Rugged Read online

  “Jesus, are we ever going to be there?” Mallory asked disgruntledly as we neared the lookout.

  I looked back in surprise, my footsteps faltering. For a moment, I’d almost forgotten that she was there. I felt terrible when I saw how breathless and tired she looked – and worse, irritable. She’d clearly been trying to match my pace the whole way up, but I hadn’t done anything to slow down for her. She wasn’t in as good of shape as I was; most people weren’t. And besides that, she had much shorter legs. She had to be feeling miserable.

  “Sorry,” I said, hoping she could see how contrite I was. “I didn’t mean to make it a rapid march up the hill.”

  Mallory scowled. “Well, it’d just better be worth it,” she said, stalking past where I was stopped waiting for her to catch up.

  I followed her for the last bit – it was a straight trail, so it wasn’t as though I needed to guide her, and I figured that way, she could set whatever pace she wanted without me having to worry that I was pushing her too hard. That meant, though, that I didn’t get to see her face when we finally stepped out to the overlook – not at first, anyway, until she turned around to face me.

  If I could have taken a picture of her expression, I would have. Her eyes were full of surprise, her lips slightly parted in a breathless wonder. Couple that with her windswept hair and her rosy cheeks…

  I ducked my head quickly, trying to think of the most unsexy things that I could.

  “This place is amazing,” she said, already turning back towards the view and raising her camera to her eye.

  “It is, isn’t it?” I asked quietly, stepping forwards as well, leaning against the railing. Beneath us, we could see all of the town and all of the valley beyond. The ski area was spread out on a mountain across from us, the lifts impossibly tiny at this distance. It had been cold overnight, and the air was crisp and clear with a thin layer of frost on many of the trees. It looked like something out of a wintry postcard.

  I smiled out over the view, taking a seat on the bench.

  “How did you find this place anyway?” Mallory asked, glancing over at me. She took a last photo of the scenery and then came to sit next to me on the bench. For a moment, I was surprised at how close she was – before I realized that she was probably sitting so close so that we could share body heat.

  “A friend showed it to me,” I told her. “It’s a real locals’ place – you won’t find it in any guidebooks or websites or anything like that. Well, maybe a quick mention of it online, just so that people can show off their photos. But that’s it.” I smiled, shaking my head. “It’s always been special to me. Glen showed it to me not too long after I moved here, and…well, I just really needed a special place at that time in my life.”

  I didn’t really want to talk about that stuff, though.

  “How long are you staying in Twin Valleys for?” I asked, before she could ask anything.

  Mallory grimaced. “Five more days,” she said. “My friend Jane is getting married, and this is kind of an extended bachelorette party for her.”

  “Oh, cool,” I said. “Is she having the wedding here as well? They do beautiful winter weddings.” I didn’t know where the words came from – the last thing I wanted was to discuss winter weddings with a woman that I was trying to take home for a one-night stand.

  But the more I thought about it, the more this was seeming like a bad idea. I should be sticking to the vapid girls, the ones that I didn’t care to ever see again. Even if I were the kind of man to do relationships, Mallory was headed home in just a few more days. After that, I would never see her again – sure, we might make promises like both being back there the following year, but I knew those things never really panned out.

  And I wasn’t the kind of guy to do relationships to begin with. I had too much baggage; no woman should ever have to deal with the kinds of things they would have to deal with when it came to me. And besides, I lived out in the middle of nowhere and had no interest in changing that any time in the future. Mallory and I could never form a relationship; our lives were just too different.

  “No, she’s getting married closer to home. On a beach, over the summer. We just thought it’d be fun to head out here together and get a little skiing in. Or everyone else did, anyway.” She laughed. “Truth be told, I’m not much of a skier.”

  “More of the ski lodge snow-bunny?” I asked, picturing her curled up by the fire with a book.

  “Of course not,” Mallory said, though, sounding almost peeved that I might think that of her. “I try to ski. I’m just not very good at it. At least, not as good as the rest of my friends. They’re all skiing black runs and trees and whatever. I just like to stick to greens. Maybe some easy blue runs.” She paused. “I’ve always liked skiing, I just don’t have much time to practice. My work keeps me so busy, and usually I don’t have time to just take off like this.”

  “Oh,” I said, not sure what to say in response to that.

  “I mean, I haven’t even really taken off from work right now,” Mallory continued. “I’ve got a whole list of things that I still need to get done this week, remotely. I swear, I can’t trust them to do anything.”

  “What kind of work do you do?” I asked curiously.

  “I work for an advertising company,” she said. “We have a lot of high-end clients, and we do everything from print ads to billboards to TV commercials. It’s a lot of responsibility, and if things aren’t just right… Well, we could lose our clients. Or get slapped with fines. And so on.”

  “Mmm,” I hummed. Again, I wasn’t sure what to say. I was certainly intrigued. But before I could ask any questions about it, she was questioning me again.

  “I bet you’re an amazing skier, though, aren’t you? You probably grew up here and have been skiing since you were two. And now you’re just going to stay here for the rest of your life as a ski bum-slash-bartender.”

