Matchmaker 01: January

"What?" she asked as we strolled along the street.

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What about me?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out."

She looked at me curiously. "What does that mean?"

"That means in the past week, I've become very comfortable around you, and I don't know why."

She smiled. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, but I still don't understand why or how, but it's happened."

"It must be my winning personality."

I chuckled. "That must be it."

"Take me for a ride—"

"Shouldn't we wait until we get back to the chalet first?" I asked, speaking over her.

She twittered and slapped me playfully on the shoulder. "On the gondola," she said, pointing to the string of glass enclosed cars slowly crawling up the mountainside.

"Oh! You should have said so." She rolled her eyes as she looked away with a grin. I steered her in the general direction of the lift. "Sure. Come on."

As we approached the loading portal, I pulled gently on her arm, slowing her, allowing a group to catch a cab and be on their way before we arrived. We stepped up and were ushered into the car, the attendant sliding the door shut to cocoon us before the cab lurched into motion. I'd ridden plenty of ski lifts, but never a gondola before.

"Wow," Lane murmured as the car cleared the station and began the steep climb to the summit.

There were places to sit, but she was standing, her nose almost pressed against the glass. I stepped up behind her and pulled her back against my chest. I wanted to kiss her, but I satisfied myself with holding her, not wanting to take her away from the view. She'd never seen snow or mountains before last week.

"Amazing," she murmured.

"Yes," I whispered as I placed my nose in her hair and breathed in her scent.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For giving me this."

I was confused. "A ride in the gondola? It was free."

"No, not that." She turned to face me. "This trip. It's been amazing." She smiled. "An adventure of a lifetime."

I needed to kiss her. The landscape around us, the soaring mountains and crystal blue skies, only made her that much more beautiful. I took her lips. Even in our bulky winter coats, having her melt into me caused a thrill to rush through me. It wasn't the roaring heat of lust, like with most women, yet it was. It was a desire that I hadn't felt before, a melody of feelings unlike any I'd experienced. Lust and desire, those I was familiar with, but there was something else, something more, something that made my need for her deeper and richer, and more than physical.

Was it love? Impossible! I decided. I couldn't fall in love with a woman this quickly. I'd never loved a woman in my life. I'd felt fondness and looked forward to a woman's company, but I'd never loved anyone. Not in the way I understood love.

Could Lane be the one? I asked myself. Had Brooklyn done what I couldn't? It was too early to know. Several times a woman had claimed to love me, but I'd never felt the spark in return, and each woman had eventually revealed her true self. I'd learned to be wary, to be cautious. I didn't mind spending money on a woman; I only asked she be honest about it and not pretend the money wasn't important to her.

We rode to the summit and down the other side to Mountain Village. We wandered around the village, window shopping. We had lunch of salads at a small shop before exploring the rest of the town. We spent the entire day wandering through the streets, walking in and out of the small shops. I noticed a watch that caught my fancy and purchased it. Lane watched, her face impassive, as I charged the twenty-thousand-dollar Rolex. One more watch to add to my collection.

"Does it bother you?" I asked as the last gondola of the day back to Telluride lurched out of the station with us aboard.

"What?"

"Me spending money."

She shrugged. "Why would it bother me? It's your money." Her words said one thing, but her tone said another.

We were alone in the car, so I felt I could ask, "May I ask a personal question?"

"Sure."

"How much do you make in a year?"

She hesitated, clearly reluctant to answer. "Does it matter?"

"No, but I was curious. May I guess?" She nodded. I considered a moment. "One twenty?"

She smiled, but there was no humor in it. "No. That's high. About eighty, on a good year."

I nodded. "You're not offended that I just spent a fourth of your annual salary on a watch?"

"Like I said, it's your money."

Her tone still didn't match her words, and it bothered me. I'd never cared what people thought about my spending habits before. I nodded, accepting her response at face value, even though I knew she wasn't being completely truthful with me, and I didn't know why she wasn't.

I was slowly working my way down Meadows, the trail run I was most comfortable on. Bryant was slightly behind me, shushing and turning with me. He must be bored to death skiing with me. I could glide, but I was still working on my turns, and even on these gentle slopes, if I tried to turn with too much speed or aggression, I often fell. At least he didn't have to rescue me all the time like he had the first day.

