Hart of Winter

by Parker Foye

  “You can make it up to me by playing nice with the crew and ensuring they continue to equate the Lentowicz name with television gold. I’m getting my part next, remember? Don’t mess this up for me.”

  Rob nodded. “I promise.” He pressed the promise into his heart, as firm as the carpet print pressing into his face.

  “Good.” Olivia applied products to her hair, occasionally misting up her phone’s camera. “Anyway, this curse. Did you figure it out yet?”

  “Not yet. There’s the nails, like I said, and he doesn’t use other magic. But that’s not unique. There were those sisters in Bavaria, with the singing hex, who couldn’t look sideways at a store-bought charm without flinching. Luc doesn’t sing. I haven’t had a chance to look at the stitching on his cuffs.”

  “I see, too busy looking at his c—”

  “Olivia!”

  Olivia’s husky laugh filled Rob’s hotel room. He groaned and pressed his flaming face to the questionable carpet in an effort to muffle the noise. He didn’t blame her for laughing. “I sound like my mother.”

  “You wish,” Olivia said, still chuckling. At some point she’d managed to put on lipstick. “You sounded like Aunt Olga.”

  “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  “Why, are you out of dignity to lose?”

  “One hundred percent out.” Rob grabbed his phone and pushed to his feet, speaking as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “Where are you going, anyway?”

  “Catching up with a friend from school. She’s been working in Canada and has some ideas about networks. I’ve some ideas too. And then we’re having all the gin.”

  “Sounds better than my night.” Rob flopped onto his back, holding his phone above his face.

  “No plans with your cursebearer?”

  “No.”

  “Then make some. Love you, got to go.”

  Olivia’s words hung in Rob’s ears so long, he wouldn’t be surprised to discover she’d used craft to make them echo. Such an obvious solution to the churning of nerves in Rob’s gut, to answer the question of when he’d see Luc again. Make plans.

  Rolling onto his stomach, Rob opened a new message on his phone. Minutes passed as he started and deleted half a dozen messages before grunting in annoyance and hitting the Call button. The phone rang eight times—Rob counted—before Luc answered breathlessly.

  “Rob? Sorry, I’m—I can’t speak long. Everything okay?”

  Rob had forgotten Luc had a job. He squeezed his eyes shut, glad Luc couldn’t see him. “Did you want a snowboarding lesson? And then a late lunch? Maybe?”

  A strange noise answered him like a bitten-off gasp. Rob wondered if someone had dropped something, or stubbed their toe, or—The curse. Luc had been evasive about his evenings, and Rob remembered Luc complaining of a headache around sunset, a classic time for curse activation. Stress flowed into Rob’s muscles as he tried to decide whether to admit to knowing about Luc’s situation or to feign ignorance.

  Before Rob could decide either way, Luc spoke in hitching sentences. “I’d love that, I—I really would. I’ll be fuck-awful at it. When do you want to go? I’m off the—the day after tomorrow. In the morning?”

  Rob tried to keep his voice even. “Amazing, I’ll arrange everything and text you the details, okay?”

  “Perfect. Got to go. Bye!”

  “B… bye,” Rob said to the ended call. “Bollocks.” He leaned over and set his phone on the charging charm.

  Whatever curse Luc had, it obviously caused him pain. Enough for his words to stutter and his breath to come short. Rob rubbed his face. It would hurt Luc if he discovered Rob was a cursebreaker and never mentioned it. Rob had no delusions he would be able to break Luc’s curse, but that wasn’t the problem; the problem came in being so naïve as to imagine the arrival of Curses Anonymous would go unnoticed in a place as small as Les Menuires, and in a craft community as tightly knit as theirs. Rob had to tell Luc before Luc imagined a worst-case scenario.

  But, selfishly, Rob wanted to give Luc a perfect date first.

  ROB watched Luc warm up on the bunny hill. Stretching, lunging, twisting—Rob’s brain went sideways as a few of the moves made Luc’s tight ski pants stretch over his thighs. Surreptitiously Rob lifted his own recently injured knee to check the movement, pleased with the range of motion. He was also pleased to have a distraction from whatever Luc was currently doing with his body; the bunny hill was no place for a hard-on, as small starfish-shaped children followed their instructors down the slope in uneven snakes, some with parents cheering from the side.

