2. Kayla

Chapter 2

Kayla

Rico’s bar is as busy as you’d expect it to be this close to Christmas. Half the patrons are still sporting sweaty t-shirts and ski pants, and clearly came straight here after the last run of the day. A chorus of heavy boots stomps across the floor whenever they need a fresh round of drinks.

The other half at least made the effort to go home and shower, throw on something clean, and come back without helmet hair. Some nights I’m in the first camp, but tonight it’s the latter.

In the past, this would be the day I’d finish school in Edinburgh and fly out to Geneva with my parents. From there, Dad would hire a car, and we’d make the two-hour journey through mountain towns, up steep winding roads, to the little Alpine village where my family has owned a ski chalet since long before I was born.

When I was a child, all I cared about was getting out of the car and catching my first snowflake on my tongue. That and drinking as many thick, rich hot chocolates as possible before we had to fly home again.

As a teenager, I was more interested in hitting the slopes, getting up early to catch the first chairlift with my dad, cruising those wide open, freshly groomed pistes, feeling like we were the only two people in the world. I loved ice skating in the town square, the festive lights, the parade and all the local traditions .

Then I grew up, and the only thing I cared about was Ryan Richmond. Over two decades of winters, my childhood chairlift buddy became the man my body craved for weeks in the run up to Christmas. As soon as we packed away our Halloween decorations, he became all I could think about. My friends back home thought I was nuts pining over a boy I only ever saw on holiday, but being with him always felt like coming home.

Unfortunately, my Christmas holiday fling didn't fly out last year, nor the year before that, and when I bumped into his parents in the supermarket a few days ago, they smiled wanly and told me he won’t be here this year either.

Which is fine. It’s not like he owes me anything, and it’s certainly not like I’ll have trouble finding someone else to have a little fun with. Let’s hope it’s someone who showered.

The queue for the bar is three deep, but I know from experience it’s easier to get to the front if you push into the dead spot in the middle. By the time I’m pressed against the sticky bar, one of the staff will recognise me and serve me next. Rico’s is the spot I tell all my clients to head to at the end of a long day on the slopes, so getting a cold beer in my hand quickly is the least they can do.

And I need that beer so I can run my game.

The one where I tug one of my long blonde pigtails loose, weave through the crowd until someone catches my eye, then ask them to hold my beer while I fix it. It’s cute watching them panic when I maintain eye contact with my hair-tie between my teeth. They never know whether to look at my face or my hair or my tits, but by the time I’ve woven those strands back into place, I have a pretty good idea whether or not they’re coming home with me. It never fails .

There are plenty of people in Rico’s tonight and I scan the crowd for new faces, the cute and unfamiliar. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble finding a substitute for the man I really want.

It can’t be more than thirty seconds before I feel the weight of a body pressing in behind me. It’s not an uncommon occurrence when it’s this busy, but there’s always a moment where you have to make a split second assessment. Is this person also trying to fight their way to the front, or am I about to be felt up by some handsy stranger who’ll blame his behaviour on booze and the altitude.

I might be here to hook-up, but that’s on my terms, and those terms do not include unwelcome groping.

The answer comes in the shape of a large hand resting on my hip, followed by another on the other side. My hand balls into a fist and I’m about to spin around and take a swing that may or may not get me permanently barred from Rico’s, when his whisper lands against my ear.

“Hey, Bunny.”

The way my body betrays me, flooding with heat and melting back against his chest, is frankly embarrassing. My eyes flutter closed and I squeeze them tighter.

Maybe if I don’t look, this won’t be happening. If I ignore him, he’ll become a figment of my imagination. If I don’t turn around, I won’t get my heart broken again.

He lifts one of my long braids back over my shoulder, opening up space at my neck for him to lean in and whisper close to my ear.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

I gulp hard, and a cold beer becomes even more of a necessity. “When did you get here?”

“Night before last.”

Two whole days .

Two whole days when we could have been together. If I’d known he was here, I wouldn’t be out in Rico’s hoping to pick up some semi-decent guy to scratch an itch. We could have been…

My brain stops the thought before my heart takes it too far. Two days is nothing when you add them to the one-thousand plus since I last saw his face. I stopped counting a long time ago.

