Casanova Cowboy (A Morgan Mallory Story) (8 page)

Some of
Pat’s other friends showed up just then, and conversation shifted in all directions. I was a bit relieved that Ryan was taken out of the spotlight. I caught his eye and smiled. He seemed relaxed, so maybe it hadn’t bothered him. The fire crackled and popped in the background, and more chairs got pulled over. Mom was trying to learn every new arrival’s story, having a good time, and I was happy about that.

When we left the bar
she was a bit unsteady on her feet, I could tell the altitude and the Long Islands had gotten to her. I hooked my arm through hers while we weaved our way to the car. The air was cold and crisp, and new snow covered the ground making the street look beautiful. The cold burned my nose slightly when I breathed it in.

“Th
at Ryan, what a nice guy! I wish you would date someone like that,” she slurred as we walked.

“
Pat or me?” I teased.

Pat
laughed. We knew she was a little drunk.

“
Don’t be silly. You, of course,” she garbled, turning robotically to me. “He seems like such a gentleman.”

“
I have a boyfriend, Mom,” I reminded.

“D
id you see how his eyes sparkled when he looks at you?” she said, ignoring me.

“No
, I didn’t see his eyes sparkle,” I chuckled. “Maybe it was the Long Island goggles you had on.”

Pat
laughed again.

“The what?” she asked.

“We need to get her to bed,” I said, laughing.

“I’m fine
,” she slurred, getting into Pat’s car. “I think you both are making fun of me.”

“We would never do that
, Mom,” Pat said stifling a laugh.

Once we got
Mom settled in Pat’s room and got over our giggles, Pat and I headed to bed in the bunkroom.

“You take the top, I’m afraid I might fall out,” I said
feeling the Long Islands myself.

I snuggled into the bottom bunk as Pat climbed the small ladder. The upper bunk creaked as he settled in.

“Night,” he said.

“Good night. Thanks Pat
, nice evening.”

I’d enjoyed learning more about Ryan. Found it exciting that he, like Pat, were willing to take on a new place. It made me even
surer about what I should do.

“Morgan,” Pat said, shaking me gently. “Wake up sleeping beauty, it’s time to hit the hill.”

I opened my eyes slowly.
It seemed like I had just gone to bed.
How can it possibly be morning?
Daylight spilled in from the window, so it obviously was.
Goddamn it was bright
. I rolled over away from it and pulled the covers tightly around me.

“Get me some water
, Pat,” I pleaded, feeling parched.

God, e
ven my eyes felt dry. I listened as he left the room, could hear him fumbling in the kitchen, and then he returned with a glass of water.

“Get up, let’s go.
I don’t get that many full days to ski,” Pat chided.

“
Okay, I’m getting up,” I groaned as I rolled over and sat up, my head feeling foggy.

“You know Sis about running with the big dogs right?” he asked smiling, as he handed me the glass.

Pat
dragged me all over the mountain, skiing, one run after the other. By lunchtime, my head had cleared, but my legs were like Jell-O. When he finally let us break for lunch, it was after one, and my stomach growled when I could smell the burgers grilling out on the deck as we walked up the stairs to the lodge.

“Burger
?” I asked Pat.

“You get the burgers, I’ll get the pitcher
,” he said.

I o
rdered two burgers and fries and gave the cashier my name. As I waited for our order, I leaned up against the railing, watching people on the huge, sun-drenched deck. As cold as it was, the heat of the sun soon spread across my face and sank into my body, loosening my tight muscles. I watched as the cook flipped the sizzling burgers on the large open grill and my stomach gurgled again.

“Bob,” he
called out putting several plates up.

Watching Bob come pick up the burgers I wondered how far he’d been ahead of me. I looked around, trying to distract me from my stomach and noticed the Snow Hut Lodge’s A-frame construction. All the wood and logs and beams certainly made for a picturesque setting, even if there wasn’t much room inside. I was glad for the large deck and a sunny day.

“
Morgan,” the cook shouted out.

Startled out of my reverie,
I picked up our food and made my way carefully back to where Pat had found a table. Walking in ski boots was awkward, and with my legs so fatigued, I was nervous I might stumble.

“It’s such a beautiful day
,” I sighed, setting the tray down with relief.

I loosened the buckles on my ski boots and then sat down on the side of the table tha
t faced the sun. I raised my face towards the sun welcoming it’s warmth. Pat set a full glass of beer in front of me.

