Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) Page 9

  The next few months went entirely too fast. It was a blur of skiing, working, and having fun. Between Pat’s buddies and the people I met, I rarely skied alone anymore. I could generally find someone to meet up with: either for a few runs or for the whole day. Sometimes it was just to share a pitcher of beer at the end of the day, sitting on the plaza people watching.

  Once the ski season started winding down, I was forced to start thinking about what I was going to do. Max was putting pressure on me to come home, my jobs were ending, and many of the friends I’d made were planning on leaving town. By the end of March, even the tourists were becoming sparse. I was getting more and more depressed about the season ending. When I talked to Mom, she listened to my dismay, but had no suggestions. There were no right answers; it all depended on what I wanted.

  Pat was up in the air as well. He thought maybe he would go home for the summer and come back next winter. The two of us tossed our thoughts around with each other, but we were at a crossroads. We both wanted to stay, but the difficulty of finding summer work finally decided the issue. When Pat settled on going home, I decided I would go as well once the resorts closed down mid-April.

  It was April 1, Clown Day, at Park City Mountain. I don’t know exactly how Clown Day came to be, but it was like Halloween on skis. You were supposed to dress up like a clown, but people dressed in all kinds of wild costumes. I teased my hair out, put on makeup like the dancers in Cats, and wore a leopard print leotard and tights. I had agreed to meet Ryan at noon on the deck at the Snow Hut Lodge for lunch. I clicked out of my skis and picked them up, leaning them against the ski rack. I could hear people laughing and talking on the deck.

  The sun felt warm and for a moment the worries over going home had vanished. I hadn’t worn a hat because I’d teased my hair out like a lions mane. I wondered what Ryan would think of my get-up as I headed up the stairs. Ryan was sitting at the first table at the top and a big smile spread across his face when he saw me.

  “It’s Clown Day, where’s your costume?” I asked, disappointed that he wasn’t dressed up, as I pulled my gloves off.

  “I like watching,” he said with an appreciative once over. “I love your outfit.”

  “Rarrr,” I said, smiling and pawing at him like a cat before sitting down on the bench across from him.

  I was sure most of the guys liked my outfit; it showed every curve I had.

  “Ready for a beer?” he asked, pouring me a glass from the pitcher sitting on the table before I answered.

  I glanced around the deck at the people sunning themselves, enjoying being out in the beautiful weather.

  “What time did you get up here?” I asked.

  “Not too long ago. I’ve only done two runs. So, after lunch, we’ll have to get some shredding in,” he said.

  “See, that’s what you’re supposed to be dressed like,” I said, laughing when a group of skiers in clown outfits came up the stairs.

  They wore oversized, colored clown suits, multicolored wigs, clown makeup, and big red noses. They were greeted on the deck with hoots and hollers.

  “They look great, don’t they?” I asked turning back to him. “So, what are we doing for lunch? Burger? Can we split one?”

  It was hard not to want a burger every time I hit the Snow Hut. I’m sure it’s why they grilled them outside, so the smell permeated the air.

  “Sure,” he said.

  “Fries?”

  “Whatever you get, I’ll eat it,” he said, reaching into his pocket.

  “My treat,” I said.

  “No,” he said, pulling out money.

  “Yes,” I insisted. “You got the beer already.”

  “So?”

  “So? My treat,” I said, turning away, walking slowly in my ski boots, so I wouldn’t slip on the deck.

  I heard someone whistle and looked across the deck and saw Andy, the bartender from The Club. He was with a big group, some dressed in costumes others not.

  “Hey, Andy,” I shouted.

  “Nice outfit,” he said loudly.

  “You like?” I said, cocking a pose as several other people on the deck looked over at me.

  “Yeah, kitty, I like it, meow,” he shouted.

  I laughed when a few other guys meowed in response.

  “I’m sitting around the corner with Ryan. Come over if you want,” I called out to him.

