “I’m Natalie Morgan, one of Bernard’s oldest friends.”
“Geode Polson,” I say. “Nice to meet you. I’m impressed you can ski so well, since you’re as old as Trig here.”
Natalie scowls at me, but recovers quickly.
“So you live here then?” I ask.
She laughs and the sound grates on my nerves. “Of course not, silly. There’s nothing here but piles of snow. I live in New York City. I’m a publicist. I just vacation here, but you better believe I keep my eyes peeled for this one whenever I come into town.” She paws at his chest, and Trig takes a small step away from her and closer to me.
“Geo and I are just heading down our last run of the day. We’ve got a meeting with Charlie later.”
“Oh Charlie, can you believe it?” She winks at Trig. “He looks amazing, doesn’t he? He had turned into such a butterball for a while.”
“Charlie’s in great shape,” I say. “I doubt he’d love being called a butterball.”
“Oh, he doesn’t mind.” Natalie looks down her nose at me. “We’ve all known each other practically since diapers.”
I compress my lips.
“If your friend has a meeting, why don’t you come down a few runs with me for old time’s sake,” Natalie purrs at Trig. “Drew here won’t mind, will you?”
“It’s Geode,” I say, “like the rocks that look dingy on the outside, but sparkle on the inside.”
“Uh huh,” she says. “Well, you don’t mind, right? You can meet with good old Charlie for a minute without my Bernie. I haven’t seen him in ages.”
I shrug. “I can certainly handle the meeting myself.”
“Which isn’t the point,” Trig says. “I came with Geo and I’m leaving with her. Because while I haven’t seen you in a while, I didn’t miss you Nat, as you surely recall. Enjoy your vacation.”
Trig takes my hand and slides toward the slope.
I’m sure my smile is so smug it’s practically insufferable, which is probably why I don’t notice the ice patch. My skis skitter across it, sending me off the course and down the side of a mountain. I promptly crumple into a ball and tumble head over heels into a tree.
Pain shoots down from my knee toward my foot, and when I shift to try and scramble upright, slushy snow slides down into my collar. I want to wad up my fists and bawl like a newborn, but I can’t. Not without looking even more ridiculous.
Trig appears at my side seconds later, his strong arms lifting me out of the snowdrift I plowed into. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry about that.”
I don’t know whether he’s apologizing for darling Nat, or the subsequent crash. Maybe both, but I perversely blame him for all of it.
“I didn’t even want to ski in the first place.”
He sighs. “I know, and I’m almost sorry I made you do it. I’m definitely sorry you smashed into that tree. ”
“Yeah, what did that poor tree ever do to me?” I try to smile, but I also put weight on my foot for the first time. I cry out when pain spears from my knee down toward my ankle.
“Looks like someone’s headed for Vail Health ER,” Nat says over my shoulder.
I wish I felt steady enough on my feet to punch her in the face. I eye one discarded pole and wonder whether I could reach her with it.
“Thanks for that assessment,” I bark. “Dr. Natalie.”
“I think we’ve got it from here,” Trig says.
“I was only trying to help, sheesh. You’ve turned into a real drag.” Natalie turns with a huff and skis downhill.
Good riddance.
Trig wraps one hand around my waist, and I sling an arm over his shoulder, poles all but forgotten. “Let’s go get you checked out,” he says. “Maybe they can do a memory wipe so you forget Natalie and the fall. Buy one get one free.”
I shake my head. “Let’s just erase the whole day and start over.”
Trig’s eyes widen. I don’t want to hurt him, but the pain in my knee reminded me of how stupid I was to bend my rules. There’s a reason I set them up to begin with, and those reasons haven’t changed.
“You don’t get injured unless you do something stupid that exposes you in the first place.” I won’t be making that mistake again.
6
Trig
“Sometimes you’re driving along, minding your own business,” I say. “In life I mean, and someone just crashes into you. Not every bad outcome can be predicted or avoided.”
“If I hadn’t let you talk me into skiing, I wouldn’t have a torn ACL right now,” Geo snaps. “So don’t pretend like this was an act of God or something.”
“Note to self,” I say. “Geo gets crabby when injured.”
She scowls at me, and I don’t tell her she’s even cuter when she’s angry. I want to pull her against me and kiss that frown away, but I doubt she’d appreciate my attempt. Instead, I use my pole to poke the release on her skis and lift her out of them.
“What are you doing?” she practically snarls.
I smile back at her. “The strain of skis pulling on your boots won’t help that knee. In fact, the only thing that will is getting you to a doctor, Miss Growly. Then we can see if there’s really any long term damage.”
I wave at one of the kids snowboarding past us and hand him our poles and Geo’s skis. “Can you take these down to the main office? My friend’s injured and I’m going to take her downhill.”
“Sure,” the kid says. “You know if you were snowboarding, you wouldn’t need to worry about poles.”
“But you’d still need to carry her board,” I say.
“One thing instead of four,” he says.
“Scram, kid,” I say, but I grin at the little punk.
“Whatever you say, grandpa.” He shrugs and takes off, and even weighed down with all our gear, he gets some decent air off a snowdrift, spraying me in the process. At least he took Charlie’s stuff back down the hill.
Geo’s flexing her leg like it might miraculously improve. “It might be best not to try and use it at all,” I say.
“You’re a doctor now too?”
Her snappishness ought to be annoying me, but she reminds me too much of an injured badger. I want to pat her on the head and give her a snack. “Look Geo, I’m as sorry as you are—”
“Somehow I doubt that. You’ll just ski on to your next adventure. I’m the one who can’t walk.”
I sigh and scoop her up, silencing her with a little
forward motion. Even in ski gear with boots, Geo’s light for such a tall girl. We clear the blue run and the bunny hill in twenty seconds and coast into the rental shop.
I set Geo down on a bench and her eyes flash, but she says nothing. I pop my skis off and carefully unbuckle her ski boots. She winces when I tug the right boot off and I feel a pang of guilt. She really wouldn’t be injured if it wasn’t for me.
I don’t have the best track record for keeping the women around me safe.
I breathe in through my mouth and out through my nose. It’s backward, but it works for me. “Look, Vail has an amazing ER that sort of specializes in skiing trauma, as you might imagine.”
“Uh oh,” the perky girl behind the counter says. She has her hair in two fuzzy French braids, making her seem about twelve until I look more closely. I’m guessing she’s early twenties. “Did you get hurt up there?”
Geo nods. “I managed to gracefully plow right into a tree.” She scrunches up her nose. “First time skier.”
“Well don’t give up yet,” the girl says. “You may be fine, and it’s not the tree’s fault it’s so hard to pick it up as an adult. Even so, some of the best skiers out there learned later in life.”
“Really?” Geo asks.
I take the chance, while braids is chatting Geo up, to pull my heavy street boots out of my locker and change into them. I hand my ski boots to the girl.
Braids nods. “Yep, in fact my dad skied for the first time two years ago. Now he can keep up with me at the top of the slopes.”
“You’re kidding.” Geo fishes her key out of her pocket. “Do you mind grabbing my backpack for me?”
Braids shakes her head. “Not at all.” She walks around to grab the key, and snags Geo’s large black backpack. She wisely passes it to me and then turns to Geo. “I’m serious about my dad, though. He blows me away.”
“I live in Atlanta, so I doubt I’ll be carving up the mountain again. At least, not any time soon.”