She dips down lower and smiles up at Sim as though he’s just said something marvelous.

“I got in trouble,” she says. “For going on a walk by myself.”

“Verboten, don’t you know.” He leans a bit closer again. “I got in trouble last week for sneaking up to the chairlift. Karo was very upset. That’s only allowed in summer.”

“Why summer?”

“It’s not for skiing. It’s for tourists, like a bird’s-eye view. They call it the SkyLift—” He gives her a professorial look. It’s meant to be charming, and it is. “A way to take it all in without causing habitat destruction.”

“But now people will come higher into the mountains,” she says slowly. “Won’t they? To get on the lift?”

“It’s not really good for artists either.” His mouth curling, a little roguish. “So much for a secluded retreat in the woods. We renegades have to stick together.”

From behind them, there’s a splash, laughter, more voices. She glances over her shoulder; Dan is gone now. Up on the deck, Sadie hoists a glass in victory.

“Look out,” Justin yells. “Sexy Sadie’s back in town.”

She turns back to find Sim waiting.

“What are they playing? Beer pong?” She’s joking, but he gives her a slight nod.

“Something like that. Only with champagne.”

“Wait—really?”

“Brut pong, let’s call it.”

Dan comes out of a changing room but he’s still dressed; like Karo, he’s rolled his pants up halfway to the knee. It feels voyeuristic, to gather them all here like this, then simply patrol the decks. Justin leans a hip against the wall and Sadie pushes him off like she owns it, spins and forces a high-five from Dan. She has to step in front of Anna to do it, Anna skidding back a little on the deck. Then she turns, scanning the water before calling out to Sim: “Sim Nielssen, quit wasting my time! You’re up!”

Drinking, like poker and kung fu movies, is just another way-in for young women trying to grab a place at the boys’ table. Or at least, those were the routes when Maeve was young. Even here, where the boss is a woman, she can see the value that comes from hanging out with the guys. The power.

She turns back to Sim. “Looks like you’re supposed to play the winner.”

“I’d rather stay over here,” he says. Then: “I mean it, about trusting yourself. Any time you say yes to someone else, it’s a surrender.”

Maeve steps in, one eyebrow raised, closing the gap between them. No more small gestures.

“But you want me to say yes to you.”

He’s about to answer—is he? She can’t tell—when they’re interrupted by Sadie cheering, calling again for Sim to come take his turn.

Instead, he leans in, his mouth at Maeve’s ear:

“Who says I’m asking?”