“I swear I’m not going to push you down a hill in skis again, Charlotte. We’re just going to go for a little ride.”
“A little ride? Scaling a mountain a hundred feet in the air isn’t just a little ride, Gavin, it’s–”
“It’s perfectly safe, and I got you,” he says. The next thing I know, we are on the lift and it’s heading upward. I’m still not okay with it. I’m not okay at all.
“Gavin, I mean it. If you’re trying to distract me from work, this isn’t the way to do it,” I say. I’m looking around frantically for some kind of emergency brake or something, but quickly realize that’s not the way ski lifts work.
“It’s alright, Charlotte,” he tries to tell me as I squirm around. Meanwhile, the lift is making its way higher and higher.
“No, no, it’s really not. I don’t–”
“Charlotte, the view from the top is beautiful,” he says calmly, but somehow that’s only making it worse.
“I don’t like heights!” I cry out. Gavin wraps me in his arms and comforts me again.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But you’re okay. As soon as we get to the top, I’ll turn it around.”
I nod, and a minute later we are at the very top. Gavin is prepared to pull a three-sixty, but I stop him. “Wait.”
“What is it?” he asks.
“Can we just…sit here for a moment?” I ask.
“Sure,” he nods, and the lift stops, overlooking the entire mountain. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I let out. My warm breath sticks to the air in a wispy cloud before vanishing a moment later. “Yeah. It’s so…peaceful up here,” I say. Gavin smiles before settling back into the lift with me.
“It is. That’s what I wanted to show you. I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were afraid of heights.”
“Heights, adrenaline, spiders, all bugs really. The dentist, rabbits, those cinnamon roll tubes, clowns, ostriches…the list goes on and on,” I say with a laugh.
“Wait, rabbits?” he asks.
“The fake Easter Bunny. I was traumatized as a kid, and now anything with long ears gives me the heebie-jeebies,” I say with a shudder, and Gavin laughs.
“Well, am I helping at all?” he asks.
“It’s a little cold,” I say, and he pulls me closer.
“How’s that?” he asks.
“A little better…” I say slowly.
“Just a little?” he asks.
“My ears got cold on the way up here. You took off so fast I lost my hat,” I say with a smirk.
“Well, let me see if I can take care of that too,” he says. He takes off his hat and turns to me, tugging it on my head. Then, with his fingers still holding the edges, he smiles at me and pulls me into a kiss.
It starts soft and slow, our lips a little chilly. But then he parts my lips with his tongue, and the heat pours over me. It warms me up from the inside out until I am melting in my snow boots.
“How’s that?” he asks, smiling into my mouth.
“Much better,” I tell him. I turn to look at the view again with a sigh. “I love the mountains so much,” I say.
“I do too,” he says, settling into me. “I’ve traveled a lot. Hawaii, Greece, Italy, Spain, and of course, Mexico. But the Rockies will always be it for me. They’ll always be home.”
“So what do you do when home has nothing for you?” I ask absently.
