Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) Page 8

I could hear people coming up the stairs and turned to look. It was a young couple busily chatting to one another. They took one of the tables in the back.

  “How did it come about that he asked you to run it,” I asked. “You were still in Virginia then.”

  “Yeah, but I still talked to Carrie’s mom, she knew my business was failing. I think she always felt bad about Carrie leaving me. She actually suggested the fresh start.”

  “So you ran that for a season and then went back into the construction thing,” I said, remembering some of my mom’s grilling.

  “Gotta pay bills, and the seasonal stuff wasn’t cutting it for me,” Ryan said.

  “Another round?” the bartender asked noticing our glasses were almost empty.

  “Ryan?” I asked.

  He smiled at me.

  “Only if I’m buying though,” I said winking. “Yes, thank you, we will have another round.”

  The bartender nodded and moved away behind the bar to pour the beers. I watched as he took two frosted glasses out of the cooler and then pulled the tap towards him filling them one by one.

  “I’m so excited about moving here next month, I can hardly stand it.”

  The whole idea of a new place, living on my own for the first time, and being able to ski on top of it thrilled me. The bartender removed our empty glasses and put the fresh beers down.

  Ryan smiled and lifted his glass to me.

  “It should be an interesting winter for you.”

  During the months leading up to the move, Mom had cried several times, and I felt bad for her and me. We would miss each other horribly. And it wasn’t like I could drop in and chat. One good thing, with both her kids gone, I knew she would call often.

  I don’t think Max believed I would go up until the day I packed my car and drove out of my driveway. He looked sad, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Instead, the actual leaving was liberating. The further I got away from home, the more energized I became about my decision for change.

  “I’m still shocked. As much as I wanted you to come, I didn’t think you would. I didn’t think you would give up everything,” Pat said one night while we were sitting in the hot tub.

  Pat was relaxed, his head tipped back, his arms stretched out, resting on the edge. I was leaning against the side, half of my body out in the cool air because I was too hot.

  “What looks like everything sometimes isn’t,” I said.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “When people look at other people’s lives, sometimes they think they have it all or have it figured out, and sometimes they just don’t. It took some big things happening to derail me, but when the light went on, wow,” I explained.

  I slid back into the tub and sat down on the bench.

  “Max bummed? Pat asked.

  “He says he is. Like you, he didn’t think I would go through with it. I think he thought it was some mad idea I would get over. It actually made me more determined,” I said.

  Of course Max thought it was crazy because it was something he would never do. He was happy where he was, and couldn’t understand my need to leave everything I knew for Park City. None of my explanations satisfied him.

  It took three weeks and Thanksgiving dinner before I finally felt the first pangs of homesickness. I missed my friends, my parents, and even Max. The snow was slow in coming, and work was not steady. I had too much time on my hands as we waited for the season to begin. I began questioning my decision. Pat and I were hanging out at The Club almost daily for something to do. Even drinking wasn’t making me happy.

  “Stop, Morgan, you’re here, you’re staying, and it will get busy. You will wish for days like these,” Pat said from his barstool.

  I was feeling sorry for myself and was sort of slumped onto the bar rolling a strand of hair in my fingers, making a knot and then pulling it through. Pat’s arm was in my view; his rolled up red and blue flannel shirt and then his bare arm. I hoped he was right. Sitting up straighter I took another sip of my beer.

  “Okay, okay, I’m just bored and homesick, and nothing is happening yet,” I whined.

  “Listen, you have the job at the ski shop, you have the job at the Italian restaurant, and when it starts hopping, you will be slammed. And don’t load yourself down with any more work, you came to ski, remember?” Pat replied.

  He tapped his fingers on the bar obviously frustrated by my mood.

  “Sorry,” I said with a grin.

  Someone caught Pat’s eye and he smiled just as hands slipped over my shoulders and squeezed. I rotated my neck slowly looking behind me to find Ryan standing there.

