Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 3
“How picky are you?” He twirls a pen between his fingers.
“Safety is my only requirement.” Smiling, I add, “I know how to clean.”
He sits back in his chair with his arms resting on a round belly. “Where are you coming from?”
“Vermont. I just got here today.” I fold my hands in my lap and sit a little taller.
“Mid-season? What brings you here?”
“I need a change of scenery,” I say. “Now seemed like a good time.”
He chuckles again. “Miss Cassidy, this is your lucky day. See that woman out front? She owns a boarding house, and she rents to females only. Curfew, no men, clean room subject to inspection, kitchen-cleaning duties, and most of all, no drinking or smoking. If she smells anything on your breath, you’re on the street.”
Wow, no wonder she doesn’t have renters in ski country. I suppose I can give up the party-girl persona for a place to live. “That suits me just fine, sir.”
He pulls open a drawer and leafs through some papers. “I’ll call Janet and send you her way. She’s in charge of cleaning all the rentals, and you’re right. She is very short-staffed. Here’s her card. Do you have a cell phone?”
“I do.” Grabbing a pen out of my purse, I reach over, and it scratches as I write the number on the folder I had given him. “Mr. Jones. Thank you. I really appreciate this.” I hold out my hand, and he grasps it in both of his.
“You’re welcome, Miss Cassidy. You’re a lovely young lady, and I welcome you to Breckenridge. Now go see Mrs. Matheson about that room.”
* * *
There’s no two ways about it—cleaning rentals sucks. People are just gross. Putting on my rubber gloves, I head to the bathroom. Even cleaning crews have a seniority system, and I’m at the bottom. I’ve never seen so much crap, dried pee, and hair. Why didn’t I think about this part of my great plan? Thank God for the strong smell of bleach. I flash to a memory of Jason teasing me about my need to use strong chemicals to void surfaces of germs, and I miss him.
I’m teamed with Clara, who is a local with two little kids. Her husband is a ski instructor, and I have no idea how they manage to pay their bills. She doesn’t like cleaning either and spends most of the time singing songs along with her small radio to get through it. When one of her favorites comes on, she’ll grab a duster and come sing to me. Usually, I’ll join in. I’ve never met a happier person, and days with her almost make this job fun.
Having finished our last unit for the day, we climb into the ugly yellow-and-green company car and head back to the office.
She says, “I know you haven’t been here long, but what’s your plan for this summer? Are you going to try to stay here or go back east?”
I brush away a stray tear. I tend to cry at the littlest things these days, but I try to hide it from Clara so she won’t think I’m a fragile flower. “I hope to stay here. As much as I love how I look in rubber gloves, I think I want a jump on a better job next year.”
“And a place that lets you have a social life?” She flips the blinker on to turn right.
“I’m kind of okay without a social life right now. It’s nice getting enough sleep.” I feel great physically. I started running and eating well. Taking a break from drinking has been just what the doctor ordered.
She turns the car right. “Tim told me he saw you skiing the other day and says you’re really good. He thinks you should apply to be an instructor.”
“That sounds interesting. How do I find out more?” I glance out at the mountains glimmering against the deep-blue sky.
“Come to dinner Friday. You can sleep over. That way you can drink wine with me, and I’ll even write you a note.”
“Very funny,” I say. “I’d love to come over. Those two kids of yours are the cutest things.”
“They think you’re pretty great too, because you make up good bedtime stories. They’ll be excited when I tell them.”
“What should I bring?” We’ve stopped at a red light, and she turns up the radio.
“Just yourself. No, wait.” She looks over at me. “How about some grown-up dessert?”
“Deal.” We both sing loudly with Rihanna as we head to the office.
5
Clara and Tim live in a small pre-fab house in a neighborhood full of them. It’s eight hundred square feet of ranch with three bedrooms and one bathroom. Clara’s idea of decorating is to frame pictures of her life. I love to tease her kids by pointing to one and making up a silly tale to go with it.
