Robin snorted. “No change there.” He leaned back too, visibly more relaxed.
Dean studied him. “No, you’re really nothing alike.” Not in looks, nor in temperament. Ryan had been the class clown, whereas Robin? He was the kind of guy who drew attention of a different kind. A delightful mixture of sweetness and snark.
“Mom used to joke one of us was a changeling. She just couldn’t figure out which one. He’s in college now.”
Dean drank a little of his hot chocolate. “You didn’t want to go?”
Another shake of his head. “I always wanted to work with my dad. He’s got me working on gunwales right now, but he’s gonna train me to make the hulls. It’s kinda tricky, because it’s a vacuum process.”
Dean smiled. “Maybe my boat will be the first one you make.”
Robin’s eyes lit up. “I’d like that. Have you been canoeing long?”
“I first got into a canoe with my dad on the lake here when I was about eight years old. I absolutely loved it. First time he let me go out on my own, he made sure I rolled over and learned how to right myself. That was it. I was hooked. I did a little canoeing in Chicago out on the river, but I guess part of me wanted to be back here, where I’d been so happy as a child.” Where the water was a lot cleaner than in Chicago. Getting the job at the high school had felt almost serendipitous, as though Dean was back where he belonged.
“Dad says I’ll be the one to take customers out onto the pond, to demonstrate the canoes.”
His dad’s confidence in Robin’s skills said a lot. “Sounds to me like one day you could be running the business.”
Robin let out a wry chuckle. “I think that’s my dad’s idea too, but that’s not gonna be for a while yet. Unless he’s planning on retiring very early, and taking my mom on a long cruise. She keeps dropping hints.”
“I’m glad you’re doing something you enjoy. Not to mention something you’re obviously good at. This talent for woodwork… Does that come from your dad?”
Robin nodded. “I remember being very little and helping my dad at his workbench. I think the first thing I ever made was a birdhouse.” He laughed. “Though I pity the birds who had to live in it.” He inclined his head toward the paintings. “I can see why you became an art teacher. You obviously like it.”
Dean suddenly realized he’d omitted to say something vital. “Those paintings… they’re mine.”
Robin’s eyes widened. “You’re really good. I mean it.” He glanced at them again. “Some of them look like photos.”
“Thank you, but the thing about teaching art is, you have to be a jack of all trades. I get to teach drawing, painting, pottery, even sculpture.”
“Your students do all that? Wow. I really missed out.”
“Before you get too miserable, I should add they sculpt from soap. I get these blocks of soap that are only about four times the size of your average bar. It’s a good way to get kids started.” He peered at Robin. “Besides, you didn’t miss out. You did woodwork instead. And from the look of that gunwale you were working on, that’s obviously where your talents lay.” He glanced at the clock above the fireplace. “I’m not trying to get rid of you, I promise, but you need to think about going home. It’s getting late, and we’ve both got work in the morning.”
Robin gave him a warm smile. “Thank you for the hot chocolate, and for not being annoyed at me turning up here.”
Dean chuckled. “You really did intrigue me. But now I’m looking forward to spending a couple of hours with you on Saturday, teaching you to ski. I suspect you’ll be good at it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you’re a talented young man. And I think you give everything you do one hundred percent. But remember… If you fall on your ass, it’s only your pride that gets hurt. You get up and keep on skiing.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” Robin stroked Lady. “I love your cats.”
“And they clearly love you.” Loki had climbed onto the sofa and lay on the seat cushion next to Robin, his chin resting on Robin’s knee. It made for an adorable picture.
Okay, so cats would like anyone who cuddled them. Dean liked to think cats were also good judges of character. And so far, Robin was making a very favorable impression. He was intelligent, well mannered, and good-natured.
It didn’t hurt any that he was also a beautiful guy.
For God’s sake, quit thinking about his lips.
What Dean wouldn’t give to be the first to kiss Robin Davis. Then he thought about it. The guy was eighteen. Since when did kids reach eighteen these days with no experience of sex? Robin had probably gotten laid the first chance he got, never mind experimented with a little kissing.
Dean shoved such musings aside. He had papers to grade, and the last thing he needed was to be distracted by thoughts of kissing Robin. Because dear Lord, that guy was a walking distraction.
But as Robin said his goodbyes and walked his bike along the path, Dean had to admit he was thinking less about papers, and more about skiing with Robin.
Chapter Six
They sat at a table in the cafeteria near the huge windows of Bear Den Lodge, at Whiteface Mountain. Outside, the sky was clear blue, bright against the white snow. Skiers walked to and fro, carrying their skis, and kids threw snowballs at one another, laughing when they hit something, which was almost never.
Two mugs of hot chocolate sat on the table in front of them, and Robin inhaled the heavenly aroma. There was nothing like it after a few hours on the slopes. He always loved the first ski of the season.
Of course, having Dean alongside had been a definite distraction. More than once, Robin’s concentration had wandered, but that had worked out fine. Hey, I didn’t want to appear too good, right?
Dean leaned back in his chair. “That’s the way to start the weekend.”
Robin had to agree. “Thanks again for taking me out on the slopes.” He’d struggled with feelings of guilt the whole time, however. He didn’t like deceiving Dean.
“How do you think you did today?” Dean asked.
Robin pretended to hesitate. “Okay, I guess. I didn’t fall over too much, did I? But we were on easy trails, right?” He hated this. He knew exactly how difficult the trail had been, and for a moment back there he’d wondered why Dean had taken him to it after only half an hour’s skiing. The panicky thought had flitted through his mind. Because he knows, you doof. He’s seen right through you.
“Wrong.”
Robin blinked. “Excuse me?” Uh-oh.
Dean shrugged. “I wouldn’t call Victoria an easy trail.”
He swallowed. “Wow. I guess I coped better than I thought.”
Dean cleared his throat. “Okay, let’s start this again. You’ve skied before.”
It wasn’t a question.
“No, I—”
“Hey, Robin!” Ginny Richards stopped at their table, greeting Robin with a huge smile. “Great to see you. I knew you’d be here once the season started. Not like you to stay off the slopes, right?” She patted his shoulder, then looked across to where Dean sat, and her eyes widened. “Hey, Mr. Quentin. Is Robin here showing you a thing or two?”