Tee It Up: A Wilder Brothers Romance
Page 20
After goofing off on the podium and the obligatory showcasing of sponsored merchandise we head to our favored haunt, the Blue Jam Bar and Grill. You’d think we part-owned this place the way we’re treated. Usually, the management open up the best table for us, then stack it with beer and a steady flow of food.
We bank our boards against the outside wall and commandeer a few of the spots on the terrace that offer a perfect view of the mountain. Josie immediately comes through from the bar with the first dozen beer bottles and clangs them into the middle of a table before scooting off to get another load. It’s a free for all and in a few seconds all the bottles are claimed and lids tinkle onto the decked floor when they are popped off on the edge of the table.
I grab a couple of bottles and have to take a sip from the first, when the beer froths onto the neck, before passing it to Krista.
“Just the one for me, Miles. It’s my day out there tomorrow. Remember?”
“Sure.” I close her into my side, my arm in its natural position resting around her shoulders.
I don’t need to show the same restraint. I’ve got a whole week before I’ll be doing anything serious again, and a win is always worthy of a celebration. Especially when I live by the motto of work hard and party harder.
I push my hat up off my ears, until it perches on top of my dirty blonde hair, and push back the long tendrils away from my cheeks, so I can take an unhindered pull on the beer.
Josie brings another round out and again none of us are reserved about how we grapple with each other to take our fill. It comes from our belief that life owes us nothing and what’s here today could very well be gone tomorrow.
After an hour of everyone animatedly recounting today’s runs, someone suggests ordering food. Krista pushes back my hair and cups her hand around my ear. “I’m calling it a day.” And even though she shouts, I can barely hear her over the raucous noise of the beer fueled group. “You coming?” she yells.
“Nah, I’m gonna stay and check out the live band.”
“Okay, don’t wake me when you get in. If the run is anything like it was today I’m gonna need a decent night’s sleep.”
“Sure, babe.” I kiss her long and slow in the way we’ve perfected over the last twelve years. Each kiss indulged in as if it is our first, or last. Slow, seductive and significant.
Some of the other women, also competing tomorrow, take Krista’s cue, and withdraw. Leaving the core crew, a tighter, more serious unit who are determined to claim the night. We shuffle into the sweaty heat of the bar and leave behind the starry night to freeze a crust onto the snow.
We edge toward the stage and after demolishing several buckets of fried chicken and fries, we discard our jackets and roll the base layers up our arms and down our waists.
The woodblock beat and the warbling reeds of a harmonic signify the warm up for the night is officially over. Let the party begin. Weary legs first fueled by adrenaline and now powered by alcohol, dance us through until dawn filters a weak light through the departing nimbostratus clouds.
Luckily I’m wasted, and forget that my board is propped up against the outside wall. If I wasn’t, I would have been tempted by the sight of the freshly dumped snow and claimed the virgin powder as my own. Instead, I’m dragged along by the rest of the mob, spilling off left and right to our homes as we stagger through the town. My chalet is the next up and some of the group will probably stick with me. That’s usually the way it is. Mine is an open house, and with some of the crew yet to turn their passion into a golden egg, I’m happy to share my fortunes with them.
Four of us crash into the boot room and hop around trying to separate our feet from our Salomon’s. I look up at the coat hangers and realize my jacket is back at the bar, probably along with a dozen more that I’ve left over the months.
Carmen and Patrick skulk off to one of the bunk rooms and Logan nose dives the sofa. Before going up to bed, I decide to partake in my morning worship and step out onto the first floor balcony that overlooks my church. The mountain.
The final snow cloud shifts away to reveal the peak, and pale yellow rays spill out around its edge. I take in a deep breath and say my daily prayer. Thankful for everything and everybody that makes my life complete.
The rest of my clothes are stripped off one article at a time, leaving a steady trail up to the bedroom. A tightly sprung bump in the middle of the grey duvet makes me pause and, as quietly as I’m able to in my inebriated state, I navigate to my side of the bed and slip under the covers.
With the side of my palm, I move her golden hair onto the pillow, so I can envelop her body and snuggle into her warmth.
“You’re freezing,” she complains in a sleepy voice.
“I know babe but you’re warm.” I hold her tight until I pass out.
A few hours later when I wake, I’m cold and when I reach out for her, like a mirage, she’s gone.