The gravel rumbles as I pull into her driveway. The moment I see a red Jeep, I smell trouble. I bet they’ve invited some single guy, just right for me. I let out a big sigh and prepare myself mentally for the night ahead.
Although that doesn’t mean I have to look frumpy. I pop open my glove box to find an eyelash curler and mascara before I make my way to the door. Five-year-old Benjamin and seven-year-old Jenny wiggle with excitement behind the glass like two puppies. I ring the doorbell anyway.
“Casey! Casey! You’re here!” They pull open the door for me to step in.
I squat down to their level and ask, “Clara? Tim? Gosh, you two have gotten smaller. You haven’t been eating your vegetables, have you?”
Giggling, they jump on me.
“Casey, it’s me, Benjamin. You’re so silly.”
“Oh gosh, that makes sense. Whew, for a minute I thought I would have to cook up some spinach.”
Clara yells from the kitchen. “Casey! So glad you’re here. I’m afraid I started without you. Come on in and get your glass.”
The house is small but cozy. As I walk forward, there’s a couch on the right, a hall, and straight ahead is the kitchen entry. To the left is a section of wall that stops, and beyond is the small dining room.
Stepping into the kitchen, I notice a second entryway on the left that leads to the dining room. A big pot steams on the stove. As I take the glass of wine, I lean over to smell dinner. Well, and to steam the hair around my face into spiral curls. Cayenne spice hits my nose. Garlic, tomato, rice, and something lumpy—is it Cajun?
As if she read my mind, Clara says, “Jambalaya. I felt the need to spice things up for us tonight.” Clara gives me a wink. “Come meet Blaine.”
I take a quick sip for courage and venture into the dining room. Oh my. There at the table is a very fine-looking man with blond hair. I notice his ice-blue eyes as he glances up at me. He has that perpetual goggle-face tan of a daily skier and is wearing a tight, long-sleeved tee that leaves no doubt about his hard-earned, ripped body. I want to roll my eyes at the flip-flops I see on his feet, which are propped up on the chair.
Clara says, “Blaine, this is my friend Casey.”
“Hey.” He lowers his feet to the floor. “Tim tells me you should be an instructor, and I’m here to help convince you.”
Uh-huh, and maybe get a little something on the side too, beach boy? He is way too beautiful to not be looking for a little action. But okay, I’ll play for a while. I give Clara points for picking a cute one. We’ll reserve judgment on personality for a bit longer. Maybe I’m wrong, but he has the look of someone who is a little too into himself.
Benjamin grabs my hand. “Casey, come play with us. Uncle Blaine helped us set up the train.”
Uncle Blaine? Is he Tim’s or Clara’s brother? I start to scrutinize him as we follow Benjamin and Jenny, and notice Blaine does look a bit like Clara. They have the same eyes. Except she has long, dark hair and isn’t the least bit tan. Well now, maybe I was wrong after all.
The moment I see the train that takes up the whole floor of Benjamin’s room, I’m enthralled. “Oh wow,” I say. “This looks fun.” Wooden tracks fit together like a puzzle, and there are numerous little train cars. Blaine and I plop down with the kids and slide into the fantasy world of child play.
Jenny hands me a purple train car. “You can be Lady.” She hands Blaine the caboose and begins to giggle.
Benjamin yells, “All aboard!”
Benjamin stops the train and lets out a pretend impatient sigh. They’ve played this game before.
“I had to tie my shoe.” Blaine sets them off into a fit of giggles, and I find I laugh too. I’ve changed my mind about him. He’s goofy and comfortable with the children.
Clara calls us for dinner, and we gather around the table for bowls of deliciousness. I notice the kids’ dishes are filled with plain rice, chicken, and peas. I take a spoonful of jambalaya, and the flavor teases my tongue, leaving me wanting more. I grab a big piece of bread and tear off a bit. “Blaine, are you Tim’s or Clara’s brother?”
“Neither. Tim and I have been friends since the first grade, and I’m the godfather for both kids. I came out here last summer to visit and never left.”
