The afternoon found them doing more of the same at first. But soon Brian set them to practicing standing on the slope with the board attached to both feet, next came actually gliding down the hill. He had them find their balance then point the board down hill, keeping the heel-side edge dug into the snow to prevent it from slipping. He got Boone to try first, seeing as he'd accidentally already tried it that morning. They all watched, Shannon and Andrew more than a little amazed, as he made it to the bottom, not only without falling, but actually managing to look pretty proficient.
"He's a natural." Brian commented.
They both looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "No he's not." They chimed, together.
"What?" Brian was confused.
"Boone's the poster boy for the word "klutz", look it up in the dictionary and there's a picture of him." Shannon assured him.
He shrugged, "Well, not at snowboarding, that's for sure."
Andrew went next, only falling twice. Then it was Shannon's turn. She kept trying to adopt a skiing posture, and repeatedly kept turning the board sideways to the hill, digging the forward edge into the snow and falling hard, remembering at the last minute to fall on her forearms, not wanting to end up with a broken wrist. Brian slid down to her position, again and again, trying to talk her out of her natural inclination to point her feet down the fall line. She finally made it to the bottom, looking more than a little like the abominable snowman, the white stuff stuck to her jacket and pants in clumps.
Boone and Andrew were talking animatedly, still excited by their first descent.
"Fuck off," she snarked on reaching them.
"Huh?" they turned to her. They'd been so engrossed in their own conversation about their experience that they hadn't even realized the trouble she'd had getting down the hill.
"Don't play stupid, stupid." She smacked Boone on the arm.
"Stupid, stupid…nice Shan, you should take that act on the circuit. You want to tell me why you're sounding so ridiculous?" He responded.
"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy watching me fall down that entire hill!" she spat.
"Shan, um, we weren't even watching." Andrew provided, tentatively, shrugging.
"I was snowboarding for the first time ever and you weren't watching?" Now she was pissed that they hadn't even been watching, though a minute ago, she'd been embarrassed by her ineptitude.
"Sorry?" Boone offered.
"Stuff it, asshole." She reached down and undid her back binding and moved off toward the lift line, Brian had told them that when they reached the bottom, he felt that they were finally ready to get off at the top of the chair lift, so they didn't have to walk back up the hill.
"She's a real firecracker, that one." Brian observed.
"She's the fucking munitions dump at Hanoi." Boone corrected.
Andrew hid a chuckle, while Boone grinned like a high-schooler, Brian just looked confused.
"My wife's a bit of a handful." Boone explained.
He watched after her as she skated the board away from them.
After a few more hours, Brian decided to call it a day after Boone started falling as well. He had definitely turned out to be the most proficient of the three, so if he was starting to struggle, the others probably weren't too far from sustaining a possible injury brought on by fatigue.
After making arrangements to meet the next morning, the weary trio headed for the rental car. The roomy cargo area in the gigantic vehicle easily accommodated the three snowboards. As Boone climbed up into the drivers' seat he made a derogatory remark, not his first, about the ridiculous excess of gas guzzling, luxury SUV's in general. Shannon thought he looked a little like a teenage boy who'd borrowed his daddy's land yacht, appearing even smaller than usual behind the wheel of the behemoth. She refrained from pointing out that he'd actually requested that particular automobile, knowing what they'd be transporting in it.
"But we're only renting it; it's not something you'd actually consider as an everyday vehicle." He looked at her sharply in disapproval, picking up on her thought.
"No Boone, of course not," she huffed a sigh, rolling her eyes. "I simply meant that it has its' place, just like your more environmentally friendly, safe, boring, diesel sedan." He always bought the same damned car every three years, she hadn't been surprised at all when she'd pulled into the driveway for the first time this past summer, and seen it sitting there.
They stopped at the market again on the way home, and he did a proper shopping, filling a grocery cart with everything he thought he'd need for the coming week. He liked to buy his fish fresh daily, so he only picked up enough of that for dinner that night and lunch the next day. Shannon and Andrew had been fervently hoping that the place didn't have a seafood counter, but to no avail, as he'd spied it on the back wall and headed over to chat up the guy behind the ice filled glass display.
Back at the chalet the three of them made short work of carrying the bags into the kitchen. Andrew picked up the newspaper from where they'd left it on the breakfast table that morning and turned to the movie listings.
"Hey guys, could we maybe go to the movies tonight? There's a show at six-thirty that we talked about seeing." He suggested.
"Aren't you kind of tired?" Boone queried.
"No, I'm good." He shrugged. "Do you think maybe we could call the Cooper's and see if Amy could come with us?" He tried to sound nonchalant.
Shannon bit her lip, laughing she asked, "So is it a movie you want to see, or Amy?"
"Well…both?" He winced a bit, managing to look both hopeful and embarrassed.
Boone took a deep breath, still not sure why he was having such a hard time dealing with this. "What about dinner?"
"We can grab something out, or at the theatre." He came back with an answer.
"Popcorn is not a meal." Boone was unimpressed.
"Oh, shit, you have to go to Rob's, the restaurant? He asked you back for tonight?" She reminded him.
"Fuuuck," he groaned.
They called the Cooper's and arranged to pick Amy up. Boone would go to the restaurant, while Shannon and Andrew would take Amy to the movies. They piled back into the rental, Shannon behind the wheel, for some reason not looking quite as ridiculous driving a car the size of most urban living rooms, as Boone had. She dropped him off on the way.
