The restaurant has a great menu, but it also has an incredible salad bar. We both fill small plates with fruit. Neither of us wants to eat a big meal and look bloated in our bikinis.
The fruit is good, but I’m still hungry when we leave. French toast, eggs, and bacon would have really hit the spot. I think I could eat enough to walk out of here looking five months pregnant, and my cover-up would do nothing to hide it. Wouldn’t that be a sight to see?
As we leave the restaurant, I take in the spectacular view through the wall of glass facing the mountains. It’s even more breathtaking in the daylight. I also spot the three Sweetbriar boys sitting at a table outside by the pool. They each have a mug in front of them, probably coffee. They’re wearing swim trunks and T-shirts, which means it must be warm, just as the guy at the check-in counter indicated.
I’m glad to see about a dozen people in the pool. Iwouldn’t go near it if Rhonda and I were the only ones. At the same time, I’m a bit surprised. I would have assumed that people came to a ski lodge to ski. Maybe they’re like us and just want to have fun and relax.
Rhonda suddenly perks up at the sight of Damon. “I feel like a swim.”
Why am I not surprised? “Sure.”
As we walk up to say hi to the guys, their eyes travel up and down our bodies then linger on our chests. Men! So typical. I glance over, and from Rhonda’s seductive posture, she’s absolutely fine with it. More than fine actually, she loves this kind of attention. I, on the other hand, think it’s rude, and more than ever I wish my cover-up was a real cover-up. I practically feel naked by the way they’re staring.
“We’re going for a swim,” Rhonda announces. “Do you want to join us?”
Her shoulders are back, pushing her voluptuous chest out. Oh brother. But the way the boys are drooling, I have to admit, my girl knows what she’s doing.
Then I see it. From the noticeable bulges growing in their shorts, maybe she’s a little too good at driving boys crazy with her curves, and that sets off some alarms. Before this gets out of hand, I want a minute alone with my friend. “Why don’t you boys go check out the water and let us know if it’s too cold? We’ll be there in a minute.”
They each nod eagerly and head straight for the pool while pulling their shirts off. Honestly, if I asked them to stuff their dicks in the snow to see how deep it is, they’d probably do it. What is it about a girl in a bikini that makes men lose the ability to think? Perhaps it’s because they’re so simple-minded to begin with.
As soon as they’re gone, I turn to her. “You know what you’re doing, right?”
Her hands shoot disapprovingly to her hips. “Jeez, Maddie, I’m not fifteen.”
Suddenly I feel like an overprotective big sister. And in this situation, maybe I am. What’s wrong with that? “I know. I just don’t want you to get hurt. That’s all.”
She studies me for a minute before narrowing her eyes. “I know what this is.” She reaches over and gently takes my hand in a motherly sort of way. “I know you’re still hurting over what happened with Jake. I would be too.” Then her face brightens. “Tell you what, I’ll be careful, I promise.” I almost believe her, but she can’t help the facetious grin tugging at her lips as she adds, “But not too careful! Which one of them do you think is packing the biggest sausage? Damon, right?”
And there it is. “Rhonda!”
She stomps her foot playfully. “Oh, c’mon, we’re here to have fun, remember? Don’t be like that.”
I can’t help it and roll my eyes with, “Okay you little slut, I hope you have the perfect weekend. You deserve—”
“Do you smell that?” she says interrupting me. Her gaze darts to the forest far off to our left.
Alarm bells are going off in my head as I turn to where it seems like it’s coming from. “Yeah, smells like smoke. You don’t think it could be a—”
“Forest fire?” With squinted eyes she’s scowling at the tree line off in the distance. “That would be just great! I knew this was too good to be true.”
I’m in total agreement. A wildfire would ruin everything, and I can’t help feeling it would be so fitting with how lifenever gives us a break. A fire would probably mean they’d close the lodge and we’d have to pack up and go home. But only if it is a forest fire. “Maybe it’s something else, something harmless like the restaurant doing an outdoor barbecue.”
That’s a stretch, and we both know it. If they were having a barbecue, it wouldn’t be out in the forest. We also know it’s not a campfire because we just happen to know those aren’t allowed here. Before we came, the guys talked about building a bonfire in the snow. It’s what we do in Sweetbriar. Every party has a bonfire so boys can stand around the inferno while trying to look cool as they drink way too much. With that in mind, they looked it up, and to their grave disappointment they found out that fires of any kind are strictly prohibited to prevent this very thing from happening. Yet somehow, it appears there’s a forest fire anyway. Figures. Fuck my life.
Rhonda squints, trying to make out the source of the smoke. “Should we tell someone? I mean, you see forest fires in California all the time. Maybe they can put this one out before it’s too late.”
I consider her suggestion for a moment. “I’m sure they already know, right?” We both let our eyes drift from the pool to the bustling bodies inside the lodge, and it doesn’t look like anyone notices, or if they do, they aren’t concerned in the least. Some people are lounging in the hot tubs while others are heading out to hit the ski lifts, and still others are sitting at tables outside the food court eating and talking as if nothing unusual is happening. Even the lodge’s staff with their matching red polo shirts are scurrying about performing their duties like nothing out of the ordinary ishappening. “Maybe it’s a controlled burn,” I suggest. “They do those all the time to prevent fires.”
“Maybe,” Rhonda mutters, clearly not convinced. “But wouldn’t there be a lot more smoke?”
She has a point. There would be a lot of smoke with either a controlled burn or an actual forest fire.
She points toward the mountains, and it takes a second before I see it. At the base of the tree line there’s a small plume of smoke like you would expect from a single chimney. I think I might know what it is.
“It’s probably from a lightning strike,” I explain. “They just had a big storm, so it makes sense. We’ve seen the same thing in Sweetbriar plenty of times.”
It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, everyone knows that a tree trunk, or whatever was struck, can smolder for days and all it takes is a good breeze to start a fire that can get out of control fast. No one wants a forest fire, so whenever you come across something like that, you do the responsible thing and put it out.
