Chapter 2
Liam
Ifling open the door to our slopeside chalet, and damn it feels good to be back up here at Ricochet Ridge.
Damon brings me up here every January. And I say Damon ‘brings me’ because my best friend is loaded…and I am not. Hell, I can barely afford the rent for my shitty apartment back in Boston.
I quickly move about the space, taking in the hardwood floors, the pine walls and ceiling, the giant stone fireplace, and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking our private access to the slopes. This place is a serious upgrade from last year’s condo.
“Oh, shit! Look, D!” I call to Damon, who’s coming in the door behind me at a much slower and more dignified pace. “Check out that hot tub! How many girls do you think we can fit in there? Four? Five?”
Damon’s brows furrow. “Li, please don’t blow your load in the hot tub on our first day, because if you do, I won’t get in it, and two weeks is a really long time to be on a mountain in the winter and not soak in the hot tub.”
I bark out a laugh.
“Fine. But just so you know, it’s probably gonna happen at some point,” I inform him.
Moving down the hallway, I swear I hear Damon mutter, “Lord, help me,” and I can’t help but laugh again.
He knows my ways.
Damon is a great wingman. Totally selfless.
He always flushes the super-hot chicks toward me, building me up, and making me sound way fucking cooler than I really am.
If I had a dating app profile, I’d hire Damon to write it.
The craziest part is that I think he actually believes the shit he spouts about me.
That’s part of the reason it’s my mission on this trip to help him get laid. God only knows how long it’s been. If I don’t encourage him, he’ll divide his time between the slopes and his laptop, totally missing out on all the ski-bunny action.
I throw my bag into the first room I come to. I’m not picky. As long as it has a bed, I’m good with it. Besides, it’s impossible to go wrong in a place like this. It’s cozy with stunning views, and for the next fourteen days, it’s just me and D.
Despite the fancy dresser and hangers in the closet, I’ll mostly live out of my suitcase, so ‘unpacking’ only consists of throwing my toiletries in the bathroom and plugging in my phone charger.
As soon as all that’s done, I go in search of Damon, finding him in the back bedroom, two doors down from mine.
This house is way bigger than necessary for just the two of us, but that’s D for you.
He’s got money, and he isn’t afraid to spend it. Especially when it comes to me.
Ohmygod, D is my sugar daddy.
A laugh tears from my throat at the hilarious thought. It’d probably weird me out if it were anyone else. But Damon? Nah. We’re just like that.
“Holy fuck, man. This room is the size of my entire apartment!” I yell, taking a flying leap and landing on his bed with a bounce.
“Li, could you kindly get your nasty travel clothes off my bed?” Damon asks gently. His tone is always soft with me, even though I don’t think through most of the shit I say or the things I do. If he gets frustrated with me, he never shows it.
“Oh, right,” I say, forgetting that Damon doesn’t like ‘outside’ clothes to touch his sheets or comforter because he sleeps naked, and he can’t stand the germs.
Quickly stripping to my boxers—they don’t count because they didn’t touch the airplane seat or the booth in the restaurant—I plop back onto his bed while he methodically unpacks; fancy-ass boxers in the top left drawer, socks, top right. Slacks, jeans, and all shirts hung in the closet.
When he turns back around to find me mostly naked, he gives a small shake of his head and continues hanging his shit up.
“What do you want to do first?” I ask, lacing my fingers behind my head, getting comfortable.
“We’ve gotta pick up our rental skis and boots by five tonight, so let’s get that out of the way,” he says.
Geez, I forgot all about having to do rentals. I’m so glad he’s in charge of trip planning.
“Sounds good, and, uh, thanks for taking care of all of that,” I say with a small smile. Damon never makes me feel bad about being so scatterbrained, but sometimes I just wish I could be more like him. Prove to him I’m not as stupid as everyone thinks.
Until he looks at me and says, “You know I don’t mind, Li. I’m happy to do it,” with so much sincerity in his tone that all my insecurities are swept away.
After hanging the last of his fancy pullovers in the closet, he turns back to me with an arched brow.
“You wearing that to get fitted for your boots?” He waves a hand toward my naked torso, making me laugh. God, I haven’t laughed this much since the last time he and I were together. I miss being around him.
“Think they’d give us a discount if I did?” I ask, flexing my abs.
He shrugs a shoulder while staring at my contracted torso. “Either that or arrest you.”
“Hmm, it’s too early in the trip to have to be bailed out of jail. Pants it is.”
I roll off the bed, pick up my discarded clothes, and walk back down the short hallway to my room.
Since I’ll have to roll my pant legs up to try on the boots, I slip into a pair of sweats to make life easier on myself.
I grab the matching hoodie and find Damon waiting for me in the kitchen.
When he sees me, he has a funny expression on his face.
“What’s that look for?” I ask, wrinkling my nose at his obvious judgment.
“How do you manage to make a matching sweatsuit look that good?” he asks, once again saying exactly what I need to hear.
Damon’s standing at the fridge, so I walk over to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, pressing my hoodie-clad chest to his back.
My athletic build is a lot bigger than his lean, office-dwelling frame.
Damon is built like his dad and both of his brothers, and their body type doesn’t allow for much mass.
He also has what I call the Landry lips; they’re these big, pouty, pink lips that almost look like they belong on a woman, except they match the rest of his features pretty well. His brother, Taylor, has them too.
My stomach clenches at the thought of Taylor.
That fucker.
I know being at odds with Taylor really hurts Damon, but after what Taylor did, I don’t know that D and I’s friendship would have survived if he’d taken Taylor’s side. I quickly shove those thoughts away, though, because Damon didn’t take Taylor’s side.
He chose me.
Because of our size difference, it’s easy to engulf Damon in an embrace, which he pretends to hate, but secretly likes. Damon is way more particular about his personal boundaries and isn’t overly affectionate.
But that’s okay; he shows affection in other ways.
“Because I make everything look good,” I joke back, answering his question as I rest my chin on his shoulder. “How do you manage to make jeans and a pullover look even stuffier than the suit you had on earlier?”
Damon turns his head to the side, trying to look at me over his shoulder. “Stuffy? I’ll have you know I have a T-shirt on under this,” he says indignantly, pulling up the bottom of the cashmere sweater he’s wearing.
Just to fuck with him, I gasp. “Not a T-shirt! What will your rich brethren think? How dare that cotton be allowed to touch your skin!”
He reaches over his head to slap me playfully on mine.
“Are you done? We need to go,” he says, closing the doors to the fully stocked fridge.
I’ve learned that in really high-end places, they offer a grocery stocking service so you don’t have to go back out once you get to your rental, and if there’s one thing Damon hates, it’s having to go grocery shopping as soon as he arrives at his destination.
“Lead the way,” I smirk, pinching Damon on the ass as he turns toward the door.
“Ohmygod, how did I manage to forget how obnoxious you are on vacation?” he groans to my delight.
I waggle my eyebrows at him suggestively. “Because it’s been too long. Just wait until I’m the reason you get laid. You’ll remember why having me on vacation is so much fun.”
Damon stops dead in his tracks, causing me to run into his back.
“Not that again, Li. Please. I can manage my own sex life just fine,” he says, truly pleading as he steps over the threshold into the frigid air and hits the button to lock the front door.
“Bro, having sex once every three weeks with your own hand does not count as a sex life.”
“Did you decide which slope you wanted to start with tomorrow?” he asks, changing the subject. I take the hint and answer his question, letting him off the hook this once because we’ve only been here an hour.
But come hell or high water, Damon’s getting laid before we come down off this mountain. Nobody knows his type better than me.