“Seven years.” He angled toward her, elbow on the bar, one foot propped on the brass rail. “Are you here on vacation?”
“Work, actually,” she said. Before he could ask what kind of work, she added, “I’m from Denver. It’s nice to get away from the city. It’s so beautiful out here.”
“It is that.” He had soulful eyes. A little sad. But very alert. He was studying her, trying to figure her out. Well, that made two of them.
“Maybe you can answer a question for me,” she said.
“I can try.”
“I’ve seen some signs around town. ‘No to SkyCrest Expansion’ and ‘Save Blaine Mountain.’ What’s all that about?”
A momentary wrinkling of his forehead before it smoothed out again. He sipped his beer before answering. “The resort wants to expand their terrain,” he said. “They’ve petitioned the government to allow them to build lifts on Blaine Mountain. Some of the locals aren’t too happy with the idea.”
“What do you think of it?”
He didn’t hesitate with his answer. “It would be a good business decision for the resort—more terrain, something new to attract new visitors, spread out the crowds more. More jobs.” His gaze slid away.
“But?” she prompted.
“But it means cutting trees, putting in lifts and closing access to national forest land that people around here have been able to recreate on for free for, well, forever, I guess.”
“So you sympathize with the people who are against the development?”
“To a point.”
“What point is that?”
“They’re free to protest all they want. But if things get violent or they start breaking laws…that changes things.”
“Some people would say preserving a pristine environment might be worth a little violence. At least, ecoterrorists say things like that.”
His gaze met hers once more. Wary. “Are you an ecoterrorist?”
“No. Just someone trying to understand the situation.”
He set his empty beer bottle on the bar. “Anyway, the forest isn’t pristine,” he said. “People have logged and mined the area for centuries. They run cattle on it in the summer.”
“Hmm. But a ski resort would be different. Like you said, cutting trees. Closing access.”
“I guess it’s like everything else in life,” he said. “If there’s a choice involved, one side is always going to end up unhappy.” His gaze was boring into her now.
A flutter of nervousness disturbed her stomach. “Let’s talk about something more cheerful,” she said. “What do you like to do for fun?”
“It’s a ski town. Everybody here will say skiing.”
“But you do that for work.”
“It’s still fun. I couldn’t do the job if I didn’t like skiing. But there’s also hiking. Hanging out with my dog.”
“You have a dog? What’s his name? Do you have a picture?”
He took out his phone, scrolled for a moment, then turned the screen to face her. A curly-haired pup with an adorable grin looked back at her.
“Ohhhh!” She hadn’t even realized she’d uttered the cry until it was too late. What the heck. She was a sucker for animals, especially dogs. “He’s adorable. What’s his name?”
He looked down at his phone, a tenderness in his eyes that touched her further. “Farley. He’s a goldendoodle. Three years old.” He pocketed the phone. “Do you have a dog?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
