Page 45 of Counting Down To You

He smiles, then checks his watch. “I hate to cut this short, but we’re going to have to head if we want to make it back for the evening shift. Maybe next time you can tell me your favorite flavor of ice cream.”

I try to temper the grin at the idea that he wants to do this again, even if he probably just means it in a friendly way. We stand, shrugging our coats back on and picking up our skis.

As Leo goes to move off the decking, I put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Just in case I forget to say it later—thank you, for today.”

For a second, I think I see a flicker of sadness cross his face—a sadness I don’t really understand. Then his lips lift into a small smile. He places his hand over mine on his arm, his thumb sweeping along my wrist in a way that makes goosebumps rise. Then he squeezes gently.

“You’re welcome, Ali.”

Chapter

13

I peer at myself in my bathroom mirror having just reapplied my lipstick after the breakfast shift. Is putting another layer of mascara on overkill? Probably. I look fine. And I don’t want people wondering why I’ve come back off my break with a whole new face of makeup. I don’t even know why I care—it’s only work.

I imagine Robyn’s laugh, the one that always made you smile, even if she was laughing at you. You know exactly why you care.

And fine, okay, maybe I want to look my best for when Leo comes on his shift later. Nothing wrong with that, is there? It doesn’t mean anything.

I pick up my phone from where it’s sitting on the side of the basin and check the time. Shit. I don’t have time to faff around anymore anyway—how have I managed to kill two hours? I head back into my bedroom, grab my discarded jacket off the bed, and open the next square on the calendar, because I ran out of the house without doing it this morning. I’m about to read it when my phone lights up in my hand.

Adam. My stomach does the usual twist and flip.

I saw Cal’s insta post—you’re in Châtel?? I’m just over the mountain in Switzerland maybe I should ski across and say hi. Followed by a winky face. I don’t think he ever used a winky face in our entire relationship.

I stare at the message, then open up Instagram to see I’ve been tagged in Cal’s post, using my photo from yesterday—the one from the ski lift. So proud of my brave, amazing friend—taking Châtel by snowstorm.

I didn’t even know Adam followed Cal on Instagram. And this is now the third time he’s been in touch in a matter of weeks, after months of not hearing from him. So, what, he’s decided I’m fun enough to talk to again now? A tiny flare of anger comes first, because there’s a part of me that thinks, yes, that is what it is. Robyn’s idea worked—he is jealous. But then comes another emotion. Because if he’s jealous, what does that mean? Or am I reading into it? Should I reply? Do I want to reply?

For God’s sake, I do not have time for this right now. So I postpone the decision, slip Robyn’s challenge into my trouser pocket without reading it, then head on over to the hotel.

Lucie waves me over to the front desk as I come into reception, feeling grateful, as always, for whoever salts the front steps every day without fail. I notice Leo sitting on one of the comfy chairs near the fireplace, coffee in hand—chatting, with ease apparently, to the notoriously grouchy Burgers. Or Stuart. It still feels odd, to think of a grown man as “Burgers.” Leo catches my eye and smiles—and I try not to read into the immediate lightness I feel when he does so. Burgers glances over at me and scowls.

When I reach the desk, Lucie pushes a hand through hair that looks more frazzled than I’ve seen it. “Can I ask a favor?” she says without preamble. “Can you look after the desk for two secs? I’ve needed to go for a wee for about an hour and Johann is late back. Again.”

“Sure. Though I’m sure no one would have had a go if you left the desk to go to the loo.” By no one I mean Leo, given he is the only one directly above Lucie, but after our chat the other night it feels safer not to mention his name directly wherever possible.

Lucie gives me a stern look. “The desk should never be left unmanned.”

“Right,” I say with an equally stern nod. “I’ll guard it with my life.” The joke is terrible and doesn’t really make sense, but her mouth quirks into a smile regardless. I can’t help but feel a little pleased.

“I’ll only be five minutes,” Lucie says, already backing away. “There are no check-ins today, so it should be fine.”

“Go,” I say, waving a hand at her, and she turns and walks as quickly as she can without actually running toward the bathroom. That right there is job dedication.

I take a seat behind the desk and absentmindedly click on the computer screen, which is open on the bookings page. Christmas music is, of course, playing in the background, though the volume has been turned down by someone. Probably Lucie. I can hear Leo and Burgers talking to each other over by the fire, Leo asking Burgers if he’s sure about something. I shouldn’t listen—it’s not polite to eavesdrop.

“I’m sure,” Burgers is saying. I can’t help it if they’re talking loudly, can I? “If I don’t get back into the swing of it now, I never will, and then what am I supposed to do with my life out here?”

“Look, you know I’d love to help you, mate, but don’t you think it would be a good idea to organize some help before you start advertising?”

“You saying I can’t manage the trails I’ve been hiking for the last ten years?”

“I’m saying,” Leo’s tone is impressively even, “that it can’t be easy when you’re in pain.” Burgers starts to say something, and Leo holds up a hand to stop him. “I know you’re in pain. Don’t try to bullshit me. I’m not saying you can’t do it. I know you can still manage. But why rush into it, if you could train someone else up?”

Burgers mutters something that sounds like “damn leg,” and Leo smiles. It’s a friendly, unguarded smile. I realize I’m overtly watching them, and quickly look back at the computer screen, making a show of clicking on the mouse.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Burgers rub his hands over his face. It’s a tired action, one I recognize all too well. And, despite the way he’s acted toward me, I feel a flicker of sympathy, seeing it. “I need to get going again, Leo.” So, he calls him by his first name, then. Interesting, given no one else around here seems to. “It’s been too long. And I know I’ll have lost a bit of interest, but I have to believe I can get it back.”