  Pizza and french fries. Rob remembered his instructor teaching him to imagine slices of pizza and straight french fries to correctly place his skis when he was learning. He’d moved quickly on to snowboarding, partially to avoid spending half his lessons longing for fast food.

  Rob wondered if French instructors used the same images. What would be more appropriate? Baguettes? Rob’s stomach rumbled and he shook his head.

  “I have to stop thinking about food,” he muttered before checking Luc’s progress and snorting. “Are you doing the fu—the plank?” Rob shifted from swearing, aware of little ears. He strode over to Luc and nudged him lightly with his boot. “Stop messing about. Are we doing this or not?”

  Luc flipped onto his back, his grin wide and bright and his breath curling into pale smoke. Rob couldn’t see behind the reflective lens of Luc’s goggles but could easily imagine the crinkles at the corners of Luc’s eyes.

  “Took you long enough,” Luc said, still grinning. He spread his limbs to make a snow angel. “Thought I would have to go full training montage for you to pay me any attention.”

  Rob leaned down, folding at the waist, and lowered his voice. “I’m always paying attention.” They were almost close enough to kiss. Luc licked his lips with a dart of his tempting tongue, his breath coming quick. Rob imagined Luc’s beautiful eyes dilating. Then he bopped Luc’s helmet with his own. “Come on, Marling. Up and at ’em!”

  “You fucking tease,” Luc said with apparently no compunction about little ears. He followed Rob along to where they’d stashed their gear, at the side of the bunny hill where the morning groomers had banked the snow.

  Rob had rented a snowboard and boots for Luc after texting him for details on size and height. He’d considered loaning his own gear, but given Luc’s confidence skiing, Rob thought Luc might learn the basics quickly and want to try bigger hills. Rob remembered how confidence did most of the heavy lifting when he was learning, along with riding with more skilled friends. But if Luc preferred to stay on the bunny hill, Rob didn’t mind. He just wanted to spend time together. Especially if their time together might end after he told Luc about his family.

  “All right, how are we doing this? Because the sooner I fall over, the sooner I can attempt to regain my dignity.” Luc lifted his feet one by one, inspecting his boots. “Though I have to say, I’m liking these boots. Maybe we can dance on tables later?”

  “I have plans for later.”

  “Is that so? What plans?”

  “I’ll reveal my cunning plan to you piece by piece,” Rob said, affecting his best archvillain voice. When Luc looked uneasy instead of amused, Rob abruptly remembered Nessom and all the things they weren’t saying to each other. He changed tack and loosed a dramatic sigh. “Fine, you’ve got me. There’s cheese involved.”

  “Sentient?” Luc asked, his posture relaxing.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  Luc smiled and grabbed the rented snowboard. “Sounds excellent. Now how do I strap onto this plank? You didn’t need to go to the trouble of renting, by the way. I could’ve borrowed Eloise’s gear.”

  “Here, let me show you.” Rob guided Luc through strapping into the snowboard bindings and helped him tighten them, letting Luc use his shoulder for balance. “And you said your sister rides?”

  “For years.”

  “Well, I haven’t met her, but I doubt her board would be righ
t for you, and certainly not as a beginner. It’d be too short. You’d spend half your time eating snow.”

  Despite the goggles, Luc’s skeptical expression was perfectly clear. “Like I won’t anyway.”

  For a heartbeat Rob considered not doing it. But his instructor had, and it had helped him, so…. Taking advantage of surprise, he pushed Luc gently in the chest.

  Luc’s shriek as he landed on his arse made everyone turn to stare, and Rob cackled as Luc floundered, his bright-red cheeks contrasting beautifully with the black of his goggles and helmet straps. Embarrassment was the only color on him aside from the perfect pout of his pink lips.

  “You fucker!” Luc yelled, his blush darkening as he amended, “You not-very-nice man, I mean.”

  Offering his hand, Rob helped Luc up and steadied him until he regained his balance, relieved when Luc didn’t shrug him away. The joke could’ve ended badly, he knew. He had to take the chance Luc would trust his good intentions.

