by Tara Wyatt
“Says the woman working on developing a dating app with a man she most definitely has a crush on, but will never admit it. Which is good, because he’s a Prescott.” She took a sip of her wine. “And I’m not trying to force anything. I’m just…I’m ready, you know? I want that next step. I want someone to share my life with. The right someone.”
“You know, if you follow all of your plans and do everything just right, life can still throw you a curveball. Bad shit happens all the time. Every day. Sometimes you just have to roll with it.” Having survived cervical cancer at twenty-four, Willa knew more about rolling with it than most.
Kayla dropped her chin into her hands. “But not trying feels like giving up.”
“It’s not. Sometimes you just have to trust the universe. Let it go and it’ll work itself out.”
She squinted at her. “Have you been hanging out with Aspen?” Aspen, their friend Lauren’s former roommate, was all about anything and everything New Age.
Willa laughed. “Not lately, although I did run into her at the Whole Foods on 6th not that long ago.” Suddenly, her face lit up. “Okay, I have an idea.”
Kayla eyed her skeptically. “What?”
“Let’s make a list. Right here, right now, of every single quality you want in a man. Let’s put it out into the universe, and then let it go. See what happens.”
“This is stupid,” said Kayla as she slid off the stool and retrieved her phone from her purse. She sat back down and opened her Notes app. “But fine. Not because I think it’ll work but because I don’t have anything better to do right now except drool over how good your cooking smells.”
Willa winked at her. “That’s the spirit.” She took Kayla’s phone, biting her lip. “You dictate and I’ll type.”
Blood rushed to Kayla’s cheeks. “I feel like I’m at a Build a Bear workshop.” When Willa just looked at her expectantly, she sighed. “Okay. Um. So, hot. Obviously. Dark hair. Blue eyes. Awesome bod. Athletic. Tall. Big hands. And, um, you can just put an eggplant emoji.”
Willa’s thumbs flew over the screen. “This is good! I like it. I can picture him now. He’s totally hot.” She leaned in closer, a conspiratorial grin on her face. “And totally hung.”
Warming up to the exercise, Kayla continued. “Funny. A sense of humor is a must. Hardworking and passionate about what he does. Generous and kind, with a sensitive side. Smart, obviously. Patient. And supportive of me and my dreams.”
Willa nodded, taking it all down. “What else?”
“Financially secure with a good job.”
“And what about in bed?”
“I told you to put the eggplant emoji.”
“I did. But let’s get specific. Build a Bear, remember?”
Her face flamed. She wasn’t shy about sex, but saying some of this out loud to another person…it made her feel self-conscious. “Um, just write GIBOOO.”
Willa did, but then looked up at her. “What’s GIBOOO?” she asked, pronouncing it like zhe-boo.
“If I wanted to tell you, I wouldn’t have used an acronym.”
“Oh, come on! What does it mean? I’m going to start guessing if you don’t tell me.”
“I’m not telling you.”
Willa took a sip of her wine and grinned. “Okay, I think it means…Gassy Idealist Brings Own Oatmeal On Occasion.”
“First of all, that’s one too many ‘o’s. And second, you’re a twit.”
Willa stuck her tongue out at her. “Then just tell me.”
Her cheeks got warmer. “Great in bed, orgasms orgasms orgasms.”
Willa laughed. “That is the greatest acronym of all time. But, um, why three o’s?”
Kayla grinned and shrugged, her cheeks still warm. “Because who only wants one?”
Willa laughed again. “Amen to that. Okay, anything else you want to add?”
She pursed her lips, thinking. “No, I think that just about covers it. Hot, smart, funny, kind, hardworking and great in bed with a huge dick. Should be easy to find a guy like that, right? They probably grow on trees.”
Willa laughed. “Well, eggplants grow on shrubs, so…”
Kayla laughed with her. “Okay, I just need to find the magic hot guy shrub.”
“Exactly.” Willa put the phone down on the island between them and waved her hands ceremoniously over it. “Universe, do your magic. Or whatever.” She flicked her fingers out and then handed the phone back to Kayla. “There. Now, just let it go and he’ll fall into your lap.”
