Authors: Delphine Dryden
This year there were a few variations. Most dramatic was the one offered by Nash, Karl’s twelve-year-old niece, who ran downstairs yel ing for her mother with an almost palpable air of indignation. She swept down the hal way that led to the downstairs bedrooms and the assembled breakfast crew could hear the distant babble of tattling before the now-tearful girl ran back out and up the stairs, stil never acknowledging the family members clearly visible through the wide archway between the great room and the kitchen.
A weary-looking Emily appeared a few moments later, draping herself over Scott’s back with a heartfelt sigh.
“The hormones?” he asked with a knowing glance back over his shoulder at his beleaguered wife.
“Aye, the hormones,” she said. “Mom, when does al that end again, that
drama
thing?”
Alice smirked, demonstrating clearly from which parent Karl had inherited the look. “I’l let you know.”
“Ha, ha.”
It had been agreed that there would be a couple different “shifts” driving to the ski slopes at Breckenridge that morning. Elyce risked a glare at Karl but said nothing as he volunteered them for the first group. Karl had always been an early riser, and she’d had to overcome some resentment when they first lived together at his ability to come ful y awake before the alarm even went off and jump directly out of bed, while she was stil yawning and grappling for the snooze button.
Things had smoothed over considerably once Karl had learned not to attempt meaningful conversation until after Elyce had at least one cup of coffee and something to eat.
She remembered that adjustment period clearly, but now it was as if the shift had never taken place. Months of rising alone, with no competition for coffee and no need to speak to anyone until arriving at work, had spoiled Elyce and returned her to her old habits of morning grumpiness. But if she were to make a good effort at the appearance of stil being happily married to Karl, she knew, she would just have to fake it.
Which meant going along, as cheerful y as possible under the circumstances, with leaving for the slopes at what her body insisted was stil an ungodly hour.
* * * * *
It turned out to be worth it. They arrived just as the lifts were starting to run and although there was already a crowd at the lift lines to ascend Peak Nine, it was clearly not as bad as it would be later in the day. Scott, Emily, Wil and Kel y made up the rest of the first group—an inconvenient number, as the lift they would be taking for the first leg of their trip up the mountain sat only four at a time.
Elyce figured out Karl’s plan only once it was too late to protest or work her way into the first group. He pul ed her back, fussing with her ski binding so that the other four could precede them in line. Another few skiers had entered the lengthening queue before Karl had satisfied himself that the binding was indeed safely repaired. The numbers worked out such that the first four took a chair together, and Karl and Elyce were stuck sharing a chair several turns later with two strangers.
He wasted no time. Once they were headed smoothly up the mountain, feet and knees stretching and getting re-accustomed to the uneasy weight of their swinging boots and skis, Karl shifted one gloved hand to Elyce’s upper thigh as if daring her to push him away.
She looked off to the side, to the gleaming morning view of the mountains in the quickening sunshine, and tried to ignore him.
“So…last night.”
She glanced automatical y at the strangers, who were discussing a trail map and seemed to take no notice.
“Let’s not talk about that, please. We can’t undo it, so let’s just pretend it didn’t happen.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
His cool, self-assured smile infuriated Elyce, but the precarious perch on the lift gave no opportunity for the wild swing at his nose she suddenly envisioned. “What?”
“I’m not pretending anything, my love. It happened—and it’s gonna happen again tonight, rest assured.”
Astonished at his effrontery, Elyce was stil chagrined to feel a prickle of anticipation. She shifted her legs and tried to ignore the sensation. “No, it is not.”
Karl’s fingers, long and confident, wrapped themselves more securely around her leg, high enough to brush at the center seam of her stretchy ski pants. Leaning over, he pressed his lips to her ear, murmuring low enough that their oblivious companions couldn’t hear. In the tight confines of the lift, Elyce had nowhere to go, had to listen to what he said with no room for escape.
“It
is
going to happen again
.
Because you wanted it as much as I did, and you want it again just as much as I do.
You’d be lying if you said you didn’t. And you are not going to try staying downstairs al night to avoid me, or getting to the room first and locking me out, either. I’m not letting you out of my sight today. When I go upstairs for the night I’m taking you with me, and as soon as the door’s locked you should be quick about taking off any clothes you don’t want torn off.”
“Karl, that’s—”
“If I weren’t a little afraid of what might happen, I’d say the next part after the clothes should involve you on your knees, sucking my cock. But I think I’l settle for pinning you against the wal and fucking you until you want to scream.”
Elyce felt herself blush scarlet at Karl’s unexpected language and at the equal y unexpected rush of wetness between her legs. She told herself she should be horrified.
And perhaps a part of her was, but it was a much smal er part than she would have thought possible.
“That’s…that’s not…” she began, but couldn’t finish whatever thought had prompted her to speak in the first place.
“Not what?” Karl asked, his lips grazing her ear and sending a shock of pleasure from her ear down to the deepening pool of need in her lower bel y. “Not very nice?
Not what you thought I’d say? Maybe I thought I needed to change my tactics a little.”
“Tactics? What is this, a battle?”
As soon as she’d said it, she knew it was a stupid question. Of course it was a battle, and at this point Karl was clearly winning. He’d gained the upper hand the previous night and was now just strengthening his position.
Karl didn’t answer, just pointed ahead to the end of the lift run, which they were fast approaching. As Elyce shifted her grip on her poles and focused on pointing her ski toes up, Karl leaned over and gave her an incongruously sweet kiss, nuzzling her cheek.
Nonplussed, she nearly fel as she was skiing off the lift and had to pause as soon as she’d cleared the exit area to gather herself for a moment. When she had adjusted her headband and gloves, checked her bindings again needlessly and considered, but rejected, the possibility of getting out some lip balm, she looked up to find Karl staring at her. Stil with a hint of the focus and anger he’d displayed the night before, but with a hurt look as wel that tugged at her heart before she steeled herself against it.
