These Boots Weren't Made for Walking (23 page)

“You mean Ross Goldberg, as in his family owns Black Bear Butte?” says Callie with wide blue eyes.

“Mom,” I say, “I'm not dating him. Ross is my boss, for Pete's sake.”

Mom gives me a sly look. “He might be your boss, but he's also taking you out a lot lately.”

“Well, you should stick with that guy,” says Callie. “His family is loaded.”

“He's my boss,” I say again.

“Isn't he pretty old?” asks Cammie.

“He's forty-six,” says Mom.

“Wow,” says Cammie. “Fifteen years’ difference. That seems kind of old, Cassie.”

“I know,” I tell her. “I'm not going out with him. Okay? We're just friends. And as I've mentioned several times, he's my boss.”

“Cassie invited him to join us for dinner,” says Mom as she slides the turkey into the oven.

Why do I feel like screaming just now? Instead, I take a deep breath. “And Mom invited Todd Michaels to join us today too,” I say. “Callie, you might remember Todd. Or maybe not. He's about three years younger than you. Todd and Mom have been dating for a while now.” I give Mom a teasing poke, and Callie gives me a warning look, but I can tell I've got Cammie's attention.

“You're dating someone younger than Callie?” says Cammie.

“Oh, it's nothing serious,” says Mom. Then she goes into the cute little story of how she sold him a house and he insisted she go out with him. “We just have fun together, that's all.”

I nod with raised brows. “And sometimes it's pretty late-night fun.”

Mom tosses me a sharp look, and I'm pretty sure I've hit pay dirt. Not that I'm trying to go there. But her jabs about Ross were getting to me.

After this, Cammie and Callie take over the conversation. Callie
wants to plan Cammies wedding and already has dozens of ideas, most of which Cammie vetoes.

“We want to keep it simple,” she explains. “Clay and I are both more focused on helping people than on having the wedding of the century. We think big weddings are a waste of money.”

“But it's a once-in-a-lifetime event,” persists Callie. “You want something you can remember forever.”

“Making it expensive doesn't make it memorable,” points out our ever-sensible Cammie. Then she tells about her friend who had a fifty-thousand-dollar wedding and divorced less than a year later.

“Just because you have a nice wedding doesn't mean you'll get divorced,” says Callie, exasperation showing in her voice.

“Hey, it's Cammies wedding,” I say. “If she wants to keep it simple, why shouldn't she?”

“Fine,” snaps Callie. “She can get married in sackcloth and ashes for all I care.”

“Oh, Callie,” says Cammie, putting her arm around her oldest sister. “I want your help with this. Really, I do. But you have to promise to keep it simple. Okay?”

Callie sniffs indignantly.

“We can do that,” Mom assures her.

By two o'clock everyone is here. Ross mixes easily with the other guys and seems glad to be part of our family gathering. Todd actually seems to fit in fairly well with everyone too. But it does look just a little awkward, at least to my eyes, when we all sit down
at the table andTodd is seated next to Mom. I, naturally, am seated next to Ross. No one else seems to notice the discrepancies in ages, though, and the friendly chitchat prevails. As we're finishing, the focus is on Black Bear Butte and what a great season it promises to be.

“I'm surprised you aren't open on Thanksgiving,” says Andrew. “Most of the places out our way are open on all major holidays.”

Ross nods. “Yes, I've considered this recently. It's been my family's tradition to close on holidays, but there's a lot of lost revenue. And now that my folks have pretty well checked out of the whole thing, living the big life in Hawaii, well, I guess I could change things if I wanted to.”

“And it's always cool to hit the slopes after gorging yourself on turkey all day,” says Clay. “Cammie and I are both snowboarders.”

“Hey, I have an idea,” says Ross. “We could sneak up there after this great meal and run the red chair for an hour.”

“No way,” says Todd. “You could do that?”

Ross laughs. “Hey, man, I own the place.”

So it's settled. We quickly clean up the food, grab our ski stuff, hop into our cars, and head up there. Before long, we're all riding in the red chair, laughing and hooting over the lack of holiday lines, and then sailing down. It's not a challenging slope, but the idea of being up here like we own the place—well, that makes up for a lot.

“You need to hang on to this guy,” says Callie as she and I ride up together.

I roll my eyes. “Like I said—”

“You're not dating…he's your boss…yada-yada-yada, blah-blah-blah.
So what?
He likes you, Cassie. You need to hook this guy and land him before someone else does.” She practically smacks her lips. “Now there's a wedding I'd love to plan.”

I try to explain that I'm just enjoying being friends with Ross and that we have a mutual respect for each other, but she refuses to get this. She wants Ross Goldberg as her brother-in-law! The more she talks, the more I begin to wonder if she might not be onto something. I watch as Ross glides effortlessly down the slope ahead of me, racing Todd, I think. He might be fifteen years older than I am, but he's youthful at heart. He's a great guy. And we have fun together. Well, I seriously doubt that Ross sees me as someone he'd like to settle down with. But Callie's planted a little seed in me. What would it be like to be Mrs. Ross Goldberg?

he next couple of weeks of ski season break all records for Black Bear Butte. Sure, this is partially due to the great snow, as well as Ross's renovations, but it's obvious that my marketing campaign hasn't hurt business either.

“If this keeps up, it'll be our biggest year ever,” Ross tells me as we meet to grab a bite at Mountain Burger after work.

“And we're not officially into Christmas break yet,” I point out as I set my half-eaten burger back into the basket, then push it aside.

“You're not going to finish that?”

“Do you want it?”

