Mountain Challenge (Mont Blanc Rescue #9)

Chapter 25

25

Isla

" W hat do you think?” Isla asked, staring at her friend Laura in the bathroom mirror.

Laura finished applying lip gloss on her generous lips before replying, but Isla already knew what she was going to say. “I like him.”

“You do?”

“You need me to spell it out? He’s tall, muscled, looks like a Greek god, and stares at you like you’re the reincarnation of Venus, come down from the heavens. Plus, he’s fun.”

“You’re mixing up your mythologies, Laura.”

Laura dried her hand on a paper towel. “What?”

“Venus is a Roman goddess. I think you mean Aphrodite, the Greek version.”

“Aphrodite, Venus … You know what I mean. The man’s a real step up from anybody you’ve dated before—and that includes your idiot of an ex-husband. My only question is, does he have a twin brother?”

Isla laughed, glad that Laura approved. Though at the time her friend had never said anything, Isla could always tell she and Roland didn’t like each other much.

“Come on, let’s get back to the table before he gets bored and leaves.”

Ry stood up as they approached, waiting until they were seated before sitting down again.

“So. What are we doing after dinner?” Laura asked when they were done with their meal. “You weren’t planning on going straight home, were you?”

“Um, I guess … we could go to a bar?” Isla asked. She should have imagined that Laura wouldn’t be tired. Laura was never tired. She was one of those people who could sleep four or five hours and wake up feeling rested.

“A few of my colleagues are grabbing a beer in Stella’s. We could join them, if you like,” Ry offered. Isla looked at him gratefully. She wanted Laura to have fun on this trip. She knew her friend had mainly come up to Chamonix to see with her own eyes that Isla was okay, but Isla wanted her to have such a good time that she’d be wanting to come back again soon.

“Do your colleagues look like you?” Laura dead-panned. “Never mind, you don’t need to answer that. Come on, let’s go!”

“Shouldn’t you check with them that it’s okay, first?” Isla whispered. She’d met Ry’s colleagues several times after he’d left the hospital, and they’d always been pleasant to her, but they’d never gone out for drinks together.

“Are you kidding? They’ll be glad to see us. They’ve asked us to join many times, I just … I guess I wanted to keep you all to myself.”

“This is Stella’s?” Laura asked uncertainly, looking at the narrow, steep slope and the darkened doorway beyond. “Given we’re in Chamonix, I imagined something more glamorous.”

“It’s precisely because we’re in Chamonix,” Ry explained, opening the door for them, “that locals need to keep a few places hidden from tourists. Places that don’t charge eighteen euros for a beer.”

“Ah. Cheaper beer means we can drink more. That makes sense,” Laura laughed, taking Isla’s hand and going inside.

Hugo, Tristan and Lorenz sat at a table in the far corner. Ry made quick work of the introductions. “The big guy is Hugo. Next, with the wild hair, is Tristan. And that’s Lorenz, in the T-shirt. He wears T-shirts ninety percent of the time, even in the middle of winter. Guys, this is Laura, a friend of Isla’s who’s here for the weekend.”

“Good to meet you, Laura,” Lorenz said. “Glad you were able to get these two out of the house.”

“Have they been staying in a lot?” Laura asked innocently.

“Not at our place, certainly,” Hugo said. “Other than the fact that Ry’s still paying rent, I no longer feel like I have a house mate.”

Isla worried her lower lip. She didn’t yet know the man well enough to know if he was joking or not. She relaxed when she saw Ry’s wide smile. “Stop complaining. I’ll bet you’ve been skinny-dipping in the hot tub every night.”

The men laughed vociferously. “Yeah, Hugo. Maybe you should be paying extra in rent.”

“Forget I said anything. The house is certainly less messy than it used to be, anyway. Laura, Isla, what can I get you? Beer? Wine?”

“Do you think they’ve got Guinness?” Isla had always liked stout.

“White wine for me, please,” Laura said, squeezing in next to Lorenz. “Man, but you’re all big. I wish I could take one of you back to Brussels with me.”

Isla rolled her eyes at Laura’s brashness, but the men didn’t seem offended.

“Only one of us?” Tristan asked.