  “That feels good,” I encouraged.

  His hands felt strong on what I now realized were very tight muscles. I dropped my head and let him work at the tension in my shoulders and neck.

  “Tell her to quit freaking out. She’s already taken a second job at Mileti’s, and the season hasn’t even kicked off,” Pat complained as he leaned his elbows on the bar.

  “Quit freaking out,” Ryan said, “or you’ll end up like me, working and not playing.”

  “I figured the usual,” the bartender said as he set a draft beer on a napkin for Ryan.

  “Thanks John.”

  They had worked together in the past. Ryan stopped massaging and slid onto the barstool next to me.

  “How are things going other than the freak-outs?” he teased.

  Ryan hung out with the two of us that evening, trying to help Pat fill me in on what to expect, both reassuring me it would definitely change and soon.

  The following week it started to snow, and it kept on coming right up till Christmas. Every day I woke up, and it was snowing: snow and more snow. It made me nervous, as I had never driven in snow, my dad always had. My Honda was not four-wheel drive, and although it did okay in the snow, it wasn’t great. I’d felt the car slip occasionally on corners already. Several mornings I opted to take the bus to work rather than risk it. When the snow arrived, it took my doubts away. Things got busy, my time was filled up and any free time I did have was now filled with skiing.

  Once Christmas came, the town kicked into high gear. Park City decorated most of the trees around town with Christmas lights; even crisscrossing Main Street with them. Town went from being a slow, dull brown place to one glittering with colored lights and lots of action—full bars, packed restaurants, and crowds of skiers on the slopes. It was exciting and I couldn’t help but want to be out in it all.

  I got to meet the tourists day and night: during the day I worked at the ski shop with a couple hour break to ski, and at night, I worked at the restaurant. The people I worked with at the restaurant were great, and we would go out to a club after closing time. I drank and danced and went hot tubbing with new people I met. One evening, I even had a local guy teach me how to throw knives. It was the same as when Liz and I visited, except I was living it.

  Right before Christmas, Max sent me a letter, telling me what an ass he had been and how much he loved me and that he would wait. Although we hadn’t officially broken up, I felt like we had. This new revelation by him was the last reaction I expected. The letter made me feel sad and confused. Was I supposed to be happy with this gush of emotion from him? My mind filled with memories.

  I needed a distraction from my thoughts so I called Ryan. I hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks; I also needed help with getting a tree. Yes, Christmas, I loved Christmas.

  “Ryan, it’s Morgan, will you help me get a Christmas tree?” I asked when he answered the phone. “My car is too small.”

  It was a legit excuse to be able to be with him. Have company; help shove aside the thoughts and feelings about Max.

  “Sure, when?”

  He sounded happy to hear from me.

  “Whenever. I could go tonight or tomorrow after four and before six ‘cause of work. Mom and Dad are coming for a visit, and I want a tree,” I said. “Pat doesn’t seem to care so much, but I do.”

  “I can do it tonight
,” he said.

  “Really?” I asked, thrilled at the prospect of seeing him tonight.

  “Yes, I was just getting ready to go to the grocery store, but it can wait.”

  “I could cook you something wonderful like Hamburger Helper in return,” I joked.

  “I would actually like that,” he chuckled.

  During dinner, I told Ryan about Max’s letter. He understood it. It had taken him losing someone once to understand how important they were. I frowned and looked away from Ryan; it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

  “Is that a bad thing? Max to figure out he really loves you?” Ryan asked, puzzled by my reaction.

  I ran my fingers through my hair with a sense of anguish. I didn’t exactly know how I felt about it. I turned back to Ryan and looked into his blue eyes.

  “I thought the move would finish Max and me, and now it’s open again,” I sighed. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  I worked four nights a week at Mileti’s, so I got to see lots of nightlife. I could always find a party or hang out at one of the bars with the bartender or with my coworkers. The bar scene was always crazy with the drinking, cocaine everywhere, and people hooking up randomly. The local community was pretty small, about half were long-time Park City locals and the other half transplants from all different places. The tourist influx was big, and it made for a lot of wildness. It was always entertaining.

