Changing into my ski clothes, I decided I’d spend one more day on the slopes before the Winter Games. Originally, I thought about just using today as a rest and recharge day, but sitting around all day long inside did nothing but bring me anxiety and worry. I’d been learning that about myself over the years; idle hands give the enemy too much to work with. At least for me. While I wasn’t running from reality—in fact, I had my best thoughts while doing tasks—I couldn’t stay here.
In the laundry room, I slipped on my ski pants over my long johns. The henley long sleeve shirt I wore felt like it shrunk in the dryer. I made a mental note to get another one ordered soon. A door opened upstairs, followed by Presley carrying her dog down.
“Good morning,” she said, her eyes looking fresh and bright. Priscilla was in a bright pink sweater as Presley stopped to put a coat and boots on them both before going outside.
“How did you sleep?” I asked, out of character for myself. Or was it?
“We slept great, thanks for asking. The heat from the fire just lulled us to sleep like angels. And you? I’m sorry you had to give up your nice bed for the couch.”
“It was fine. I liked it. And I’m happy to report, the window didn’t get hit again. Yet, anyway,” I said. She smiled.
“Oh, thank goodness. I kept thinking I heard something creaking out there. I know I’ve been here a few days, so you’d think I’d be used to all the sounds of Sage Mountain. But I still wake up and wonder where I am.”
“That’s probably because you’ve slept in a different bed every night you’ve been here.” I crossed my arms and gave her a knowing look.
“You’re so right about that.” She tapped her forehead as if to say, “duh.” Presley looked me up and down. “So, training again today?” I shook my head.
“Nah. It’s all done. I’ve prepared all that I can for the Winter Games. Today, I wasn’t planning on it, but I’ve decided to go skiing again.”
“Ah, so there will be a tiger on the slopes today?” Presley laughed, and I nodded.
“It’s the only way I can be left alone.” I looked at her. Her hair was in a braid going down her shoulder blades, and she was wearing her ski clothes and a fitted black turtleneck. I didn’t know makeup well, but I could tell she was wearing a pink lipgloss. I found myself thinking of her lips.Ford—get a grip.It was hardly seven in the morning.
“I bet it gets crazy with people recognizing you all the time. How long has that been happening?” she asked. I thought about it for a moment.
“Probably the last five years or so. Things really exploded again when I was in a high-profile relationship with my ex.” Just bringing Poppy up made me feel weird. But, God had forgiven me, and I had been freed from the shame and grief of that time in my life.
“I see. Well, I’m glad you have such a good disguise. It certainly worked for you when we were in the gondola when that woman was fawning over you, and no one was the wiser.” I waited for the questions about my ex to come, but they didn’t. I knew she wanted to ask, because in my experience, every woman wants to know the details of past relationships. But it dawned on me: Presley wasn’t interested in me like that, and that was okay.
Not to sound full of myself, or like I assumed she would be, but I’d always been a little bit of a lady’s man. But, since Poppy, I’d turned into a private recluse who steered clear of any and all women. It had been a relatively long stretch that I hadn’teven considered the idea of talking to a woman beyond friendship, and suddenly, here I was, toying with the idea if this woman liked me.
Chapter 7: Presley
The Tiger Unmasked
I slept well in Ford’s comfortable bed. He had one of those firm mattresses with the cooling pillowtop on it. If it wasn’t for waking at every little movement downstairs from him or his fireplace, I would have been out like a light. But the truth was, my awareness of Ford was growing quickly. Last night, I even prayed about it. “Lord, what is happening here?’ “I asked. Either God was working through me to reach Ford, or Ford was starting to reach me. And that was both terrifying and exciting at the same time.
I still knew very little about Ford, other than the fact he was drop-dead handsome, of course. And turned out, a great dancer. I had my guard up pretty strong last night, but there was a moment when he dipped me, I felt something in my heart. My feelings for him were solidified in a way. Seeing him up close, yet, out of the kissing distance, my heart was fawning over him.I respected how gentlemanly he was being and hoped it was because he was starting to like me. So, with my phone back and charged, I did a few web searches of him last night. I watched race videos. Interviews. Saw pictures. And then I read the bios of the people who were in—or had been previously—involved in his life. Including his ex-fiancé, Poppy.