  The line was long at the grill. Between ordering and waiting, I was gone awhile. Ryan was resting his head against the window behind him, his eyes closed, and his face lifted toward the sun when I got back. Seeing how tan his face and arms were from the winter outdoors, I was determined that one thing I would take care of quickly at home was my white winter body. My face was tan, but that was it.

  “Andy’s over there with a group,” I said, setting the tray on the table.

  “I heard the meowing, figured it was someone you knew,” he said, sitting up.

  I put the tray on the table in front of him, and he smiled at me before cutting the burger in half.

  “Give me the smaller half,” I said lifting my boot over the bench to straddle it.

  “What a gorgeous day,” he raved. “Couldn’t have ordered better weather.”

  I reached over and took a fry.

  “And you’re having lunch with an attractive lion,” I teased. “Or leopard, which ever.”

  “That I am,” he grinned.

  His confirmation made me smile. Ryan took a bite of his burger, and I watched him chew. I was going to miss him along with Park City. I took another fry, dipping it into ketchup on the plate.

  “When are you headed home? San Diego home, I mean,” Ryan asked.

  “Let’s not talk about it. Let’s pretend I still have all the time in the world here. Let’s pretend the season isn’t ending. Let’s enjoy Clown Day,” I said suddenly feeling a wave of grumpiness rush in.

  Andy and his group came over, and we got another pitcher of beer. People we knew filtered in and out from skiing while we hung out. Someone got brave and passed a joint around, and I took several hits. Another bartender from The Club skied down the hill above the deck, jumping the rail, and landing right in the middle of the table, sending plastic beer glasses flying. It was hysterical despite the mess.

  “Let’s go take a couple runs,” Ryan said wiping the beer from his ski pants.

  “Okay,” I said, picking up my gloves.

  The two of us walked carefully, clomping down the stairs, to the ski racks. We got our skis and walked closer to the lift before throwing them down on the snow. We both clicked in.

  “I’m ready to get away from some of the lunatics,” he said, as he pushed his way into the line.

  I followed him, not answering. I liked the lunatics. I would miss the lunatics.

  “Front row, come on out,” the lifty yelled.

  Ryan and I pushed out and inched our way up in line to load onto the chair lift.

  “I’m sort of loaded,” I whispered and laughed.

  “I don’t know how you can smoke pot and ski,” he said.

  “I never have.”

  “Oh, good, watch out for trees,” he teased.

  “Shut up,” I replied. “I’m not that bad, that I’ll hit a tree.”

  We sat down when the lift came, and the chair started up the hill. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. In less than a month, I would be leaving this place. Headed back, back to what I wondered.

  “You want to do dinner tonight? Maybe a movie,” Ryan asked, interrupting my thoughts.

  I didn’t move. The sun felt good.

  “Dinner, a movie, wow. I’m broke, and I’m not letting you buy, so how about I cook. My place,” I said.

  “You cook?” he asked.

  I opened my eyes and rolled my head toward him looking into his face.

  “Yes, I can cook. Hamburger Helper and rice. I hope you like rice,” I joked.

  “Rice?” he questioned.

  I laughed.

  “Kidding, Pa
t and RJ will eat any food in the house regardless of whose it is, however, they’re not real fond of rice, because they have to make it, so it’s been my main dish, at home anyway,” I explained.

  We unloaded at the top and skied down. It felt like it took me forever to get down to the lodge again. I felt slow and my legs felt heavy on the run, like my skis were not doing what I wanted them to do. My brain didn’t seem able to control my turns and I felt like I was fighting my equipment. I was definitely stoned. Ryan started to get back in line when we got to the bottom.

  “Ryan, I want to get down to the plaza. I’m done for the day,” I said, feeling paranoid.

  He pushed his sleeve up and looked at his watch.

  “We could get a few more runs in,” he said, pushing himself back to where I stood.

  “You go. I’m too stoned,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have smoked any of that joint.”

  I wished I could take a chair down to the base instead of having to ski it. It felt far away.

  “I’ll go down with you,” he said.