  Pat and I picked up a guy roommate to rent the loft. Living with the boys got to be a pain as they had no remorse about eating my food or drinking anything I left in the fridge. I would think I had something to eat at home only to find it was gone, and alcohol, forget it. It was like I needed a safe. I got to where I hid food in my room, which meant it had to not require refrigeration, so rice became a staple. We got one meal at no charge at the restaurant before each shift, so I ate real food there. Even though the roommate situation wasn’t ideal, I felt freer than I ever had.

  Any time I had off from work, I skied. I got used to skiing alone—I even liked skiing alone. Whenever we could find the time, which was pretty rare, Ryan and I skied together. He became a good friend, and every now and then I wondered if he wanted more. Mom had pegged it: he was a nice guy, easy to talk to, and fun to be around. If I ever needed help with something, he didn’t hesitate.

  Max kept in touch: he called, he wrote, and he wanted to know that I wasn’t seeing anyone else. I wasn’t seeing one specific person. I was seeing a lot of them. I was at a crux: there was a boyfriend, even if it was one I wasn’t sure about and then lots of male attention in Park City. The flirting was fun and light and made me feel good about myself. I chose to play the field, be free, just casually go out. It bothered Ryan a little as he knew about Max. He felt I should choose one or the other, and I simply couldn’t.

  I watched as Ryan scraped the snow off his ski with his pole as we rode up the chair lift. He was being rather quiet, and I felt it might be because he’d seen me out with a bartender we both knew. Ryan didn’t know how much or little I was doing with my dates and I think it thought it was more than less. It concerned me that he might have a bad opinion of me.

  “Ryan, how come you don’t have a girlfriend?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, haven’t had one in a long time. Guess maybe I don’t want one. Better question, why do you keep a boyfriend you’re not sure you want?” he asked.

  It was cold out. Ryan had on a black jacket and grey ski pants; a grey hat with a diamond pattern was on his head. He had dark glasses on so I couldn’t see his eyes, but the way he asked the question relayed a hint of annoyance. I leaned against the arm of the cold chairlift and stared at him. He was still looking down at his skis. I had to think about it for a minute. I knew whatever I said wasn’t going to be a good answer.

  “I miss Max sometimes, but I’m not sure if I miss him or miss someone. He knows me. The guys here are just having fun with me, partying, nothing serious. Does that make sense?” I said.

  “Sort of,” he answered hesitantly.

  “Ryan, there is nothing going on with any of these guys. I’m not sleeping with them if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  He raised his head and looked at me as I pulled my light blue jacket tighter around my neck.

  Ryan was five years older than me, and he wasn’t interested in the party scene like I was. He worked every day and generally wasn’t in the bars during the week. Once in a while I would see him at The Club. Occasionally I saw him with a date, or what I presumed was a date. Jill, the cocktail waitress at The Club, had the hots for him, and I knew they hooked up sometimes. I hadn’t ever asked him about their relationship because it seemed casual.

  “Have you ever been in love, Ryan?” I asked, sort of offhandedly.

  I figured Carrie was the love he’d let slip away, but he hadn’t told me that. I leaned forward in the seat and swung my skis slightly, attempting to warm my legs.

  “Thought I was once, the girl I dated in Florida,” he said.

  I was right, it had been Carrie.

  “What happened?” I asked. “I mean I know she went to Virginia with you.”

  “Yeah, she came with me when I started the building business. She got a job at a local bank. We had an apartment together and two dogs. She got homesick and left me,” he said flatly.

  “Were you hurt?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” he said, “but not hurt enough.”

  I balled my hands inside my black mittens squeezing them, trying to keep the blood flowing.

  “Meaning?”

  “Not hurt enough to chase her back there. At least, not then,” Ryan said.

