Page 28 of The Lodge

“I’m just surprised they let you bring one,” he says. “They’ve got a pretty strict no-pet policy. People kept bringing their dogs, and the snow—let’s just say we had a vibrant yellow section at one point.”

I scrunch my nose. “Ew.”

“Hence,” he says, “my surprise.”

“Well, Puffin is an indoor cat, so maybe they were confident he wouldn’t use the mountain as his own personal litter box.”

“Maybe so,” Tyler says, but then he goes quiet.

I can’t begin to guess what he’s thinking.

“So I guess you don’t have any pets, then?”

He grins. “Actually, I do. His name is Pete. As previously discussed, he’s not strictly allowed.”

“And… what…is…Pete?” I ask as we board the magic carpet conveyor belt, beginning our ascent up the Zen Zone’s gentle slope.

“Pete is a goldfish.”

I burst out laughing, I can’t help it. “Agoldfish? They won’t even let you have a goldfish?”

“Aquariums can do a surprising amount of damage—but it’s not like I smuggled him in. Not really.” He’s quiet again, weighing how much to tell me. “Let’s just say Julie gave me special permission since he’s only in a small fishbowl, and I don’t make a habit of letting anyone know about him.”

“And his name is Pete,” I say. A statement, not a question.

“What’s wrong with Pete?”

“I don’t know, it’s a bit… human?”

“Says the girl who named her cat after an entirely different species.”

“Exactly,” I say, laughing. “It works.”

“Once you meet him, you’ll agree that he’s totally a Pete,” Tyler says. “But just out of curiosity, let’s hear your better suggestions.”

“Mongoose,” I pull from absolutely nowhere. “Axolotl. Sandhill Crane.”

“You think I should name a goldfishSandhill Crane.”

I shrug. “I don’t think it’s any worse than Pete.”

Now we’re both laughing, and I slip ever so slightly on my skis. He steadies me, one strong hand secure on my upper arm and the other at my lower back.

“Pete would be pretty upset if he learned the very mention of his name had sent a woman crashing to her death,” Tyler says in a low, faux-stern voice, flirty eyes locked with mine.

His actual words barely register—buthowhe says them stirs something in me. I swear this guy could read his to-do list to me and I would find it steamier than a sauna.

We go over everything he taught me yesterday. He checks my form; it’s possible I get it slightly wrong on purpose just so he can correct me. I can’t get enough of how confident he is, but also how careful—his corrections are firm but fleeting, and even though I gave him permission to put his hands on me yesterday, he asks again today.

Finally, we head down the mountain for our first run. We’re still in the Zen Zone, so it’s not too steep, but my skis are closer to parallel than they were before—compared to yesterday, it almost feels like we’re flying.

We ski down the mountain, then head back up again, over and over, until my muscle memory from years ago finally starts to kick in. All that’s missing is my daredevil brother, Ian. I’ve been missing him for a long time, though.

Ugh,Ian.

Just the thought of him makes me tense up, and before I know it, my right ski is slipping, skidding out of control.

“It’s okay!” Tyler calls out. “Bend your knees—and try to square up!”

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