Chapter 2
KOLTON
Mountain vistas usually calm me. Something about their size, imposing and downright impressive, puts life into perspective, the trivial day-to-day stresses no longer so heavy. It reminds me how lucky I am to be alive and enjoying nature.
But today can kiss my ass.
I sink lower into the hot tub and take a generous sip of my beer as Sawyer and Nico show up at our condo’s outdoor spa area.
Sawyer shields his face like staring at me is staring directly at the sun. “If you keep making that miserable expression, it might blind me.”
I flip him the finger.
Nico chuckles. “Does this mean you didn’t get your ski pass working this morning?”
“Oh, no. I got it working.” Not quickly, though—the first of today’s string of disasters.
My ski pass not working at the base of the mountain sucked.
Not day-crushing sucked, but I sent the boys to ski on their own and had to wait for twenty minutes while the dude at the wicket stared uselessly at his computer to deduce why my piece of plastic lost its data.
Once his boss issued me a new pass, I hauled ass to my gear, itching to ski out my tensing muscles.
That was when I noticed the dent in my binding.
“I had an equipment issue, too,” I told them. “Needed to rent new skis. Took me almost an hour to finally get up the lift.”
“Great conditions, though,” Sawyer says. “You must’ve had a blast once you hit the snow.” Beer in hand, he tosses his robe on a lounge chair beside the hot tub.
“I’m sure I would’ve, but some idiot instructor left a kid by himself at the top of my first chair up.”
The crying boy looked about Jackson’s age, and if my kid were by himself at the top of Aspen Mountain, I’d raise hell.
So instead of skiing out my frustration, I spent the next thirty minutes in the lodge, feeding the little dude chips and chocolate to keep his meltdown in check.
When his ski school instructor turned up, I copied the fuckwit’s name down and made it clear he better not lose any more kids while teaching.
The boy’s quiet, “Thank you, mister,” as he tugged on my hand had me missing Jackson hard.
This is the first vacation I’ve taken without my son.
The longest I’ve been away from him in seven years.
I’ve spent every minute wondering if he’s tripping on that shoelace he never ties.
If he’s brushing his teeth. If he’s practicing his writing.
Missing him has also brought back thoughts of Marina and what I’ve lost. What I might never find again.
“That’s not even the worst of it,” I add, edgy and still seething over today’s dominoes of frustration.
“If that bitter look is staying on your face,” Sawyer says, pointing his beer at me, “I need to be in the hot tub for the rest of this recap. Relax while you internally combust.”
“Agreed,” Nico says. He waits for Sawyer to slip into the water, but Sawyer turns and raises his palm. “Use the other tub, big guy. One step in here, and you’ll send the water flooding out.”
“Fuck you.” With a grunt, Nico walks his massive thighs in and sprawls out just to piss Sawyer off.
Steam rises from the water, a few snowflakes starting to fall. A couple of kids are in the nearby pool jumping around, and my mind is back on Jackson, hoping he’s listening to his teacher. Hoping that obnoxious kid Evan isn’t pushing him around.
Evan, the little shit.
Nico runs a hand over his buzzed head and reaches for his beer. “Hit us with the rest of your horrible day on the gorgeous slopes of Aspen.”
I exhale as the cold snowflakes dissolve on the warm stone around us. “A bra landed on my head, so there’s that.”
Sawyer sputters out a laugh around his beer. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me fine. I was under that stupid bra tree, and someone had bad aim.”
Hearing some women above me laugh their asses off as I fisted the black fabric and flung it into the trees made it even worse.
Sawyer keeps chuckling, and I give him a kick.
At least Nico’s laugh is quieter as he shakes his head. “Please tell me your day got better after that.”
“Wish I could, but my next chair got stuck for five minutes. Then, on my next run, some bitch skied into me. Our skis crossed, and she sent me flying.” Knocked the wind clean out of my chest.
“Ouch.” Sawyer winces. “You didn’t hurt your shoulder again, did you?”