  Rob didn’t want to think about trust. He pressed a quick kiss to Luc’s hot cheek. “There, you’ve fallen now. You know what to expect.”

  “Psychology, is it?” Luc said, his tone more snide than genuinely hurt. The corner of his mouth quirked. “Kiss me properly, and I’ll forgive you.”

  Rob didn’t see reason to refuse. Holding Luc’s hands in their bulky gloves, Rob steadied them both as he kissed the smirk from Luc’s lips. Luc answered with a claiming slide of lips that warmed Rob down to his toes. When the kiss ended, Rob was surprised to find the snow hadn’t melted around their boots. Luc’s tension had melted, at least, his shoulders finally down from around his ears, his knees unlocked.

  Rob cleared his throat. “Okay. Snowboarding.”

  “That’s right. Are you going to teach me this ridiculous sport or not?”

  “I’m going to push you down this hill if you’re not careful, is what I’m going to do,” Rob teased.

  “Promises, promises.” Luc bit his lip. “This is going to end badly for me, isn’t it?”

  “It could be worse. At least while I’m holding your hands, I can’t take pictures.” Luc clung more firmly to Rob’s hands, and Rob laughed as the movement almost unbalanced him. “Easy. Now bend your knees. Sink your hips. That’s it, that’s good. Stop trying to crush my fingers, you brat, or I’ll drop you into another snowdrift.”

  Giving careful instruction and dogged by the sense he was making a hash of things, Rob guided Luc to a clear part of the hill and encouraged him to put his weight back and feel his heel edge bite into the snow. He hadn’t taught anyone before, and the official instructors directed the stink eye at him, but after Rob gave Luc a few more chaste kisses of encouragement, they backed off. Boyfriends weren’t going to take business from private instructors.

  Rob almost heard the record scratch in his brain as he caught up with his own thoughts. Boyfriends? How had that thought snuck in?

  Shaking his head, Rob redoubled his concentration on teaching. Once Luc had conquered his edges, Rob walked him through “falling leaf,” a sideways movement sliding on the heel edge of the snowboard. Luc had a few unsteady moments where his arms threatened to windmill, but Rob kept him upright.

  They progressed as other beginners yelled and cheered one another on during formal lessons or playing with friends. Rob and Luc weren’t the only beginners over four feet tall: a few skiers with Scottish accents were encouraging one another nearby, and another group was guiding a grandfatherly figure on a snowboard cushioned with an overkill of charms. Rob kept an eye on the other learners as he coached Luc, not wanting Luc to lose confidence if someone collided with him. Rob remembered their first meeting all too well.

  Luc advanced to his toe edge and then linked a few increasingly steady turns, enough to make him confident.

  “I want more of a run,” he said while Rob showed him how to unstrap the snowboard bindings. “It’s hard to get going when I have to keep stopping and starting all the time.”

  Rob concentrated on Luc’s feet, not wanting to memorize his new perspective on his knees. Luc’s ski pants were really tight. Rob was grateful he had baggier snowboard pants on; between Luc’s competence on the snowboard, the happy flush of exertion on his cheeks, and his general Luc-ness, Rob had been a distracted mess most of the morning. Not to mention “boyfriends.” He was surprised they hadn’t taken out several of the starfish-shaped kids at some point when he was more interested in looking at Luc’s mouth than where they were going. There was certainly ample opportunity.

  “Longer run it is, then,” he agreed.

  Gods help them both.

  THE longer run was a terrible idea.

  For Rob’s ego.

  After a fun and increasingly humbling afternoon, they sat together in the gondola leading down to the village. They were alone in the cabin, and Rob took advantage of their privacy to watch the way the afternoon light played on Luc’s face. Luc had his helmet on his lap and his goggles pushing back his hair, red lines scoring his cheeks from where the goggles had rested, and he had the slightest hint of a tan. Rob wanted to run his thumbs along the marks and smooth them clear. He wanted to kiss the creases in the corners of Luc’s eyes.

  Forcing his gaze away, Rob knocked his shoulder into Luc’s. “You can tell me. You’ve been snowboarding before, haven’t you?”

  Luc laughed. “You saw me this morning. Did it look like I knew what I was doing?”

