The bell above the door chimed. A few guys in branded Key Ridge ski hill employee jackets walked in. Lifties. A group of them almost always came in after their shifts. I saw one familiar face trailing at the back of their cluster. Even though they were all a few years younger than him, Oliver occasionally joined their group.

Oliver took off his beanie and ruffled his dark waves, before glancing my way. He winked at me, then tossed his stuff onto the table.

We’d only shared a few snippets of conversation since I started working at Marie’s. I’d been so busy either here, or holed up in Mattie’s basement applying to jobs, I hadn’t really gotten out much. But any time Oliver popped into the bar, I could guarantee that he would take every opportunity possible to tease me about my atrocious bartending skills. And, of course, he hadn’t given up on taking me snowboarding. I’d never admit this to him, but I might have relented if not just to see him more. But he’d been slammed with lessons every day, so even if I had agreed, he wouldn’t have been able to take me yet. Instead, I savored the brief, flirtatious moments we shared whenever he stopped by during my shifts.

It was hard to believe we’d shared that kiss. It had been almost two weeks at this point. It was so outside of something I would typically do that I could almost convince myself it had never happened. That is, if Oliver didn’t insist on reminding me of it every single chance he got.

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” Oliver said, stopping in front of me at the bar and propping one elbow up so he could rest his chin in his hand.

“There are other bars on Main Street, ya know?” I said, although I secretly loved his teasing. Seeing him at Marie’s or around the lodge was one of the only bright spots in my life lately. I liked the little surge of butterflies that flapped around in my stomach every time he flirted with me. I enjoyed the prolonged eye contact.

“None with this level of impeccable service.”

I rolled my eyes at that. He was giving me a hard time because the last two times he’d been in, I’d messed up his drink order.

“Hey, I’m getting better,” I insisted. “Plus, last time you were here, it was packed. At least you got a drink.”

He laughed. “You’re right. I suppose I should be grateful you at least managed to shove something into my hands.”

“Exactly.”

Oliver smiled and shook his head. His dark hair curled up behind his ears, probably due to the wetness of the snow. “Can I get four shots of tequila please?”

“Four shots? Are you trying to wind up face down in a snow pile before eight?”

“Ha. Ha,” he said dryly. “They aren’t all for me.”

I poured the shots and set out a tray to put them on, along with already-cut-up lime wedges and a saltshaker.