Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (9 page)

“I could cook you something wonderful like Hamburger Helper in return,” I joked.

“I would actually like that
,” he chuckled.

During dinner
, I told Ryan about Max’s letter. He understood it. It had taken him losing someone once to understand how important they were. I frowned and looked away from Ryan; it wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

“Is that a bad thing? Max to figure out he really loves you?” Ryan asked
, puzzled by my reaction.

I ran my fingers through my hair
with a sense of anguish. I didn’t exactly know how I felt about it. I turned back to Ryan and looked into his blue eyes.

“
I thought the move would finish Max and me, and now it’s open again,” I sighed. “I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

I worked four nights a week at Mileti’s, so I got to see lots of nightlife. I could always find a party or hang out at one of the bars with the bartender or with my coworkers. The bar scene was always crazy with the drinking, cocaine everywhere, and people hooking up randomly. The local community was pretty small, about half were long-time Park City locals and the other half transplants from all different places. The tourist influx was big, and it made for a lot of wildness. It was always entertaining.

Pat and I picked up a
guy roommate to rent the loft. Living with the boys got to be a pain as they had no remorse about eating my food or drinking anything I left in the fridge. I would think I had something to eat at home only to find it was gone, and alcohol, forget it. It was like I needed a safe. I got to where I hid food in my room, which meant it had to not require refrigeration, so rice became a staple. We got one meal at no charge at the restaurant before each shift, so I ate real food there. Even though the roommate situation wasn’t ideal, I felt freer than I ever had.

A
ny time I had off from work, I skied. I got used to skiing alone—I even liked skiing alone. Whenever we could find the time, which was pretty rare, Ryan and I skied together. He became a good friend, and every now and then I wondered if he wanted more. Mom had pegged it: he was a nice guy, easy to talk to, and fun to be around. If I ever needed help with something, he didn’t hesitate.

Max
kept in touch: he called, he wrote, and he wanted to know that I wasn’t seeing anyone else. I wasn’t seeing one specific person. I was seeing a lot of them. I was at a crux: there was a boyfriend, even if it was one I wasn’t sure about and then lots of male attention in Park City. The flirting was fun and light and made me feel good about myself. I chose to play the field, be free, just casually go out. It bothered Ryan a little as he knew about Max. He felt I should choose one or the other, and I simply couldn’t.

I watched as Ryan scraped the snow off his ski with his pole as we rode up the chair lift. He was being rather quiet, and I felt it might be because he’d seen me out with a bartender we both knew. Ryan didn’t know how much or little I was doing with my dates and I think it thought it was more than less. It concerned me that he might have a bad opinion of me.

“Ryan
, how come you don’t have a girlfriend?” I asked.

“I don’t know, haven’t had one in a long time
. Guess maybe I don’t want one. Better question, why do you keep a boyfriend you’re not sure you want?” he asked.

It was cold out. Ryan had on a black jacket and grey ski pants; a grey hat with a diamond pattern was on his head.
He had dark glasses on so I couldn’t see his eyes, but the way he asked the question relayed a hint of annoyance. I leaned against the arm of the cold chairlift and stared at him. He was still looking down at his skis. I had to think about it for a minute. I knew whatever I said wasn’t going to be a good answer.

“
I miss Max sometimes, but I’m not sure if I miss him or miss someone. He knows me. The guys here are just having fun with me, partying, nothing serious. Does that make sense?” I said.

“Sort of
,” he answered hesitantly.

“Ryan, there is nothing
going on with any of these guys. I’m not sleeping with them if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He raised his head and looked at me as I pulled my light blue jacket tighter around my neck.

              Ryan was five years older than me, and he wasn’t interested in the party scene like I was. He worked every day and generally wasn’t in the bars during the week. Once in a while I would see him at The Club. Occasionally I saw him with a date, or what I presumed was a date. Jill, the cocktail waitress at The Club, had the hots for him, and I knew they hooked up sometimes. I hadn’t ever asked him about their relationship because it seemed casual.

“Have y
ou ever been in love, Ryan?” I asked, sort of offhandedly.

I figured Carrie was the love he’d let slip away
, but he hadn’t told me that. I leaned forward in the seat and swung my skis slightly, attempting to warm my legs.

“Thought I was once, t
he girl I dated in Florida,” he said.

I was righ
t, it had been Carrie.

“What happened?”
I asked. “I mean I know she went to Virginia with you.”

“
Yeah, she came with me when I started the building business. She got a job at a local bank. We had an apartment together and two dogs. She got homesick and left me,” he said flatly.

“Were you hurt
?” I asked.