“Right,” she said somewhat skeptically, turning her phone face down. Her stomach let out a loud rumble and Willa laughed.
“You set the table and then we can eat.”
2
“Hey, Bastian. What’s good, man?”
Sebastian Prescott turned from his locker to see Bodhi Snyder in the doorway of the pro room, leaning lazily against the door frame. Bodhi looked exactly the way you’d expect a guy named Bodhi to look. Messy blond hair falling to his shoulders, a nose that had been broken at least twice, and perpetually tanned skin, even though they were in Vermont and it was the middle of February. He was so bronzed that Sebastian could make out the outline of his goggles, permanently tanned into his face.
He stepped forward and bumped his fist against Bodhi’s. “Hey, man. Some nice powder out there this morning.”
“For sure, for sure,” he said, sounding like a parody of a surfer-dude. “Gonna go for a cruise before the munchkins take over. You wanna join?”
Sebastian shook his head. “Nah, but thanks. You go ahead.” He’d already been for a ride down the mountain this morning and didn’t have time for another. Lately, he’d been getting up before dawn in order to hit the slopes before anyone else. He loved cruising down as the sun rose. It anchored him for the day ahead, settling him the way nothing else did.
“Alright, crunchy, crunchy. See you later, man.” He grabbed his board from the rack on the wall and disappeared out the door, leaving Sebastian alone. It was early enough that the other instructors weren’t in yet, or had already headed out for a trip or two down the mountain before starting that day’s lessons. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time and wondering if he had enough to spare to grab a cup of coffee from the staff commissary before the daily morning briefing where he’d get today’s lesson cards.
Coffee in Styrofoam cups. On the clock, waiting for each day’s assignments. A freaking name badge sewn onto his official Blizzard Ridge instructor jacket. Where he was now was a far cry from where he’d been just a couple of months ago, but he wasn’t complaining. Yeah, he’d been the VP of marketing at a huge real estate development firm and had had a massive paycheck to go with it. He’d had a sweet apartment with a view of Central Park and a closet filled with designer clothes. But he’d also been a miserable, self-destructive asshole. Getting out of Manhattan had been one of the smartest things he’d done in a long time. Not that that decision had a lot of competition, as he’d mostly been making super fucking stupid ones for way too long.
Now, working as a snowboarding instructor at Blizzard Ridge, one of Vermont’s swankiest ski resorts, he was at least able to think clearly. He was still an asshole. Still struggling with all of the self-destructive tendencies that had started out as a remedy and turned into a sickness. But he was at least fifty percent less miserable than he’d been two months ago, and that was saying something.
Because fuck, he’d hit rock bottom so hard that his teeth had rattled. He’d lost his job, been kicked out of his apartment, drained his bank account. He’d been unemployed and crashing on his brother’s couch, and he had no one to blame but himself. No one to hate but the jerk in the mirror. And he didn’t want to feel that way anymore. He was thirty-four years old, for Christ’s sake. He wanted to get his shit together. He needed to get his shit together.
It had actually been his brother, Lucian, who’d given him the idea to head out here. All he’d asked him was when he’d been happiest in his life, and Sebasti
an hadn’t had to think about it for more than half a second. His happy place was hurtling down a mountain with a board strapped to his feet. It was diving into a half-pipe and catching as much air as possible, doing tricks and feeling so goddamn alive everything else paled in comparison.
There’d been a time in his life when snowboarding had saved him. But then it, like everything else, had been taken away, too. Really, that loss was what had started his ten-year downward spiral.
He rubbed absently at his right knee and then pulled on his navy blue ski jacket, emblazoned with the Blizzard Ridge logo. Snowboarding had saved him once. He was hoping it could save him again. Maybe it was a stupid hope, but here he was all the same.
Deciding that he did have time for that cup of coffee, he zipped up his jacket, pulled on his dark gray beanie, and headed out the door of the pro room. Vermont’s Green Mountains rose up around him, poking into the pale blue sky still tinged with the kind of soft pink you only saw in the winter. It had snowed again last night, and a pristine layer clung to the pine trees that covered the parts of the mountains too jagged and steep to ski on. A few wispy clouds hung low in the sky, and Sebastian inhaled a lungful of fresh, cold air. Cold was good. Cold was pure, and simple, and cleansing.
