Rom-Com Collection. Kristan Higgins
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continued with the story, which involved me, too terrified to get off the ski lift, clutching Skip so that he couldn’t get off, either, riding back down the hill, then up once more, finally tangling skis with Skip, causing him to fall about ten feet onto hard-packed snow. The ski patrol had to come not only for their fallen boss, but to give me a ride down, since I could neither ski nor walk in those boots.
“Did you get the account?” Charles asked, smiling at me.
“Of course we did!” I said. Berrrrrrroooo. “Hahahaha! Skip was so impressed that I’d gone six thousand feet up a mountain I couldn’t get down, he had to hire us.”
“So you’ll do anything for a client, is that it?” Charles winked.
“Anything within reason,” I confirmed. Unfortunately, my stomach was seriously cramping, and the trail was becoming steeper. Hopefully, my panting would cover the occasional bizarre noise coming from my intestinal tract. I felt a little dizzy.
“That’s a wonderful story, Callie. Mark, you have a gem here,” Charles said, slinging his arm around my shoulders.
“I sure do,” Mark answered, smiling at me. His dark eyes were grateful. For a second, it was like the old times. Mark and me, getting our job done. A great team.
Then Muriel said, “Well, I’m dying to get to the top. Shall we stop strolling and start making time? Dad, think you can keep up with me, old man?”
“Them’s fighting words,” Charles said, releasing me. “Mark? Callie? You in?”
“Absolutely,” Mark answered.
“Um, I’ll wait for my brother,” I said, glancing back at Fred and the rest of the gang, who were now maybe thirty yards behind. The stitch in my side was more like a quilt now.
“See you at the top, then,” Charles said, and with that, they forged ahead, long athletic strides. Bowie whined to go with the fast people, but the second they were a safe distance off, I staggered over to a relatively flat rock and collapsed, draping an arm over my eyes. These bike shorts were awful! Would that I could peel them off and jump into a shower right about now. Curl up in some clean pj’s, watch a little Deadliest Catch and have indoor plumbing ten feet away.
“You okay?” Pete and Leila asked in unison as they approached, Damien just behind them.
“I’m good. Just resting a little,” I lied, peeking at them. Just cleansing and purging, more like it.
“You look like death,” Damien said.
“And you look like a monkey in those clothes,” I returned halfheartedly.
“See you at the top. Don’t worry. We’re almost halfway there.” Leila slapped my knee and kept going.
Almost halfway there. God, take me now! And how could those pale computer dweebs be in such great shape, huh?
Bwihhhhheerrrrgggghhh. Ack! That one hurt! I pictured that notable scene from Alien all too clearly. If only the creature would just burst out and end my misery! Cleanse and purge, my God! Was childbirth like this? New sweat broke out on top of my old sweat, and I tried to breathe, Lamaze-like, through the pain. Too bad Hester wasn’t around to slip me an epidural. Bowie looked up at me and smiled his doggy smile, and I managed to smile back.
“Hey, Calorie.” It was Freddie this time. “You got a beer?”
“No, of course I don’t,” I said weakly. “I’m dying.” Bowie licked my face, attempting revival.
“I call your car,” my brother said.
I struggled to sit up. “You’re such a sweet brother. If I die, everything goes to the nieces, okay? Nothing for you. Fleur, you’re a witness.”
“Can do,” she said, sitting next to me. She was panting, which made me grateful. “I could murder a cuppa right now.”
Ian, however, seemed irritatingly unaffected by our little hike up the mountain. He ignored me (and I was grateful, as I didn’t want yet another person commenting on those god-awful noises). Instead, he put his hands in the pockets of his hiking shorts—L.L. Bean, not the sweaty plastic kind—and surveyed the view. I surveyed it as well … the view of Ian, that was. Nice legs. I’d guess soccer as a child. Excellent ass. Lovely broad shoulders.
“What a view,” he said quietly. For a second, I thought he was referring to himself, but no. In the fun of my melting intestines here, I’d almost forgotten the lookout. Our particular stopping place overlooked Heron Lake, two thousand feet below. The water glowed a deep, dark blue, and all around, pine and fir trees rose, the thick wall of green broken only by mighty falls of granite left by the glaciers thousands of years ago. The setting sun, though still strong, turned the towering cumulus clouds a rich, creamy gold against the paling sky. It was quite a sight indeed.
Gluuurrrreeeeggghhh. I folded my arms against my gut, trying to muffle the noise, hoping the birdsong would camouflage it.
“What the hell is going on in your stomach?” Freddie asked. Once, I loved him. Now, not so much.
“I’m a little sick,” I whispered, glancing at Ian. Wondered if he might euthanize me right about now, put me out of my misery. There was no way in hell I was going to make it up to the top of the trail, not with an alien chewing its way out of my abdomen. Squeeerrrrggh. Bowie whined in sympathy, his tail thumping the ground.
“Well, do you want me to stay? Or should I keep going?” my brother asked.
“Keep going, by all means,” I said, waving in the general direction of the peak. There was no point in having him stay … he tended to laugh when people were sick or grieving, that kind of unhelpful, irrepressible, inappropriate laughter. “Get a ride home, okay? I’ll meet everyone else at the restaurant for dinner.”
“Okay, sis. See you later.” Like a youthful mountain goat, Freddie practically skipped off the steepening trail. I should’ve brought Hester.
“Have fun,” I said, but he was already out of earshot. Bowie yipped twice, then began licking his front paw.
“So what were you chatting about with the BTR crew?” Fleur asked.
“Oh, nothing specific. We were just schmoozing,” I said, glancing at her. “We’ll have a real meeting soon, and I’m sure you’ll be in on it.”
“Right.” She gave me a tight smile. While Fleur was a pretty decent coworker, I knew she didn’t like that I was above her in the chain of command. She was five years older than I was, and there wasn’t much of a ladder to climb at Green Mountain.
“Well, Ian, luv, we should push off,” Fleur said. “Mark’ll get all humped up if all of us …” she paused, clearly unable to find a Britishism for her next phrase “… wimp out.” She glanced at me. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a tosser.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “Go on, have fun. Tell Mark I’ll meet you all at the restaurant, okay?”
“Cheerio.” She hopped to her feet. “Let’s go then, Ian, shall we?” she asked, extending her hand. Bowie leaped up, hoping to go as well, as he was more than capable of running up and down this mountain six or eight times without feeling the slightest twinge of fatigue.
Ian turned around from where he was still surveying the view. He looked at me for a long moment. “I’ll stay with Callie,” he said.
“No, no!” I barked. “Go! Off with you! I’m fine.”
Fleur shot me a sharp look. “We really need to catch up, Ian,” she said, her accent evaporating.
“Go on, you two. I’m fine,” I said, trying not to pant (or moan). Gooorrrreeeeccchhh.
“I’ll stay,” he repeated.
“I really, really don’t want you to,” I said firmly.
“I