Secret Crush of a Chalet Girl:. Lorraine Wilson
bar stool.
“Ça va?”
Sophie looked up to see who had spoken, afraid she’d find the owner of the voice laughing at her. Instead she found the dark-grey eyes of Luc Dubois, the owner of Bar des Amis, fixed on her.
The very gorgeous bar owner.
Who’d just heard everything Tash had said. Not that she was ashamed of liking romance novels but it was private, something she kept to herself precisely to stop things like this occurring. And it was too precious an escape for it to be exposed to ridicule. Books had always been her escape – in the school library, where she’d hid from the bullies at lunchtime, devouring the Sweet Valley High series and then here in Verbier. When it seemed everyone was finding love except for her the romance novels on her Kindle had provided solace. Given her hope.
She shrugged, fighting the lie rising to her lips, unwilling to automatically say the ‘Oui, bien merci’, socially accepted response. For one thing it felt like Luc actually wanted to know, rather than just a standard greeting.
His grey eyes flickered with sympathy. Sophie couldn’t imagine he knew what it felt like to be ridiculed or bullied. Luc was cool without trying. His dark hair looked wilder than ever this evening, as though he’d just rolled out of bed and sloped down to open up the bar, his handsome jaw peppered with stubble. Maybe he had. For a second she wondered who he’d been in bed with. He was gorgeous enough to have his pick of the Verbier lovelies.
Don’t be ridiculous Sophie, as if someone like him would be interested in you.
She chided herself. He was out of her league, so what was the point of speculating? She might be average size back in the UK but here she was slightly plump, the only bonus being large, real, breasts. Also she was very definitely not cool without trying. In fact she had to try very hard just to fit in. She spent more than she should getting her hair coloured and highlighted to a perfect caramel blonde before she came out for the Verbier season each year, blowing all the tips she made in the summer at Uncle Frank’s café.
As it was she fitted in but she would never stand out. A ‘six out of ten’ she’d heard a group of guys rating her the other night. So while she’d love the intent look Luc was giving her to mean more, he was just being kind.
Luc jerked his head towards Tash, who was now having a noisy conversation with one of the instructors from the Swiss Ski School. “Ignore her, Sophie. It’s not important.”
He knows who I am.
She loved how he said her name, his Swiss-French accent making it sound special, as though it weren’t entirely ordinary. Just like her.
“It’s important to me,” she replied quietly. The days of being bullied at school might be in the past, dead and buried, but she couldn’t deny the ghosts still had the power to kick her where it hurt.
She felt the flush on her cheeks growing hotter for a reason entirely different than embarrassment and tried to ignore the sweet unfurling sensation in the pit of her stomach. Well it was actually a fair bit lower than her stomach…
He’s too good-looking for you. Sixes don’t go out with tens, not in the real world.
“Désolée. I’m sorry,” Luc said softly. “But even so, don’t let it get to you.”
Easier said than done.
“You don’t really believe that romance crap, do you?” Tash’s voice gate-crashed the intimate moment between Sophie and Luc.
Normally Sophie liked Tash. They’d been friends and colleagues for a couple of seasons now but tonight Tash was really winding her up. At her best she was like an over-enthusiastic puppy – loyal and emotionally honest. At her worst she could teach a bull in a china shop a thing or two.
“Yes, I do,” Sophie replied defiantly. “I believe there are men out there who can be romantic and that falling in love could happen to any one of us.”
Tash snorted. “True love, the one, a magical connection? I just don’t get it. And if buying a bunch of flowers when men have done something they feel guilty about is romantic, well, give me realism any day. It’s all about sex, pure and simple.”
“Just because you haven’t fallen in love yet doesn’t mean that you never will,” Sophie said with conviction. “And you can laugh all you like but romance books are really popular, they sell well so I can’t be the only one who likes them.”
“Hi you two, what’ve we missed?” Amelia grabbed the free bar stool next to Sophie and Lucy moved in on the other side of Tash, waving at Luc to get his attention so she could order a drink.
Sophie seethed quietly. She might as well have stayed back at the chalet for all the peace and quiet she was getting here. Were Amelia and Lucy also fleeing the noise of the kids’ bedtime routine back at Chalet Repos? She glared at Tash, willing her to drop the subject now the others were here.
“We’ve been reading from Intimate Surrender,” Tash said, taking a sip from her cocktail, seemingly oblivious to the furious vibes Sophie sent in her direction. “Our Sophie is a bit of a romance fan on the quiet.”
“Yeah, I can’t think why I kept my reading tastes quiet.” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Oh yes, that would be because I knew you’d make fun of me. Although I hadn’t anticipated the whole public humiliation scenario. Thanks for that.”
Luc caught Sophie’s gaze and winked at her while he got the girls’ drinks. She’d felt a delicious stirring of desire inside and tried to quash it.
He’s just being nice, that’s all.
“Those books are a bit unrealistic,” Lucy said, now perched on a bar stool and sipping at the cocktail Luc had put in front of her. She was so petite she looked like a tiny, fierce bird but her no-nonsense, matter-of-fact manner made you underestimate her at your peril.
“But if you want real life you just have to open your eyes. Books are so much more than that, they take you into different worlds, they open up your mind.” Sophie slipped her Kindle into her bag and firmly tugged the zip closed before Tash could think about taking it and reading aloud from it again. She didn’t feel she’d made her case properly and it frustrated her.
“If they make you believe in Prince Charming, aren’t you going to be disappointed when the belching Mr. Average leaves his socks on the bathroom floor?” Amelia asked.
Great, three against one.
“I’m not expecting Prince Charming,” she faltered.
Just Mr.-Right-For-Me.
Tash snorted. “You could’ve fooled me. When was the last time you had sex? Who exactly are you holding out for? I hate to disappoint you but I think Prince Harry is taken; he looked pretty loved-up last time he was in Verbier.”
Lucy choked on her drink, clearly still not used to Tash’s forthrightness, even though they were nearly ten weeks into the season.
Sophie narrowed her eyes at Tash, refusing to answer, horribly aware of Luc, still in earshot. Not that he had any reason to be interested in their conversation, but…
“It’s been a while, girl,” Tash continued, in her usual blunt manner.
Sophie sighed. It was much easier to humour Tash than argue with her. And the quicker the better. It was the only way to shut her up.
“Okay, yes, it’s been a while,” she admitted quietly.
“We could go off to the Hotel Royale’s hot tub if you’re looking for some action,” Tash suggested.
“I might as well hang a sign over my head saying I’m desperate. Which I’ll have you know I’m not.” Sophie’s eyes flickered involuntarily over to Luc, but he stood with his back to them, taking a bottle down from the shelf, no indication he was listening.
And why would he be?
She wasn’t interested