He was such an interesting man. In the past two weeks I'd come to realize he didn't think about money at all. He'd spend twenty grand like I'd spend twenty dollars, which was intimidating as hell. He never lorded it over me, but it still made me uncomfortable. It made me feel, a little, like another bauble he'd bought for his amusement.

On the other hand, I recognized I'd signed up for this, so it wasn't fair to blame him for my insecurities. Part of the appeal of this 'adventure of a lifetime' was the 'all-expense paid' part. I tried to not let it bother me, and most days it didn't, especially on the slopes, but every now and again he would do something, completely innocent, and the feelings would return. Last night, for example. We went out to dinner and had a nice meal. The fact he bought my dinner didn't bother me. I guess I was kind of old-fashioned that way. I didn't know the final price, but my best guess was it was somewhere around a hundred bucks. He paid with a pair of crisp hundred-dollar bills. The waitress was ecstatic, of course, and again I felt that strange feeling of intimidation and didn't know why. As I told him after he bought that watch in Mountain Village, it was his money.

We were approaching the bottom of the hill and I had to concentrate for my stop. I'd stopped plowing and started trying to hockey stop. I could stop okay, but I'd always fallen, either just before I stopped or just after, unable to regain my balance quickly enough. That was on this easy, slow, hill. If I were going fast, I'd probably be a bouncing, rolling, snowball.

I desperately wanted to get this stop right, and as I began to coast to a stop, I quickly twisted my hips and leaned on the inside of the skis so they'd bite into the snow. I ground to a stop. I leaned too hard to the inside and felt my balance going. I tried to recover, but I overcorrected as I always did, and now I was in danger of pitching forward, but miracle of miracles, I stopped and with a small sidestep, I kept my balance. When I realized I wasn't going to fall, I threw my hands in the air in triumph as I cheered myself. Bryant scraped to a stop beside me, his face beaming with my victory.

"Terrific! Next stop, the U.S. Olympic team."

I was jubilant, buzzing with excitement and my success. "Hardly."

"Ready to go again?"

Skiing was a lot more fun when you weren't constantly picking yourself up out of the snow. "Sure!"

"You want to try The Peaks?" he asked.

The Peaks was still a Green slope, but I'd avoided it after my first attempt because it was harder than Meadows, but after my successful stop, I was feeling cocky and confident.

"Yeah. Let's do that one." I paused. "Are you sure you want to do this? Wouldn't you like to go do one of the harder slopes?"

"No," he said as we began to glide to the chair lift.

"You don't have to babysit me all the time."

He grinned as we stopped in the queue waiting for our turn at the lift. "I'm not babysitting you. I'm skiing with the most beautiful woman on the slopes."

The woman in front of us glanced at us and smiled with his comment. "But aren't you bored?" I asked.

"No. Even if you could ski at my level, if we were to tackle one of the Black slopes, we'd quickly become separated. Here, if I want to talk to you I can."

"Okay, but if you get bored then—"

"Then I'll simply watch your backside... and then I won't be bored anymore."

I couldn't help but giggle, and I heard the woman in front of us twitter out a laugh. He was charming her without even trying. We shuffled to the lift and caught a chair, sharing the seat with the couple in front of us. He took my hand and held it for the short ride up the hill. We disembarked and made our way to the start of the run.

We started down the hill, swishing and turning slowly. The slopes were too gentle to generate any real speed, and that suited me fine. As we glided along, I smiled as a man in front of me went down. That was me just a week ago.

I'd been ready to give up on skiing, frustrated by my lack of progress, but Bryant's steady stream of encouragement kept me going. Now I was enjoying myself, even when I was on the slopes. When I'd first started, I thought learning to ski would be a novel way to pass the month, but I hadn't thought of it as something I'd want to continue. Now I wasn't so sure. There was something invigorating swishing down a mountain in fresh powder, even on these gentle slopes, and returning cold and tired to the chalet to warm up in front of the fireplace left me feeling wonderfully relaxed, as if I was leaving all my troubles out there in the snow.

