by Milly Taiden
Heads turn to look at me. A blush rushes to my face, and I squirm a bit. I love attention, but not this kind. The girl distracts me. “Do you live in the Denver area? Derrick is moving in with me in Breckenridge.”
Yup, they’re together.
“You are? Me, too, I live there.”
“No way!” She squeals, and I’m hoping everyone is staring at her now.
Metal clangs as men with a stretcher and heavy boxes file by us. I say, “Are you a skier?” She has that look. Not that I don’t like skiers, but I can usually sniff out a snowboarder.
“We both are. I bet you ride, right?” Her eyes glance at my wrist, and I know she’s looking at my floral tattoo.
“I do.” Something about this girl makes me like her, so I add, “But a lot of my friends are skiers.”
She sighs. “I would snowboard, but Derrick thinks it’s too dangerous. He says he sees too many snowboard accidents and that I should stick to skiing.”
The words come out of my mouth before I can stop myself. “Do you always do what Derrick says?” I wince. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out right.”
She chuckles. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just say I pick my battles.”
Whew. “I’m Gretchen Nickelson, and if you ever want me to sneak you on a board just ask.” I manage a smirk that makes her grin.
“I’m Da—” She looks past me and says, “Derrick!”
I turn toward a pair of neatly pressed khakis and see my orange Burton backpack in his hands. He asks, “Is this yours?” He leans close to hand it to me, and the spicy scent of expensive cologne mixed with his maleness invades my senses. His cheekbones are elegant in a masculine way. My core twinges, and it surprises me. Since when did pretty boys light my fire?
The girl says, “Derrick, this is Gretchen, and she lives in Breck too.”
He squints at her like she’s crazy. I take the backpack from him, and he doesn’t even look at me. He says, “Nika, I’ll be up front.”
I watch his tight, round ass walk away. Damn I would love to hold onto that, but what a douche nozzle.
Once he’s gone the girl says, “He’s so serious. I’m hoping this year off will loosen him up. All he does is study and then work at saving people.” She waves her hand. “I sound so shallow. But Derrick needs to learn to have fun or he’ll implode one day. By the way, I’m Nika.”
An hour or so later we’re finally clear to leave the plane. Nika pulls a red damask fabric suitcase from the overhead bin. “I hope we run into each other in Breck. It’s been fun chatting with you.” The handle clicks up so she can pull it.
“I’m sure we will. It’s a small town.” The strap of my heavy backpack bites into my skin as I join Nika in the aisle to file out.
When we get to the exit a stewardess touches my arm and asks, “Are you okay, dear?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She gives me a kind smile that makes me think of my mother. I step forward to hug her and stop. What am I doing? But she hugs me anyway and tears threaten to come.
I pull away to breathe in the crisp, dry air that sneaks between the plane and the gateway. It’s good to be home. Roller bag wheels rumble as the line of passengers marches through the tunnel. My week in Vermont with my parents was relaxing. They seemed old to me, and it makes me sad to realize they won’t be around forever. Just like the man that died… I shake my head and take a deep breath though my nose.
Time to get back to my usual life.
I’m working at the rec center this summer. While the job isn’t very exciting, I do get a free membership. I check in passes for the weight room, monitor trampoline time and the outdoor skateboard park.
The days I’m outside are the best, especially because I can work on tricks if it isn’t busy. It’s great training for the snowboard park, and I’m working on having some sick air moves for next year.
The siren for the luggage conveyor belt blares in spurts as the machine begins to move. I watch as bags pop up and out of the opening and slide down the ramp to the moving platform. People tug off suitcases with a grunt, and I scan for mine. I don’t see it, and I have a sinking feeling it didn’t make the trip.
A red bag matching Nika’s carry-on marks each full rotation as hope for my suitcase dwindles. I notice she and Derrick appear across the belt from me, and he grabs her bag. Seeing me, he doesn’t move and glares at me. What the fu—fungi? The intensity makes me uncomfortable, and I’m just about to drop my eyes when Nika nudges him and redirects his attention to a plain black suitcase. He tugs it off the belt, and they walk away.
