“It was perfect for you.” She unbuckled her boots. “I thought I saw that hottie from the bar the other night too.”
“Hmmm. I don’t know.” I turned back to my locker to get my patrol badge. I clipped the plastic encased photo onto my jacket.
The volume in the room rose with laughter and conversation.
“He’s the one that hit a tree, right?”
I looked at Thomas. “You ready?” Then, to Margo I said, “Yeah, two days ago.”
Thomas headed out, holding the door, and I followed behind him.
Margo shouted after me, with a hint of laughter, “I’m just sayin’, he’s hot!”
My skis rested in the rack reserved for patrollers next to the tram. I held them by the bindings and stepped into the tram.
People boarded behind us. One last rider stepped in just before the doors closed. He squeezed himself past everyone with an occasional “Excuse me,” and “how ya doin’?” until he was standing beside me and Thomas. He put out his hand to Thomas. “How ya doin? Brett Barringer.”
Thomas shook his hand. “Thomas Wolfe. Nice to meet you.”
Brett held on to his skis.
The tram lurched and he reached up to hold the hand rail. He leaned down and whispered in my ear in greeting, “Elizabeth.”
Chapter 9
Brett kept hisdistance, allowing me to work.
I kept my distance from Thomas, not wanting to answer his question, “Something going on with you two?”
We were teaching a group of middle school girls, on vacation with their families, the importance of how to handle a toboggan during a rescue mission. They were having a blast taking turns being the victim.
“It’s just, he seems awfully familiar with you,” Thomas said, skiing backwards in front of me as I held onto the front of the toboggan.
“Okay, girls, what do I do on a steep downhill?” I asked
They responded from the toboggan, “Vary the speed.”
“Good.” To Thomas I said, “He’s a patient. I can’t help it if he wants to flirt with me.”
“He just seems really familiar with you.”
It was none of his business, so I ignored him.
The rest of the afternoon was a combination of kids falling off the chairlift at the top when trying to get off, snowboarders going too fast and cutting off skiers, and a hotshot hanging from the lift on a dare from his friends.
The lights turned on around 3 p.m. for night skiing. I finished my patrol shift at 8 p.m. uneventfully.
Thomas tried to talk to me again, but I changed and ran out of the patrol office as fast as I could.
When I got home, Brett was waiting in the driveway. His truck was running. When he saw me pull in, he turned it off and stepped out with a bag of groceries.
“Have you been here long?” I slung my crossbody bag over me.
“No. I bought chicken and couscous and purple carrots. Have you ever seen these things? I didn’t know they existed.” He followed me up the stairs.
I unlocked the door and held it open for him. He kicked off his boots inside the door and kept talking. “Apparently, they originated over a thousand years ago and have less lycopene than their orange cousin.”
He put the bags on the counter and started unloading. I followed him in and opened a bottle of wine.