“What? Morgan! No!”
I do a shimmy to get my pants down under my ass. Hmm. My boots are going to be a problem.
“Morgan!”
Princess barks.
“Easy, girl,” I say. I quickly pull both boots off and tie them together, tossing one over the lift bar so that they dangle on either side of it.
“What the hell are you doing, Morgan?” Hunter shouts from behind us.
I hand Rory my jeans. “Mind your own business, Hunter,” I shout over my shoulder. I lift one cheek and then the other, sliding my underwear down. “Whew, that seat has a crack and it pinches.”
Hmm . . . the top station is getting pretty close. Not sure I’m gonna make it.
Rory’s got her hands over her face, laughing too hard to say anything and peeking out at me from between her fingertips.
“Kit, Morgan’s coming in hot,” I hear from behind. “You might want to slow the lift a bit if you don’t want a look at full-frontal Morgan.”
The radio squawks and I hear Kit’s response: “Why is he naked?”
The lift does not slow, a clear challenge from Kit, and I whip my underwear over my head like a lasso and then fling it out into the trees. I can see why the few bras out here are bright reds and pinks; I can barely tell where my gray boxer-briefs land.
“Jeans, please.” I hold out my hand and Rory wordlessly passes me my pants.
“Hmm,” I muse. “I don’t think getting the pants on is going to be as easy as getting them off.”
Princess barks, and I’m guessing that’s because she’s spotted Kit. Sure enough, when I look up, my friend lounges against the control panel, arms crossed over his chest.
Eh. There’s nothing to do but protect the little bit of dignity I have left. I wad my jeans and put them in my lap to cover myself up.
The chairlift slows and comes to a stop.
“Morgan.” Kit sighs, shaking his head. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m sorry,” Rory begins. “Does anything about this”—she waves her hand to encompass my whole body—“actually surprise you?”
Kit tips his head back and laughs. “No, but I’m still gonna give him hell for it.”
I ignore them and raise the bar. Princess whines until I say, “Go ahead, girl” and then she launches herself off the chair and out onto the mountaintop.
“Anyone who doesn’t want to see Morgan’s ass, avert your eyes!” Kit shouts.
There’s a series of hoots and hollers coming from the picnic table set up to the right. I stand from the lift, socks sinking into the grass, and turn my back on the group. I grin at Hunter on the chairlift behind us while I shake out my jeans and pull them on one leg at a time. I turn around while buttoning up to find Kit and Rory both watching me.
Kit’s bemused, winking at me before telling me I have a great ass, but could I please move now so he can get Hunter up here? Rory’s got her arms crossed, her hip cocked, and a more appreciative eye for me.
“Just for that,” she says, “next time I plan to ride the chairlift up I’ll shove a bra in my pocket.”
“Cheater,” I say as we join my friends.
Sunday Funday goes like this: we’ve got a picnic table set up, one of those big round ones that’ll seat ten. It’s perched a few feet from the lip of The Bone Meadow, a steep and wide black diamond that has the best view of the valley from the edge. Everyone brings stuff—Hunter brought our food up on his lift so I could manage Princess and my queenly newbie without worrying about it—so the table is laden with breakfast sandwiches, fruit, burritos, juice, and even a couple bottles of bubbly for those of us who don’t have to go directly to work.
I put Rory between Bailey and Kit, since she knows them the best. It also happens to be the best seat in the house. Leo and I sit with our backs to the view, keeping an eye on our dogs. It takes Donny a while to warm up to Princess no matter how many times they’ve played together. Either that or the lazy, placid pit bull is too bewildered by my dog’s bouncing energy to engage.
Bailey, Leo, Quinn, and Rory don’t have to work today, so the sparkling wine flows. Silas is at an open house, Tuan will probably have to leave early because he needs time to cook before his restaurant opens, and Jared will be leaving around the same time I do so he can open the brewery, but it’s nice to have most of us together at least once a month in the off-season.
Now that I know how Rory feels about her teeth, I see it all over her interactions. The way she purses her lips to the side instead of smiling when she and Quinn talk about hot-wiring cars, the way she bites into food and carefully chews it—and also the way I get a flash of her teeth when she catches me watching her and she just can’t help herself.