“It is
not
a battle,” he said, and pushed off to join the other four who were already grouped a few dozen yards farther on, near the sign that indicated the difficulty level of the various slopes.
Elyce painted a smile on her face and skied toward the group. They already knew where they were headed, as their first run of any trip to Breckenridge was nearly always the short intermediate-level spur that led down the side of Peak Nine. It led down to the midway lift that would take them farther up the hil to Peak Ten, the range of slopes where they planned to spend the majority of the day.
Chattering cheerful y, the group set off, seeming heedless of the tension between two of their number. Elyce soon lost herself in the rush of air, the increasingly comfortable feel of the skis as her body began recal ing the motions of the sport and started moving automatical y, and the wel -known but always stunning scenery.
She noted, as she did every year, that it was never quite the same view twice. The changeable topography of the snow and ice made each winter’s landscape a little different, lending a feeling of freshness and leading to obvious comparisons between the current and previous years. Other things about the wel -traveled ski trails were less subject to change. On their current trail there was the same broad curve that always caught the sun a certain way and iced over a little treacherously, and the spot was as usual fil ed with skiers sprawled out in the snow, or trudging back up the hil to reclaim skis knocked off in the crash.
Karl’s family cal ed that particular section of slope, not very original y, “the Yard Sale”, after the traditional name for the sort of skiing tumble that sent one’s skis in one direction, poles in another, bestrewing the slope with stray gear.
Wary from years of experience, the six slowed to a more cautious pace and were able to navigate neatly among the wreckage, clearing the other side after ascertaining that none of the currently afflicted skiers were in need of help. Scott nimbly plucked a ski from a drift and handed it in passing to its owner, who thanked the Good Samaritan with a grateful but fading cry as he schussed past, already speeding up to attack the next set of moguls.
* * * * *
By the middle of the day their group had expanded to include Nash, Reese and Karl’s father. They had lost Wil , who had taken young Charles to explore the bunny slopes with a promise to meet back up for lunch at their usual restaurant. Elyce was so enjoying the time spent with the Nashes, particularly with Emily and Kel y, that she had nearly forgotten the distance she’d told herself she must keep from al of them on this trip. It was a struggle to remind herself that she was not meant to be here, that she was angry with Karl and that he was dead set on taking al the advantage he could of her situation. She knew that softening her demeanor would only encourage him and each time she slipped into amiable patter, she chided herself for the lapse.
Unfortunately, her body seemed to take a different view of Karl’s intentions. Every time she thought of his words, his stated plans for what he would do when he got her into the bedroom, she felt a recurrence of that shivering rush and had to resist the urge to look his way. He was being solicitous and charming now, making it stil more difficult to maintain a useful level of animosity toward him. She had forgotten just how charming he could be.
Now, at lunch in the noisy base camp cafeteria, he was using the clamor as an excuse to lean in when he talked to her and Elyce was fighting not to get lost in the subtle scent of him, the way his breath raised every fine hair on the rim of her ear when he asked her to pass the ketchup.
When her cel phone rang, it actual y took Elyce a few seconds to recognize the ring as her own. Excusing herself to the group, she flipped open the phone without checking the number—and was thrown off her guard when she heard Andrew’s voice in response to her greeting.
“Hel o to you too. It sounds loud, where are you?”
“Oh. I’m…hang on just a second, okay?” With an apologetic gesture, Elyce rose from the table and wove her way through the crowded tables to the alcove near the restroom, where the din was muffled slightly. “I’m in a restaurant. Where are you?”
“Stil just at my parents’ house. You know. Just hanging out.”
“Um, yeah. Me too, real y. Just hanging out.”
“Your hanging out sounds more fun than my hanging out. So how’s the skiing?”
She answered without thinking. “Fantastic, actual y. It’s usual y so slushy this time of year, but I guess the little cold snap— Hey.” A cold finger of dread, or perhaps just embarrassment, stroked its way along Elyce’s spine as she belatedly caught Andrew’s knowing tone, realizing before he even spoke again that he knew exactly where she was skiing—and with whom.
“Hey, indeed,” Andrew said. “How’s Karl? He fantastic too?”
“He’s been better.”
“Real y.”
“Look, Andrew, I’m sure you think you know what’s going on here, but—”
“Yeah, but you’re going to tel me anyway aren’t you?”
“Would you just… Karl’s grandparents didn’t know about the divorce, al right? He asked, as a favor to his family, which I’m stil technical y a part of, if I could come and spend Christmas like usual so they wouldn’t have to find out about the whole thing until after the holidays. This is where they always spend Christmas, so that’s why it had to be here, with the skiing and everything. And that’s al that is going on.”
“I see.”
He clearly didn’t see, and Elyce almost growled in frustration at having to do this by phone, at her stupidity in not just being truthful and volunteering the information in the first place before he left. “Andrew, divorces can be messy.
I’m just trying to keep this one from being any messier than it needs to be, okay? You’ve never been married, you have no idea how complicated this stuff can get. This was an easy enough thing to do, a reasonable request from Karl and—”
“Yeah, how hard can that possibly be? The rich ex wants to take you skiing in Colorado for the winter break, so you…you do what? You abandon your principles and hop on a plane and back into bed with him?”
He didn’t raise his voice, sounded very calm and deliberate, and if anything his pretense of composure only irritated Elyce more. She could feel herself flushing red with growing anger at Andrew’s presumption.
“That’s a huge assumption. Your wil ingness to
make
that assumption sort of supports my thinking that it would have been a bad idea to tel you about this.” Never mind, she told herself, that his assumption was to al intents and purposes absolutely correct. It was the thought that counted.