“I’m starving
,” I said, doctoring up my burger. “You kicked my ass.”

“I told you.
Can’t waste a day off, especially a day like today,” Pat said.

We both do
ve into the food and the beer. The beer especially tasted good to me, cold and refreshing.

“You gonna stay
in Park City? I mean, after the season?” I asked.

I dipped a fry in ketchup and popped it in my mouth.

“I think so. I really like it here. Not sure what kind of work there will be for me in the summer, but I’m sure I can find something. Maybe Ryan can hook me up with some construction stuff,” Pat said.

“
Pat, I’m moving here next ski season,” I said quickly, not sure what his response would be.

It took him a minute
for it to register and then his eyes got big.

“You’re
shitting me, right?” he asked.

“No
, I’m serious.”

“You’d leave
Max, your job, college?” Pat asked. “What the fuck, Morgan? You’ve always had your life in order, unlike your little bro. What happened?”

“I need a radical change
. The accident woke me up. I don’t want to wake up at fifty and feel like I followed all the rules, like I never experienced anything,” I said.

“What about
Max?” Pat asked.

“
He can either wait or not. I’m tired of his attitude, like I’ll always be there. Always do the things he wants to do. Ever since I wrecked his Blazer, I’ve spent more time looking at our relationship. I don’t think it’s that great, like somehow we’ve gotten disconnected. And we argue a lot about stupid things,” I said.

Pat
picked up the pitcher and filled my empty glass. He poured slowly, just leaving a little foam at the top.

“Remember
Melanie’s wedding?” I asked. “I didn’t stay with Gayle; I actually stayed with Mathew.”

I took a sip of my
beer and waited. We had always been close, shared all our secrets.

“No way
,” he spit out. “Like together, you slept with him?”

I smiled
. Pat knew enough about Mathew and me to figure it out.

“
Sounds like Miss Goody Two Shoes hasn’t been so good lately, crashing into a telephone pole, and then cheating on her boyfriend. The shoes get lost or something?” he asked, chuckling.

I pushed my empty plate away and looked again towards the sun.

“So you’re really serious about coming next season?”

“I am
. I’ve always been the one who’s done all the things I thought were expected of me. Well, almost always, I mean, for Mom and Dad. What next? Get married and have babies, then wake up one day and say
what the fuck have I done?
I think I need to live a little. Get closer to the edge, like you have,” I said.

“Mom and
Dad are going to shit,” he said shaking his head.

Even though I
had been wild in my younger years, my parents didn’t suspect it. What they saw was the good student who did what she was told. I made it to eighteen before I finally got caught big—the time I was driving their car under the influence and was stopped. I’d spent a harrowing night in jail in downtown San Diego. That’s when I knocked myself off the pedestal. It’s also when I started being completely open with my mom.

Chapter 7

Over the next eight months I prepared myself for the move. I finished school, spread the news, and finally quit my job. Pat was right: Mom and Dad were shocked. But they totally surprised me when they both thought it was a great idea. I had thought I might get some backlash about leaving school, and I thought Mom would hate the fact that I was moving so far away. Instead, without stating the obvious, they both saw it as a way for me to get out of the rut I was in.

Max
couldn’t believe I would make such a rash decision. He did what he typically did if I pulled away from him: he tried to pull me back, wanted me not to go. Liz encouraged me any time I had my doubts.

I flew back to Utah in October to find a place to l
ive and secure a job when I got another shock: Pat decided he would rather live with me than anyone else. I think, even though he was my little brother, he wanted to make sure I was safe. Ryan picked me up at the airport because Pat’s car was acting up.

“Hey
,” he said, jumping out of his van to grab my small bag and giving me a quick hug.

He
opened my door gentlemanly like and I climbed in.

“You ready for this?” he asked
with a smile.

“Totally ready
,” I said eagerly, rubbing my palms together.

“Pat tells me this m
ove is out of character for you,” he said, putting the van in drive. “How does everyone back home feel about it?”

“Ye
ah, it is,” I said with confidence. “Mom and Dad are excited for me. Liz thinks it awesome. Max doesn’t like it. Or should I say, he doesn’t like the fact that I made a decision without his approval. He thinks I’ll change my mind.”

I thought about all the comments
Max had made over the last few months. Many encouraging me to stay, even to the point of wanting to talk more seriously about where we were headed. It was too late though; I’d made up my mind. I agreed to not break-up and just try the winter away.