He laughs. “No, but that wasn't much of a dinner.”

“Well, I didn't work out tonight either,” I point out.

“I don't understand women,” he says. “Always trying to lose weight. As if they think we guys like skinny chicks.”

“You don't?”

He shakes his head, then grabs one of my fries. “I like a woman who looks like a woman.”

I can feel myself blushing now. But I don't want to let on that
this is making me uncomfortable. “What does that mean? What do you think a woman should look like?”

“You know…” He does a wavy motion with his hands. “Curves… Give me a girl with curves over a stick-thin, lettuce-eating, weight-obsessed woman any day. And I think most guys agree.”

I laugh. “Well, too bad the media hasn't caught on to this yet. We keep getting anorexic models thrown in our face.”

“Girls like that don't have staying power,” he points out. “Have you seen them on the slopes? A couple of runs and they're winded. They look good hanging out by the fireplace while they sip their diet drinks, but I just don't get it.”

I smile at him, remembering Callie's observations. Maybe he is into me. “Well, I think I'll take that as a compliment, Ross. Thanks.”

He nods. “Now, you gonna eat the rest of that burger?”

I take another bite, then set it aside again. “The truth is, I don't really want it.” I consider this. “I think I put on weight last fall because I was overeating to compensate for how unhappy I was.”

“And you're happy now?”

I consider this. “Yeah, I am.”

“I'm happy too,” he says. “Things are kicking into gear and really working at the lodge. And I know you're a big part of that, Cassidy. I appreciate what you've brought to the team.”

“I appreciate just getting to be on the team.”

We talk about things that still need some attention, and I help him do some troubleshooting, and I wonder if that really is the way he
sees
me: just another team player, a buddy. Sure, he gave
me an offhand compliment about looking the way a woman should look. But that was probably because he thought I'd quit overeating for the wrong reasons. As we part ways, I think I need to call Callie and ask her what exactly she suggests I do to hook this man. If that's even possible.

“For one thing you need to dress differently,” she tells me later that night.

“Like how?”

“More feminine. Show off your girlie side, Cassie.”

“My girlie side?” I imagine myself in a fluffy pink dress and want to gag.

“Yes. Try wearing skirts more often. And spice up your makeup.”

I sigh. “Thanks, but that's not really the kind of advice I was looking for.”

“Well, that's just the beginning. Then you need to learn how to play coy, sort of hard to get. If you keep being Ross's buddy, always available to hang with, what's going to make him want to take this relationship to the next level?”

“But he's my boss, Callie. What do you—”

“He's your boss right now, but that doesn't mean things can't change. Lots of people fall in love in the workplace.”

“But isrft that wrong? I mean, what about sexual harassment and employment ethics and—”

“I'm not suggesting you sleep with him, Cass.”

“Well, obviously.” I try not to sound too shocked.

“I'm just saying that things can change. You could get him to see you in a whole new light.”

“How do I do that?” I frown. “That is, if I even want to, which I'm not sure I do.” It might be wrong or even stupid, but I am curious.

“For starters, be a litde distant, a little mysterious.

“Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes and wish I'd never got her going on this.

“The next time Ross asks you to do something, make an excuse. Better yet, tell him you already have a date.”

“But that's mean. Not to mention dishonest.”

“If you want to bag a big boy, sometimes you have to bring out the big guns, Cassie.”

I groan.

She goes on with more “helpful” hints that sound so corny I think she must ve read the stuff in a teen fashion magazine.

“Well, thanks,” I finally say, knowing that I'm not going to use any of these ideas. Besides sounding dumb, they don't seem right or fair.

“Good luck,” she says. “Maybe by Cammie's wedding, you'll be engaged too.”

“Fat chance,” I tell her. “New Year's Eve is only three weeks away.”

“Did you get your dress yet?”

“Uh, I think I have it narrowed down.” Okay, this is a lie, but I do not want to risk the wrath of Callie right now.

“E-mail me the photo first,” she says with big-sister authority. “I have to approve it, you know.”

“I know.”

As I hang up, I realize this means I'll need to go to the city this weekend. Callie and I are bridesmaids, and we're supposed to wear similar dresses in complimentary shades of green. This was Cam-mie's idea and rather sweet, since she thinks this means we'll be able to wear the dresses more than once. I've never had a bridesmaid's dress that was good for anything besides taking up space, but still I need to do some shopping—and soon. Callie has been very specific about the details. Three-quarter-length sleeves, tea-length skirt, not too frilly, no sequins or beadwork, but not too plain either. I'm tempted to just let her pick it out, but then I'd have to send her my measurements, and I'm not ready for that.

So on Saturday morning I head to Seattle to find a suitable bridesmaids dress. I decide to make this as quick and painless as possible. In and out—just like the burger joint. I go downtown and start with Nordstrom and actually find one that I think will do. But that seems almost too easy. So I shop around a bit more, finally ending up in Pacific Place, my favorite downtown mall. After about an hour, I decide that I blew it by not getting that first dress right off the bat. Why am I making this so hard? I head for the exit, planning to hurry back to Nordstrom, when I hear someone call my name.

I turn to see my old flame, Eric, trailing me. He's waving at me as if he's trying to flag down a cab. I pause and wait for him to
catch up. Not that I want to see him. I really don't. I am so done with this guy. But here we are, face to face, and for the life of me I cannot read his expression. Nor can I remember what I found attractive about this guy. He's nice looking enough, but nothing about him attracts me. Nothing magnetic or intriguing. Just handsome old Eric, looking slightly desperate.