He slowed his steps as he approached the small log cabin that housed the staff commissary and rest rooms, his boots crunching in the snow. This was where he’d start over. This was where he’d figure it out. He’d get back to basics, back to who he was with all of the shit of the past ten years stripped away so he could figure out who he wanted to be. Because the man he’d been over the past decade—the man who took risk after risk just to feel alive, who paid guys to beat him just so he’d feel something, who couldn’t get out of his own damn way long enough to even try to be happy—he was gone. There was no room for him up on this mountain.
He pulled open the brightly painted red door and stepped inside, the scents of stale coffee and burnt toast assaulting his nostrils. He lifted his hand in a wave as he spotted his boss, Patrick, deep in conversation with another of the instructors and one of Sebastian’s new favorite people, Lane. She waved back, her sleeve tattoo poking out from beneath her blue Henley.
As he filled his coffee cup, he glanced over at Patrick, knowing that he owed the man, big time. They’d ridden together a lot as teens, competed together on the national circuit and cheered each other on during the Team USA Olympic trials. But when everything had gone to shit for Bastian, he’d bailed on the entire world he’d once loved, including his friends, like Patrick. But apparently his disappearing act was water under the bridge, because he’d offered him a job and a place to live when he’d needed it most. Bastian had only meant to come out here for a week or two to ride and clear his head, but Patrick had offered him a place to belong.
Lane waved him over. “ ‘Kay, settle something for us,” she said, licking her lips and then glancing over her shoulder. A few other instructors sat at nearby tables, drinking coffee, talking, and scrolling on their phones. Sebastian plunked down into the empty chair beside her, slapping Patrick on the arm in greeting. “I think I should ask Kendra out, but this guy swears she’s straight,” she said, jerking her thumb in Patrick’s direction. He shrugged and rubbed a hand over his shaved head, looking the tiniest bit sheepish. Just then, the ski instructor in question walked in through the door. Lane waved and then winked at her, and Sebastian couldn’t tell if Kendra’s cheeks were pink from the cold or Lane’s obvious flirting.
“I’m telling you, she had a boyfriend as of like three weeks ago,” said Patrick, crossing his arms. But Sebastian knew him well enough to guess that his interest in Kendra’s sexuality and dating life was purely selfish.
“And I’m telling you, she’s not as straight as you think.”
Two sets of eyes landed on Sebastian, pulling him into a conversation he really didn’t want to be a part of. He sipped his coffee and then shrugged. “I dunno. She did blush when you winked at her. Plus you’re old and bald,” he said to Patrick, barely ducking out of the way in time when Patrick’s arm swung out at him in a playful swipe.
“First of all, I’m the same age as you, smartass. Second, some women like the shaved head. And third, I’m your boss, so either take my side or shut up.”
Ignoring them, Lane rubbed her hands together, her eyes bright with excitement. She smoothed a hand over her short blond hair and then stood. “I’m going in.”
“Godspeed,” said Patrick in a monotone, shaking his head.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, kicking at Patrick’s boot. “You were gonna ask her out, weren’t you?”
Patrick shrugged again, his main mode of communication. “Maybe. Looks like it doesn’t matter.” And he was right, because Kendra was blushing and giggling as she put her number in Lane’s phone. After a moment, Lane sauntered back over and dropped back down into her chair.
“And that, boys, is how you score a date for Friday night.”
Patrick leaned forward on his elbows. “Maybe she just has a thing for Justin Bieber lookalikes.”
Lane threw back her head and laughed. “Aw, Patty. You’re cute when you’re jealous that I’m getting laid and you’re not.”
Sebastian laughed. God, it felt good to just sit and joke and shoot the shit and not feel like his life was imploding around him. Like the sky was always on the verge of falling because he’d spent the past decade trying to knock it down.