“Yeah
,” he said, “but not hurt enough.”

I balled my hands inside my black mittens
squeezing them, trying to keep the blood flowing.

“Meaning
?”

“Not hurt
enough to chase her back there. At least, not then,” Ryan said.

“You still think about her?”

“I do think about her. Sometimes I wish I had gone after her,” he said sadly.

My heart tightened in my chest and I thought about Max
, wondering if those were his same feelings.

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

“I’d just started a new business, and I felt I needed to stick with it. There was a business partner who I’d committed to. When she left, I just threw myself into work. I worked constantly to keep her off my mind. We kept in touch for a while, and then that stopped eventually. We never really broke it off properly,” Ryan said.

He shifted in his seat and I wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or from his recollection.
I sensed that he still had feelings for her.

“
And Max, you love him?” he asked.

“I thought I did
, once,” I said, mimicking him.

He laughed.
Ryan pulled his poles out from under his leg and I noticed we were getting close to the top of the mountain.

“Love, it ain’t easy,” he said.

“Tell me about it, it’s a big reason why I’m here.”

W
e both scooted to the end of the chair, preparing to unload.

“Which way?” he asked.

“Right, let’s do Sunnyside,” I said, naming one of the ski runs.

I watched him
ski down a ways and then he stopped to adjust his boots. He was a good skier, nice form. I realized how much I enjoyed our time together. I pointed my skis down and followed his trail stopping next to him. It was warmer on the slope and I undid the top of my jacket.

“This is just an observation on my part
, but I don’t think it was solely the accident that made you consider a change. There must have been other things going on; the accident simply made you give things a harder look,” he said.

He finished adjusting his boot and stood up
, looking at me.

“
Pretty accurate observation, Ryan, and yes, there were other things,” I said sassily. “Kind of a pile of them.”

He started off down the hil
l, and I followed his path, carving back and forth across the slope. The snow was good, the sun was out, and the turns were coming easily. It couldn’t get better than this. I sucked the crisp clean air into my lungs and smiled at the beauty surrounding me.

Ryan
didn’t stop until we got to the bottom, skiing right back into the line. Music blared from the speakers at the front of the line, which livened up the whole atmosphere of having to wait. I skied up beside him, out of breath, my legs burning.

“What other things
?” he asked, leaning on his poles.

“
Max’s control issues and…” I paused, staring into his sunglasses “…and a fling with an old lover, my first love, Mathew.”

Ryan
pulled his head back as if surprised. I was even surprised at myself; I’d hastily blurted the last part out. My thought was to stop talking, stop being so truthful, and I briefly held it back, but it came out anyway. He lifted his sunglasses onto his head, and looked at me as we moved forward in the line.

“Does Max know
?” he asked.

“No.
It happened when I went back to San Jose to a wedding after the accident. I didn’t think it would, but I was wrong. Sort of one of those
ah-ha
moments when you think, if I could do this, something is wrong with the relationship,” I said.

Verbalizing my tryst with Mathew made all the feelings of confusion well up inside me.
As Ryan stared at me, I saw something in his expression that I couldn’t put my finger on, and then it was gone. I hoped my honesty wouldn’t make him think less of me. Ryan had never tried to hit on me, and all of a sudden I wondered why. I wondered if he didn’t find me attractive or if he thought I was too young and dumb.

There were other guys in town
that knew I had a boyfriend back home, and it hadn’t stopped them.

Chapter 8

I liked my new independence. There was no one to tell me what to do or what to think. I also found it was easier to meet a tourist and go out with them than with the locals. The tourists I could have fun with, and then they would go home. There were no promises of a future, and when they were gone, it was over. I didn’t want anything serious; I just wanted to play. The one thing I didn’t do was get in their beds.

In
meeting people from so many places and walks of life, I felt myself growing. I was like a sponge absorbing as much as possible. I realized that the two significant men in my life thus far—Mathew and Max—weren’t all I imagined them to be. What I’d seen as strength and confidence was actually selfishness. My casual dating and friendships with the guys in town made me see it. Park City was changing me, and in ways I felt were better.

The next few months went entirely too fast.
It was a blur of skiing, working, and having fun. Between Pat’s buddies and the people I met, I rarely skied alone anymore. I could generally find someone to meet up with: either for a few runs or for the whole day. Sometimes it was just to share a pitcher of beer at the end of the day, sitting on the plaza people watching.

