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Ski Patrol

By Anele Archer All Rights Reserved ©

Romance / Action


Kristy thinks she's figured out the perfect relationship. All the fun and sex without all the drama. But she's completely wrong about the man she's loved for six years and she never had a clue. (Published weekly on Sundays.)


Powder, definition (skiing): A light, dry snow that makes for ideal skiing conditions; (alt. meaning, urban) An attractive person as in, “That babe is powder.”

“We’ve got a yard sale!” Brent yelled, sticking his head with its crazy mane of blonde hair just inside the door.

“Damn,” Kristy replied, “I just finished pulling my boots off!”

“Sorry, babe, don’t know what to tell you. I’m going to need a hand.”

“Okay, okay,” Kristy said, shoving her foot back into the one boot still in front of her and reaching back into her locker without looking to grab the other one. Brent pulled his head back into the hallway but Kristy shouted for him to return,

“Brent, wait!”

Brent’s head appeared again, his hand grasping the doorjamb,

“Yo!” he said.

“How bad is it?” she asked, standing and tightening the belt on her ski pants.

“Not, too, I don’t think. There is a debris field of about 50 yards, poles, ski board, boots. I took a look-see with the drone but it was a little too windy for me to keep it out. It’s a family. It looks like everyone is accounted for but the Dad is staying put and signaling that someone is hurt.”

Brent went to pull his head back out and she stopped him again with another question.

“You see Derrick yet?”

“No, doll. Be outside in two, okay?”

“Sure, okay.”

The response close was ticking.

Where the hell was Derrick? He wasn’t known for his punctuality but the day before he started his season he usually checked in to get his assignment, catch up with everyone, and at the very least engage in a passionate make out session with her – more, if they could swing it. Yes, Derrick. Just thinking about him was enough to heat her up on a cold winter’s day. He would come out for the winter season for eight weeks to work with Mountain Rescue One. It would be eight weeks of hard work but, oh, the benefits.

It had become tradition for them to spend the first night he arrived and the last before he left, together, making love. The last night they were together last year had been spent in the hot tub. Derrick was holding her tight, they were pressed together, their chests rising and falling in sync, breathing more and more rapidly, kissing. Her hips were between his thighs feeling him grow harder, his breath hot and his lips pressed into her neck. He was stroking the small of her back, her legs, running his hand along her bikini bottom, slowly wiggling it down. There was a definite rule about not doing it in the hot tub, shouldn’t they get out? But rules be damned, they hadn’t managed to control themselves. Their passion was so strong and quick it was like a lightening strike.

The next morning she arrived early to empty and refill the tub, feeling guilty about breaking the rule, a rule she had seconded with a resounding, “Here, here,” at a staff meeting. Brent had caught her in the middle of hiding her crime. She hung her head sheepishly and he teased her for a week but didn’t rat her out. Sometimes you had to break the rules even if they were your rules.

What had started between her and Derrick as simply a torrid affair had gotten more serious, more intimate, over the years. It was six years to be exact and despite the distance between them she wouldn’t have it any other way. She and Derrick would talk during the year, texting and sexting and raunchy snap-chatting. By the time he would arrive she was frantic to get him alone. He knew it, too, and loved it. It was the distance that kept things so hot. They had so little time together there was never time for fighting or drama. They had all the sex and good stuff without the relationship bullshit.

She, Derrick and Brent had been with Mountain Rescue for 8 years. To think, they were teenagers when they had met! She and Brent still both lived in town and worked it year round. It was their dream job. Derrick had his dream job, too, and had lived in California for seven years now, working as a screenplay writer and doing quite well. His success in his profession meant that he was flexible enough to take those eight weeks off and wealthy enough that is didn’t matter to his wallet.

Brent had fired up the snowmobiles and was still tucking his long blond hair under his helmet when Kristy got there. He handed her helmet to her and she zipped up her parka,

“You have the hitch set up?”

Brent reached around behind him and tugged on the chain attached to the gurney.

“All secure. You have the first aid kit and emergency pack?”

“Yep,” Kristy replied. Double-checking equipment could mean the difference between life and death up on a mountain, no matter how innocuous the situation seemed.

Brent fired up his vehicle and swung it around. Kristy followed close behind.

As it turned out, it was a fairly low level emergency. The mom had wiped out and only twisted her ankle but she couldn’t walk on it. The kids were scared and crying and dad hadn’t been able to calm everyone and get them back down the mountain. They were apologetic but Kristy and Brent reassured them - that’s what they were there for.

The mom was so embarrassed when she realized she was to be carted down the mountain in the gurney but seemed to respond to Brent’s charms. By the time he had secured her, she was laughing and fairly flirting. Her husband was not twenty feet away but too occupied with the kids to notice or care. Kristy hung back and helped dad get his oldest, a cute freckle faced ten-year-old named Daniella, back on her skis and helmeted. She harnessed the seven-year-old boy, Jakey, onto the mobile with her, making her way super slow back down the mountain.

At the bottom, medic backup had arrived and Brent was already doing paperwork. Kristy checked her phone. It was dark, after seven already, and still no word from Derrick.

She walked over to Brent.

“I don’t understand why I haven’t heard from Derrick. I hope everything is okay,” she said.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Brent replied, scanning his report and handing it to Kristy, “He’s probably just got a lot to do, moving back and all.”

“Oh, please! Derrick never brings more than a duffel bag of gear and some scotch with him,” Kristy laughed, balancing the tablet on her leg to sign it. He usually had to go underwear and sock shopping within a week.

She handed the tablet back to Brent and he gave her a puzzled look.

“You know what I mean, Kristy, he’s moving all his stuff in from LA.”


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