“I can see why,” I say. “The skiing here is so amazing. What do you do in the summer?”
“I haven’t quite decided yet. I might work at a bike shop if I don’t have to be inside all day. What are you going to do?”
I speak around the piece of bread in my mouth. “Good question. I can probably keep my cleaning job, but I’d rather not.”
Clara lifts her glass. “Amen, sister! We have to work on that.”
I lift mine to meet hers and notice I’m only halfway through it. Tasting how warm it is, I excuse myself to go put ice in my glass.
Clara joins me in the kitchen and whispers, “So what do you think of Blaine?”
I give her a thumbs-up. What can I say? He’s funny, good with kids, and smoking hot. Except for the lack of a real job, he stacks up well on my list. I should have known Clara would pick a good one for me. The trouble is, I don’t think I’m ready yet, and I’m not sure I ever will be.
When dinner is over, the kids watch a video while the adults sit around the table and talk. I listen to stories about Blaine and Tim as kids and laugh hard enough to have tears. It feels good. It makes me think it’s time to stop wishing for a life with Jason that will never be. While I find it hard to believe I’ll ever be able to replace the love of my life, I think it’s time for me to find a way to move on.
Looking at the clock, I realize it’s way past bedtime for Benjamin and Jenny. Seeing my glance, Clara touches Tim’s arm. “We should go put the kids to bed. Benjamin is already asleep.”
They each scoop up a child and take them to Benjamin’s room. Jenny calls out, “Casey, I left you a teddy bear to sleep with. His name is Brownie.”
Blaine leans over, and I catch a whiff of beer on his breath. Somehow it’s not unpleasant as it should be. “I guess he’s brown.”
I whisper back. “I think you’re right.”
“So tell me the real story, Casey. What brings you to Colorado in the middle of the winter?”
Oh boy, how do I answer that? “Heartbreak. And great skiing.”
He leans back and crosses his arms while he squints his eyes at me. He’s not quite buying it. I can tell he wants to know more. I decide to turn the tables.
“So what’s the real reason you stayed?”
“Heartbreak.” He says nothing more, and I don’t ask for it.
We sit in silence. Both of us with sad stories we don’t want to talk about.
I swirl the wine in my glass. “Do you get many days off as an instructor?”
“We have one designated day and often can get out of work after lineup in the morning. Before lineup, we have an hour or so. The lifties let us on with patrol, and we can have fresh tracks every day. I try not to miss it.” He takes a swig of beer.
“That sounds like a dream job to me. So how do I get it?”
“Can you ski Tuesday? I’m free, and I’ll introduce you to the director. He’ll want to ski with you for a few runs. Then I’ll take you to the top-secret spots I know.” There’s a twinkle in his eye, and I notice he’s flirting, just a little. Nothing over-the-top.
“I can. Where and when?”
“Meet me at the Silverthorne chair at nine.”
“I’ll be there. Thanks.” This could be nerve racking. I know I was one of the better female skiers on the mountain back east, but here is a different story. This is one big pond, and I’m a small fish. Tim did say being a children’s instructor was about making sure the kids have fun, and I have that part down. I just hope my skiing is good enough.
6
I breathe in crisp winter air as I gaze at a gorgeous blue sky with fluffy white clouds. It’s in the high twenties and perfect weather for skiing. Sunscreen is smooth on my skin when I apply it while I wait for Blaine.
Within minutes, I see him walk toward me. Huh. Not what I expected at all. He’s dressed in beat-up-looking navy ski pants with an open, hip-length red jacket. I see a well-worn purple fleece underneath. As he gets closer, I discover there’s silver duct tape on his thigh acting as a repair job. Not the fashion statement I would have guessed, because he could have been plucked off a Vermont slope and dropped here. I am a little overdressed next to him. Not that I sport a rich snow-bunny look, but I do have on white ski pants with a feminine purple-and-white jacket to match. Fortunately, my skis and boots say expert.
“Sorry,” he says. “Am I late?”
“No, I’m one of those terminally early people. You have a couple more minutes before you’d be late.” I put my sunscreen in a pocket and zip it up.