What the heck was that? Because right now I’m turned on by a stare. Some other girl’s boyfriend’s stare. I shake my head. I need to get laid.
CHAPTER 2
Very few suitcases are left, and I’ve resigned myself to finding the baggage claim agent to fill out a report. A half hour later I’m finally on my way to the parking garage with the promise of my luggage being delivered tomorrow. While it sucks, it is what it is.
The sound of my feet running up the steps to the fourth floor bounces off the cement walls as my body welcomes a little exercise. Slightly out of breath, I push through the door and inhale the oily odor of fluid-stained concrete. I spy my beat-up Honda. On its last breath, I know its days are numbered.
Slinging the heavy backpack over my shoulders, I trudge to my car. It really is a sorry-looking thing. I cross my fingers it starts, especially considering the way my day has gone so far.
The door creaks open, and I notice the rust on the edge. Flicking with my finger, a flake comes off. Yeah, good thing I’m working on that new car fund. I’m going to need it before winter. I take a deep breath and turn the key. It chugs but doesn’t catch. “Please, please start.”
I turn the car off and let it sit for a few seconds. I try again and it chugs along, still refusing to catch. “You fucking piece of shit!” I slam my hand against the wheel and try again. Now it begins to rasp, telling me the battery is draining. Great. Just great.
Yanking my phone out of my backpack, I power up and search for the nearest tow truck. Moments later I lay my seat back and prepare for the wait.
A shout startles me. “Pooh! Come!”
I recognize Nika’s female voice. “Pooh! C’mon boy, I’ve got treats!”
A black medium-sized dog streaks by me, and I get out of the car. He races back, and I instinctively drop to a crouch to entice him to me. He lowers his chest to the ground with his rear in the air to signal he wants to play. I reach for his collar just as he darts away. It makes me smile until Derrick’s feet pound by as he runs after the dog in a full-out sprint. I quickly move to help.
Derrick nods toward me. “Let’s surround him,” he says as he points off to my right. My footsteps are nearly silent as I sneak to my left. Pooh has spotted me, and I drop into a crouch again as if I’m going to play on his level. It distracts him enough that Derrick manages to step on his leash and then contain the dog.
He pulls the dog close, and Derrick’s breathing is labored as he squats and forces Pooh to sit. Pushing hair I’m sure is silky out of his eyes, Derrick looks up at me and says, “Thanks.”
Nika approaches us with two more dogs, one black and one brown. She coos, “Pooh, you bad boy. You could have been run over.” I notice she’s dragging a cart with metal grid panels that are likely parts to dog crates.
She makes the canines sit and act like perfectly trained pets. I ask, “Are they Labradoodles?”
Nika answers, “Portuguese Water Dogs. Derrick is allergic, and they have hair which doesn’t seem to bother him.” She pats them each on the head as she says, “This is Ollie, Cleo and Jake. But I call Jake Pooh. It’s a nickname from Jakey Pooh.” She chuckles.
Derrick says, “Well, he’s a little shit.” The anger in his voice pushes my dog-loving buttons. He’s an asshat.
I crouch down to pet them all and marvel at the softness of their fine hair. “They’re wonderful. I would love to have a dog here.”
I would, but I travel often in the winter, and it wouldn’t be fair to a pet.
“Not these dogs. They’re a handful, especially Pooh. C’mon, Nika, they’ve wasted enough of our time today.” Derrick is scowling, and it sends me over the edge.
“You’re such a dickwad.” Dickwad? Jesus, my best friend Casey would be proud of my nonprofane term. “He’s clearly just a puppy, and probably full of energy from the long plane ride.” I turn to Nika. “If you ever need help with them, let me know. Clearly your boyfriend isn’t a dog person.”
Derrick’s mouth quivers, and it’s then I realize I’m overreacting. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. I’ve had a pretty crappy day.”
Derrick says, “Dickwad? I don’t think I’ve been called that.” He’s smiling at me, and damn if it doesn’t send a shiver of desire through my body. He says, “You’ll be happy to know Dannika has much better taste in men than me. I’m just her twin.”
“Oh.” I feel like the dickwad now.
