Melted and Whipped Read Free Page A

with deliberation,” he recites. “They’re fun.”
    Yeah, I used to think they were fun, too. “Think pivot, not turn.”
    He’s nodding enthusiastically.
    “Halfway down,” I remind him.
    He gives me a thumbs-up, and I wonder at the change in attitude. It’s almost like he was hoping I’d get the upper hand so that he’d be forced to stop acting like a snot. I find myself wondering again what his home life is like. I’ve dealt with enough spoiled rich kids to know that they’re not all misunderstood or emotionally neglected. Some are little psychopaths-in-training, destined to run one day for political office or head up evil corporations.
    But something tells me Scooter has a good heart. Underneath the armor, he’s anxious to please.
    I nod for him to begin his descent, and as I watch him, I can almost feel the wind in my face, the adrenaline pounding through my own veins. It takes him a moment to find his rhythm, but when he does…
    His balance is impeccable. The skis are an extension of himself. He drops into the zone the way most people breathe.
    “Keep going,” I say. Of course he can’t hear me, so I use both arms to wave him past.
    The kid really is talented, and I’m sure he knows that. Probably every instructor he’s ever had has told him he could compete professionally. For all I know, he attends a ski academy and has been winning races since he was four.

Chapter Three
    Working with someone of Scooter’s skill level is a pleasure, and the afternoon passes in a flash. Most of the crowd has vanished, likely to squeeze in some last minute holiday shopping or to start drinking.
    “Thank you,” Scooter says at the bottom of the mountain. Instead of running off, he waits for me to get out of my skis.
    “You’re welcome,” I tell him. “You upheld your end of the deal, so I’ll uphold mine.”
    His windburned cheeks redden slightly, and he looks away in embarrassment. Suddenly I want to give him a hug, but of course that’s not allowed, so instead I squeeze his shoulder.
    “If you ever come back to our resort”—I manage not to call it “our crappy little resort” like I would if I were teasing an adult—“don’t hesitate to ask for me.”
    His face breaks into a wide grin, and suddenly I know why he’s familiar.
    He must be Porter’s son. Has to be. I don’t know why it took so long for me to see it, but the resemblance is unmistakable.
    Sadness turns my limbs heavy. I hadn’t heard that Porter was married, but it’s not surprising that he is. Attractive, rich men don’t have problems finding girlfriends. In college, Porter dated his first girlfriend for over two years—proof that he never had problems with committing.
    I wonder what his wife is like. Beautiful, intelligent, accomplished. I’d bet money on it. Not that I have any.
    Then I wonder what his life is like, how things are with Scooter, but of course it’s none of my business.
    “I already know I’ll be back. I’m going to work on how long I can ski on one leg.” Scooter launches into a detailed comparison of all the places he’s skied. It’s hard to believe he’s the same kid who was shutting me down with one-word answers all morning.
    As we enter the main lodge, I find myself walking more and more slowly under the guise of avoiding the people seated on benches, taking off their boots. I stop to allow a small group to enter one of the lodge’s many shops. I don’t know what would be worse: if Porter comes to get his son, or if Scooter’s mom shows up. Already I hate her, and I’m disgusted with myself for being jealous of someone who is likely a very nice person.
    She’s in Connecticut, I remember. My brain is fried, thanks to Porter.
    When I see the broad-shouldered figured dressed in black, I want to cry. It’s just nostalgia for my college days, I tell myself. Nothing to do with Porter.
    He turns toward us. His hat is off, and his jacket is unzipped, revealing a T-shirt underneath. I have to approve