  “No, go ski. I’ll be fine. I know you want to ski,” I protested falsely.

  “Nah, I’ll go down with you,” he insisted.

  He started off before I could object. When we got to the bottom plaza, there was a band playing and people partying. A lot of activity was going on, and people we knew were hanging out.

  “You up for a beer?” Ryan asked.

  “Twist my arm. You’re going to have to take me to the store though if we’re doing dinner. I don’t want to drive,” I said.

  “If you’re cooking, I can drive,” he said, smiling.

  Ryan got us each a beer, and we sat outside in the plaza area of Park City Mountain. The plaza was a big open area in the middle of the resort where people liked to hang out at the end of the day. We listened to the band, visited with friends that strolled by, and watched the frivolity. It was four thirty before we left, and I was cold by then. Fortunately, Ryan had a jacket in his van that he loaned me, and it felt good to wrap myself in it and get warm.

  We left my car in underground parking, and Ryan drove me to the grocery store. He pushed the shopping cart, following me around Albertsons while I picked up salad fixings, two small steaks, and two potatoes.

  As we were checking out, he attempted to pay for the food, but I wouldn’t let him; I did agree to let him buy the wine for dinner. I was all beered out. When he pulled into my driveway, he didn’t shut his van off.

  “What are you doing?” I asked confused.

  “I’m going home to shower,” he said.

  “No, you’re not,” I said, leaning across the front console to turn off the ignition and pull out his keys.

  “Come on, Morgan, I feel like I need one,” he said, giving me a boyish kind of pleading look. “I’ve been skiing and sweating.”

  “Nope, we’re getting in the hot tub anyway. If you want to shower after that, I have a shower,” I said, gathering up the grocery bags.

  “Bossy thing, aren’t you?” he said.

  “Damn right.”

  Chapter 9

  I set the groceries down on the counter.

  “You open a bottle of wine while I get my suit on,” I said.

  I left him standing in the kitchen while I went to my bedroom and changed into a bikini. A glance in the bathroom mirror reminded me that I should take off my cat makeup. The hair wasn’t so easy, so I left it. I rummaged through Pat’s dresser and found a suit Ryan could wear.

  Ryan had found two mismatched glasses and poured us wine. He turned around when I put the suit on the counter and blinked. It was pretty funny how hard he tried to focus on my eyes as I stood there in my bikini, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking at my body.

  “Pat won’t mind, unless of course it bothers you, and in that case you can go naked,” I teased.

  Ryan grinned as he shook his head slightly.

  “I’ll borrow the suit,” he said, picking it up and moving down the hall to the powder room.

  I washed the lettuce and set it on paper towels on the counter to dry. Ryan came back into the kitchen in Pat’s shorts. I’d never seen him in anything but winter clothes—we’d never been hot tubbing together. Wow, I couldn’t help but notice he was buff. The muscles in his arms were defined, his chest muscular, his abs tight. I recalled he spent time at the gym. I looked up into his eyes and was embarrassed. He knew I was checking him out.

  “I’ll grab some towels and meet you outside,” I said feeling my face turn red, as I darted off down the hall.

  When I got out back. Ryan was already in the tub, the steam rising and swirling around his head into the cold night air. I hung the towels on hooks on the side of the house and quickly made my way down the snow path to the hot tub. I could feel the prickling of the cold on the soles of my feet and hurried into the tub. The water stung my cold feet when I got in.

  “Ahhh,” I said, sinking into the tub beside him.

  “Here,” he said, handing me my glass of wine.

  “Thank you. Today was fun. I shouldn’t have smoked that pot, we could have skied more. I never smoke pot, I don’t know why I thought I should today.”

  I relaxed against the side of the tub, feeling the warmth spread into my body.

  “It made me feel weird, like slow motion. A beer or two relaxes me, makes me think I ski better than I do,” I said and laughed. “The pot made me feel paranoid and nervous and I’m glad it’s worn off.”

