Slippery Slopes by Emily Franklin Read Free Book Online Page B

I’m sorry. As you know by now, I have this reputation—”
    “Deserved,” Melissa interrupts.
    “Can I finish?” Gabe cracks his knuckles, biding time. “I acted like a jerk last week. Maybe that’s too mild a word. Fill in with any insult you see fit. And I just wanted you to know that—I didn’t mean to. I didn’t …”
    Melissa watches Gabe fumble, feeling both glad (he deserves a fumble or two) and sorry for him (he looks like a kicked puppy). “Why did you?” Wondering if this makes sense, she elaborates. “I mean, what happened between us, exactly? And why?”
    Gabe covers his mouth with his hand, thinking, and then nods. “So—I’m kind of a self-admitted sleaze, you know?” A laugh escapes, but not funny, more pathetic. “And last year—when you liked me, I’d never really had that. Not the way you did. So when the team got transferred here, and boom, there you were … I just thought—Maybe it’d be a chance to—”
    “Redeem yourself?”
    “Something like that.” Gabe waves the air with his arms. “Obviously, that failed. I don’t know why I do it, really. When we were together …” His green eyes lock hers. “Don’t for a second think I was pretending.”
    Melissa feels just the smallest amount of relief there. It’s one thing to be wooed, but worse if you think the guy’s lying. “So why do you do it, the womanizing thing? Being a player—roping innocent Australians into your dreadful schemes?” Melissa blushes again, thinking of how she fell for it—being with him on the mountain-top, naming stars and thinking they could be an actual couple. “I wish I hadn’t been so naïve.”
    Gabe shakes his head. “No—don’t say that. It’s one of your good qualities.” He holds open the door and Melissa wobbles out, trying to protect her bruised ribs and the rest of her body—heart included—as she navigates the hall.
    Outside, in the parking lot that sits between the Main House and the Infirmary, Gabe waits for her. His boots scrape the pavement. “You sure you’re okay?”
    “Yeah.” She feels it, too. Not only because the pain will ease up and somehow she’ll deal with being the slowest host, the host who is unable to ski, but because when someone screws you over and admits to it, you’re afforded a certain amount of relief. “Thanks for waiting with me.” She pauses. “Even if you’re still a bit of an ass.”
    Gabe grins. “I can’t refute that.” He starts to walk her toward the chalet. “You coming?” She shakes her head.
    “I gotta go into town. Stuff to take care of. Think any of the chalet guests will mind if I keep up my disappearing act?” She likes how go into town sounds mysterious, even though the job at hand is just planning for the ball.
    “I’m happy to cover for you—say you’re sleeping off the fall or whatever. You sure you’re up for going anywhere?” His voice is doubtful.
    She reassures him. “I’ll be fine. Really. I can take care of myself, believe it or not.”
    “Oh, I believe it.” Gabe slips something out of his back pocket, walks the few paces toward her, and hands it over. Their fingers touch in the exchange, both of them registering the small truce that has passed between them. “Before I forget—I have an invitation for you.”
    “Lucky me.” Melissa smiles at him, accepts the envelope, and watches him walk up the path to the house before tearing open the sealed envelope. Addressed with just her name on the front, the invite is thick, cream colored, and set with dark green embossed writing:

    What kind of party is this? I can’t tell anyone about it? Melissa wonders as she makes her way to one of the Trois vans. And where exactly is Isle Du Mont? Isle means “island”—why would there be an island here? Melissa carefully slides the invite back into the envelope, wondering who else is invited, and since she’s clearly not allowed to ask, what the code of silence means in terms of getting time off. How can I