“
Pat didn’t think you would come. He said you would go home and get over it,” Ryan said as he glanced over at me, a question in his eyes.

“
Pat should know better than to bet against me,” I said defiantly.

Ryan
spent the next few days running me around town looking at places to rent.

“There’
s so few that are furnished,” I said in frustration after viewing another empty unit.

“I know
, and they move quickly this time of year,” Ryan said. “When you find one you like you best jump on it.”

I knew
Pat wouldn’t care what it looked like as long as he had a place to crash. I finally found a duplex with two bedrooms and a loft and signed the lease for November first. It was a little early, but I didn’t want to lose it, especially since it had a hot tub and a fireplace.

Ryan
took me to The Club after I signed the lease to celebrate. We sat at the bar, on the stools where Liz and I first met him. Ryan ordered us beers. He seemed upbeat that he’d been able to help me. Maybe even happy I was officially coming to town.

“Are you still bartending at night?” I asked
idly.

While I doodled in the wet ring my glass had left on the bar I glanced around. The bar was quiet except for the music playing, only two other single guys sitting at the far end.

“No, I gave it up. I’ve gotten too busy doing construction and tending bar took away any chance of a personal life.”

“Girls,” I teased.

“Girls, whatever… I needed some free time,” Ryan said with a smile.

My mom’s comment about how his eyes had sparkled the night in front of the fire
came into my mind.

“Tell me again
, Ryan, how you ended up here. I remember the business failing in Virginia, and then I can’t remember the connection here,” I said.

“
Carrie’s dad, the girl I dated, started a snowmobiling company here, and he asked me if I wanted to run it. I had dated her for years, and her family really liked me. In fact, it was her father’s airport services company I worked for in Florida,” he said.

“Why did he start a snowmobiling company here?”

“They had a second home here, he was pretty entrepreneurial, but he also like to the fly them out in his Lear jet. I think it was an excuse to be able to write everything off.”

I could hear people coming up the stairs and turned to look. It was a young couple busily chatting to one another. They took one of the tables in the back.

“How did it come about that he asked you to run it,” I asked. “You were still in Virginia then.”

“Yeah, but I still talked to Carrie’s mom, she knew my business was failing. I think she always felt bad about Carrie leaving me. She actually suggested the fresh start.”

“So you ran that for a season and then went back into the construction thing,” I said, remembering some of my mom’s grilling.

“Gotta pay bills
, and the seasonal stuff wasn’t cutting it for me,” Ryan said.

“Another round?” the bartender asked noticing our glasses were almost empty.

“Ryan?” I asked.

He smiled at me.

“Only if I’m buying though,” I said winking. “Yes, thank you, we will have another round.”

The bartender nodded and moved away behind the bar to pour the beers. I watched as he took two frosted glasses out of the cooler and then pulled the tap towards him filling them one by one.

“I’m so excited about moving here next month, I can hardly stand it.”

The whole idea of a new place, living on my own for the first time, and
being able to ski on top of it thrilled me. The bartender removed our empty glasses and put the fresh beers down.

Ryan smiled
and lifted his glass to me.

“It should be an interesting winter for you
.”

During the months leading up to the move, Mom had cried several times, and I felt bad for her and me. We would miss each other horribly. And it wasn’t like I could drop in and chat. One good thing, with both her kids gone, I knew she would call often.

I don’t think Max
believed I would go up until the day I packed my car and drove out of my driveway. He looked sad, and I almost felt sorry for him. Almost. Instead, the actual leaving was liberating. The further I got away from home, the more energized I became about my decision for change.

“I’m still shocked.
As much as I wanted you to come, I didn’t think you would. I didn’t think you would give up everything,” Pat said one night while we were sitting in the hot tub.

Pat was relaxed, his head tipped back, his arms stretched out, resting on the edge.
I was leaning against the side, half of my body out in the cool air because I was too hot.

“What looks like everything sometimes isn’t,” I said.

“What’s that mean?”

“When people look at other people’s lives, sometimes they think they have it all or have it figured out, and sometimes they just don’t. It took some big things happening to derail me, but when the light went on,
wow
,” I explained.

I slid back into the tub and sat down on the bench.

“Max bummed? Pat asked.

“He says he is.
Like you, he didn’t think I would go through with it. I think he thought it was some mad idea I would get over. It actually made me more determined,” I said.

Of course Max thought it was crazy because it was something he would never do. He was happy where he was, and couldn’t understand my need to leave everything I knew for Park City.
None of my explanations satisfied him.

