“It’s fine. Hey, you know what’s really great after a rough day on the slopes?”
A shrug. “An overnight stay in the ER?”
“Un-uh.” She shakes her head. “A nice, warm dip in one of the packhouse’s hot tubs.”
After we arrive back at the packhouse, I shower, change, and head down to the parlor. On the shuttle back Katie and I decided we’d use the afternoon to brainstorm which Christmas traditions we could squeeze into our trip. Jasper, Olivia, and Clayton weren’t on the shuttle––opting instead to stay and ski longer––and Simon and Todd went straight to sleep the second we left the slopes.
Katie isn’t here when I step into the lounge. She’s probably still showering or giving equal attention to her twin lovers. A few of the couches are occupied but I spot a familiar face.
Mason, looking freshly showered, peers up from his conversation with two of the other officers’ kids and smiles. Without thinking much about it I smile back, and he waves me over.
“Hey,” he says, turning from his group, who are debating whether or notDie Hardis a Christmas movie and if Bruce Willis is actually a werewolf. “How were the slopes?”
“Don’t ask,” I say, rubbing my extremely bruised thigh.
“That good, huh?”
“Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be participating in the Winter Olympics this year.”
“Too bad, you looked good in your ski suit.”
Am I blushing? Oh Moon Gods, I’m blushing.
My mouth flaps open but no words come out.
“Sorry,” he says, throwing his arms up. “I know you’re a kept wolf, but I couldn’t help it.”
I rub a hand over my face. “Well, not exactly kept.”
“Right.” He gives me a knowing nod and taps his nose. It’s hard to explain but it’s like within two days of knowing each other we have this secret language, like we’re just on the same wavelength. So, that’s cool. “Sorry I didn’t catch you on the shuttle back, I hopped an earlier one, had some stuff I had to get done for school. I’m all done now and we were about to go watch a movie in the den if you wanted to join?”
“I’d love to, but I’m waiting for my friend—we were…” My sentence trails away in a cloud of preemptive embarrassment. Mason looks confused. “So we’re sort of big into Christmas, and back in New York we have all these traditions and things we do—silly things like going to markets, wrapping presents, drinking peppermint coffees, stringing popcorn… It’s dumb. Anyway, since we’re here, we can’t do any of those things, but we thought we could see what we could squeeze in or retrofit so it isn’t like we’re missing all the usual stuff—and because she has two mates, we haven’t seen each other much recently, and we both want to make sure we’re still nurturing the friendship, and I don’t know why I’m still talking…”
Mason chuckles and my knees go sort of wobbly.
“Okay that all sounds really cute.”
There’s that word again.
“Well I can help if you like. I know all the good stuff to do around here.”
“That would be—I mean… If you don’t mind… Yeah, that’d be great!”
I recognize the girl with the braids from last night as she turns and touches Mason’s shoulder. “Mase, we’re heading down; you coming?”
“Yeah, one second.”
The rest of the kids meander off, but Mason stays with me, biting his right knuckle and doing a great thinking face.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” I joke.
His eyes light up. “I’ve got it. You saidmarkets, right? Mistlethorpe has the most amazing Christmas market, and tomorrow is Christmas Eve so it’ll be wildly festive. I can take you both if you want.”
“I mean, that would be amazing!”
“Okay, and maybe we can get you some popcorn to thread from the kitchens, and I’ll keep thinking if there’s anything else we can do.”
It doesn’t escape my attention that he’s inserted himself into this plan—and I’m not mad about it.