Once the ski season started
winding down, I was forced to start thinking about what I was going to do. Max was putting pressure on me to come home, my jobs were ending, and many of the friends I’d made were planning on leaving town. By the end of March, even the tourists were becoming sparse. I was getting more and more depressed about the season ending. When I talked to Mom, she listened to my dismay, but had no suggestions. There were no right answers; it all depended on what I wanted.

Pat
was up in the air as well. He thought maybe he would go home for the summer and come back next winter. The two of us tossed our thoughts around with each other, but we were at a crossroads. We both wanted to stay, but the difficulty of finding summer work finally decided the issue. When Pat settled on going home, I decided I would go as well once the resorts closed down mid-April.

It was April 1, Clown Day, at Park City Mountain. I don’t know exactly how Clown Day came to be, but it was like Halloween on skis. You were supposed to dress up like a clown, but people dressed in all kinds of wild costumes. I teased my hair out, put on makeup like the dancers in
Cats
, and wore a leopard print leotard and tights. I had agreed to meet Ryan at noon on the deck at the Snow Hut Lodge for lunch. I clicked out of my skis and picked them up, leaning them against the ski rack. I could hear people laughing and talking on the deck.

The sun felt warm and for a moment the worries over going home had vanished.
I hadn’t worn a hat because I’d teased my hair out like a lions mane. I wondered what Ryan would think of my get-up as I headed up the stairs. Ryan was sitting at the first table at the top and a big smile spread across his face when he saw me.

“It
’s Clown Day, where’s your costume?” I asked, disappointed that he wasn’t dressed up, as I pulled my gloves off.

“I like watching
,” he said with an appreciative once over. “I love your outfit.”

“Rar
rr,” I said, smiling and pawing at him like a cat before sitting down on the bench across from him.

I was sure m
ost of the guys liked my outfit; it showed every curve I had.

“Ready for a
beer?” he asked, pouring me a glass from the pitcher sitting on the table before I answered.

I glanced around the deck at the people sunning themselves, enjoying being out in the beautiful weather.

“What time did you get up here?” I asked.

“
Not too long ago. I’ve only done two runs. So, after lunch, we’ll have to get some shredding in,” he said.

“See, that’s what you’re supposed to be dressed like,” I said, laughing when a group of skiers in clown outfits came up the stairs.

They wore
oversized, colored clown suits, multicolored wigs, clown makeup, and big red noses. They were greeted on the deck with hoots and hollers.

“
They look great, don’t they?” I asked turning back to him. “So, what are we doing for lunch? Burger? Can we split one?”

It was hard not to want
a burger every time I hit the Snow Hut. I’m sure it’s why they grilled them outside, so the smell permeated the air.

“
Sure,” he said.

“Fries?”

“Whatever you get, I’ll eat it,” he said, reaching into his pocket.

“My treat
,” I said.

“No
,” he said, pulling out money.

“Yes
,” I insisted. “You got the beer already.”

“
So?”

“So?
My treat,” I said, turning away, walking slowly in my ski boots, so I wouldn’t slip on the deck.

I heard some
one whistle and looked across the deck and saw Andy, the bartender from The Club. He was with a big group, some dressed in costumes others not.

“Hey
, Andy,” I shouted.

“Nice outfit
,” he said loudly.

“You li
ke?” I said, cocking a pose as several other people on the deck looked over at me.

“Yea
h, kitty, I like it, meow,” he shouted.

I laughed when a
few other guys meowed in response.

“I’m sitting around the corner wi
th Ryan. Come over if you want,” I called out to him.

The line was long at the grill
. Between ordering and waiting, I was gone awhile. Ryan was resting his head against the window behind him, his eyes closed, and his face lifted toward the sun when I got back. Seeing how tan his face and arms were from the winter outdoors, I was determined that one thing I would take care of quickly at home was my white winter body. My face was tan, but that was it.

“Andy’s over there with a group
,” I said, setting the tray on the table.

“I heard the meowing
, figured it was someone you knew,” he said, sitting up.

I put the tray on the table in front of him
, and he smiled at me before cutting the burger in half.

“Give me the smaller half
,” I said lifting my boot over the bench to straddle it.

“What a gorgeous d
ay,” he raved. “Couldn’t have ordered better weather.”

I reached over and took
a fry.

“And you’re having lunch with an attractive lion
,” I teased. “Or leopard, which ever.”

“
That I am,” he grinned.

His confirmation made me smile.
Ryan took a bite of his burger, and I watched him chew. I was going to miss him along with Park City. I took another fry, dipping it into ketchup on the plate.

“
When are you headed home? San Diego home, I mean,” Ryan asked.

“Let’s not talk about it.
Let’s pretend I still have all the time in the world here. Let’s pretend the season isn’t ending. Let’s enjoy Clown Day,” I said suddenly feeling a wave of grumpiness rush in.

