“Who’s his friend?” Eagerly, Courtney was craning her neck trying to get a good look at all the guys.
“The only man I’ve seen him hanging with around the resort is the dirty blond with the short hair.”
Ryanne assumed it was the white guy with the petite Latina climbing all over him. She couldn’t really get a good visual of him with the woman spidering his body with her limbs. The tall, buff guy had a firm grip on her hips, making the muscles in his biceps and forearms bulge out. Since she was a preteen, Ryanne had always loved to watch the play of muscles in a man’s arms as he worked. Her next-door neighbor, a teen stud, had given her hours of daydreams as she watched him mow his parents’ yard, or wash his blood-orange Mustang GT. This guy at the resort was working hard, judging by the popping and shifting of those muscles. Ryanne wasn’t sure if he was holding the Hispanic firecracker to him, or trying to hold her away from him at a “respectable” distance.
“Damn. If that bitch in heat would unwrap her body from around him, I could get a better look.”
Why? You planning to offer yourself up for the threesome? Rolling her eyes at the riotous group and Courtney, Ryanne looked at Danielle. “Well, I think you made the best choice in keeping your distance.”
“Maybe.” Danielle shrugged, sounding wistful. “I’m going to get something else to drink. Something a little stronger this time.”
“I’m coming with you.” Courtney popped up.
“Well, I’m going to follow some Sage advice and head up to my room.”
“Already?” Danielle stopped as she rose, slower than her companion.
“Alone?” Courtney’s eyes were wide as the appetizer plates on the buffet.
Standing, Ryanne looked from one to the other. “Yes, alone. I’m beat from travel today and I want to get up and hit—”
“The gym?” Courtney volunteered.
“The slopes. I plan to give them a try. But I’ll need to do some shopping first. Catch you all around.” With a quick wave, Ryanne turned and dashed out the door, barely avoiding a guy who reached for her hand as she passed him.
In the late hour mix and mingle, she’d felt so suffocated and overwhelmed by all the blatant sexual energy, she was starting to second, third, and fourth-guess her decision to come here. Maybe Florida wouldn’t have been so bad. She would have at least been surrounded by familiar faces and people who loved her.
Chapter Four
“Ugh!” Ryanne continued to cross one of her rented ski blades over the other, getting herself all tangled up. She felt like an idiot in her spanking-new aqua-blue ski suit as all the more experienced skiers went past the beginners’ terrain to the lift.
“Hey, don’t stress.” A hand rested on her shoulder.
Startled, Ryanne turned to see a light-skinned black woman with short Barbie-blond hair and a wide smile in an ice-pink ski suit with matching cap and goggles. Knocked off balance by the woman and her own inept skills, Ryanne held her arms out, attempting to steady herself, afraid to move.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Cynda.” The woman held her hand out as true kindness lit up her eyes.
“Nice meeting you. I’d shake your hand, but I’d probably end up dragging us both down,” Ryanne warned, trying not to allow her fear to show in her smile of gratitude. Most of the other women she’d met over breakfast had been catty and only interested in the men instead of being kind to each other, so seeing a sincere smile was a relief.
“No worries. You know the resort offers instruction.”
“I was over there first, but the other women kept interrupting the instructor with propositions, so I just decided to try it on my own.”
The woman looked over at the group of giggling women and shook her head. “I’ve being helping out some this morning. I can at least give you a few tips to keep you safe and on your way.”
Risking standing straighter and pulling her arms in, Ryanne let out a breath. “I’d appreciate that.”
“Okay, the best thing to learn is to know how to get around on your skis and being comfortable. This area here is flat, so you can easily push and slide.” Cynda demonstrated and moved away a few feet on her own skis.
Ryanne tried to mimic her movements, but felt like a toddler using her legs for the first time.
“Good. Getting around is the hardest sometimes. If you can master that, then you can get yourself out of tough situations.” Next, Cynda showed Ryanne the walking movements to get across a slope laterally, and ascend a slope, if she ever made it down, like a penguin.
