Melted and Whipped Read Free Page B

of a man who doesn’t need high-tech layers to hit the slopes.
    A smile lights his face when he sees Scooter.
    Somehow, Porter has gotten even more attractive over the years. He wears his dark hair shorter than in college, but the conservative style suits him.
    Then he sees me. His brow creases lightly before smoothing out.
    He’s figured it out. While he’s been doing whatever it is that people do on Wall Street, I’ve been giving ski lessons for sixty bucks a day. Of course he can’t know that’s my small cut of the resort’s price tag.
    Normally I don’t feel inferior because of my job, but right now it’s hard not to wonder how often parents use me as a cautionary tale. Study harder or you’ll end up like that twenty-nine-year-old ski instructor. There’s no shame in an honest day’s work, I remind myself.
    “Hey, kiddo,” Porter says as he walks up. “Did you have fun?”
    “I don’t want to go home tomorrow,” Scooter says.
    “If you don’t go home, your sister will get all your presents.” Porter clears his throat and holds out his hand. “This is for you, if you were his instructor.”
    Awkwardly, I take the bills and blindly shove them into my pocket. “Thank you very much.” I’ve said the words hundreds of times, and they roll easily off my tongue.
    Porter reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a set of car keys. “Catch.” He tosses them at Scooter.
    “I can do it on my own?” Scooter asks, excited.
    “Try not to scratch up the paint or smash out the windows. I’ll be out in a minute.”
    Scooter heads off, then doubles back, nearly banging his skis into one of the benches. “Happy merry, and many returns,” he says to me. He trots away, the keys jangling.
    Porter watches him go, expression amused. “Something tells me I’m going to regret doing that. He’s likely to take it for a joyride. It’ll be on the six o’clock news—just wait.”
    “He’s a nice kid,” I say. “You must be proud.”
    Turning to me, Porter tilts his head slightly. “I am. I wish I got to see him more often. He could use some stability in his life.”
    “You’re divorced,” I say almost happily, ashamed of myself but too relieved to care.
    “I’ve never been married.” Porter studies me, the edges of his lips turning upward. He stops just short of that dazzling smile. “Scooter is my brother’s kid. He’s eleven but looks younger, so you’re not the first to make that mistake.”
    My eyes go wide. Of course. I knew Scooter’s age. I’m an idiot; it’s like being near Porter has scrambled my brain.
    “His parents sent him out here for a week because his mother’s not well. Scooter isn’t fooled, though. He knows that whenever he gets shipped somewhere else for a week, she has surgery scheduled.”
    Instantly I think of my sister. “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. “Will she be okay?”
    He nods. “She came through it fine, and hopefully this is the last one.” Porter clearly doesn’t want to talk about it because he thrusts his hands into his pockets and looks around. “How long have you worked here?”
    “Four years,” I say. Abandoning my pledge to not feel inferior because of my job, I add, “I spent a few years working in an office. HR department. But I was miserable. I do miss my family like crazy, but coming out here’s the best decision I ever made.” My grin feels forced, like I’m trying to convince myself that it’s true.
    Porter barks out a laugh. “You reached that conclusion after a few short years? It took me this long to realize how unhappy I was. But then you always were smarter than me.”
    It’s just a throwaway compliment, but I feel my cheeks and the tips of my ears heating.
    He turns his gorgeous eyes my way. “Are the slopes open tomorrow?”
    “Full day tomorrow, and only in the afternoon on Christmas,” I say. Already I’m doing the math, wondering what the chances are of seeing Porter if I show up for some recreational