And there’s Susi, of course. She beams up at me from behind her pink bangs, pokes me with her phone and cries, “I knew it, I knew it,” over the hubbub before she’s washed away by another wave of well-wishers.
It’s the old lady again who saves us. By now I’m positive she is Andi’s grandmother, Fankhauser Senior’s mom. Using her stick to get people to move out of the way, then to point at Andi’s bandaged foot, she yells something.
People step back from us, their exuberance effectively curbed.
She looks at me, piercing me with eyes as icy blue as Andi’s, and says in heavily accented English, “Andi needs to rest now. You go take him to bed, young man.”
On that, she pokes her stick into my calf.
The thing has got a metal tip, and the prodding really hurts.
But it feels like a blessing.
I dart a quick look at Andi’s father. He has stepped behind the bar counter and is busy filling glasses with Gletschergeist. He downs the first one in one gulp himself, then starts handing out glasses to people lining up in front of the counter. The talking has resumed. People clink their glasses together; some raise theirs in our direction, drinking to Andi’s health.
I have a sudden vision of everyone dressed in their dirndls and lederhosen, like back at the birthday party, only instead of a birthday cake with a silver seventy-five, there’s a white wedding cake on the table. And instead of Easter bunnies, there are rose garlands attached to the beams under the ceiling, and Andi and I aren’t dressed in matching potato bags but in matching tuxedos.
And instead of stopping right there, my brain just goes on making things up: Andi and me going to work in the morning in matching orange-and-yellow Happy Powder outfits; Andi and me sitting in the summer sun in matching lederhosen in front of the Mangeihütte.
Andi walking me down Venice beach looking gorgeous with his hair gone gray.
Maybe I really do need to have my head examined.
BACK IN the stairwell, Andi tells Jo he can go now. From what I understand, I gather he says he’ll be back with the band in a day or two and asks Jo to give the others his love.
Jo nods. He has stopped his endless talking. He looks like someone who took a good blow to the head. It’s nice, but it obviously won’t last.
I have a feeling he will tell a great many more people than just the guys from the band about what went down in the lounge of the Fankhauser this morning. He’s probably going to talk to every local in the valley.
The story is going to go viral within hours. And it might never really blow over. Rosi from the Gletschergeist is going to share it with every customer who wants to hear about the namesake of her sandwich bar for the next decade or so.
The next couple of weeks probably won’t be all peachy and a bed of roses for Andi. There will be those who’ll show their true colors. Some people will drop him.
But the important thing is, Andi came out of this whole coming-out business okay for now.
Better than okay, it would seem.
He won’t stop grinning at me. The energy of what he did, the simple relief, is radiating off him. I swear, if he weren’t limping, he’d be doing dance steps.
I wish I could share in his happiness.
Sure, I’m happy for him. Really, honestly happy.
But I’m hardly happy on my own account. How can I be? I’ll leave in half an hour’s time and won’t see him again and—yeah.
Andi is fine. That is what counts. He came out to his family, and even more importantly, he didn’t die last night.
That is what matters. Nothing else.
I’m going to cry later on the plane.
“RIGHT. BYE, then, I guess,” I say when we’ve reached his door. I can’t look at his face.
He leans against the wall, balancing on his good foot.
“You want to go change into something of your own?” he asks.
“Yeah, yeah, I guess. Can’t keep running around in this horrible shirt, can I.”
I tug at the sleeve of the rescue service shirt and attempt a laugh. It comes out rather hollow.
“You don’t have to go to your room to change, you know. You could just borrow something of mine,” Andi says. “You are a little shorter than me, but else we’ve got about the same size.”
For a moment I meet his gaze, feeling a twitch in my groin. That’s what just hearing him talk about me being shorter than him does to me. Bringing back the memory of our erect cocks rubbing against each other inside his fist….
“Justin?”
“Borrowing something from you wouldn’t make much sense, would it. I’d be leaving the country with your clothes on,” I stutter, struggling to get a grip.
There’s a small pause.
“Do you want to leave the country, then?”
It sounds like he’s talking about the big stuff.
Our lives.