Patrick finished his coffee, crumpled up his cup and tossed it into a nearby trash can. “While I’ve got you two here, I wanted to run something by you.”
“Okay,” said Sebastian, taking another sip of his coffee, not even caring that it was lukewarm and stale. Sitting here, in the mountains, with these people, beat the hell out of the eight-dollar espresso he used to fuel himself with every morning.
“First, here are your lesson cards for today,” he said, reaching into his pocket and fishing out two pieces of paper containing that day’s assignments. Sebastian quickly scanned his eyes over the card. He had a private lesson with an adult beginner from 9-12, a Little Mountain Riders class at 1, and then an intermediate adult group lesson at 2:30. Sweet. He’d be done for the day by 4, leaving him a solid hour and half to ride on his own. And the Little Mountain Riders were always his favorite. There was nothing more adorable in the world than watching a group of four-year-olds on snowboards. Nothing. There wasn’t a puppy, kitten, or furry creature alive that could hold a candle to those little dudes and dudettes.
“Second,” said Patrick after he’d given them a minute to look over their lesson cards, “we’ve got a big corporate retreat coming in tomorrow, and I want you two to take the lead on any snowboarding sessions they want to book.”
“Sure,” said Lane, frowning at her card. “Did you give me a full day private lesson with a twelve-year-old douche because I hit on your crush?”
Patrick grinned. “Nope. Made these up yesterday.” He stood and tugged his beanie on over his shaved head. “Maybe it’s karma.”
Lane grumbled something that sounded like “karma my ass” but plastered a smile on her face. “Okay. You’re the boss.”
With the word karma bouncing around his skull, Sebastian tipped his chin in Lane’s direction. “I’ll take him. I was a twelve-year-old douche once upon a time. Maybe I’ll have an easier time with him.”
Lane flashed him a grateful smile. “Seriously? Man, I should buy a lottery ticket. A date with Kendra and I don’t have to spend the day with Chase Van Whitney? It’s definitely my lucky day.”
“Is he that bad?” he asked, swapping his lesson card with hers.
She made a face. “Nah, he’s not that bad if you don’t mind eye-rolling, tantrums, entitled behavior and just being a total privileged asshat in general.”
He grinned. “Oh, cool, he’s basically me twenty years ago.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really? I know we haven’t been friends long, but you don’t strike me as a douche.”
�
��Ha. Well. I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, but yeah. I was a douche with a capital D.”
“Maybe you’ll be able to connect with him better than me, then. Because I’ve never been anything but an angel.” Her mischievous grin told another story, but he just laughed.
He pushed to his feet, finished his coffee, and headed out with a wave, tossing out his cup along the way. After he’d stopped by the pro room to grab his gear, he headed to the area at the top of the mountain where all the instructors met up with their students. He spotted Chase Van Whitney almost immediately. Kitted out in the most expensive snowboarding gear available, he was idly cruising back and forth, spraying up snow as he did.
Plastering a smile on his face, Sebastian approached and tipped his chin at him. “Hey, man, are you Chase?”
“Yeah.” The tone was somehow both defiant and sullen.
“Cool. I’m Sebastian. I’ll be your instructor today.”
Chase gave him a once over, his lip curling slightly. “You’re, like, mega old.”
Sebastian shrugged. “I’m experienced. Which will benefit you.”
“Uh huh,” he said, rolling his eyes.
“How long you been riding?” he asked, aiming for a casual tone. Yeah, this kid was clearly a little asshole, but Sebastian felt himself wanting to connect with him.
“Since I was five,” he said. “I’m pretty good.”
Sebastian grinned. “I bet. You warmed up?”
Chase squinted at him and tossed his head to flick his hair out of his eyes. “No. I’m not old. I don’t need to warm up.”
“Yeah, well, I do, and today I’m the boss, so I say we’re warming up.”
Chase rolled his eyes and let out the sigh to end all sighs, and Sebastian laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“You, little man. So much drama over having to do some jumping jacks and agility drills.”
“Agility drills? Man. I just want to get on the half-pipe without any of this shi—” At Sebastian’s raised eyebrows, he coughed and said, “without this crap.”