I roll out the joint that often dislocates. “Thankfully no, but my goggles got trashed. Still can’t believe how she flew across the run out of nowhere.”
I may have been skiing hard—barreling down the run to work out the morning’s frustrations—but there was no apology from her. No remorse. She got up and blew past me. Not before giving me the one-finger salute.
As I stare out at the rugged mountains, trying to let go of today’s irritations, I can’t help picturing how she raced down the hill like an Olympian.
There’s something about athletic women who can hold their own on the slopes that gets me going.
I bet her legs are toned, her ass probably tight.
Strip her out of that ski gear, and man, could that be the thing to take the edge off my day.
An odd thought, considering casual hookups haven’t held any appeal lately.
Tired of reliving my frustrating day, I put my beer down, duck under the water, and push through the surface. The frosty air hits me like a shot of oxygen. Those kids are splashing each other, the nearby adult warning them to keep it down. I drag my hand down my face and shake out my hair.
Nico’s eyes dart to the kids, then back to me. “It’s Jackson’s birthday next month, isn’t it?”
I nod—a quick jerk of my head, no other comment needed.
Silence descends between us as we leave the rest unspoken. No one needs to mention Jackson turning seven means Marina died seven years ago. I don’t need the reminder. Life was taken and life was given. An even swap that nearly cut me down. If it weren’t for Jackson, I wouldn’t have made it.
High-pitched giggles float toward us, and Nico tips his beer toward two women who just arrived.
They strip down to their bikinis and walk gingerly into the tub a few feet away, whispering to each other as they eye him.
With his buzzed head, massive build, and the tattoos curving over his shoulders, he looks more Hell’s Angels than the cop he is, but the dude is all heart.
Not many guys would upend their lives and move in with a friend for eight months to help raise his son. I cringe, thinking what it would have been like if I had to move back home with my dad, stepmom, and the chaos my three stepbrothers inspire.
The word loud comes to mind.
Nico clears his throat. “Does your recent break from women have anything to do with that birthday?” Still no mention of Marina. No need to twist the knife in my gut.
“No,” Sawyer answers for me. “He’s attempting to achieve sainthood through celibacy.”
I squeeze my beer until my knuckles burn.
“Not joining you while you sleep through half of Vancouver doesn’t mean I’m celibate.
Just not interested right now. Tons going on with the expansion at work, and Jackson keeps me busy.
Time’s a commodity.” The bubbling water around us stills, a shriek and a splash from the pool piercing the quiet.
“Speaking of work…” Sawyer juts his chin toward a man and woman heading for the reception area.
The woman has on a Moondog jacket, the guy a Moondog hat, both items from our fall/winter clothing line.
The Runaway Jacket—with its asymmetrical zipper, thick lapels, and buckles up the sides—fits the blond perfectly, the deep purple tone even sharper than I remember.
Sawyer leans out of the tub to hit the dial, and the jets roar back to life. “The jacket looks good, huh?”
I sigh, dreading what’s coming. He may be the design guy behind our growing retail chain, but sometimes he goes too far, edgier than I think our clientele will dig. Not every woman wants to be rocker chic. “Do I have to say it now, or can it wait until later?”
After a long pull on his beer, he shrugs. “Now suits me fine.”
I tip my head back, the ends of my hair sinking into the water. “Sawyer, dude, you are the man.”
“And?”
God, I hate when he’s right. “And…next time I tell you no woman in her right mind will spend six hundred bucks on a jacket with a bunch of zippers and buckles all over it, I give you permission to waterboard me.”
“If waterboarding is going down,” Nico says, “count me in.”
“Actually”—Sawyer faces me—“since you’ve just admitted I’m always right, I’m going to tell you why your no-women excuses are bullshit.”
I stare at him flatly. “Is it still called mansplaining when you condescend an explanation to another man?”
“In this case, yes,” Nico confirms.
“You’re living your life for Jackson,” Sawyer continues, talking over us.
“Which, don’t get me wrong, is awesome. That kid deserves the best. But you’ve gotta get out and live your life, too.