  “You still think about her?”

  “I do think about her. Sometimes I wish I had gone after her,” he said sadly.

  My heart tightened in my chest and I thought about Max, wondering if those were his same feelings.

  “Why didn’t you?” I asked.

  “I’d just started a new business, and I felt I needed to stick with it. There was a business partner who I’d committed to. When she left, I just threw myself into work. I worked constantly to keep her off my mind. We kept in touch for a while, and then that stopped eventually. We never really broke it off properly,” Ryan said.

  He shifted in his seat and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from his recollection. I sensed that he still had feelings for her.

  “And Max, you love him?” he asked.

  “I thought I did, once,” I said, mimicking him.

  He laughed. Ryan pulled his poles out from under his leg and I noticed we were getting close to the top of the mountain.

  “Love, it ain’t easy,” he said.

  “Tell me about it, it’s a big reason why I’m here.”

  We both scooted to the end of the chair, preparing to unload.

  “Which way?” he asked.

  “Right, let’s do Sunnyside,” I said, naming one of the ski runs.

  I watched him ski down a ways and then he stopped to adjust his boots. He was a good skier, nice form. I realized how much I enjoyed our time together. I pointed my skis down and followed his trail stopping next to him. It was warmer on the slope and I undid the top of my jacket.

  “This is just an observation on my part, but I don’t think it was solely the accident that made you consider a change. There must have been other things going on; the accident simply made you give things a harder look,” he said.

  He finished adjusting his boot and stood up, looking at me.

  “Pretty accurate observation, Ryan, and yes, there were other things,” I said sassily. “Kind of a pile of them.”

  He started off down the hill, and I followed his path, carving back and forth across the slope. The snow was good, the sun was out, and the turns were coming easily. It couldn’t get better than this. I sucked the crisp clean air into my lungs and smiled at the beauty surrounding me.

  Ryan didn’t stop until we got to the bottom, skiing right back into the line. Music blared from the speakers at
the front of the line, which livened up the whole atmosphere of having to wait. I skied up beside him, out of breath, my legs burning.

  “What other things?” he asked, leaning on his poles.

  “Max’s control issues and…” I paused, staring into his sunglasses “…and a fling with an old lover, my first love, Mathew.”

  Ryan pulled his head back as if surprised. I was even surprised at myself; I’d hastily blurted the last part out. My thought was to stop talking, stop being so truthful, and I briefly held it back, but it came out anyway. He lifted his sunglasses onto his head, and looked at me as we moved forward in the line.

  “Does Max know?” he asked.

  “No. It happened when I went back to San Jose to a wedding after the accident. I didn’t think it would, but I was wrong. Sort of one of those ah-ha moments when you think, if I could do this, something is wrong with the relationship,” I said.

  Verbalizing my tryst with Mathew made all the feelings of confusion well up inside me. As Ryan stared at me, I saw something in his expression that I couldn’t put my finger on, and then it was gone. I hoped my honesty wouldn’t make him think less of me. Ryan had never tried to hit on me, and all of a sudden I wondered why. I wondered if he didn’t find me attractive or if he thought I was too young and dumb.

  There were other guys in town that knew I had a boyfriend back home, and it hadn’t stopped them.

  Chapter 8

  I liked my new independence. There was no one to tell me what to do or what to think. I also found it was easier to meet a tourist and go out with them than with the locals. The tourists I could have fun with, and then they would go home. There were no promises of a future, and when they were gone, it was over. I didn’t want anything serious; I just wanted to play. The one thing I didn’t do was get in their beds.

  In meeting people from so many places and walks of life, I felt myself growing. I was like a sponge absorbing as much as possible. I realized that the two significant men in my life thus far—Mathew and Max—weren’t all I imagined them to be. What I’d seen as strength and confidence was actually selfishness. My casual dating and friendships with the guys in town made me see it. Park City was changing me, and in ways I felt were better.