“Thanks so much.” Ryanne didn’t want to hold the woman up any longer. “I think I’m feeling a little more comfortable in them now.”
“Well, my family owns the place, so good customer service keeps guests returning.” Cynda laughed.
Ryanne was happy to discover that the resort was black-owned. She always appreciated when she learned something that dispelled myths about black people. They didn’t swim, couldn’t ski, or ran ghetto establishments. So not true. Village Resort was a prime example that proved the stereotypes wrong. Smiling, Ryanne said, “Well, your family has a nice place here. Thanks again.”
“You’re welcome.” Cynda shoved away toward the resort as she called out over her shoulder, “Just remember to keep your feet a narrow shoulder-width apart.”
Practicing the movements again for a moment, Ryanne figured that she would be able to handle some basic downhill ski instructions. She turned around and caught a glimpse of the instructor leading a couple of women, and a few men now, toward the first small slope. Pointing the tips of her skis in the direction of the beginners group, Ryanne dug her poles deep into the snow and shoved hard, wanting to catch up with them.
Nervousness engulfed her and she looked down at her skis, seeing that their tips were not parallel as they should have been, and before she knew it, she’d run into a wall of sorts.
* * * *
“Damn it!”
The bundle of blue that had come barreling into his body, knocking them both to the hard-packed snow, was bucking and elbowing him as they tried to get up.
“Just hold still.” Carson dropped his poles and attempted to grip the person on top of him, to keep them from getting more tangled than they already were.
“Oops.” A frazzled female voice came out of the blue-jacketed form.
“Oomph.” Carson was jabbed in the ribs.
“Sorry.” The voice now sounded breathless and worried.
“Oomph.” The handle of the person’s pole caught him in the chin. With a quick bear hug around the person’s arms and torso, he barked, “Can you please stop moving?”
The blue cloud froze. The only thing moving was her chest as the person panted heavily against him.
“Better. Now if we just take this slow, we can—”
Gutted, skinned, and hung out to dry; done for was exactly how Carson felt when the other person lifted her head and he got a good look at her face. Ryanne McCall’s face. His teenage dream, fantasy, and friend was lying in his arms, her limbs intertwined with his. It didn’t escape his mind or body how he’d imagined on too many nights how they would feel in such a position, after or before they made love.
Shit. He could feel his cock responding from the slight weight of her form and the memories, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it with their skis locked together. If Ryanne felt the evidence of his budding erection, she didn’t respond. Matter of fact, she hadn’t said one word except “sorry”. Then Carson realized neither had he. He smiled, hoping it didn’t come across as one of those awkward, geeky grins he couldn’t help giving her when they were neighbors.
“Hi, Carson.” Her voice sounded like silky jazz music, and it turned him inside-out just as it had years ago.
“It was you.”
She frowned, her chocolate-brown eyes accessing him. “Me? When?”
“Last night at the mixer.” Even now, with most of her hair hidden under her blue-and-white cap, with nothing bu
t a thick ebony braid hanging over her shoulder, he knew she had been the girl at the table. Raising his hand, he followed the edge of her hat along her forehead, wishing he didn’t have on his bulky gloves.
“Hey, Car, I’m all for you gettin’ a fuck, but I don’t think the resort will take too kindly to you taking the girl out here in the middle of the slopes.”
Phillip’s voice jostled Carson out of the intimate bubble. Tilting his head back, he stared up into the face of his best friend, who at that moment he could have dragged down the slopes by his bald head.
“Can it, Phillip. You’re the last person to be preaching about sexual censorship.”
Ryanne began to squirm again, reminding Carson they still needed to release their skis.
“Phillip? As in Phillip Stifler?”
“As long as you’re not claiming I’m your baby’s daddy, it is me in the flesh, sweetheart.” Phillip was oozing with charm as always.
The desire to shove a fistful of snow into his friend’s mouth assailed Carson. Unsnapping their boots from the skis was the easiest way to get them loose. Once that was done, he helped Ryanne to her feet.