You don’t get these years back, and you won’t stay twenty-nine forever.
Believe it or not, that girly hair of yours won’t reel ’em in when it’s gray and thinning. ”
I slap the edge of my hand against the water, spraying Sawyer’s face. “So what? Going from woman to woman like you is the answer? That’s what you call living?”
Using his forearm, he wipes the water from his face.
“First. Do that again, and I beat your ass. These pools are nasty. Second. Yeah, I’m living a great life.
The life I want. For me. That’s all I’m suggesting.
Nico here is your relationship guy. That works for him.
I think having a partner is your jam, too, and you can’t meet someone if you’re not open to it.
Either way, you need to figure your shit out because one day Jackson will fly the coop.
I say have fun in Aspen, let loose for a change, then maybe start into dating again back home. ”
I close my eyes on an exhale. What’s it been since I dated? Six months? Seven?
Sure, work, Jackson, and life in general make it tough to find the time, but these days I can’t muster up the interest. Sawyer and I used to take advantage of our Moondog status, bagging women more than happy to list us as conquests.
After a couple of them turned creepy stalker, we canned that routine and stopped telling women what we do for a living.
Then came dating. Everyone telling me they had the girl for me.
The perfect match. A month here, a couple there, but no one with any staying power.
Just thinking about those days is exhausting.
Nico moves to use another jet, and the water sways like in one of those wave pools. “Sawyer might have a point, dude. You have been really uptight lately.”
I cough on a swallow of beer. “Seriously? You’re siding with the guy who slept with your last girlfriend a month after you broke up?”
He cracks his thick neck. “There wasn’t much between us, so I gave him the okay. Besides, I knew what a letdown it would be after riding the Nico Train.”
Sawyer copies my move and blasts water in Nico’s face. “Asshole.”
Nico retaliates with a punch to the shoulder that has Sawyer cursing, then Nico turns to me.
“We’re in Aspen, hot women everywhere. You should’ve seen the two we met on the slopes today.
Might as well use the time to get back in the game.
Have some fun. Then maybe hit the dating scene with more enthusiasm, like Sawyer said. Even online or something.”
“Right. Online dating. Like that works. And if you guys met hot women on the hill, why are you here?”
Nico shrugs. “They took off too fast. Something about meeting a friend at the bottom. And don’t diss online dating. I’ve done it. It might not have lasted, but you never know.” He points a finger at both of us. “One smartass word from either of you, and I aim for the throat.”
Sawyer and I take one look at each other and burst out laughing, beer almost spurting from my nose. “What did your profile say?” I ask. “Searching for Amazonian woman to handle massive dick?”
A slow smile lights Nico’s face. “If the shoe fits.”
Chuckling, I push up to sit on the edge of the tub, needing a break from the heat. The boys sink lower, shoulders shaking with laughter.
The snow keeps falling, hopefully dumping inches on top. A powder day tomorrow would make up for today’s fail. Still, I can’t stop reliving every aggravating detail.
The bra. The careless instructor. That woman with the attitude and her effortless turns as she blew past me on the slopes.
Picturing her again has heat pooling south, my dick nudging me to get some play.
Maybe the guys are right. If I relax and have some fun, maybe I could approach the whole dating thing with a bit more optimism when home.
“Fine. Let’s do it,” I say. “But not tonight. Tonight, it’s steaks and beers in. The way my day went, going out could be painful. We’ll hit the bars tomorrow. Cool?”
Nico grunts, and Sawyer says, “Works for me.”
I jump up. “I’ll head to town for food.”
I grab my towel, looking forward to a low-key night and a better day tomorrow. Checking out the nightlife and getting laid are starting to sound good. Damn good.
Between my assistant, Stella, and Marina’s mother, Jackson’s in safe hands. Work won’t implode over the next four days, and the past months of no action are catching up with me. If this trip is about living it up and letting loose, I may as well push the boundaries.
For four days. Starting tomorrow.
This particular day can still kiss my ass.