  “Don’t smoke next time it’s handed to you,” he chuckled.

  “I’ll take that advice. Seemed like the right thing at the time. I got caught up in the madness,” I said. “A lot of foolish behavior today, I am so going to miss this place.”

  I felt my funk creep back in at the thought of going home. Ryan and I hadn’t spent enough time together over the winter and I suddenly regretted that too. It was partly due to the fact that we were in different stages in our lives. He generally stopped by The Club for a beer after construction all day. With him working days though, he was usually leaving the bar as I was getting there. We’d skied together a handful of times, passed each other in a bar, and had a beer together, no real length of time. I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with him. When he smiled at me, I realized I was staring at him, lost in my thoughts.

  “A hot tub always feels so good after skiing,” I said, sliding up to my neck in the tub.

  “That it does,” he said, leaning back, resting his arms on the edge of the tub.

  I couldn’t help but look at them. He caught me again and smiled.

  My heart pounded and I looked away suddenly shy that he’d caught me looking.

  “I’m afraid about going home,” I confided.

  “Afraid?” he asked tilting his head in question.

  I stood up in the tub suddenly hotter than I wanted to be, and his eyes went directly to my boobs. I pushed the water around nervously in a circular motion.

  “I came up here for the adventure of it. The adventure of moving away, being a ski bum; not waking up one day and wondering why I never did anything spontaneous, risky. You’ve done risky. You left home early, moved around, experienced things,” I said.

  I realized I hadn’t planned so well, not thought about after the season was over. Not thought Max would be begging for me to come home.

  “You did what you set out to do. Seems you’ve had a good winter. So why the fear?” he asked.

  “I’m afraid of going back, falling back into the same routine. I wanted to move forward, change something, and now I feel like I’m going backwards. Max thinks we can go back to being like it was before; he wants that. I won’t ever be like I was before.”

  Again he tilted his head with a confused look on his face.

  “Being away and having to do things on my own has made me a different person, given me more confidence in myself, in life. I don’t think he’ll like the new me, someone with an opinion,” I explained.

  An amused look suddenly replaced the con
fused one.

  “I can’t imagine you without an opinion,” he teased.

  I moved across the tub and sat back down on the bench.

  “I guess I always had one, but like a kitten, I followed his lead, did what he wanted to do, now I feel like a lion,” I said. “Like it’s okay to want other things.”

  “Thus the costume today?” he questioned.

  “Didn’t give that a thought actually, but good point,” I chuckled, liking his analogy.

  We stayed in the hot tub for about forty-five minutes, talking before my body just got too hot. My fingers were starting to prune as well.

  “Let’s get out, and I can get dinner going,” I said, climbing out of the hot tub.

  I figured Ryan was checking me out as I darted across the snowy path, grabbed a cold towel from the hook, and went into the house. Ryan came in shortly after me, his towel wrapped around his waist. My breath caught in my throat.

  “Can I take you up on that shower?” he asked.

  “I offered, didn’t I? There are bath towels under the sink, although check first. My roommates are pigs, and as far as doing laundry, they are worthless. Shampoo and everything is in the shower. Help yourself to whatever else, including their guy shit,” I called as he headed down the hall.

  I kept my towel draped over my shoulders while I built a fire in the fireplace. Once I had that going, I made a salad, washed the potatoes and put them in the oven, and seasoned the steaks. I put placemats and silverware on the table and wished I had candles. The thought was sort or funny to me, almost like I wanted it to feel more special.

  Ryan came back in his blue turtleneck and black long underwear. He looked cute in his long johns and I couldn’t help but notice his package. His hair was wet, but he must have run his fingers through it, as his curls didn’t look flat. Again I noticed how the color of his shirt set off his tan face and his eyes. He looked hot and I wondered why I’d never thought that before. I’d thought handsome, but not hot.

  “Sorry about the outfit. Not my normal out-to-dinner attire. This girl I know wouldn’t let me go home first,” he apologized bowing with a smile.