Before I knew it, I was in one of those message boards that were dedicated to him. It was made up of mostly women who thought he was gorgeous but some fans of his skijoring, too. One of the posts caught my attention:Ford’s ex fiancé gets married to Sage Mountain CEO.Suddenly, I felt like I was reading something I shouldn’t. It was too personal and almost creepy to be learning this much about a person who was just right downstairs. If only I could have asked him. He may not have seemed like an open book right now, but for the time being, he had graciously allowed me to be his roommate. Heck, I was even using his bedroom, and he was on the couch.
My convictions led me to put the phone down. This person was showing me boundless kindness by allowing me and my high maintenance Shih Tzu, Priscilla, who was acting as if he was the only man she’d ever seen, stay with him. The least Icould have done was stop reading about his deeply personal wounds online.
After I turned it off and went to sleep, I awoke this morning and started to think of Ford in a different light. There was more to this brooding exterior than what met the eye, I was certain of it. Remembering a video where he and Poppy were being interviewed at a sporting event, he seemed so doting. Caring. Kind. Now, I picked up on those things but also a deep hesitation. Last night, as I fell asleep, I said another prayer about Ford that he could forgive those who hurt him. And that maybe, he could find someone who would protect his heart at all costs.
As I did my hair and brushed my teeth for the day before going downstairs with Priscilla, I considered all of this praying I’d been doing for Ford. My heart sank. “Lord, I’m afraid I’ve started to fall for this man, and I don’t want to do that again unless it’s for the man I’m going to marry. Lord, turn these feelings off. Please don’t let me get hurt.”
A calm feeling came over me as I put on a light tinted moisturizer and found myself taking a little extra time for a sparkle shadow on my lids and a minor eyebrow shaping. I looked to the bed where Priscilla was still snoring; she wasn’t waiting on me. I had plenty of time to take care of myself beforethe lifts started running. I braided my hair and decided a little lip gloss wouldn’t hurt either; it might just help protect my lips from getting chapped.
After several minutes, I put down the makeup and woke up Priscilla. She rolled on her back so I could scratch her tummy, which I happily obliged. Then, when she was ready, she rolled back over and let me put a sweater on her. Today, I chose a bright pink frock with small matching hair clips for her pigtails. It was so adorable that I picked her up and kissed her on the head out of joy.Thank You God for dogs! They bring so much happiness to our lives.
As we headed downstairs, I nearly stopped in my tracks when I saw Ford. He was wearing a skintight, long sleeved henley, and I wasn’t mad about it. His muscles appeared to beverywell defined, no doubt thanks to his sport and that gym he had set up in his third bedroom. We had some idle morning chat as I prepared to take Priscilla outside, and when I returned, it continued some more. I noticed he seemed much more talkative as the days went by. Was he opening up to me, perhaps?
Before I knew it, Poppy came up in conversation, and my mind was fending off the guilt from already knowing about it. I didn’t press, though he left plenty of opportunity to askquestions, and I thought maybe that made me appear like acoolchick that wasn’t overbearing with questions. But in reality, my mind had tons of them. “Overbearing” was my nickname in college from a guy named Ben who went out with me a total of two times after he brought up a woman that he wanted to ask out on a date, and I mentioned the fact that he was already on a date with me. He said, “I didn’t realize that meant we were married,” to which, I objected that we would in fact, never be. That was hurtful.
Another nickname was “Spreadsheet” after I made a few for my chemistry lab partner in high school, so he could keep our projects organized. Despite him telling me that was the only way he passed that class—and graduated, because he was on very thin ice academically—he coined the term, and it caught on with all of his football buddy friends.
So now, as I was looking around for a pen so that I could cover the contents of Ford’s refrigerator in sticky notes asking for further details, “Is this organic?” or “Eat this soon—it expires in a week,” my stomach growled again, interrupting my quest.