“It’s me, Phillip. Ryanne.” She smiled.
Carson watched those thick lips of hers stretch and he wanted nothing more than to lick them from one end to the other. Inhaling the crisp, cold air, he tried to rein his hormones in, which wasn’t easy around Ryanne.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Phillip allowed his gaze a slow stroll along Ryanne’s ski-suit-covered form.
Carson shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket so he wouldn’t ball them into fists and pummel the other man.
“You were always pretty, Ryanne, but damn if you didn’t grow up just right in all the right places.” Phillip continued to spew his honeyed words.
Ryanne lowered her head and laughed.
Carson wasn’t sure if she was blushing because she was feeling the impact of Phillip’s words, like all the other snow bunnies at the resort, or because she still didn’t believe she was attractive like when they were younger. Strangely enough, he didn’t want it to be either, but preferred the latter.
“Yeah, right, Phillip.” She glanced at Phillip with a discerning glare, one eyebrow cocked high. “Don’t think I don’t remember just how flirty you were with the girls in our neighborhood.”
“Hey, sweetheart, cut me some slack. I didn’t just flirt with them.”
Laughing, Ryanne covered her mouth and spoke from behind her glove. “Oh, gracious, Phillip, you have always been a mess. That’s why I tried to keep all my friends away from your nastiness.”
“Too bad you forgot to warn your sister.” Phillip winked.
Waving her hands, Ryanne shook her head as a horrified look crossed her features. “Yeah, that’s an image burned into my mind that I’d rather forget.”
Carson had heard every detail about Meeya, Ryanne’s younger sister by eleven months, from Phillip. Because that was Phillip: he loved to brag about the girls and later the women he banged, in full disclosure.
Moments later, apparently tired of waiting, the entourage of women and men of the makeshift group that were hanging around him and Phillip began to fuss and fidget like antsy kids.
“Come on, Phillip. Let’s go before the slopes are all treaded up.” Monica, a black girl Phillip had picked up at breakfast, whined and tugged on Phillip’s arm.
“Hey, we’re headed up to Dragon’s slope. You want to come with us?” Phillip asked Ryanne.
“Uh, no, thanks. Didn’t you just see the mess I made of Carson? I’d end up killing all of us, or at least maiming.” Ryanne stooped down and grabbed her poles.
“Okay. Check you later, Ryanne. You ready, Carson?” Phillip dug his poles into the snow, prepared to push off.
Carson looked at Ryanne as she bent over collecting her poles, her round ass cupped nicely in the suit. Shifting his gaze back to Phillip, he shook his head. “You all go along. I’ll catch the slope another time.”
Phillip gave him a knowing smile and left; most of the group followed gleefully behind him.
Lanie, the Hispanic girl from last night, slid over to Carson, her breasts pressing firmly into his arm. “You sure you don’t want to come with us, Carson? I was looking forward to us finding a path of our own.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ryanne glance up at him and Lanie with a strange look on her face. One he couldn’t figure out.
He stepped back, not wanting Ryanne to think that he and this woman were an item. “Maybe I’ll see you around the resort. I really would like to catch up with an old friend.”
Lanie shifted her gaze to Ryanne, rolled her eyes, and said, “Your loss.”
In seconds she was gone and Carson breathed easier. Squatting down, he quickly collected his things.
Ryanne rose. “You know, you don’t have to hang out with me. I’m not trying to cock-block on you.”
Carson smiled and shook his head. “You know, Rye, you do have to have a cock in order to do that.” Slowly standing, he allowed his gaze to travel the length of her body, hating the bulky jacket that kept him from seeing the fullness of her breasts. However, he did appreciate the view of her long legs encased in the snug material and the way it hugged her lower half. Returning his gaze to hers, he asked, “Unless you’re packing and I don’t know it.”
Her golden cheeks, already rosy from the icy air, darkened, making her more beautiful. “No, I’m not. But I saw you and that woman last night at the mixer.”