The movie was good, a sequel to an action adventure that'd come out a few years before. When they dropped Amy off back at her hotel, Tim came out to speak to Shannon, asking if they'd all like to meet and go out to dinner the next night.
She shook her head, "Boone won't want to go out to eat twice in one week." Three times, she thought, considering he'd probably been comped his dinner for that night by Rob. "He's not really big on eating out." She apologized. "But you could come by for dinner. He can cook us something at home." She offered an alternative.
They agreed on that, Shannon just hoping that Boone would be okay with it. Neither of them had been too comfortable with how curious the Coopers' had been the night before. She was hopeful that Boone's assertion that the matter was closed would forestall any further questioning.
Out front of Rob's establishment, she pulled the car up to the curb in a no parking zone, and turned to Andrew, "Tell Boone we're waiting."
When he didn't move to get out of the car, she repeated herself.
"I already did, he'll be out in a minute." Andrew answered sounding a bit annoyed.
"I meant for you to go in and get him." Shannon clarified.
"Why? What's the use of being able to tell him from here, if you expected me to go in?" He frowned at her. She was hardly the one to talk; she'd consistently abused Boone's rules about limiting their silent communication ability since she'd gotten back.
"Okay," she agreed.
Boone came out, zipping up his leather jacket, and climbed into the back seat. Unsurprisingly he smelled like cooking.
She glanced at him in the rear view, "You have fun?"
"I'm tired." He didn't answer her question, she frowned, concerned.
"I'll run you a whirlpool when we get back." She looked back again; he had his head tipped back against the seat, his eyes closed. He always pushed himself far too much.
She filled the Jacuzzi in the ensuite off the master bedroom while he puttered in the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker and setting the kettle on the stove. Andrew settled in front of the TV. Boone came upstairs and stripped off his clothes, asking her to bring him his tea when it was ready and join him in front of the fire with her coffee. He looked so tired, she was kind of worried about leaving him alone in the surging tub of hot water, concerned she'd come back and find him floating face down.
She set their mugs on the hearth and turned on the flames, hearing the bathroom door open, she turned. Boone was wearing his plaid flannel sleep pants and drying his hair with a towel. She admired the play of muscle in his chest and arms.
He sighed, thanking her, and hung the towel over the footboard of the bed, reaching for his t-shirt.
"Don't." she asked.
He was confused, "Don't what?"
"Don't put your shirt on." She explained.
"Why the hell not?" he frowned.
She snatched the shirt out of his hand. "Could you possibly be any more of an idiot?"
"I'm seriously not following, here." He shook his head.
"Christ Boone, I just want to look at you."
"You can look at me with my shirt on, for fuck sakes." He was tired and cranky.
"I'll let you look at my legs." Shannon suggested, unzipping her fly and pushing the pants off. He raised his eyebrows in appreciation, giving her the up and down. She sweetened the deal by pulling her own shirt and bra off, and pulling his commandeered t-shirt on in their stead.
"I'm supposed to be the crazy one, but you're acting pretty nuts yourself." Boone observed.
"I can't want to look at my own husband shirtless?" She laughed.
"Whatever." He chuckled in amusement and lowered himself to the carpet, leaning back against the ottoman of the armchair to the left of the fireplace.
She took up the opposite position against the ottoman on the right side. Almost immediately she felt herself responding to how the flicker of the flames was doing amazing things to the tone and planes of his exposed skin.
He reached out and started massaging her closest foot, seeming to enjoy the sensation just as much as she did.
"So what was it like in a professional kitchen?" She tried to focus.
"Way different than our place, that's for sure. No wonder Kevin found it so hard to get used to working with me." Kevin was the professionally trained chef Boone had hired to work under him.
She shook her head, waiting for more of an explanation.
"Well they all call Rob, 'Chef'. If someone did that to me I'd either look over my shoulder, trying to figure out who they were talking to, or I'd figure they were talking to Kevin." He explained.
"You deserve it if that's the proper way they should be addressing you." Her eyes fluttered briefly as his thumb ground against her instep.
"No. You know me, I get all weirded out if someone even calls me 'Mr. Carlyle.' It just sounds like I deserve some kind of consideration." He knew he wasn't really explaining it well.
"Boone, for Christ's sake, you're a successful businessman, cut yourself some slack. Shit, can't you admit you're good at something?" like foot massages, she thought.
He dropped her foot, and looked thoughtfully into the gas generated fire. "I've never been good at anything." He muttered, simply.
The flames light his face in the same haunted way she knew he was thinking. "You're good at a lot of things."
"I fool myself, but it's not true, I don't really even know why you love me." He didn't sound upset, just contemplative.
"You're my brother…" she started.
"That's just wrong, Shan." He cut in.
"Shut up. You're my soul mate, you're my lover, you're my best friend, you're everything to me Boone," She tipped her head and regarded him. "Don't sell yourself short. You're way too hard on yourself."
"I can't help it. I was never good enough, my mother, you. I tried, but I was never good enough. Help me Shan," he was starting to cry, "please." He begged, his fatigue adding to his misery.
She held him, understanding the pain he was feeling, the pain that he was going to feel for the rest of his life, resigning herself to working it through with him, for all the hell she'd put him through, it was the least she could do.