AllFreeNovel
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With the famous duo The Wessons as parents, there was never any chance Elvie wouldn’t be both a born showman and also completely full of himself.
I sometimes jokingly call him my sea lion, because I really think he could perform all day and night for the next sixty years and die happy. And unmarried. And childless. Probably with gonorrhea from the groupies.
Jamie bats at my hands. “Put that phone up, girl. You don’t need to be his babysitter.”
I give her a long blink. “I was looking at the weather, bitch.”
She snaps her fingers in my face. “That’s easy. Snow.”
“And snow.”
“And more and more snow.” She rubs her skinny hands together. “I can’t wait to ski!”
Five hours later, we’re doing just that. I’ve got a hunter green snowsuit Elvie gave me for Christmas, “for when the paparazzi stalk you,” and by all accounts, it seems to be doing its job. It’s too dark on the artificially-lit slopes for anyone to recognize my face, but I’ve gotten three offers to head down to the bars, and two unsolicited phone numbers. This all in the last hour.
The night ski crowd is young and horny.
Jamie and I ski down behind a group of high schoolers, and afterward she says, “I’m going to the women’s room.”
“Okay. Meet you back down here in 10 or 15.”
“You should give me your phone.”
I stick my tongue out at her, then ski over to the lifts. I wait a few minutes for an unoccupied pod, and when the crowd around me only grows, I get into one of the little pods with two guys.
I try to ignore them, looking down at my phone. Somewhere along the ascent, I get two bars of service. I want to see if Elvie’s texted me a compliment on the ski suit ass shot I sent earlier.
Just as I confirm there’s no text waiting in my inbox, I feel a pair of eyes on me. A second later, one of the guys says, “Hey…are you that girl?”
Despite my lousy mood, I’m prepared, and flash a quick smile his way. “Yes. I’m definitely that girl.”
I hear a cough, followed by rich laughter, and look up into a handsome face.
The guy who first spoke rolls his eyes at his companion, the dark-haired, dark-eyed guy who’s giving me a lets-fuck look.
“I’m Dove,” the first guy—a blue-eyed ginger—says. He jerks his thumb at brown eyes, beside him. “This is my buddy, Breck.”
The dark one pulls a glove off. Holds his hand out. “John is the name.” He cuts his eyes at Dove, who shrugs.
“I think I know you, too. Weren’t you in a movie?” Breck-or-John asks.
I smile. “Was I?”
“She was,” Dove says.
I flirt with them until the lift lets us off at the top of one of the easier black diamonds—the only one that’s open at this moment for night skiing.
Even in my Elvie-distracted state, I’ve learned these two are in “the service,” probably the Service-My-Cock-Tonight arm of the military, because they claim the last time they were here, they were skiing alongside President Obama and his family.
“You think I believe that?” I ask, cocking a thin, shaded brow at them.
When we all get off the lift, the one called Dove hands me a small pair of binoculars and says, “Watch and you decide.”
I watch them until the course turns so sharply, they move out of sight. I have to admit, they’re really fucking good. They ski like pros, and I would know. My younger cousin is one.
I find them beaming at me at the bottom of the slope. Jamie is standing by them, chatting animatedly, as if they all are friends.
When I stop, they ski over. I give her a confused look, and she smirks. “I see you’ve met our neighbor and his friend.”