  “You’re a snowboard shark. A sharkboard,” Rob said, wishing he hadn’t.

  Luc laughed again, then looked away, ducking his head. If he didn’t have the goggles, his hair would’ve covered his eyes. “Beginner’s luck.”

  “You were amazing! That’s not luck, Luc. That’s skill.” Rob edged closer, though they couldn’t be any closer other than occupying the same place. He rested his hand on Luc’s thigh. “Seriously. You smoked me completely on that blue run.”

  “I was inspired by how much closer I’d be to bed once I got to the end,” Luc said. He glanced at Rob from the corner of his eye. “That’s all.”

  Rob pressed a kiss to the sharp, perfect line of Luc’s stubbled jaw. “Beds haven’t been far from my mind all day, if I’m honest.”

  “Cheesy,” Luc said but lifted his chin to give Rob better access. “Was this your plan? You can keep doing that, by the way.”

  Rob happily obeyed. By the time they reached the gondola station, their cabin windows were steamed up, and Luc’s lips were kiss bruised. Rob swaggered off the gondola after Luc and waggled his eyebrows at the liftie, who gave him a thumbs-up behind Luc’s back. If Rob had known the French for “you’re goddamned right,” he’d’ve said it proudly.

  Between kisses, they’d agreed to shower and change before dinner, and Rob waved dorkily at Luc as they parted. He didn’t press his own swollen lips, though he thought about it. He tried not to think about much of anything, especially how close he might be to losing Luc and how much he’d be devastated by the loss despite knowing him for such a short time. Yet Rob’s family had studied craft from all over the world, and he knew no magic could fix a heart when it broke.

  “SO this is the cheese.”

  Rob twirled his fork, watching strings of molten cheese twist around the handle. “Cunning enough for you?”

  Luc peered at the raclette grill. “Positively dastardly, for my arteries at least.”

  “Bad idea?”

  “Piss off. This was an excellent idea. Okay, I’m going in.”

  Rob had been nervous about their dinner since it was their first actual “date.” Beers and snowboarding were great, but he wanted to show Luc he valued him as more than a fuckbuddy. Even if they hadn’t actually fucked. Even if they weren’t buddies by the time they got the check.

  After a thorough internet search, Rob had chosen a restaurant with great reviews for everything—apart from its lack of magic. Rob visited to double-check no magic was used at all on the property, as some restaurants used subtle charms to keep plates warm or light dingier cor
ners. He didn’t want Luc uncomfortable through dinner for the sake of better lighting.

  Though Rob had made sure to call ahead for a table where he could see his plate. He didn’t read the reviews for nothing. From their corner table, they could both see the door, and the nearest diners were far enough away their conversations were murmurs. The best part was their table was small enough their knees touched. At first by accident, then deliberately. Rob nudged Luc again as he sipped his wine, taking a bigger gulp than he intended because, despite his efforts, tension had taken a seat at their small table.

  If all were right, the only tension would be in Rob’s pants. Luc had dressed in tight jeans, boots, a black shirt that caught the light, and his gray woolen coat. He’d done something with his hair to make it curl around his face like the cherubs in Renaissance paintings, but his dark eyes were pure wickedness. When he strode into view, Rob had nearly stumbled from a standing position.

  And yet here they were. Luc’s lower lip was plump from worried biting, and Rob’s stomach crawled with nerves. He eyed a piece of meat on the platter as he spoke, trying for casual.

  “So how many times have you visited Les Menuires? Before working here, I mean.”

  Luc shrugged, toying with his fork. “Every year since I can remember, apart from when I was studying. Twenty times? More?”

  “Where did you study?” Maybe Rob could choke on a piece of cheese. At least the conversation would be over.

  “I went to Durham. It’s a small city. More tea shops than people.”

  Rob snorted. “I’m pretty sure that isn’t true.”

  “Have you ever been to Durham?”

  His chance. Rob rolled his glass between his hands as he picked his way toward the conversation he wanted to start. “I’ve not been to Durham, but I’ve been a lot of other places with my family. We travel a lot. We work—we’re—” He blew out a breath. Get it over with. “Have you ever seen Curses Anonymous?”