I barked a laugh. “You catch on quick.”
His pretty smile lit his eyes and beamed like a ray of sunshine, making it impossible not to return the gesture.
“Well, you’re with the right guy this time. I’ll take care of you. No rogue trees today. And no limp dicks, which also means no kiddie runs.” He pointed at the oversized map and traced his proposed route. “We’ll take the All-Mountain Express and go down the Westridge Park run to—”
“No way! That goes to the top of the mountain. I can’t do that.”
“Sure, you can. These are easy-to-intermediate runs. And there’s barely anyone out there yet. You couldn’t ask for better conditions.”
“Fine,” I griped, heading for the back of the line. I followed his lead and popped my skis onto my boots. “Let’s go meet a few fucking trees.”
Liam snorted. “Fucking trees…as in trees that are gettin’ it on?”
“That’s not a thing.”
“Thankfully no, but I met this artist once who was into the ‘sexual voice of the planet.’ She drew pictures of every living thing mating. Trees, bees, birds, bears…you name it. Of course, her subjects were anthropomorphized, so it was like seeing Yogi Bear mate with Papa Bear. Trippy shit.”
“Papa Bear?”
“From Goldilocks.”
“Gotcha. Did it turn you on?” I asked unthinking.
“Fuck, no. I had to go home and watch a few hours of human porn to get that imagery out of my head.”
We flashed our badges to the attendant on duty and hopped onto the chairlift, settling our poles beside us and swaying our skis in midair as our gondola lurched skyward.
“Hours? Do you watch a lot of porn?”
He shifted on the narrow seat and gave me a serious look. “Define ‘a lot.’ ”
“More than an hour every day.”
“Hmm. It varies. One day I’ll watch five minutes and get bored. The next I might have a porn-athon.”
I hooted. “A porn-athon?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t had one. I’ll know you’re lying,” he singsonged.
“I admit I’ve watched my fair share, but not all day. Porn gets boring after a while.”
“All porn is not created equally.”
I snickered. “True. But could you really watch it all day long?”
“Nah, I don’t have time for that. You gotta have a clear calendar for a porn-athon and zero guilt about sitting around with your hand on your dick all day,” he replied conversationally.
Seriously. We could have been discussing the weather.
“When was the last time you did that?”
Liam gave a mischievous lopsided grin. “June twenty-eighth.”
I threw my head back and guffawed. “You’re full of shit.”
“C’mon, do you really expect me to remember details and advertise?”
“I guess not.”
“Oh, and in case you’re curious, I watch everything. Gay, bi, straight…”
I shook my head in mock censure, but my grin gave me away. “Thanks for sharing. This is probably the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had.”
“Ever? We can do better. In the meantime…we’re here. Grab your pole…s. Let’s go.” He cupped his junk, then tugged my jacket and glided off the lift in a graceful arc.
My dismount wasn’t as pretty. I landed with one ski on top of the other and almost tripped out of the binding. I regained my balance at the last second and met Liam at the ridge overlooking the view of the summit.
The stunning winter wonderland panorama was dotted with impossibly tall evergreens flocked with snow and the pristine hills glistening in the morning sun. It was so quiet, I could almost imagine we were alone in the world. That was precisely the kind of thought that freaked me out sometimes. But not today. Today the idea seemed…promising. Maybe even cleansing, like a new start.
“It’s beautiful,” I said reverently.
“This is one of the reasons I like coming out here early. The light is so brilliant. It looks like a postcard or the photo in the dictionary next to the word ‘hope.’ ”
“That’s a nice thought.”
We shared a smile; then he adjusted his goggles and inclined his head meaningfully. “Ready?”
“Yeah, but…you go first.”
“C’mere.” Liam crooked his finger.
I shuffled forward until I stood beside him with our skis pointing in the opposite direction, expecting him to impart some advice about the terrain or maybe remind me how to stop. Both might have been helpful, actually.
“What is it?”
“Hold on to my sleeve. Stay still. That’s perfect.” He stroked my chin before leaning in to press his lips to mine. “You taste like cherry ChapStick. I like.”
I grinned. “Thanks. So do you.”
He kissed me again, twisting his tongue with mine and leaving me breathless. “Mmm. I’m making it my personal quest to make sure you get down this mountain safely and that you have fun doing it.”
“Good luck with that,” I sighed, aware that my voice had taken on a dreamy quality.
“I don’t need luck. I’m an expert,” he bragged playfully. “I’m going to give you a couple of tips. Listen up.”
“I’m listening.”
“Bend your knees and stay loose.”