Twisting in his hold, I find him gazing down at me, his hair sticking up like always. His eyes are more grey than green in this light, but still so familiar. How many hours have I spent staring into them? I couldn't even tell you which ones were real and which I imagined.

The scruff of beard is new, and makes him look a little older, but no less handsome. Or maybe it's not new. How would I know since he disappeared out of my life without a word?

“You can’t have been looking hard. Where did you try?”

“At your house.”

“You came to my house?”

“It was totally dark. Where've you been hiding?”

His hands are still on my hips, and I feel his fingertips flex in time with his words. Fuck, I’ve missed sparring with him. “I was out.”

“With who?”

“None of your business.”

“With who?” he says again, practically growling at me behind his wide smile.

My head snaps back. “Are you jealous?”

“Obviously.” He leans in close, bending forward so our eyes are level, then strokes his finger down the length of my nose before booping me twice on the tip.

It’s a gesture intended to piss me off, but it makes me want to cry because it’s been so long since he last did it.

“So…?” he drawls .

“So?”

“So, are we going back to yours?”

“I just got here,” I tell him.

Ryan stares at me, and I don’t know why I’m trying to put off the inevitable. I came here for sex and the universe more than delivered. There’s no point even trying to protest. I’m smiling. His eyes are twinkling. We’re clearly picturing each other naked.

“Fine,” I huff, my inner brat coming out to play. If I didn’t love bickering with him so much, I’d have dragged him away five minutes ago. “Let’s get out of here.”

“My sister is here, and I brought a friend from L.A. with me. Let's say goodbye real quick.”

I’m already tucked under his arm when he leads me away from the bar. We find Hannah at a table in the back corner, tucked between the wall and a guy with a cute mop of curls. They look like they’re having a staring contest both are determined to win.

“Change of plans,” Ryan tells them.

“Hi, Kayla,” Hannah says, her cheeks turning red. I’d get in there and hug her if this gorgeous stranger she’s clearly into wasn’t in the way.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You here for the holidays?” she asks, hiding her blushes behind her almost empty beer. I hope Ryan wasn’t supposed to be getting a round in when he found me at the bar.

“I live here full time now, actually. Started my touring business. Snow in the winter, bikes in the summer.”

“That’s fantastic,” she says, but I care about Ryan’s reaction more. He’s the first person I ever shared my dream with, the only one who knows how much I wanted this .

A small thought pinches at my chest. I assumed their parents would have told them, since they definitely know all about it. Their Dad sent some boy band clients my way for mountain biking in the summer. Their TikTok videos kept me in business for the rest of the season.

I glance up at him and catch a look of pride on his face, but it’s too much. He pulls me closer when I try to turn away, his arm dropping to my waist to squeeze me tight. New guy coughs, and Ryan snaps out of it.

“Kayla, this is my buddy Cameron.” Cameron offers me his hand and I shake it as best I can while trapped in Ryan’s hold.

“You joining us for a game?” he asks, deck of cards in his hand. I’m tempted. It’s been too long since I whooped Ryan’s ass at L’Escalier , and it’s not polite to tell a man I just met that there’s something more pressing on my mind.

I should make Ryan wait a little, work for it, but his hand has snuck under the back of my sweater and his thumb is stroking dangerously close to the clasp of my bra. I glare at him, willing him to be a little less obvious, and I’m about to accept Cameron’s offer when he answers for me.

“We’re gonna head off actually,” he tells them, eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll see you losers in the morning.”

Ryan slips his fingers between mine, leading me through the packed crowd. The lights are dim, the music is loud, and it’s only going to get busier from here.

“Do you have your sledge?” he asks me, picking up his old plastic one from a stash by the door. Our parents' houses are lower in the valley and it's a ritual to sledge home after drinks.

“Don’t need one.” I tell him, grabbing my jacket from the coat stand in the corner that threatens to topple any second. “My apartment isn’t far. ”

“Since when do you have an apartment?”

“Since I moved here and only need a small space.”

Besides the chalet we inherited from my grandmother, my parents own a few properties in this resort, but all were much too big for me.

February will mark a year since I made the move, so of course he doesn't know shit about where I live or what my life looks like now. He doesn't know how hard I've worked, or how many nights I've dreamed of the moment when I'd see him again.