“I don’t think I could take all of you on,” Laura said, her expression serious, as she took the wine Hugo offered. “Not quite at the same time. Though I’ve read a book where that’s exactly what happens.”

Isla choked on her Guinness. Ry laughed and patted her back.

“Tell me, Isla, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever tattooed on someone?” Tristan asked. He seemed genuinely curious, and Isla found herself relaxing into the question.

“So, the weirdest thing was mainly weird because of where they wanted it.”

“Oh, kinky. Tell us more,” Laura asked.

“No, nothing like that,” Isla laughed. “It was a little bearded leprechaun. Cute, except the beard was a patch of unshaved underarm hair.”

Laura almost spat back into her glass. “Ugh. Gross.”

“It was fairly creative, actually,” Isla said, laughing.

“I gave myself a tattoo when I was sixteen,” Tristan said, raising his sleeve to reveal the inside of his left arm. There, written in capital letters a little less than an inch tall, were three lines of text. THIS. IS A. TEST. Laura gasped. Isla leaned forward to examine the work. “Stick and poke, I see. That must have hurt.”

Tristan chuckled. “It did. Enough that I never moved on to the second design I had in mind. This one made me realize how hard it was.” He shook his head. “It did piss my parents off, which was half the point, so it wasn’t a completely wasted effort.”

“Letters are a hard way to start. Most people begin with a heart or a star. If you still want a tattoo, I’d be happy to do it for you.”

Tristan covered his sleeve again. “You know, I might take you up on that offer, Isla.”

“Hey, Gael, Diana!” Ry called out, waving at a couple who’d just walked in. Isla recognized the man. She’d done a couple tattoos for him, and knew he was the one who’d recommended Ry come to see her, but she hadn’t realized he was with the PGHM as well. The woman with him had beautiful silver-colored hair.

“Isla Bernard. My favorite tattoo artist,” Gael said gallantly. “This is Diana, my better half.”

“Nice to meet you, Diana. This is my friend Laura. She’s visiting from Brussels.”

Diana came over and sat next to them, so the three of them took one end of the table.

“I have to ask,” Laura said. “Every woman I’ve met in Chamonix has great hair. Where do you all get it done?”

Diana laughed. “I do mine myself. I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s messy work! I can’t even imagine what my sink would look like if I died it red.”

“I can recommend a place,” Isla said. “I’ll make a reservation for you for Saturday morning.”

“Deal.”

“Isla, I love the work you did on Gael’s back. I’d like to surprise him with a joint tattoo for his birthday. Is that something you could do?”

“Of course,” Isla said happily. “If you tell me what you have in mind, I’ll draw up some designs for you to look at.”

They stayed in the bar for another couple of hours, though she and Ry didn’t drink anything else. She’d placed all her appointments in the morning the following day, to free up time to spend with Laura in the afternoon, so she had to be up early.

“I’m going to miss you tonight,” he whispered in her ear, softly enough that only she could hear.

Isla’s belly fluttered. She’d gotten used to him spending most nights at her place and, as much as she’d been looking forward to Laura’s visit, she wasn’t looking forward to sleeping alone.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “Laura and I will cook something special.”

“Are you sure? I know you want to spend time with your friend. I don’t want to impose.”

“I am, and I will. I’m spending all afternoon with her. I want to show her around town.”

Understanding dawned on his expression. “You want to make sure she loves Chamonix.”

“I want her to see everything I love about this town,” Isla admitted. The words we out before she could stop herself. “She’s already met you … but wait till she sees Pollo Loco.”

“You’re comparing me to Pollo Loco?” Ry asked, looking affronted.

“What can I say?” Isla laughed. She was glad for the deflection. She’d been so close to saying something she couldn’t take back. So close to telling him she loved him. She hadn’t thought this could happen to her again. But the truth was, it wasn’t happening again . It was happening for the first time. Yes, she’d felt love for Roland, sure. But she’d never felt this all-consuming passion, this feeling that she was in exactly the right place, with the right person.

She sipped her near-empty Guinness, tasting some foam. If there was a right place to tell Ry about this, this wasn’t it. She looked up across the table at Laura. Her best friend had been flirting like a champ all night, but there was nothing flirty in her expression now. She was looking at Isla like she could see what was going on in her mind.