The fact that Bryant could make me feel like no man before him didn't hurt either. He was always the perfect gentleman, both in the bed and out. He never tried to force me into anything, making his interest known but allowing me to choose to accept or decline, and that made me trust him. Because of that trust, I'd been willing to do things I'd never considered before. He was an imaginative lover, and I'd fed off that, exploring my own sexuality in ways I never had before, and he was always eager and available for anything I wanted to try.

I smiled as I carved a perfect, for me at least, turn in the snow. He'd never disappointed, rising again and again to any challenge I'd set for him. He was almost perfect. Hell, he was perfect. Good looking, a monster in bed, rich, yet there was a courtly, gentlemanly way to his manner. I had no firsthand experience with New Yorkers, but he wasn't the typical asshole that I imagined rich New Yorkers to be. I guess he didn't have to be. Money talked, and he had plenty of it, so he could afford to be affable and allow his money to do his talking for him.

He slowly drew beside me, tucked into a wind cheating crouch like I'd seen Olympic skiers do, before he glanced over at me, grinning as he slowly passed. I laughed at his antics. I crouched myself, tucking my poles into my sides as he had. We weren't going much faster than I could run, but I felt like I was flying. He made me feel like I was flying. I just needed to accept the differences in our standard of living. So what if my watch cost two hundred dollars and his cost a hundred times that amount? It didn't seem to bother him, so I shouldn't let it bother me.

We reached the bottom of the hill. He'd pulled well ahead of me, by virtue of his superior technique, I assumed, and I watched as he skidded to a stop and turned to watch me. I was determined not to disappoint, but I didn't aim right for him, as he often did me, because I wasn't that confident in my ability to stop where I wanted like he was.

I was going faster than I'd ever traveled on skis before, but rather than try to burn off speed by plowing, I committed to a hockey stop. I twisted and dug in, snow flying, but I'd badly misjudged my momentum and skidded past him, barely slowing, before my balance went to shit. I fell, going over forward as my skis bit in hard, landing in a plunging roll, my left ski twisting my knee painfully before the binding releasing. I slid to a stop, snow in all the places snow shouldn't be. I lay still for a moment, taking stock of my situation. I could tell my knee had taken a shot, like a hard stumble, but otherwise I wasn't hurt except for my pride.

"Lane! You okay?" he asked, slowly sliding to the downhill side of me.

I sat up and tested my knee. I could move it without pain. "Yeah."

"That was quite the tumble."

"You noticed?" I dead panned.

I took his offered hand and he pulled me to my feel. I brushed away the snow and kicked out of my other ski. It was easier to walk than to try to slide on one ski. I picked up my ski and trudged after my runaway. Why couldn't it ever land on its side, or binding side down, so I didn't have to chase it? It didn't go far, and I stooped and picked up. I snapped my boot back into the bindings and repeated the process with the other foot.

"Do you want to go again, or call it a morning?"

"I think I'm done for now."

He nodded. "Understandable. Come on, let's go get something warm to drink."

We returned to the Range Rover and loaded our gear inside before he drove us back to our cabin. I peeled out of my ski suit and changed into some dry clothes, the ones I was wearing damp with sweat and the little bit of snow that had worked itself inside when I crashed.

"Better?" he asked as I appeared from our bedroom.

I accepted the glass of hot buttered rum from him. "Just when I think I'm getting it, I realize I've got nothing."

He led me to the comfortable couch in front of the roaring fire. "Don't get discouraged. You're just starting out."

"It's still frustrating. You make it look so easy."

"That's what almost twenty years of practice will do."

"You've been skiing since you were nine?"

"Nine or ten."

I shook my head and took a sip of my drink. When I was ten, I was playing with dolls, not traveling the country, or maybe the world, learning to ski. Our lives were so different.

"How's your knee?"

I straightened my leg in front of me. "Fine."

"Excellent. That was a hard fall. I like seeing your legs in the air, but not like that."

I snickered. I didn't mind having my legs in the air, but not like that. "I'm okay."

He nodded. "Good. We've still got more than two weeks of vacation left. It'd be a shame for you to spend it with your leg in a cast."

I nodded in agreement. That would severely limit the fun I was having after the lights went out. I took another sip of my drink. "Yes, it would."