Shocked, he stared at her. Shit, what was he to say to that? He’d had a few drinks last night, but he recalled Lanie’s bold, seductive public attempt at trying to get into his bed, or him into hers. He’d hate for Ryanne to see some other woman all over him.
Reaching out, he took hold of her arm. “Ryanne, I’m not sure how much you saw, but it isn’t what it looked like. Shit.” He snatched his cap off. He couldn’t lie to her. “It was what it looked like, but I didn’t sleep with her. There’s nothing between Lanie and me. Hell, we only met last night.”
She shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I heard in college that you and Phillip…”
Her voice drifted away and her implication stabbed him in the gut. “College was a long time ago. I’m a little more fastidious now.” What he didn’t tell her was that once he’d seen a woman that reminded him of Ryanne, who turned out to be her, he wasn’t in the mood for a lousy imitation.
“Oh.” She gave him a small smile.
“How about we turn in your skis, I lock mine up in the locker, and we find a great place by the big roaring fire in the lobby and catch up.”
“That sounds perfect. As long as we can add in a huge mug of hot chocolate, I’m in.”
Taking a firmer hold of her arm to help her remain steady in the snow where some areas were slick, Carson said, “Absolutely.”
Chapter Five
“What’s been going on with you? I haven’t seen you since the summer after our freshman year.” Carson sat in one of the plush chairs next to her.
Ryanne was thankful that they were the only ones in the cozy area of the lobby. She stared into her mug of chocolate, as if the floating marshmallows would reveal all the answers to the questions that plagued her. Like the fact she didn’t understand why it bothered her so much when the Latina woman saddled up to Carson as if she were staking her claim on Ryanne’s old childhood neighbor. Last night, when she had seen the woman climbing on a stranger’s body, Ryanne had only felt disgust at the overt antics. But on the slopes when she recognized Phillip as the guy who had taken shots from a woman’s cleavage, that meant that Carson had been the friend beside him. The Hispanic chick’s inviting dialogue had confirmed that.
The knowledge had caused a sick feeling in her stomach. More disgust? Or jealousy? At what point Carson had become more than just a friend, she wasn’t sure. Liar, her mind screamed. She recalled it vividly, but had buried it in her mind as she focused on her schooling and then her career.
Taki
ng a cautious drink, she glanced at Carson Rodman, who had shockingly become a better-looking version of a Greek god than his older brother had been when she was a teenager. Carson was taller than Drew by at least three inches, at what she assumed was six-four. His dark-blond straight locks, that had been kept long in a skater-boy style, were now short and tapered around the sides and back, and just a little longer on top in buzz-cut spikes, not quite military fashion. Now out of the bulky ski jacket and only wearing his long-sleeved undershirt, she could see how much his chest and body had filled out. From the skinny kid next door, he had grown into every muscle. Buff and stacked, well-defined as any wide receiver, she could see why Lanie wanted to put her hands all over him. Ryanne had the urge to do the same.
Trying to calm her racing heart as images fluttered into her mind, placing her in the same position as Lanie had been last night, Ryanne gulped her drink. Wincing, she stuck her tongue out as she waved her free hand over it, trying to soothe the scalded flesh.
“You okay?” Carson leaned forward, concern etched on his features.
“Wes,” she mumbled, still holding her tongue out.
“You do know that hot cocoa is…hot?”
“Mart ash.” She stuck her tongue at him. Pulling it in, she pressed it against the roof of her mouth, feeling the heat.
He chuckled.
She enjoyed the sound. “I didn’t mean to drink so much.”
“Maybe it should come with a warning, like Mickey D’s coffee.” He lifted his mug, blew on it, and sipped, then arched an eyebrow at her as if he were trying to give an example of how drinking hot beverages was done.
“I forgot how much of a smart ass you could be.” She couldn’t hold back the half grin as one side of her mouth lifted as she gazed into the wood fire. She wanted to take off her boots and curl her toes in the warmth, but she would have to wait until she got back up to her room to do that before her small gas hearth.
Wonderland Page 15