Chapter 18
Chris
Two days had passed since Melinda and I had sex.
It was opening day, and I hadn't had time to tell her how I felt, not with us both working on last-minute preparations for the resort. The ski−lift was finally fixed, and the desk where people could rent gear was up and running. All I had to do now was smile, shake hands, and somehow find time to see Melinda and kiss her beautiful face until I couldn't breathe. Untilshecouldn't breathe.
“Christopher!”
I tried not to let my shoulders deflate at the sound of Bess's father's voice. He was the only person in the entire world that called me Christopher. He thought it sounded prestigious.
“Malcolm,” I flashed a smile that practically said he was the best man in the world.
He wasn’t.
He was just like his daughter, but he could ruin me if I didn’t play my cards right.
“Son, this place looks amazing. I thought for sure, it would sit up here until it rotted or got buried in snow, forgotten like a relic from the past, but you've brought it back to life.”
“Thank you, sir. That means a lot to me. I couldn’t have done it without my staff. They brought this all together.”
“Ah, yes. A man is only as good as his soldiers. That, I believe.”
Right. He was an old veteran, too, so everything was compared to his days in the Navy. That was one good thing about him—I loved to hear his stories—but tonight was not the night for that. I had a lot to do with very little time. The turnout was amazing. Hundreds of people had to be here to show their support. We hauled them into signing up for our newsletter by a competition Melinda had set up. We even sold a couple of “Avalanche” prime member passes for the elite, like Bess's father here. Some lived in Breckenridge and was in it for the ski passes, gourmet bar lunches, spa, and after-ski, while some came from Boulder and were happy about a couple of complimentary weekends and weekday stays during the year. During the warmer months, they could still come here for hiking and mountain biking, which was lucky due to the late start we had. I'd happened to buy the resort too late in the year to fix it up for the winter season, which had been an issue, but I'd wanted this place. And today I was starting to think I'd made the right decision.
“You’re going to do well. It’s going to be a great landmark for Breckenridge. It was just what we needed. Oh, look, there is my girl,” he said, glancing over my shoulder.
Shit. I was so not in the mood for Bess tonight.
“Chris, you have met Bess, right?”
“I sure have. Bess, you look nice tonight,” I made sure to use a word women hated. Nice was average. No woman ever wanted to look nice. And my plan worked.
Her beady eyes hardened. “Thank you.”
“If you’ll excuse me, one of the staff needs my help.” They didn’t. I just needed to get the hell out of there before Bess' father started playing matchmaker. I wouldn't put it beyond him.
I made my way toward the bar but was interrupted by dozens of people, congratulating me, and telling me how they couldn't wait to hit the slopes. It was all fine and dandy, but the tie was too tight, and I was sweating. I wanted to get to the bar, get a drink, and see my girl.
My girl.
It had always been her.
“I apologize to cut this short, but my staff needs me.” It was a lame phrase, but it kept working out in my favor.
“Of course, they do. Congratulations!”
“You’re the guy that ticked Melinda off,” another voice said as I took a step closer to the damn bar. I’d never get there.
I turned around and saw the three older ladies from the coffeeshop. Melinda had talked about them before, but who was who? “When did I make her mad?”
The one with one side of her head shaved, and the other with curled silver hair that fell down her left cheek cocked her hip. “At the coffee shop. She went on and on about you.”
“I told her it was just sexual frustration,” another said.
“That’s what happens when you deny your feelings for too long,” the other with big brown glasses tsked. She looked like she should be knitting a sweater.
I couldn’t keep my attention on one long enough before another started to speak. They were wild. I needed to keep an eye on them. They were a Melinda invite, that’s for sure. “Which one of you is Esther?”
