She takes a hesitant step inside and brushes her hand over one of the side tables. “Your family is okay if we just use it?”
“It would just go to waste if we didn’t.” I press a button and the blinds lift to showcase a hot tub with the ski hills lit up in the backdrop.
“So gorgeous,” she murmurs, and her gaze drops to take in the hot tub. “No way.” I laugh and she says, “I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“You don’t need one.” She grins at me. “Although there is a heated pool outside which you might want to use. There’s a gift shop. We can get whatever we don’t have.”
“I can make do with what I have,” she says and shakes her head. I grin, loving that about her. She’s definitely not a girl to take, which makes me want to give her things all the more.
She spins and admires the massive living area, kitchenette, and big fireplace. “You know,” she says, her voice a low playful whisper that teases my dick. “I’ve never made love in front of a fireplace before.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she pales slightly. “I didn’t mean make love,” she says quickly, trying to backtrack, but the thought of making love to her on that carpet holds more appeal to me than I wish it would. She laughs, but it holds a measure of unease. Her hands go out, palms up. “I think the romance of this place is getting to me.”
Leaving that comment lingering, I flick on the propane fire. “If I get it really hot in here, it’s going to force us both to get naked, and while I like the thought of that, let’s go get something to eat first. That airplane food is just not cutting it.”
We head back to the main lobby, and I put my hand on the small of her back, stepping close to her as I guide her into the elegant dining room with the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving a majestic view of the mountains.
“Christian, welcome back,” Sandra says with a big wide smile as she grabs two menus, her gaze moving over Maize with deep curiosity. “How have you been?”
“Doing great.” I glance around the near empty restaurant. I love being here this time of year. The slopes open on Thanksgiving weekend and it’s usually fairly quiet. Christmas however, it’s insane. Maybe I’ll go back home at Christmas. Maybe Maize and I can hang out. “Happy to be back here for the weekend.”
“We’re happy to have you, and your…friend.”
I laugh, because subtlety is not Sandra’s forte. “Sandra, this is Maize. We both go to Kingston.”
They exchange pleasantries, and then Sandra guides us to the best table in the place, asking me about my classes and football like we’re long lost friends. I do consider her a friend. I ask her about her husband and her son Ben, who was accepted to Penn State this year. We sit, and when Sandra leaves, I find Maize grinning at me.
“What?”
She shakes her head and laughs. “What is it with you and all the middle-aged hostesses anyway?”
I laugh out loud. “I don’t know. I guess they all think I need a mother figure since my own is so absent.”
“Your mother never comes here?”
“She has, when I was younger, but we did our own thing, and I’m not really sure the staff liked her all that much.”
She reaches out and takes my hand. “I think it’s nice the way you treat everyone as equals. No matter who they are or what they do for a living.”
It’s clear to me that she had preconceived notions about those with money. I can understand it, considering how she was treated in high school. Our server comes and Maize orders a glass of wine, and I get a beer.
“I really wish I could hit the slopes with you,” she says as she gazes longingly at the mountain, a few skiers dotting the hills.
“I don’t have to ski. I can hang out with you.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I’m not keeping you from the slopes. Besides, I brought my books, and reading by the fire sounds just about perfect. I like my alone time too, Christian.”
Our drinks arrive and we clink glasses before taking a big sip. “Did you tell your mom you were coming here?” I ask.
She chuckles. “No, I didn’t have time. You mentioned it Thursday and I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath before I was getting up at the crack of dawn to catch a plane.”
“You had all of Friday to call her.”
Her smile falls off, and worry moves in to take its place. “I don’t really want to tell her about us—not that there is an us, but you know what I mean. She’s always saying I work too hard and every Thanksgiving she asks if I’m bringing someone home.”
Understanding she doesn’t want me to meet her mother—and not sure how I feel about that—I lean toward her. “I like that she cares so much about you. I wish I had that kind of closeness with my family, to be honest.”
“You have all the servers and hostesses mothering you wherever you go.” She gives me a smile, but we both know it’s not the same thing.
“I’d never want to be an absent parent.” My humorless laugh curls around us. “Not that I’d know how to be a present one.” She opens her mouth to say something, but before she can get a word out, someone speaks over her.
“Christian,” a familiar female voice says as her steps come to an abrupt stop at our table. “I thought that was you.”
I turn, not at all surprised to find Cynthia Saunders smiling at me. I stand and pull her into my arms. “Cynthia, it’s so nice to see you.”
“You too.” I break the hug and she smiles at Maize.
“This is my