  I raised an eyebrow at her. “You make it sound like a horrible life,” I commented, inwardly feeling a bit stung. Sure, I might not have the high-paying job that she had, the security, whatever else it was that I was supposed to be interested in.

  But the truth was, I just couldn’t find any satisfaction in that idea of success. I had plenty of money in the bank from when I’d been in the army. I owned my house outright, and my monthly expenditures were low. I didn’t want to work in an office for the rest of my life. I wanted something with a bit more life to it; was that a crime?

  I didn’t know how to explain that to Mallory, though.

  Instead, I finally just shrugged. “That’s probably what I’ll end up doing,” I said shortly.

  Mallory stared at me. “So, you’ve probably got a skier wife out here, plus a little two-year-old that you’re teaching to ski before they can really walk?” she guessed. “And when you’re not skiing, you’re hiking or snowshoeing or snowmobiling or whatever it is you do up here. It’s a pretty small town – does that ever get old?”

  I shrugged. “I like the small town,” I told her. “I know everyone, pretty much. All the locals. They all know me. They’ve…” I trailed off and shook my head. They’d been there for me, it was as simple as that. Should I tell her about how I volunteered with the mountain’s adaptive program, teaching disabled people – frequently veterans – how to ski? Should I tell her about the fact that I always bought my Girl Scout cookies and my Boy Scout wrapping paper, about how we all supported one another in whatever way we could?

  It was hard to explain the idea of community to someone like her, I reflected. Living in San Francisco, she just couldn’t understand it. Sure, she might see some of the same people day after day. But everyone in her life was interchangeable, and they didn’t stick around. I doubted she even had the same bus drivers day after day, or the same grocers day after day – or if she did, she probably didn’t notice. She didn’t go out drinking with those same people; she didn’t have Thanksgiving dinner with them.

  She would never understand life in Twin Valleys. To
her, this was just a quaint place to go with her friends on a ski vacation.

  Suddenly, Mallory stood up. “Sorry, I just realized what time it is,” she said. “When I was leaving, I promised to be back by eleven for a bachelorette brunch.”

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “No problem.” For a moment, I thought of inviting her out for dinner sometime. If she could fit it into her busy schedule…

  But it probably wasn’t a good idea. She seemed like a good girl, with certain expectations of a guy. She wasn’t the kind of girl you just took home and then forgot about shortly afterwards. She wasn’t the kind of girl that I was looking for.

  “Can I get your number?” Mallory said, surprising me. She was already fumbling out her phone, while I stared dumbly at her.

  “No,” I finally said, shaking my head. It just wasn’t a good idea.

  “I’m not asking you out or anything,” Mallory said peevishly. “I just thought that maybe you could show me around town a little more, if you had some free time this week. I mean, I’d even pay you for it. But I thought maybe you’d like a little company for your hiking excursions or whatever you normally do.”

  I felt bad, especially as she looked more and more sour. But I knew this was a slippery slope. “I’m sorry, I can’t,” I told her, standing as well. Without a backward look, I walked off, leaving her to find her own way down.

  3

  Mallory

  Our third day at Twin Valleys was our first day all skiing together, although a few of us had gone out the previous afternoon, once the hangovers had been mitigated. By the time we got back to the hotel in the evening, I was exhausted from trying to keep up with the rest of them – they’d stayed on easier trails for me, but they’d still pushed me to go a little faster than I normally would have.

  Fortunately, this was probably the last day that I’d have to be dragged out with them, now that I’d skied with all of them. I could happily ski on my own for most of the days and just hang out with them in the evenings. I knew Jane had some other wintry activities planned for some of the days as well – cross-country skiing, tubing, and whatever else.

  Still, I wasn’t exhausted enough that I would skip the party that was going on that night. It was being hosted by the resort we were staying at, and it was rumored to be one of the hottest parties in town, held every single year. Everyone would get dressed up in their finest clothes and go dance the night away, sipping on champagne. I’d have to wear heels, but I was assured that the effort would be worth it for the amount of swag that they were giving away to the partiers. Not to mention the fancy desserts.

  When we got to the party, though, my eyes were drawn away from the fake icicles hanging from the ceiling, and away from the elaborate ice sculptures dotting the room, marking the lines between tables. We walked together as a group over to the bar. “Derrick?” I asked.

  Derrick glanced up at me while he fixed a couple drinks. He flashed me a quick smile, as though he hadn’t been totally rude to me at the end of our meeting the previous day. “Hey Mallory,” he said. “Just a second and I’ll be back to you guys.”

  “You know him?” Katie asked in surprise as he walked away. She looked back at me. “Mallory, he’s hot. Like, melt all the ice sculptures in a five-mile radius hot.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Come on, don’t let him hear you talking like that,” I begged. I still kind of hoped that I might be able to get Derrick to show me at least one more place around town that I could take pictures of. That previous place, the overlook, had been incredible – hard work to get to, sure. But definitely incredible.

  “But seriously, you know him?” Vicky asked.

  “He was the bartender at Joe’s the other night, that’s all,” I lied. “I almost forgot my beanie and he and I chatted for a minute, that was all.”

  “That was apparently enough that you guys exchanged names,” Hillary pointed out. She grinned wickedly. “What else did you exchange?”

