Page 33 of 2204 Hunter Lane
“They got some there.”
“In my shoe size?” She asked, her little legs struggling to keep my pace.
I shook my head, glancing at her in bewilderment. “You got size three feet or somethin’?”
“No,” she sniffed, pulling on a pair of black mittens. “Size six.”
I snorted as I walked to the passenger side door, opening it for her with a grunt. “Watch your step.”
“He opens doors?” She joked, sinking into the black polyester cushion of my seat.
“He closes ‘em too.” I responded, slamming it shut.
The fifteen minute drive to the slopes was in complete silence until the very end, when I decided to pose the question that’d been picking my brain.
“Size six, really?”That was damn fuckin’ tiny.
She shrugged. “My brother used to call me Minnie Mouse.”
A quiet laugh escaped my throat before I could stuff it down and bury it with a hatchet.
Bambi.
Bunny.
Minnie Mouse.
God, this girl was every name in the book except for fuckin’ Marley.
Chapter Fifteen
Marley
Rivertown slopes was a sight to see.
For a ski resort in a small town, I really wasn’t expecting much. But the glistening snow, the sandy wooden lodges and the smiling faces encircling me brought out all the happiness this place could provide.
I’d only ever been to a ski resort once and it was a luxe chalet near New York for a Christmas retreat with my dad’s coworkers. That was probably one of the only fond memories I shared with my mother because while my father was out making business deals, my mom actually taught me how to ski. Well,attempted.
I couldn’t even count how many times I fell on my ass but my brother was a natural. As per usual, the polymath of the family who did no wrong, who my momadored.
And once again, Marley Matthews didn’t get it right. I couldn’t even stand on my own two feet without crossing my skis and faceplanting into the snow.
Hunter carried his black snowboard as he walked us through an open path, halting in front of a square booth containing two workers on opposite ends.
“For fuck’s sake Bernie, you haven’t aged a day,” he released, slapping a fifty dollar bill in front of a brawny bald man who couldn’t be younger than sixty.
“Hunter!” The man replied, grasping hold of his hand. “Just the man Ididn’twant to see.”
The two of them shared a laugh as Hunter scooped up a red and white wristband, handed it to me and looped the other one around his wrist.
“Who’s the girl?” The bald man rapped, regarding me curiously.
“Friend of Payton’s.” Hunter released, like he couldn’t give less of a shit.
“She looks like Little Bo Peep.”
I raised my eyebrows, taken aback.Little Bo Peep? Seriously?
