‘Emmeline,’ she said primly, as he wrapped his fingers around hers. Perhaps it was the famous foehn winds whipping up over the Alps, but a shiver ran down her spine.
He released her hand and ruffled his hair, which smelled divine, and not of hired ski helmet like Emme’s.
‘You’re new in town, yah?’
‘Yah…’ Emme replied, feeling silly for emulating him. Jeez what was with this guy? What was his pull?
‘Yes, I’m from England. Just here for a season,’ she elaborated.
Suddenly Emme didn’t want to seem like another worker. She didn’t want to keep looking young for her age. She wanted to look like a glossy woman, like all the women skiing in their Moncler suits and Gucci helmets. Or like Anastasia Steinherr, with her slick wardrobe and long mane.Not some girl in hand-me-down winterwear. She wanted to tell Tristan about all the things she enjoyed about working in London. The theatre trips and the ballet. The art and the restaurants.
‘Nice, I love the UK.’
‘I’m from London, I work in the City. I’m, erm, just taking a career break, looking after the Harrington children.’
‘Yah, I heard about the previous nanny’s dispatch…’ Tristan had a glint in his eye.
Oh god don’t tell me you fucked her too.
Emme shrugged.
‘You’re friends with both Lexy and Bill then?’
‘Everyone’s friends in this town,’ Tristan replied cryptically, before revealing a little more. ‘When I was a kid, Lexy used to make me dress up and be her stooge for her shows and rehearsals and stuff. She’s much older than me of course.’
‘Of course,’ Emme said, trying not to look Tristan up and down, but she gauged he was a good ten years younger than Lexy Harrington.
‘So how long have you been here?’
She didn’t want to ask him questions, his ego was clearly already massive, but how the hell does a wine importer from South Africa end up on the mountain?
Then his arrogant air dropped a little, he looked warm and genuine.
‘Eight years. My father and I came skiing and… well… we never left.’ He looked at Emme with a sadness, and then down into the snow, where he stabbed his ski poles.
She itched to know what made him sad; what made him tick. His face was so handsome. His jaw twitched.
‘It’s a beautiful place, Kristalldorf,’ Emme said, softening.
Tristan looked up, his eyes flashing with a sad intensity.
‘Shall we?’ he said, pointing to the warm café interior.
The kids.
‘Yes.’
Emme looked down at her skis, not knowing how the hell to get the things off. Tristan suddenly slammed his foot on the binding at the back of her boots, making her jump.
‘What are you doing?’ she snapped, flustered, thinking he might have broken them. ‘I have to pay for them if I break them!’
‘Erm, helping you out of your gear…’ he said with a wink, and held out his arm.
‘Oh, thanks,’ she said begrudgingly, as she bent over, picked them up and propped them against the rack next to where Harry and Bella had placed theirs.
In Zita Café Harry and Bella were sitting at a table by the window, each clumsily spooning and slurping a hot chocolate. Trollies were stacked up with trays of plates, empty glasses and half-eaten food. It very much looked like the end of the day.
‘Would you like a hot wine?’ Tristan asked.
