As Emme weaved through town, she wondered if she might like skiing more if she had some better gear. It would be foolish to wait until February to buy ski clothes, and she wanted to finally get out of her sister’s garish hand-me-down coat. It was just too embarrassing.
Emme bypassed the Bogner boutique on account of it having a velvet rope across the open doorway, and went into an equally exclusive but ever-so-slightly more welcoming boutique that sold a mixture of brands. If she was going to finally buy a ski jacket and trousers, they needed to be nice enough to feel good in, but not break the bank. Emme chose gloves to replace her woollen mittens and a decent enough helmet which she knew she could have bought at Decathlon for a fraction of the price back home, but a helmet was no good to her at home, and she needed one now.Fuck it, she thought, as she picked up a lilac Goldbergh two-piece and tried the jacket and salopettes on, just for fun.
A shop assistant with voluptuous lips and poker-straight hair admired Emme in the mirror of a rather open changing room area.
‘It’s stunning with your colouring,’ she said.
‘Thanks,’ Emme mused, admiring herself in the mirror. The lilac did suit her golden-peach skin tone. She dared to dream, before carefully peeling off the jacket. She handed it to the assistant and stepped out of the salopettes as she wondered what cheaper suits the store might have.
‘And of course the jacket can be worn around town, not just on the slopes,’ the assistant said.
Emme was tempted, but they were so expensive. She was just handing the salopettes to the assistant when someone made her jump.
‘Suits you,’ said a familiar voice from the shop counter.
Tristan again.
‘Christ!’
She thought she was the only customer in the boutique, and now she was standing in just the caramel-coloured base layers that hugged every curve and contour of her body tightly. She felt exposed and awkward and put her forearms across her breasts to try to conceal herself.
Tristan was tacit in his admiration, throwing her adon’t on my accountglance.
The shop assistant looked over, delighted.
‘Tristan!’ she said in a singsong voice, holding the lilac ski suit over her arm as she went to kiss him on each cheek.
‘Muffie, how are you?’
‘All the better for seeing you…’ she said.
This was the guy who slept with his own girlfriend’s married sister, as Cat had explained to Emme. She wanted to hate him, but he was just so bloody dazzling; his smile so warm and sexy, she felt so seen under his appreciative gaze, that her shoulders dropped and she felt instantaneously relaxed.
‘What can I do for you, Tris?’ the assistant asked, coquettishly.
‘I need four helmets please, Muffs, I’m taking my wine buyers skiing– and of course they came to the mountains without any gear… nor any idea for that matter…’ he winked at Emme. And she felt it to her core.
‘Of course, what sizes?’
Tristan pondered his group.
‘I’d go one XL, two L and one small please. Actually make the small helmet special; she’s from New York and it’ll be a nice touch.’
Muffie picked up a white Louis Vuitton helmet with matte white embossed flower motifs and interlocking LV logos on the front, which Emme had been eyeing. At 2,000 Swiss francs, she’d chosen an Oakley one instead.
‘Is this good?’ Muffie asked.
Tristan took the helmet and stroked it, impressed. He rubbed his thumb over its smooth shiny surface.
‘Would you wear this one, Emme?’ he asked, proffering it.
‘Hmm …’ Emme replied.
He swaggered over to her, helmet in hand, so she could see it up close.
Emme caught the twinkle in his eye, and something about the way he approached her, the way his eyes fell on her pert breasts, gave her a thrill. He was a player, but maybe she could play him too. She was still aware that she was in her caramel SKIMS, which made her look practically naked.
‘It’s pretty cool, yeah,’ Emme said casually, eyeing it, while Tristan couldn’t take his eyes off her.
