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The view from the windows was absolutely staggering: vistas of pristine white, a vision of another world uncluttered by houses, people, restaurants, shops or life at all, come to think of it.
Fixing people’s computers or designing websites obviously paid big-time.
Looking around the kitchen, she could see that everything in it likewise carried the stamp of quality. She sat and smoothed her hand over the table and watched as he made a pot of coffee.
‘So, do you do lots of skiing while you’re here? You must be an excellent skier to tackle these slopes. Where did you learn?’
Mateo turned round, carried the coffee to the table and then sat opposite her, angling his chair so that he could extend his legs to the side, crossed at the ankles.
He’d had a restless night. It had never happened before, not here. Here, he could always bank on some solid, battery-recharging down time. But he’d gone to bed thinking of the woman sitting opposite him and wondering why she’d managed to get to him the way she had.
He’d found himself actively looking forward to seeing her this morning—crazy. And, crazier, the fact that she was off for some reason and that, too, was bugging him. It seemed he’d completely forgotten lessons learnt from past experience, from a tough childhood, an even tougher adolescence and a woman who had done a number on him. He just didn’t get it. He’d could have given a master class on how to avoid the pitfalls of being vulnerable to anything and anyone...and yet this woman ignited something inside him. Uneasily, he knew that it wasn’t just physical.
‘I...have experience of these mountains. I learnt to ski here when I was very young. Start young enough, and you become a master before you hit your teens. Same with every sport.’ He shrugged and was about to change the subject when she interrupted.
‘Agreed. I learnt reasonably young when my class went on a ski trip. I absolutely loved it from the beginning. I just loved the way flying down those slopes made me feel free.’
Momentarily distracted, with a shuttered expression Mateo watched her mobile, expressive heart-shaped face. Her eyes were bright and she was leaning forward, her unruly hair tumbling over her shoulders and her chin propped in one hand. Her natural sunny nature was coming through once again, and it was weird how satisfied that made him feel.
No harm letting the conversation flow, he concluded.
He didn’t want her feeling down while she was here. That was simply because it would make for an uncomfortable atmosphere—not because he, personally, liked to see her smile and hear her laugh.
‘Free from what?’ he probed.
‘Oh, you know, the usual stuff... I adore my parents, but I’m an only child, and even though they always made a big point of letting me do my own thing I still always felt them hovering in the background.’ She laughed. He noticed her laughter rippled like water over stones. ‘You know how parents are—they can be super-protective even when they don’t want to be. What about you—are you an only child?’
‘I am, as it happens.’
‘Then I’ll bet you get what I’m talking about.’
‘Not entirely.’ Mateo flushed darkly as her hazel eyes rested on him, curious but not intrusive, just gently questioning. Then, without thinking, he said in a rough undertone, ‘My mother died when I was young—eight. I was raised by my father.’
‘Oh, my word, Mateo, I’m so sorry. How awful that must have been for you.’
Mateo instinctively made to pull back as she reached out to him, but then he let his hand rest on the table and let his fingers be squeezed by hers.
‘You’re very emotional, aren’t you?’ he said gruffly. ‘I’m not a great believer in all this kumbaya nonsense.’ But, still, her fingers were warm and the feel of them stirred something in him. He remembered what it had felt like to look after his father, to be that amateur boxer fighting for money, to be working life out on his own. To be on a road no kid should have been on from the age of eight. To know, far too young, that the only person who could save him was himself.
‘I’m not emotional, I’m empathetic. It must have been a horrible time for you, and lonely as well. I’m sure your father was wonderful, but sometimes the grief of adults can take over, leaving their kids stranded for a while.’
‘I... I admit something like that did occur, but naturally I rose to the occasion and found a way out. It’s in the past.’ He tugged his hand free but could still feel the warmth of her skin against his. ‘Something else I don’t do that you can add to your list: I don’t dwell. Only reason I mentioned it at all was to say that my experiences as an only child perhaps don’t quite dovetail with yours. But, getting back to what we need to discuss: plans for how today is going to unfold.’
‘How did you cope? Were there other family members around you to help you deal with the situation?’
‘Now you’re beginning to sound like a therapist on a mission,’ Mateo said wryly. ‘For the record, there were no aunts and uncles fretting and clucking. I coped with the situation the way I have always coped with all situations: on my own.’
Alice felt her heart go out to the guy whose face was so unrevealing of the hurt he must have endured as a child. He was so commanding and so tough, yet underneath there surely must be a vulnerability there, a hangover from his childhood experiences?
‘It must have been lonely. How long did your dad hide away, Mateo?’
‘Whoever said anything abouthiding away?’ He clicked his tongue impatiently but her eyes never left his face. ‘A few years,’ he expanded. ‘He took time off for a few years.’
‘And you were left to pick up the pieces all on your own,’ Alice murmured softly.
‘Setbacks always make a person stronger.’
She didn’t say anything. She just continued to gaze at him in silence then she nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Of course, you’re right: setbacks can make you stronger. So, today...’