Andy and his group
came over, and we got another pitcher of beer. People we knew filtered in and out from skiing while we hung out. Someone got brave and passed a joint around, and I took several hits. Another bartender from The Club skied down the hill above the deck, jumping the rail, and landing right in the middle of the table, sending plastic beer glasses flying. It was hysterical despite the mess.

“Let’s go take a couple runs
,” Ryan said wiping the beer from his ski pants.

“Ok
ay,” I said, picking up my gloves.

The two of us walked carefully,
clomping down the stairs, to the ski racks. We got our skis and walked closer to the lift before throwing them down on the snow. We both clicked in.

“I’m ready
to get away from some of the lunatics,” he said, as he pushed his way into the line.

I followed him
, not answering. I liked the lunatics. I would miss the lunatics.

“Front row
, come on out,” the lifty yelled.

Ryan
and I pushed out and inched our way up in line to load onto the chair lift.

“I’m sort of loaded
,” I whispered and laughed.

“I don’t kno
w how you can smoke pot and ski,” he said.

“I never have.”

“Oh, good, watch out for trees,” he teased.

“Shut up,
” I replied. “I’m not that bad, that I’ll hit a tree.”

We
sat down when the lift came, and the chair started up the hill. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. In less than a month, I would be leaving this place. Headed back,
back to what
I wondered.

“You want to do dinner tonight?
Maybe a movie,” Ryan asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I didn’t move.
The sun felt good.

“Dinner, a movie, wow.
I’m broke, and I’m not letting you buy, so how about I cook. My place,” I said.

“You cook?” he asked.

I opened my eyes and rolled my head toward him looking into his face.

“Yes
, I can cook. Hamburger Helper and rice. I hope you like rice,” I joked.

“Rice?”
he questioned.

I laughed.

“K
idding, Pat and RJ will eat any food in the house regardless of whose it is, however, they’re not real fond of rice, because they have to make it, so it’s been my main dish, at home anyway,” I explained.

We unloaded
at the top and skied down. It felt like it took me forever to get down to the lodge again. I felt slow and my legs felt heavy on the run, like my skis were not doing what I wanted them to do. My brain didn’t seem able to control my turns and I felt like I was fighting my equipment. I was definitely stoned. Ryan started to get back in line when we got to the bottom.

“
Ryan, I want to get down to the plaza. I’m done for the day,” I said, feeling paranoid.

He
pushed his sleeve up and looked at his watch.

“We could get a few more runs in
,” he said, pushing himself back to where I stood.

“You go.
I’m too stoned,” I whispered. “I shouldn’t have smoked any of that joint.”

I wished I could take a chair down to the base instead of having to ski it. It felt far away.

“I’ll go down with you,” he said.

“No
, go ski. I’ll be fine. I know you want to ski,” I protested falsely.

“Nah,
I’ll go down with you,” he insisted.

He started off
before I could object. When we got to the bottom plaza, there was a band playing and people partying. A lot of activity was going on, and people we knew were hanging out.

“You up for a beer
?” Ryan asked.

“Twist my arm
. You’re going to have to take me to the store though if we’re doing dinner. I don’t want to drive,” I said.

“If you’re cooking
, I can drive,” he said, smiling.

Ryan
got us each a beer, and we sat outside in the plaza area of Park City Mountain. The plaza was a big open area in the middle of the resort where people liked to hang out at the end of the day. We listened to the band, visited with friends that strolled by, and watched the frivolity. It was four thirty before we left, and I was cold by then. Fortunately, Ryan had a jacket in his van that he loaned me, and it felt good to wrap myself in it and get warm.

We
left my car in underground parking, and Ryan drove me to the grocery store. He pushed the shopping cart, following me around Albertsons while I picked up salad fixings, two small steaks, and two potatoes.

As we were
checking out, he attempted to pay for the food, but I wouldn’t let him; I did agree to let him buy the wine for dinner. I was all beered out. When he pulled into my driveway, he didn’t shut his van off.

“What are you doing?” I asked
confused.

“I’m going home to shower
,” he said.

“No, you’re not,
” I said, leaning across the front console to turn off the ignition and pull out his keys.

“Come on
, Morgan, I feel like I need one,” he said, giving me a boyish kind of pleading look. “I’ve been skiing and sweating.”

“
Nope, we’re getting in the hot tub anyway. If you want to shower after that, I have a shower,” I said, gathering up the grocery bags.

“Bossy thing
, aren’t you?” he said.

“Damn right
.”