Rekindling Christmas (6 page)

Chapter
Four

“Ugh!” Ryanne continued to cross one
of her rented ski blades over the other, getting herself all tangled up. She
felt like an idiot in her spanking-new aqua-blue ski suit as all the more
experienced skiers went past the beginners’ terrain to the lift.

“Hey, don’t stress.” A hand rested
on her shoulder.

Startled, Ryanne turned to see a
light-skinned black woman with short Barbie-blond hair and a wide smile in an
ice-pink ski suit with matching cap and goggles.  Knocked off balance by the
woman and her own inept skills, Ryanne held her arms out, attempting to steady
herself, afraid to move.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.
I’m Cynda.” The woman held her hand out as true kindness lit up her eyes.

“Nice meeting you. I’d shake your
hand, but I’d probably end up dragging us both down,” Ryanne warned, trying not
to allow her fear to show in her smile of gratitude. Most of the other women
she’d met over breakfast had been catty and only interested in the men instead
of being kind to each other, so seeing a sincere smile was a relief.

“No worries. You know the resort
offers instruction.”

“I was over there first, but the
other women kept interrupting the instructor with propositions, so I just
decided to try it on my own.”

The woman looked over at the group
of giggling women and shook her head. “I’ve being helping out some this
morning. I can at least give you a few tips to keep you safe and on your way.”

Risking standing straighter and
pulling her arms in, Ryanne let out a breath. “I’d appreciate that.”

“Okay, the best thing to learn is to
know how to get around on your skis and being comfortable. This area here is
flat, so you can easily push and slide.” Cynda demonstrated and moved away a
few feet on her own skis.

Ryanne tried to mimic her movements,
but felt like a toddler using her legs for the first time.

“Good. Getting around is the hardest
sometimes. If you can master that, then you can get yourself out of tough
situations.” Next, Cynda showed Ryanne the walking movements to get across a
slope laterally, and ascend a slope, if she ever made it down, like a penguin.

“Thanks so much.” Ryanne didn’t want
to hold the woman up any longer. “I think I’m feeling a little more comfortable
in them now.”

“Well, my family owns the place, so
good customer service keeps guests returning.” Cynda laughed.

Ryanne was happy to discover that
the resort was black-owned. She always appreciated when she learned something
that dispelled myths about black people. They didn’t swim, couldn’t ski, or ran
ghetto establishments.
So
not true. Village Resort was a prime example
that proved the stereotypes wrong. Smiling, Ryanne said, “Well, your family has
a nice place here. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.” Cynda shoved away
toward the resort as she called out over her shoulder, “Just remember to keep
your feet a narrow shoulder-width apart.”

Practicing the movements again for a
moment, Ryanne figured that she would be able to handle some basic downhill ski
instructions. She turned around and caught a glimpse of the instructor leading
a couple of women, and a few men now, toward the first small slope. Pointing
the tips of her skis in the direction of the beginners group, Ryanne dug her
poles deep into the snow and shoved hard, wanting to catch up with them.

Nervousness engulfed her and she
looked down at her skis, seeing that their tips were not parallel as they
should have been, and before she knew it, she’d run into a wall of sorts.

*           *           *

“Damn it!”

The bundle of blue that had come
barreling into his body, knocking them both to the hard-packed snow, was
bucking and elbowing him as they tried to get up.

“Just hold still.” Carson dropped
his poles and attempted to grip the person on top of him, to keep them from
getting more tangled than they already were.

“Oops.” A frazzled female voice came
out of the blue-jacketed form.

“Oomph.” Carson was jabbed in the
ribs.

“Sorry.” The voice now sounded
breathless and worried.

“Oomph.” The handle of the person’s
pole caught him in the chin. With a quick bear hug around the person’s arms and
torso, he barked, “Can you please stop moving?”

The blue cloud froze. The only thing
moving was her chest as the person panted heavily against him.

“Better. Now if we just take this
slow, we can—”

Gutted, skinned, and hung out to
dry; done for was exactly how Carson felt when the other person lifted her head
and he got a good look at her face. Ryanne McCall’s face. His teenage dream,
fantasy, and friend was lying in his arms, her limbs intertwined with his. It
didn’t escape his mind or body how he’d imagined on too many nights how they
would feel in such a position, after or before they made love.

Shit
. He could feel his cock responding
from the slight weight of her form and the memories, and there wasn’t a damn
thing he could do about it with their skis locked together. If Ryanne felt the
evidence of his budding erection, she didn’t respond. Matter of fact, she
hadn’t said one word except “sorry”. Then Carson realized neither had he. He
smiled, hoping it didn’t come across as one of those awkward, geeky grins he
couldn’t help giving her when they were neighbors.

“Hi, Carson.” Her voice sounded like
silky jazz music, and it turned him inside-out just as it had years ago.

“It
was
you.”

She frowned, her chocolate-brown
eyes accessing him. “Me? When?”

“Last night at the mixer.” Even now,
with most of her hair hidden under her blue-and-white cap, with nothing but a
thick ebony braid hanging over her shoulder, he knew she had been the girl at
the table. Raising his hand, he followed the edge of her hat along her forehead,
wishing he didn’t have on his bulky gloves.

“Hey, Car, I’m all for you gettin’ a
fuck, but I don’t think the resort will take too kindly to you taking the girl
out here in the middle of the slopes.”

Phillip’s voice jostled Carson out of the intimate bubble. Tilting his head back, he stared up into the face of
his best friend, who at that moment he could have dragged down the slopes by his
bald head.

“Can it, Phillip. You’re the last
person to be preaching about sexual censorship.”

Ryanne began to squirm again, reminding
Carson they still needed to release their skis.

“Phillip? As in Phillip Stifler?”

