“Should I make us some breakfast? Or did you already eat?” I asked him.
“I haven’t eaten yet, but how about I cook for you?” he asked, to which I couldn’t say no.
“Okay, that sounds really nice,” I smiled, and I found myself taking this personally. Did he want to cook for me? Was I reading into this too far? Was he falling for me? I collected Priscilla’s food out of the fridge. She had been glued to Ford’s ankles since we came back inside.
“Are you hungry, sweetie?” I asked, to which she galloped over to her bowl and ate.
“What a ferocious little thing,” Ford commented, as he took a mix out of the cupboard. Filling a pan with water, he began to boil it. “Do you like eggs benedict?” he asked, which was music to my ears.
“Like it? Iloveit! It’s my favorite breakfast.” He smiled and nodded.
“Mine too,” he whispered. It was so faint that I almost didn’t hear it. Sitting down at the table, I put a few more puzzle pieces together while I sipped on some hot coffee. Colors from the sunrise caught my attention and soon, I was glued to the picture window, watching the beautiful alpenglow of God’s creation.
Breakfast was whipped up fast. Within ten minutes, I had two beautiful poached eggs on perfectly crisped English muffins coated with a heaping amount of hollandaise sauce.
“Would you like to join me in prayer?” I asked, considering how yesterday I had sprung it on him without considering if he might. Ford gave a hesitant nod, and I reached my hand out to him, clasping his.
“Dear heavenly Father, we thank You for this blessing of food this morning. And for the bountiful heaps of snow that You have graced us with. May this food energize our bodies and keep us strong, and may You protect us from harm on the slopes. In Your name, Amen.”
“Amen,” Ford croaked out as we released each other's hands. As I took a bite of the food, I almost fell backward.
“This is thebesteggs benedict I have ever had!” I savored the bite, tasting the tangy sauce with the perfectly gooey egg. It was divine.
“Thanks. It’s the only breakfast food I really know how to make from scratch,” he shrugged.
“And you’re doing it well, my friend.” As we ate, I still felt the weight of his hand in mine. I was trying not to think about how rugged it felt to my soft, slender hands. Or the strength thatit gave off. No, I wouldn’t daydream of this man's masculine attributes as I was sitting next to him. As I was staying with him in his chalet. As I was camped out in his bedroom while he took the couch.
As if on cue, Priscilla, being the diva that she was, jumped up from the floor into Ford’s lap while he was eating. The look of surprise on his face when she did that made me break out into a gut-wrenching laugh.
“I’m so sorry. Clearly, I’ve enabled this behavior,” I said as I got up to put her back on the floor. But Ford just shrugged.
“This has been a long time coming. I’m okay with it,” he smiled, and I started laughing again. The sight of this rugged, manly cowboy with my Shih Tzu wearing a pink sweater and pig tails sitting on his lap was all that my heart could handle. The joy was overwhelming as I finished my delicious meal, and we chatted about Priscilla.Lord, I can’t help it. I’ve fallen for this man.
Priscilla’s Inner Monologue
Darling, I rather like this man we are accompanying this week. He has hands large enough to transport me and our luggage,which with my growing wardrobe, let’s face it—it was a role that needed to be filled.
I offered to clear the table while Ford went to get ready for his day. After taking her outside one more time, Priscilla found her favorite spot on the couch: in the blanket that Ford used for sleeping last night. It appeared I was not the only one with a huge crush on this man. As we both readied for skiing, he turned to look at me.
“Would you like to go skiing. . . with me?” My heart bounced at his words. I wanted to shout from the rooftops, proclaiming my answer. I felt like one of those old-timey showgirls who would do those synchronized kicks to the music. I felt like I could fly.
“Yes, I would!” my answer was a little too eager, with both tone andvolume.He looked at me like I about blew his hair back when I responded, but after a moment, he smiled and nodded.Whew.
We left the chalet and headed for the gondola. I had my skis over my shoulder on one arm and was carrying my ski poles in the other, but after I got to the sidewalk off his driveway, he stopped me.
“Here, give me the skis. You can carry the poles.” His chivalry was refreshing. I obliged, watching him throw a set of skis over each shoulder and carry them effortlessly. As we got closer to the gondola line, skiers were being turned away.
“What’s going on?” I asked a skier who was walking the opposite direction of the gondola.
“The power is still out at the resort, too. The transformer blew, so now they are limiting the number of skiers because they can only run so many lifts.” A look of concern came over my face, as I hoped we would be let in. Clearly, this person wasn’t, so I didn’t get my hopes up.
“Thank you for the information,” I said to the woman as we went our separate ways. “What do you think we should do?” I asked Ford, who was wearing his tiger mask again.
“Let’s still give it a try. Look at all of these people turning away, assuming they won’t get in. By the time we make it through the line, we just might.” And that’s exactly what happened. The line moved quickly, because people were giving up waiting for another gondola to move. The resort was limiting skiers based on the type of lift ticket you had—Ford and I both had season passes, which according to today’s rules, weren’t being able to ski. But, with a quick flash of Ford’s face to theman running the lift, he let us in the gondola. Not only that, but we were riding it alone.
“Gee,” I said, the moment we were up in the air. “It’s so fun skiing with someone famous,” I razzed him, and he shrugged, taking his mask down for the time being since we were alone.
“I know that was rather. . . tacky of me. But I really wanted to ski with you today.” His words brought more excitement to my heart than I cared to admit.
