Page 69 of A Little Too Late
“Ah. Easy job, then. No repairs.” He’s beaming at her like an idiot. “Want to ride up together?”
“She’s coming with me,” I say, slipping the key to the snowmobile out of Ava’s hand.
The guy’s eyes slide over to me. I think he didn’t even notice me before. “Duuuude. You look familiar. Are you one of the mythical Madigan sons?”
I don’t even know how to answer that, so I just scowl at him.
“Randy, meet Reed Madigan,” Ava says. “You probably went to high school with one of his younger brothers.”
“Rightio!” the guy says. “I was between Crew and Weston. Used to jump off cornices with Crew on powder days. How is that guy, anyway? Haven’t seen him since before we were legal to drink those beers we used to hide in the woods.”
“He’s great,” I say, as if I even had a clue. “I’ll tell him you said hi.”
“Sa-weet!Let’s go catch some coons!” He grabs two metal poles with loops on them out of his truck and follows Bert to one of the snowmobiles.
“I’m driving,” Ava says, plucking the key out of my hand.
“But—”
“My caper, I’ll captain it.” She hands me a helmet.
I laugh, because I should have seen that coming.
“If you’re a good boy, you can drive back down.” She straddles one of the double sleds and clips the tether to her beltloop.
I swing onto the back and watch as she primes the engine with an expert tug and then pulls the starter cord with briskefficiency until the motor hums to life. Ava was already the sexiest woman I ever met. Now I’m watching her master the hundred and fifty horsepower engine between her legs.
Honestly, I’m a little turned on. And we’re beginning to move.
We head up the mountain in the dark. I hold the handgrips and lean back against the seat support. The moon is hazy behind the clouds, but it’s still bright enough to show me the mountain’s contours far beyond the Ski-Doo’s headlamps.
What is this unfamiliar emotion I feel? It’s…happiness. Joy for no particular reason. I didn’t know I had raccoon eviction on my bingo card, but I don’t really mind all that much. The new-fallen snow stretches out in front of us, untracked. The air is cold but not punishing, and its scent is clean and piney.
I lean forward and wrap my arms around Ava’s waist, my hand across her tummy.
She lifts her chin to chastise me. “That’s not safety protocol.”
“Then don’t crash.”
In response, Ava leans into the throttle. I’m exhilarated as she zips up the mountain, quickly gaining on the other vehicle. She bypasses the peak lodge to head for the smaller warming hut the ski patrol uses. It’s old—shaped like a wooden octagon—and was built when my grandfather started the resort.
We pull up a few minutes later. When I get off the sled, Randy and Bert are standing there waiting for us. “Let’s do this,” Randy says. “I can hear ’em in there. Engines made ’em nervous.”
Ava removes her helmet and takes one of the poles from his hands. “After you, Randy.”
He switches on his headlamp and slowly opens the door to the hut. I hear a chuckle before he switches on the overhead light. “Yeah, yeah. I know. Here we are interrupting your party.”
When Ava and I crowd into the doorway behind him, I see the floor is strewn with debris. The raccoons have tipped over the garbage can and ransacked it. It looks like they got into some first-aid supplies, too.
“What a mess, kids!” Ava hoots. “Didn’t Mama raise you better than this?”
Randy laughs as he crouches down to look under a bench. Two cute little masked faces peer out at him.
He advances slowly toward them, extending the cabled loop on the end of the pole. “All right, everybody be nice and chill. This won’t hurt a bit,” he says sweetly. “Who’s first?” Then he starts singing to the tune of Happy Birthday.
Put your head in the loop.
Don’t make any poops.
