Jack
“I’m notone to gossip, but it’s my responsibility to look out for the folks in this town. Men like you waltz in here, fluff a lot of feathers, and then prance on out with a fuller dance card, leaving heartbreak in your wake. I won’t even get started on how you’re taking local business away as well. That’s a whole other conversation we’ll have.” Lenny McKenna holds on to my forearm, waiting for me to respond to her dutiful accusations.
As soon as I stepped into the gondola, I knew I was in for a brutal assault by the sixty-something self-appointed town squire. There were a few snowboarders who jumped off a few stops earlier, and it didn’t stop her from loudly declaring me “the big city manwhore” as soon as I sat down. I was almost positive, after being here for a few weeks now, that Strutt’s Peak may have been without the nosy know-it-all who typically comes with a small town like this. As it turns out, I just haven’t been approached by any of the vultures yet. They’ve just been watching, circling, and waiting to spar when I was alone.
I just smile at her. I’m usually pretty good with charming older women, but I can tell this one is going to give me a run for my money. “I came here to do some work for the Riggs family. My sister and nephew just moved into town as well.”
“Oh, I know your sister. She’s a tough nut to crack, that one.” She rolls her eyes. “Your nephew, however, is just a doll. He helps me find some of the best books in that store. Real talent, that one. I hear he likes to climb. Makin’ a name for himself on the mountains with the help of Michael Riggs. Good boy, that one too. A little awkward, but those Riggs kids have been through a lot, and they all turned out alright, if you ask me.” I didn't, but she keeps going anyway.
“Except for Lawrence. He’s a pain in my ass.” She tuts and then nudges my shoulder. “I hear you’re getting cozy with Everly, though. We all thought she might have been asexual, not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m not one to judge, but she’s so damn gorgeous I was hoping she’d bat for the girls-only team, if you know what I mean.” She nudges me again and then looks ahead as the gondola dings for its next stop. It makes me laugh. I know exactly what she means. My girl is damn gorgeous. Hm, my girl. I haven’t thought about a woman in that way before. As mine. Without being able to overthink it, Lennie knocks me out of my head as she gossips on. “I figured out I was a lesbian after twenty-seven years of marriage to my darling Paul. We stayed married after I came out, and made it work for both of our needs. Saint of a man. He’s been gone now for damn near a decade. The fucker was my best friend and decided to have a heart attack while he was having sex with his girlfriend. Such a cliche, right?”
This woman just keeps talking, and it's nice to listen to people who like to share the chaos of their own lives. It’s incredible the things you can find out by simply saying nothing. However, Lenny McKenna might be the worst kind of talker. The one who talks to fill the silence. The one who will think we’re friends after she word vomits all over me.
I’ve always been a good listener, an observer. It helped me survive as a kid countless times and not just the horror that was the first nine years of my life. It's what made the foster care system and adoption bearable. Manageable. I could learn how to stay on people's good sides without testing limits that could end with me or my sister learning more lessons that ended in tears. It’s helped to build my business and most of the companies I currently own. I’m a silent partner. It's been working in my favor for most of my life.
Years of therapy meant I had to be on the other side of it, talking about all the shit that happened and about how things made me feel. It was never easy. Still isn’t. Anybody who has gone through and survived abuse or trauma knows that saying anything about it out loud, acknowledging it, is like experiencing it all over again. It was for me, at least. Listening to others. Hearing what my therapist would suggest about how to move on from it all and working to live with it. It keeps my anger at a manageable level.
“Is it true, then?” She looks back at me, waiting for some kind of response to a question I’m sure I’ve missed.
“Is what true, Mrs. McKenna?”
“You call me Lenny, kid. And don’t insult my intelligence. You look like, well…you.” She motions up and down, pointing from my head to my feet. “And she looks like the gods favored her most when she was made, so I know that if you two were in the same room, sparks would turn to fireworksrealfast.” She’s right, but I’m not willing to feed the town gossip monster. Instead, I smile at her as she stands to get off the stop.
“She is a beautiful woman. You’ve got that part right. The rest, well…” I smile at her again. “We’re just friends.” And just as she stands and turns to get off the gondola, with a smirk and a huff from not getting her dirt, the door opens, and the topic of our conversation is standing right there. Everly Riggs, angry and out of breath, might be my new favorite. She looks up from studying something on the ground intently, lost in thought. The moment her eyes meet mine, I feel the electricity. There’s some kind of magic swirling around that woman, because I felt her before I saw her standing there. Warmth and knowing. If I believed in magic, then I’d say my soul has found its equal, and it signals my body, letting me know that she’s near. But I feel more comfortable with the idea that it’s simply an intense attraction. A physical need to be with her again.
Before Lenny leaves the gondola car, she looks between the two of us, smiles to herself, and shakes her head. “Friends, my ass,” she mumbles as she leaves. If the town gossip had an inkling before, now she has a first-hand glimpse of the way this woman looks at me. I’m looking at her in the same way; like I want to save her, comfort her, kneel before her, restrain her, burrow deep into every part of her body. She can call it whatever she wants, but it’s not any version of friendship that I’ve had. It’s more.
Everly steps into the gondola car, and instinct tells me that she needs to be in my arms. She closes the gap between us immediately and wraps her arms around my neck, burying her face in my chest. Throwing her legs on each side of mine, she straddles my lap. I lean into her and grip tighter.
“Hey, beautiful,” I whisper, as I breathe in the smell of her, oranges and cinnamon fusing right to my senses.She takes a deep breath the same way I did when she wrapped herself around me. When she leans back slightly to look at me, there’s a fire in her eyes, and the plumes of smoke are billowing out, surrounding me. I want nothing more than to taste her skin again. I kiss the inside of her wrist that's turned toward me, resting on my shoulder.
The gondola tilts me forward, and her back, as it starts to glide out over the mountain. Each stop is marked with the time in between each station. From here to our next is just over eight minutes. We have eight minutes alone right now, and I can do a lot in that amount of time. And damn, do I want to. I look at her mouth, lips slightly parted, and then raise my eyes to hers, making sure I’m not reading her wrong. She doesn’t say anything. She licks her lips and rocks forward, grinding down on my already hard cock. Her smirk answers my unspoken question.It looks like she wants to go for a ride,and I’m all about giving this woman anything she wants.