At least that is how it sounds to me. Being in love so messes with your brain.
“My flight leaves in three hours. The semester starts the day after tomorrow….”
“You said you were thinking of quitting your course.”
He remembers I said that.
He’s telling me to stay.
Or is he?
As I watch him, trying to read his mind, I can see red blotches appear on his neck and cheeks. His eyelids flutter like they do, and he’s biting his lip.
Oh my God, I love him. I love him so much.
“You said you might start something new, take up a different course,” he suddenly gushes. “You could work as a snowboarding instructor until you know what you want to do. Here in Fitsch, at Happy Powder. Like you said, remember? You could do that. Make some good money while you make up your mind. Just an idea.”
I stare at him, realizing in a flash this is actually what I need to do.
He shuts his eyes, then looks me straight in the eye, and enveloping my soul in sky blue, he says on a single breath, “And also my grandma told you to take me to bed, remember? Well, I’m afraid that might take a while. I’d say you’ll have to reschedule anyway.”
Slowly my brain wraps itself around the double meaning.
Around the fact that Andi Fankhauser is propositioning me.
And actually, factually wants me to stay.
I feel something unfold in my chest, something warm and sweet and sparkling that is impossible to hide.
“Right, Bennet,” he says, his face breaking into his wonderful smile. He closes his fingers around mine. “Come on in.”
Glossary of Austrian Terms
Aufguss: the ritual of pouring a scented infusion over the heated rocks in a sauna oven
Anzündwürfel: petroleum-based igniters
Après-ski: Partying or nightlife at a ski resort. It usually comes with a lot of alcohol and ample opportunity for hooking up.
Apfelstrudel: a typical Austrian layered pastry with an apple filling
Bratkartoffeln: German for roasted potatoes
Dirndl: a traditional dress worn by women and girls in Austria and Bavaria
Gletscher: glacier
Gletschergeist: glacier spirit
Gott: God
Knödel: boiled dumplings
Krapfen: jam-filled donuts
Landjäger: a semidried sausage traditionally made in Southern Germany, Switzerland, and Austria
Lederhosen: Short or knee-length leather breeches with H-shaped suspenders worn by men and boys in Austria and Bavaria
Mang(g)ei, Mankai: Tyrolean term for groundhog
Mozartkugel: a small, round sugar confection made of pistachio marzipan and nougat that is covered with dark chocolate
Sachertorte: a specific type of chocolate cake invented by Austrian Franz Sacher in 1832
Schweinsbraten: a roast pork dish
Speck: bacon
Topfenstrudel: a typical Austrian layered pastry with a sweet curd filling
Tracht: Traditional garments in German speaking countries
Verdammt: damn
it
Author’s Note
DEAR READER, I hope you enjoyed this story! If you have the time and inclination, please consider leaving a short review wherever you can. Thank you! Stay happy, stay foolish!
The first man CRYSTEL GREENE fell in love with was Beauty’s Beast. Next came Robin Hood, and then Mr. Darcy. Two decades of married life later, she still loves fictional men—especially when there are two of them who are meant to be! She likes it best when she can create their plights and fights herself, and she can always be counted on to throw in some hotness and a lot of feels.
Here’s her author promise: no fade-outs when things get steamy or emotional, and an ending that will leave you smiling.
Crystel is a lawyer by training, a lover of pastry, and a believer in Happy Ever Afters. Born and raised in Hamburg, Germany, and a North Sea girl at heart, she lives in the beautiful Austrian Alps with her husband and four kids.
P.S. She loves reader mail!
Email: [email protected]
Website: www.crystelgreene.com
Twitter: @CrystelGreene
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CrystelGreene
Instagram: www.instagram.com/crystelgreene/
By Crystel Greene
Glacier Gold
Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
Published by
DREAMSPINNER PRESS
5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA
www.dreamspinnerpress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Glacier Gold
© 2018 Crystel Greene.
Cover Art
© 2018 Brooke Albrecht.
http://brookealbrechtstudio.com
Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.
All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.
Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-640-5
Digital eBook published September 2018
v. 1.0
Printed in the United States of America
Glacier Gold Page 13