  I scowled. “Nothing,” I told her firmly.

  Derrick came back with a tray with six pink drinks on it. “For the bachelorette and her ladies,” he said, winking at us.

  Jane looked delighted. “How did you know?” she asked. “Do I just scream bride-to-be?”

  “Mallory probably told him,” Megan said, looking appraisingly at me.

  “I just mentioned that I was here for a bachelorette party,” I said, hating the defensive note that crept into my voice.

  “Sure,” Megan said, smirking. She linked arms with Hillary as they grabbed glasses, the two of them wandering off. The rest of my friends soon followed.

  I blushed and turned back to Derrick, who looked like he was fighting back laughter. “They’re terrible, aren’t they?” I sighed.

  “I take it you’re the last one of the group who isn’t married or engaged?” Derrick asked.

  “Yeah,” I sighed. “Well, I mean, Vicky isn’t married either, or engaged, but she might as well be. She and her boyfriend have been together for seven years now. They live together, have shared bank accounts, everything. They just don’t see the need to make a fuss about it.”

  “Mmm,” Derrick said, and I could tell he wasn’t interested in hearing me babble about my friends’ love lives. I blushed, not sure why.

  “This doesn’t seem like your kind of party,” I said, changing the subject. “Anyway, I would have thought that you’d be enjoying a party like this, getting drunk with your friends, rather than, you know, working it.”

  Derrick shrugged. “It’s not my usual gig, but the regular guy called in sick, and I owe a few favors to the organizer.”

  “Fair enough,” I said.

  “So, did you get out skiing today?” Derrick asked.

  I blinked, surprised that he wanted to keep chatting – but I supposed the bar was pretty empty at the moment. The real press would come later, I was sure.

  “Yeah, the skiing was good,” I said. “Exhausting, though. All my friends are really good skiers compared to me, so keeping up with them was a lot of work!”

  “I used to feel like that with my friends too,” Derrick said, grinning at me.

  “So you didn’t grow up on skis around here?” I asked.

  “Nah, I’m a transplant,” Derrick said. “Army brat. I learned how to ski here and there, depending on where we were stationed. But there were long years where I didn’t do any skiing at all.”

  “Fair enough,” I said. I grinned crookedly. “But I wasn’t wrong about the wife and the toddler, was I? You’ve made your whole family skiers now, for the next generation.”

  Derrick’s face shuttered. “I don’t have a family,” he said shortly.

  “Oh. Sorry,” I said, thinking about that old adage about assumptions… I hoped it wasn’t anything too terrible.

  Derrick’s face cleared, though, and he shook his head. “Don’t be sorry,” he said. He shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll ever get married. I come with more baggage than any woman should ever have to deal with…”

  I wanted to ask about that, but I didn’t feel like it was my place. Instead, I laughed – he and I were similar in one way, at least. “I don’t think I’ll ever get married either,” I confessed. “But for me, it’s my career. I really want to make something of myself. I like my job, and I want to give it my everything. Unfortunately, it seems to be impossible to have a steady, committed relationship and also give everything to my job.”

  Derrick looked like he had something that he wanted to say in response to that, but before he could, there was a disturbance at the other end of the bar. A couple guys started shouting – I couldn’t tell what about, just that they were bad-mouthing one another on everything from fashion to skiing skills. Actually, I couldn’t tell if they were really angry or if they were just teasing one another.

  But whatever it was, Derrick muttered, “Have to take care of this,” and disappeared to the other side of the bar. He pulled the two guys apart, and I watched as he gave each of them a stern talking-to, already moving the
m towards the doorway.

  I supposed a party like this wasn’t really the place for guys acting like that, even in a ski town. Some things were the same everywhere. I suppressed a smile at the thought.

  Another woman dropped into the seat next to me. “Hey, I’m Sam,” she said, holding out a hand to me. She tucked a strand of long, blonde hair back behind her ear and smiled easily at me. “Are you new to town? I see you’ve met Derrick, our resident recluse.”

  I blinked and stared after Derrick. “He doesn’t seem like that much of a recluse to me,” I told her. He didn’t want to give me his phone number, but every time I encountered him, he’d been nothing but friendly to me.

  Sam rolled her eyes though. “Oh, he’s charming enough,” she said. “But there’s a reason he lives out in the middle of nowhere, on the very outskirts of town – and it isn’t because the land is cheaper there, where no one else wants to live. He likes his peace and quiet, to the extreme.”

  I shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that.” It wasn’t exactly my style of living, but to each their own. Anyway, it only added to my interest in Derrick. I wanted to know about him; there was just something so…different about him. It was refreshing.

  Especially given the kinds of people I met at my work. In advertising, everyone was just trying to show a specific front. An advertisement for themselves, if you will. But what you got with Derrick was just raw and complicated. I liked that; it excited me.

  I felt a little stir of lust in my core – it excited me there as well as mentally if I was being honest.

  “He was in the military for a long time, before he moved here,” Sam continued. “Actually, he was pretty fucked up when he moved here. I don’t know all the details of what he went through over there, but it must have been pretty gruesome. We’re talking, like, PTSD to the extreme.”