              It took three weeks and Thanksgiving dinner before I finally felt the first pangs of homesickness. I missed my friends, my parents, and even Max. The snow was slow in coming, and work was not steady. I had too much time on my hands as we waited for the season to begin. I began questioning my decision. Pat and I were hanging out at The Club almost daily for something to do. Even drinking wasn’t making me happy.

“Stop
, Morgan, you’re here, you’re staying, and it will get busy. You will wish for days like these,” Pat said from his barstool.

I
was feeling sorry for myself and was sort of slumped onto the bar rolling a strand of hair in my fingers, making a knot and then pulling it through. Pat’s arm was in my view; his rolled up red and blue flannel shirt and then his bare arm. I hoped he was right. Sitting up straighter I took another sip of my beer.

“Ok
ay, okay, I’m just bored and homesick, and nothing is happening yet,” I whined.

“Listen
, you have the job at the ski shop, you have the job at the Italian restaurant, and when it starts hopping, you will be slammed. And don’t load yourself down with any more work, you came to ski, remember?” Pat replied.

He tapped his fingers on the bar obviously frustrated by my mood.

“Sorry,” I said with a grin.

Someone caught Pat’s eye and he smiled just as
hands slipped over my shoulders and squeezed. I rotated my neck slowly looking behind me to find Ryan standing there.

“That feels good,” I encouraged
.

His hands felt strong on what I now realized were very tight muscles.
I dropped my head and let him work at the tension in my shoulders and neck.

“Tell her to quit freaking out.
She’s already taken a second job at Mileti’s, and the season hasn’t even kicked off,” Pat complained as he leaned his elbows on the bar.

“Quit freaking out,” Ryan said
, “or you’ll end up like me, working and not playing.”

“I figured the usual,” the
bartender said as he set a draft beer on a napkin for Ryan.

“Thanks John.”

They had worked together in the past. Ryan stopped massaging and slid onto the barstool next to me.

“How are things going other than the freak
-outs?” he teased.

Ryan hung out with the two of us that evening
, trying to help Pat fill me in on what to expect, both reassuring me it would definitely change and soon.

The following week it started to snow
, and it kept on coming right up till Christmas. Every day I woke up, and it was snowing: snow and more snow. It made me nervous, as I had never driven in snow, my dad always had. My Honda was not four-wheel drive, and although it did okay in the snow, it wasn’t great. I’d felt the car slip occasionally on corners already. Several mornings I opted to take the bus to work rather than risk it. When the snow arrived, it took my doubts away. Things got busy, my time was filled up and any free time I did have was now filled with skiing.

Once Christmas came
, the town kicked into high gear. Park City decorated most of the trees around town with Christmas lights; even crisscrossing Main Street with them. Town went from being a slow, dull brown place to one glittering with colored lights and lots of action—full bars, packed restaurants, and crowds of skiers on the slopes. It was exciting and I couldn’t help but want to be out in it all.

I got to meet the tourists day and night: during the day I worked at the ski shop with a
couple hour break to ski, and at night, I worked at the restaurant. The people I worked with at the restaurant were great, and we would go out to a club after closing time. I drank and danced and went hot tubbing with new people I met. One evening, I even had a local guy teach me how to throw knives. It was the same as when Liz and I visited, except I was living it.

Right before Christmas, Max sent me a letter
, telling me what an ass he had been and how much he loved me and that he would wait. Although we hadn’t officially broken up, I felt like we had. This new revelation by him was the last reaction I expected. The letter made me feel sad and confused.
Was I supposed to be happy with this gush of emotion from him?
My mind filled with memories.

             
I needed a distraction from my thoughts so I called Ryan. I hadn’t seen him in a couple weeks; I also needed help with getting a tree.
Yes, Christmas, I loved Christmas
.

“Ryan
, it’s Morgan, will you help me get a Christmas tree?” I asked when he answered the phone. “My car is too small.”

It was a legit excuse to be able to be with him. Have company; help shove aside the thoughts and feelings about Max.

“Sure, when?”

He sounded happy to hear from me. 

“Whenever. I could go tonight or tomorrow after four and before six ‘cause of work. Mom and Dad are coming for a visit, and I want a tree,” I said. “Pat doesn’t seem to care so much, but I do.”

“I can do it tonight,” he said.

“Really?” I asked, thrilled at the prospect of seeing him tonight.

“Yes, I was just getting ready to go to the grocery store, but it can wait.”