He reaches out and touches my nose. Oh my. I catch a whiff of something that says all male in a subtle way.
“You’ve got a little sunscreen that isn’t rubbed in.”
Right. Sunscreen. Wow, he has me a bit flustered. I recover quickly. “Shall we?”
“You bet.” His skis hit the ground with a thunk. I hear a click as we lock into our bindings, and we slide into line.
“So, did Benjamin and Jenny make you breakfast Saturday morning?” Blaine bends over to adjust the buckles on his boot.
“They did.” There are very few people in line, and I notice this is a four-person chair. Blaine makes no effort to pair us up with anyone.
“Cereal and burnt toast?” he asks.
“Yes, and it was delicious. How did you know?”
We slide out to the chair ramp, and he yells over the sound of the lift engine. “I’m the babysitter.”
Pulling the bar down, he turns to me. “Tim and Clara don’t get much time to themselves, so I take care of the kids while they go off on winter camping jaunts to get a break.”
“What a nice thing for you to do. I bet they have so much fun.” I lift up my left thigh and slide my poles beneath my bottom so I don’t have to hold them.
“Yup. Two tree huggers at heart. They hike up to some remote spot, camp out, and then spend their day tellying backcountry.”
“Tellying?” I ask.
“Telemark skiing.”
“Oh, free the heel, free the mind?” Telemark skiing is a hybrid of cross-country and downhill skiing. The skis have metal edges allowing one to carve a turn, but the bindings only attach the toe to the ski to enable uphill, cross-country moves.
He leans back in the chair and chuckles. “Exactly! I like that. So, I think I’ll take you on a few warm-up runs first. We meet with the director, Matt, at ten.”
Clara assured me Tim thought I was a shoo-in for a kids’ instructor job, especially since he is the supervisor for that part of the ski school. Yet I can’t help but be nervous. Skiing is a bit of a man’s world, and women only impress when they can keep up with the boys. I have skied with the guys most of my life and am as fast as most of them. I just don’t always look that good. I hope this isn’t quite the testosterone fest I fear.
After a few quick runs, though, my spirits are high. Blaine led most of the way, and he was a joy to watch. Bumps are my thing, and when we skied them, I didn’t mind when he stopped to let me pass. I even got an appreciative “Nice!”
as I went by.
“Casey, you will be just fine. You ski well, and with a little fine-tuning, you could be a top adult instructor if you wanted.”
“Really? Thanks.” I can’t help it. I have a big, silly grin on my face. Blaine sure knows how to make people feel good, and I’m glad I get to spend the afternoon with him.
Dropping me off with Matt, Blaine tells me we’ll meet for lunch. Two hours later, I’m walking on cloud nine. I have a job for next winter! Matt told me I could teach kids or adults, and I can’t believe it. A few more months, and I can hang up my toilet brush. I practically skip over to Blaine in the lodge.
“I’m going to guess it went well,” he says. “You’re smiling from ear to ear.”
I throw my gloves down on the table. “Kids or adults. How fantastic is that?”
“Nice job.” He’s stripped down to his ski pants and turtleneck—a rather tight turtleneck that shows off his body.
I sit down at the table with him and take a sandwich out of my pocket. He looks over at me with a smile. “My kind of girl. Whatcha got?” Blaine reaches in his coat pocket for a sandwich of his own.
“Peanut butter and jelly, you?” I take a bite.
“Same.”
“I know I’m kind of intense here, but could we just fill our water and eat on the chair?” I say, “I’m dying to just ski.”
His eyes widen as he stares at me.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “We can eat here. It’s fine.” I shake my head, and my lunch thumps on the table when I set it down.
“No. I was just thinking. You aren’t what I expected. You seem too girly to be such a trouper, and I’m surprised, that’s all.” He returns his lunch to its plastic bag.
“Girly?” Having not taken much clothing off, I get up from the table and start to walk away. After a few steps, I turn back toward Blaine and smile. “Coming?”