Seething, I start across the lobby, my wise mantra silenced by the weirdly possessive growling sounds in my head.
Chapter Five
NANCY
The man in front of me might be tall, blond, and handsome, but he’s also vapid, boring, and lacking in intelligence. Andy the chipmunk is smarter than this guy, who just tried to dazzle me with highly questionable math regarding the degree of the slopes. I’m sure it was intended to impress me with his superior skiing skills but all I can think is that I’m a chief financial officer and he’s an idiot.
A pretty idiot, but an idiot nevertheless.
“Even as you’re leaning into the physics you have to have a massive torque to even attempt that kind of slalom. It’s really easy for me given my build and my experience, but you get these amateurs and they’re like, way in over their heads, you know what I mean?”
I nod and make a noncommittal sound. I’d rather hear Sam from the deli discuss the many varieties of ham he handles daily than hear Sven brag about his torque. All I did was smile at him when I came out of the Kathy’s Kountry Store pop-up location Kayley allowed us to install for the high season. He, unfortunately, took that as an invitation to verbally assault me with his perceived greatness for the last ten minutes.
“Back when I almost made the U.S. Olympic ski team, I wouldn’t have even bothered coming to a place like this but now I just want to have some fun, you know? It’s not about crushing the shit out of that mountain anymore. It’s all about getting to know the people.” He gives me a smarmy smile. “People like you, Natalie.”
I’ve told him twice that’s not my name but it’s obvious Sven only listens to the sound of his own voice.
He flips his hair back like a shampoo commercial—I swear, it’s practically in slow motion with seductive music swirling around him—and I nearly lose it. I have to either get away from him or fall like a chopped tree onto the floor from the force of my eyes rolling back in my head.
Speaking of physics, Sven.
Glancing around, I spy Elliot charging across the lobby in my direction. Though things have been a little awkward between us since the wedding, he’s my knight in navy sweater right now. I can trust him to save me. Elliot has always been my wingman and protector.
Back at NYU he brushed off aggressive creeps who tried to grab my butt when we were out clubbing, while simultaneously talking me up in a friendly bro sort of way to any guy I was interested in. All I have to do is give him our old code word for “save me from this fucking idiot” and he’ll whisk me away from Sven the Arrogant, Conqueror of all that is Snow.
“Hi!” I say brightly. Then immediately, I frown. “What’s wrong?”
Elliot looks like he ate rusty nails for breakfast, with a side of steaming moose poo. His nostrils are flaring. He’s strolling so quickly that when he comes to a stop in front of me, his small suitcase rejects the sudden halt and tilts over. Elliot twists the handle and angrily flips it back in the opposite direction, overcompensating. The end result is he’s locked in a power struggle with his luggage to keep it upright and finally releases the handle with a curse and lets it fall.
I watch all of this silently with raised eyebrows.
Elliot is normally calm and cool, the opposite of his older brother, Luke, who I would have no problem visualizing grumpily wrestling with his suitcase. Prior to his marriage, anyway. But Elliot? This isn’t him. Something has him rattled and I’m concerned it’s still my drunken request for his DNA.
I keep hoping he’ll forget about it and relax his guard long enough for me to sneak in under his defenses, but so far, not so good.
“Hey, I’m Sven,” the almost-Olympian says, sticking his hand out. “You Natalie’s brother?”
Why Sven comes to that conclusion is a mystery because my hair is blonde and Elliot’s is dark brown, but I refuse to delve too deeply into the thought processes of a self-important ski bum.
“Who the hell is Natalie?” Elliot asks, glaring up—way up—at Sven. He ignores the offered hand.
Elliot isn’t a short man. He’s six-two, but Sven is some kind of Nordic troll. He’s massively overgrown and towers over Elliot.
“I’m Natalie,” I tell Elliot, as I take note of something I find fascinating.
He’s posturing with Sven, protecting his territory—AKA me.
The question is why.
“Yo, bro, sorry, I thought you knew each other. Can we help you?” Sven asks, his voice slowing as if he thinks Elliot might be lost and in need of a care provider. “Do you want us to find your friends?” He drops his hand and looks around.
“This is Elliot,” I tell Sven. “He’s a friend of mine.”
“Best friend,” Elliot says, firmly. “For well over twenty years. I know everything about Natalie, including the fact that her name is actually Nancy.”
Now Sven looks puzzled. “Why did you tell me your name was Natalie then?” he asks.
That makes me giggle. It’s just too ridiculous.
The giggle doesn’t sit well with Elliot. The giggle has his face contorting into expressions I’ve never witnessed. Anger. Disbelief. Outrage. And something that looks a whole heck of a lot like… jealousy?
But surely not.
He’s probably just being protective. Maybe his douchebag radar is reading sky-high on Sven, which wouldn’t be inaccurate.
Then Sven grins. “Oh, are you trying to be all hard-to-get with me? Making old Sven work for his midnight kiss, huh? I like it.” He claps Elliot on the shoulder. “Feisty little bundle of fun, this one.”
This feisty little bundle of fun watches Elliot carefully. It looks like either his head to going to explode or he’s going to take a swing at Sven. I decide to test the theory.
I laugh again and put my hand on Sven’s arm. “Stop, you’re so bad. Just the way I like it.”
Elliot is practically foaming at the mouth. “That is not what you like,” he declares. “Nancy.”
For all his urgings at the wedding that I should consider tasting Sam’s sausage, Elliot is indeed jealous of this man flirting with me. Either he’s taken an instant dislike to Sven or he’s seeing me in a different light. As more than Nancy Pants, his old buddy, but as a woman he’s attracted to.
What’s even more interesting is how gleeful the possibility makes me feel.
Maybe I am harboring a crush on Elliot.
And maybe he’s feeling the same way.
“I need to talk to you,” he growls. “Privately.” He points to the bar. “There. Now.”
That gives me a little tingle in various places that haven’t tingled in ages. Elliot sounds like if I resist, he’ll throw me over his shoulder in a fireman carry and stomp out. The thought makes my nipples tighten beneath my sweater, which startles me. I’ve never nipple-tightened around Elliot before, but now that I have, I can’t seem to stop. Everything is tingling and tightening.
“I would prefer you ask a little more nicely, but sure, Elliot.” I turn to Sven and give him a brilliant smile. “I’ll catch up with you later. Save a dance at the party tonight for me.”
“You got it, babe.”