"I'm taking you out," he announced, slapping me playfully on the leg. "I'm not ready to solo in the kitchen except for breakfast, and after your wipeout, you shouldn't have to cook."

I smiled. "You're twisting my arm."

"It's settled then." He took my glass and set them both aside before he softly kissed my lips. "I'm glad you weren't hurt."

"Me too."

Our horses trudged through the deep snow. We were taking a break from skiing to enjoy Telluride's other attractions. Last week, when Lane didn't want to return to the slope after lunch, I thought her hard fall had scared her. It'd scared me.

I'd seen a lot of falls harder than hers. I'd fallen harder than her. But the way her left ski had dug in and flipped her over was the type of fall that broke bones and wrecked knees. She'd been lucky.

The next day I was prepared to push her to get her back on the skis as long as her knee wasn't hurting. Not because I expected her to ski with me, but because I didn't want her to be afraid of trying again. I needn't have worried. The next day, she was ready to go. She was a tough lady, and I admired that about her. No crying over a broken nail for her.

Last night, after our dinner of something she called Chicken Fried Steak, she sat snuggled in my arms. We'd forgone the foosball game and the television was off. I was puzzling over how Chicken Fried Steak got its name as she flipped through her phone. It wasn't chicken, and it wasn't what I thought of as steak, but fried and smothered in a thick, white gravy, it was surprisingly good. I'd been missing out on an entire world of cuisine without even knowing it.

When she'd discovered we could rent horses, she'd cried out in delight and insisted we give them a try. I wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the idea but had agreed. Horses were exactly what I thought they were: big, stupid, smelly beasts. I couldn't understand why anyone would want to go back to riding them when people had invented cars to replace them.

I was hopeless. The only horses I'd ever seen were those pulling tourists around Central Park, but Lane took to them. She was obviously comfortable around the animals and needed no help saddling her horse. I, on the other hand, stood back and watched as the stable boy, who happened to be a woman, prepared my horse for me. After the stable hand finished with my horse, she quickly checked Lane's horse, grunting softly in approval, before leading my horse out. After a few, quick instructions to me about how to properly mount a horse, and a warning to stay on the riding trails, we were off.

Lane was clearly at home in the saddle, moving with an easy grace and almost at one with the animal, where I felt like my horse was deliberately moving in a way to maximize my discomfort as I bounced along, holding tightly to the horn thing on the front of the saddle.

She pulled up and looked back at me, her smile slowly disappearing. "You okay? Why are you riding like that?"

"Like what?" I asked as my horse stopped beside hers with no input from me.

I wasn't sure what I thought about my transportation having a mind of its own. What if it suddenly had the urge to end our misery and jump off a cliff?

"Stiff. Haven't you ever ridden a horse before?"

I squirmed in the saddle, my ass hurting after such a short time. "No. Can you tell?"

She giggled. "I thought all rich people played polo and went on fox hunts and stuff."

"Not this one. I have to say, I have an entirely new appreciation for the inventor of the automobile."

She giggled again. "If you would relax and move with the horse it would be a lot more comfortable."

"He's the one doing all the moving."

With clicks and nudges, she turned her horse around so she was facing me and reached for my knee. "First, sit up straight and relax your legs. You're all scrunched forward and gripping the horse with your legs." I tried to do as she suggested. "Better. Now, hold the reins like this," she said, holding her hands up so I could see. I adjusted my grip to match hers. "These horses are a gentle as can be, so you don't have to worry about falling off."

"You sure?"

She giggled again. "Well, if you do fall off, it's your fault."

"Small comfort," I muttered. "Getting trampled by a beast of burden isn't on my list of things to do today."

She leaned forward on her horse. "Don't listen to him," she cooed to the horse. "You're beautiful," she continued, slapping the horse solidly on his neck. She turned her horse again and started away, my horse falling into line, again without any input from me. She looked back over her shoulder, her face lighting up. "Would you relax!"

"How can I relax with this thing starting and stopping on its own?" I cried. I'd never felt so out of control in my life.

"Oh for Pete's sake, you big baby!" she said, clearly enjoying herself. "Pull back on the reins and you'll see, she'll stop."