Yellow lights bounce off the walls as a tow truck approaches. I wave my hands for him, and Nika says, “Do you need a ride? I’ll let you sit up front and make Derrick be in back with the dogs.” She’s teasing, and I can’t help but smile.
My smile waivers when I catch Derrick’s intense gaze. I answer, “No, thanks. It’s probably just my battery. But I appreciate the offer. I’m sure I’ll see you two around town.”
Derrick glances toward my Honda with disgust, confirming he’s so not my type. As I walk away, Nika’s sweet voice talking to the dogs fades.
CHAPTER 3
“No way!” Lori’s brown eyes widen in shock.
Casey chuckles. “Only you would end up sitting next to a dead guy.” She tucks a reddish curl behind her ear. “Tell them more about the hot medic.” Casey and I are hosting girl’s night at our house.
Megan hands me a martini glass, and I take a big swig before I hear the creak of her chair as she sits. The burn of vodka races down my throat, and I welcome the pain, knowing the buzz it will bring. “Oh yeah, the guy who helped me was gorgeous. Light brown hair swooping over dark eyes, and rock-hard, model-body beautiful. He’s not my type at all, but shitake mushrooms, he smelled good.”
Lori grins at my shit replacement. Casey and I made a New Year’s resolution deal. I’m going to teach her to eat well, and she’s trying to keep me from swearing. Working with the public means I need to learn a little control.
I reach for a piece of avocado covered in balsamic glaze. “It’s a shame you’re all taken, someone needs this man. He’s too smokin’ to be alone.” The moment the creamy texture of the avocado hits my tongue I moan. “This salad is like crack, Lori.”
“Ahem.” Megan clears her throat with purpose. “I believe you’re single, Gretch. You should do the hottie.”
“Not gonna happen. He’s too pretty for me. Guys like that fold their clothes before sex.” I wink. “I like it fast and dirty.”
Casey groans. “Tee-em-eye, girlfriend.”
I chuckle. Lori is twirling the contents of her glass around, and that usually means she has something to say but is afraid to say it.
“Cupcake? I know you want to tell me something.”
Lori places her hands on the table and leans forward. “You said he smells good, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re into him.” She sits back as if that’s the final word.
Megan snickers behind her hand. I think she’s a little drunk. Once again she’ll be calling Nick to come get her. No wonder he teases her about coming to our house.
I look at Casey, and she’s smiling too. I ask, “What? If a guy smells good, he’s the one?”
She holds up her hands. “Hey, it’s a thing. Your pheromones are digging his testosterone.” She giggles.
“Lovely. Now I’m attracted to vanilla sex.” I sit back and cross my arms.
Megan says, “What if he’s not vanilla? Who knows what lurks under—what did you say? Brown hair swooping over dark eyes, rock-hard, model-body gorgeous?” She smiles and gazes around the table.
I get up from my chair. “You all are drunk. Or high. Or something.” But I smile at how ridiculous I’m being. “Anyone need another drink? Because if I’m going to start falling for pretty boys, I do.” I picture the lanky, tattooed body of my last boyfriend, and the way his hair was always too long. I try to imagine Derrick with a lip ring and smile.
Lori gets up to join me in the kitchen, which is just through an open doorway from the dining room. Casey and I rent a small ranch-style home. It’s nothing fancy, but everything is in good working order and I’m grateful to live here. Not too far from the Breckenridge ski area and town, I can ride my bike where I need to go. Which is good now that I don’t have a car.
Lori pours seltzer in her martini glass, and the bubbles fizz before settling down. She asks, “Did you get Sasha’s trampoline hours? I heard she’s moving back East.”
“Yeah, thanks for telling her to text me.” I managed to pick up a few more hours at the rec center in town monitoring trampoline time, and I got a job tending bar. I should be able to buy a replacement car by the time winter rolls around.
When I open the refrigerator door, bright light illuminates the colorful kabobs I prepared for the grill. I pull the platter out with one hand because my drink is in the other. Bumping the fridge shut with my hip I ask, “Lori, can you open the slider for me?”
“Sure.” Metal scrapes as she pulls open the sliding glass door to the deck. Cool air blows through my hair. While it’s still summer, nights get chilly in the mountains.