“As long as you’re not claiming I’m your
baby’s daddy, it is me in the flesh, sweetheart.” Phillip was oozing with charm
as always.

The desire to shove a fistful of
snow into his friend’s mouth assailed Carson. Unsnapping their boots from the
skis was the easiest way to get them loose. Once that was done, he helped
Ryanne to her feet.

“It’s me, Phillip. Ryanne.” She
smiled.

Carson
watched those thick lips of hers
stretch and he wanted nothing more than to lick them from one end to the other.
Inhaling the crisp, cold air, he tried to rein his hormones in, which wasn’t
easy around Ryanne.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Phillip
allowed his gaze a slow stroll along Ryanne’s ski-suit-covered form.

Carson
shoved his hands deep into the
pockets of his jacket so he wouldn’t ball them into fists and pummel the other
man.

“You were always pretty, Ryanne, but
damn if you didn’t grow up just right in
all
the right places.” Phillip
continued to spew his honeyed words.

Ryanne lowered her head and laughed.

Carson wasn’t sure if she was
blushing because she was feeling the impact of Phillip’s words, like all the
other snow bunnies at the resort, or because she still didn’t believe she was
attractive like when they were younger. Strangely enough, he didn’t want it to
be either, but preferred the latter.

“Yeah, right, Phillip.” She glanced
at Phillip with a discerning glare, one eyebrow cocked high. “Don’t think I
don’t remember just how flirty you were with the girls in our neighborhood.”

“Hey, sweetheart, cut me some slack.
I didn’t just
flirt
with them.”

Laughing, Ryanne covered her mouth
and spoke from behind her glove. “Oh, gracious, Phillip, you have always been a
mess. That’s why I tried to keep all my friends away from your nastiness.”

“Too bad you forgot to warn your
sister.” Phillip winked.

Waving her hands, Ryanne shook her
head as a horrified look crossed her features. “Yeah, that’s an image burned into
my mind that I’d rather forget.”

Carson
had heard every detail about Meeya,
Ryanne’s younger sister by eleven months, from Phillip. Because that was
Phillip: he loved to brag about the girls and later the women he banged, in
full disclosure.

Moments later, apparently tired of
waiting, the entourage of women and men of the makeshift group that were
hanging around him and Phillip began to fuss and fidget like antsy kids.

“Come on, Phillip. Let’s go before
the slopes are all treaded up.” Monica, a black girl Phillip had picked up at
breakfast, whined and tugged on Phillip’s arm.

“Hey, we’re headed up to Dragon’s
slope. You want to come with us?” Phillip asked Ryanne.

“Uh, no, thanks. Didn’t you just see
the mess I made of Carson? I’d end up killing all of us, or at least maiming.”
Ryanne stooped down and grabbed her poles.

“Okay. Check you later, Ryanne. You
ready, Carson?” Phillip dug his poles into the snow, prepared to push off.

Carson looked at Ryanne as she bent
over collecting her poles, her round ass cupped nicely in the suit. Shifting
his gaze back to Phillip, he shook his head. “You all go along. I’ll catch the
slope another time.”

Phillip gave him a knowing smile and
left; most of the group followed gleefully behind him.

Lanie, the Hispanic girl from last
night, slid over to Carson, her breasts pressing firmly into his arm. “You sure
you don’t want to come with us, Carson? I was looking forward to us finding a
path of our own.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw
Ryanne glance up at him and Lanie with a strange look on her face. One he
couldn’t figure out.

He stepped back, not wanting Ryanne
to think that he and this woman were an item. “Maybe I’ll see you around the
resort. I really would like to catch up with an old friend.”

Lanie shifted her gaze to Ryanne,
rolled her eyes, and said, “Your loss.”

In seconds she was gone and Carson breathed easier. Squatting down, he quickly collected his things.

Ryanne rose. “You know, you don’t have
to hang out with me. I’m not trying to cock-block on you.”

Carson
smiled and shook his head. “You
know, Rye, you do have to have a cock in order to do that.” Slowly standing, he
allowed his gaze to travel the length of her body, hating the bulky jacket that
kept him from seeing the fullness of her breasts. However, he did appreciate
the view of her long legs encased in the snug material and the way it hugged
her lower half. Returning his gaze to hers, he asked, “Unless you’re packing
and I don’t know it.”

Her golden cheeks, already rosy from
the icy air, darkened, making her more beautiful. “No, I’m not. But I saw you
and that woman last night at the mixer.”

Shocked, he stared at her. Shit,
what was he to say to that? He’d had a few drinks last night, but he recalled
Lanie’s bold, seductive public attempt at trying to get into his bed, or him
into hers. He’d hate for Ryanne to see some other woman all over him.

Reaching out, he took hold of her
arm. “Ryanne, I’m not sure how much you saw, but it isn’t what it looked like.
Shit.” He snatched his cap off. He couldn’t lie to her. “It
was
what it
looked like, but I didn’t sleep with her. There’s nothing between Lanie and me.
Hell, we only met last night.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Well, I
heard in college that you and Phillip…”

Her voice drifted away and her
implication stabbed him in the gut. “College was a long time ago. I’m a little
more fastidious now.” What he didn’t tell her was that once he’d seen a woman
that reminded him of Ryanne, who turned out to
be
her, he wasn’t in the
mood for a lousy imitation.

“Oh.” She gave him a small smile.

“How about we turn in your skis, I
lock mine up in the locker, and we find a great place by the big roaring fire
in the lobby and catch up.”

“That sounds perfect. As long as we
can add in a huge mug of hot chocolate, I’m in.”

Taking a firmer hold of her arm to
help her remain steady in the snow where some areas were slick, Carson said,
“Absolutely.”

Chapter
Five

“What’s been going on with you? I haven’t
seen you since the summer after our freshman year.” Carson sat in one of the
plush chairs next to her.