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Zoey walks in, turning to face the mirrored doors. I follow after her, watching as they close behind us, locking us in, the small space suddenly feeling a whole lot smaller. I lift my gaze to find her watching me in the mirror, a curious look on her face that has me smiling.
“I know a place,” I continue, licking my bottom lip. “Maybe you’ve heard of it? Holden Winter Gear?”
The doors ping open just as Zoey says, “Ethan!”
Laughing, I once again hold the door as I motion for her to step out. “What?”
“Seriously, you bought something from Holden?”
“Yep.”
“And you…you paid for it?”
Laughing again, I reply, “Well, I didn’t steal it.”
Zoey shakes her head as she steps out of the elevator, and I follow after her. “You shouldn’t have paid for it,” she mutters. “I would’ve got you something.”
Falling in step beside her, I nudge her shoulder. “I never expected you to do that.”
She glances at me as we walk down the long corridor toward the ski hut. “I know you didn’t,” she says. “But still.”
Leaning closer, I say, “It’s all good, Zoey.”
She looks over again, stalling out a little when she realizes just how close we are. My eyes drop to her mouth, to the way her lips part ever so slightly, as that intoxicating scent of hers washes over me. Fuck, what the hell am I doing here?
“Okay,” she nods. “But we still need to get you skis.”
“Got all that too,” I say with a wink. “Skis, boots, gloves, helmet. Some guy named Marco was very helpful, actually.”
Zoey lets out an exhale, shaking her head at me, even as a smile teases her mouth. “You’re impossible,” she mutters.
The staff area is quiet, most people have gone home or are out on the slopes. We don’t generally open them to tourists in the evening, as all the lifts are closed anyway. Staff members always sign a waiver when they start here, acknowledging that skiing at night is at their own discretion and risk.
I change into my pants and jacket in the men’s locker room, grabbing all the gear I bought and heading back out to find Zoey waiting for me. Fuck, if I thought she looked good in that ski gear in the photo, it’s also got nothing on how she looks in ski gear in real life.
Really fucking good.
“You good?” she asks, giving me a quick once over.
“Yeah,” I reply, swallowing hard. “I look the part, right?”
Zoey gives me another once over, laughing a little as she says, “Yeah, you do. You wear the Holden brand well,” she adds, giving me a wink.
I laugh, falling into step beside her as we head outside, grabbing our skis from the rack and making our way over to what I know is the beginner’s area. “By the way, thanks for sending that stuff through to my friends,” I say, remembering the phone call I got from Tracy this afternoon.
“No worries,” she says, smiling. “Tracy is really sweet. And she’s really excited to come out next week and take a look around.”
“Yeah, it’ll be great to see them again,” I say.
“They’re good friends?”
I nod. “Yeah, Brandon is my best friend. We went to high school together, college together, started a company together.”
Zoey stops and I do the same. “It must be tough living here with them in Seattle,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “It would be nice if we still lived in the same city, but we catch up when we can.”
She watches me for a second, as though she’s trying to decide if she wants to ask more. But with a quick shake of her head, she drops her skis on the ground and says, “Okay, so this is how you’re going to put your skis on.”