Heat from the grill blasts me when I lift the lid, and I turn down the burners. The meat and vegetables sizzle on the hot grate, and I lower the cover to cook things more evenly.
I walk back into the small dining room to guilty faces. I choose to ignore them because I’m sure they’re planning my wedding with model boy. “Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. And then what’s it going to be? Movie or cards?”
Megan answers. “I’m sick of movies. Let’s play hearts again. I feel like a winner tonight.”
I grin at her. “You’re going down. Nobody is that lucky.” Megan has beaten us at cards every time we’ve played. She swears she was trained at a young age. If I didn’t know her better, I’d think she cheats.
Even Lori has resorted to coaching from her boyfriend, Kaleb. I smile picturing it. Kaleb is a gentle giant of a guy while Lori is a petite thing.
Casey gets up and winks at me. “Megan, need another drink?”
I grab Megan’s glass and tease, “I’ll make it.”
She jumps up. “Oh, no. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Gretch. You drink like a fish.”
Okay, I wouldn’t say fish. But I can certainly handle more than my friends. “Fine, let Casey make it.” I give Casey an exaggerated wink I know Megan can see, and go to the kitchen to get a spatula.
Megan shakes her head at our teasing, and I hear her say to Lori. “Texting Kaleb?”
Lori looks up without moving her head just as I return to the dining room. She says, “Maybe?”
I roll my eyes at her, but I’m not upset. “I’ll let that slide, but you better put your phone away during dinner.” I shake my spatula at her before walking out to the deck.
Honestly, I envy what my friends have with their boyfriends. I’m not sure I’ve ever known that kind of love and hope someday I will. If only I could find someone I want to stick around long enough.
I roll the kabobs over and inhale the smell of roasted peppers and chicken. My mind recalls the delicious scent of Derrick. Too bad, the attraction is definitely there, but a guy like him would be nothing but trouble.
CHAPTER 4
One, two, three, and four, five, six. My hand rises up on the first three counts and falls on the second three as I pour rum through the spout and over ice. My other hand is holding the soda gun and cola fizzes into the glass. I add a quick squeeze of lime, sending the citrus odor up my nose. I
drop it in while my other hand shoves a straw into Jed’s drink. Tending bar at the Breckenridge Golf Course Grill doesn’t make me a lot of money, but I need every penny I can get toward a new car.
I set the drink down on a dark, shiny wood bar in front of an older man who doesn’t usually like conversation. I’m told Jed comes in every Thursday afternoon and sits so he can watch people in the mirror that’s behind me. He spends a fair amount of time typing on a laptop, and I suspect he’s a writer. I ask, “Have you decided what you’d like today?”
He nods and purses his lips as if it’s a tough decision. “How about the BLT? Light on the mayo, please.” He’s had a BLT every time I’ve waited on him, but I think he likes to make that decision each week just the same. Tending bar over the years has taught me how to read people. The better I do at it, the more money I make.
I tap in the order on the computer screen and check the slip that just buzzed out of the printer for the servers’ drink orders. Ice clinks into the glasses, and I line them up along the bar shelf where I make drinks.
Our lunch rush is over, and only three people sit at the bar that can accommodate sixteen. Besides Jed, there’s a couple out on a married-with-children date. They’re telling each other stories about their kids that bore me to tears. That leaves me without conversation, so I’m wiping surfaces and bottles with a rag to pass the time until I can leave.
Plenty of windows overlook the golf course, which make clean bottles a necessity. I don’t mind, because a room full of daylight and active people is much nicer than a dark, cave-like bar.
As I clean the bottles, my pencil occasionally scratches against the pad of paper I use to make a list of what needs to be restocked for the night shift. Other than a couple cases of beer, I’m in good shape. I take a quick glance at my customers to make sure they won’t need me for a couple minutes and walk toward the kitchen.
The swinging door opens easily, and the smell of sizzling beef surrounds me. I snitch a pickle from the garnish bin as I pass by on my way to the walk-in cooler. The sour flavor makes me clench my jaw as frosty air bursts out the moment I open the refrigerator door.
