Read Carry Your Heart for Free Online

Pippa.”
    “Pippa? Huh. like Phillipo better.”
    “Phillipa.”
    “Yeah, I heard you. But, I like Phillippo better.”
    “Everyone calls me Pippa.”
    He scrunches up his nose. “Nah, I don’t like that. I’m calling you Phillippo.”
    “Great.”
    He grins. “You don’t like it?”
    “I don’t care.”
    “I’m Hunter,” he says. He grins. “You’re obviously a skier. That’s why you’re sure that my snowboard is fine. JetBlue is racist against snowboarders.”
    “That’s doesn’t make any sense.”
    “Spoken like a true skier.”
    “What? Skiing is a sport, not an ethnicity.”
    “It’s practically an ethnicity called white people.”
    “You’re white.”
    He smirks. “Thanks for the update.”
    I spot my bag and move towards it. He follows me. He’s got an intense energy to him, like he could run fifteen miles and still not get tired. He’s worn me out already.
    “I thought Xanax was supposed to mellow people out.”
    “It does. I think I’m being pretty nice. I already gave you a nickname.” I reach for my ski bag and he steps right in front of me and slides it off the carousel, handing it back to me with a more pronounced smirk. “And I just got your bags for you.”
    “Thanks for that,” I say grudgingly. He meets my eyes for a brief momen; his are startlingly green. I avert my own. I shouldn’t be looking at him like this. You have a boyfriend. It’s not his fault he died. Stop ogling the eye candy.
    “I don’t fucking believe it. It’s not here,” he grumbles, giving me something other than his eyes to focus on.
    “The bags have been coming for five seconds.”
    “Yeah, but…fuck,” he throws his head back and complains to the ceiling lights. “I knew they’d lose it. This always…”
    “Isn’t that your bag?”
    “No.”
    I stared at it. “Looks exactly like your bag.”
    “It’s not my bag,” he says dismissively.
    I watch the bag make its way down the carousel and then I watch Hunter, who throws his head back again, presumably to confer with the lights once more, snags the bag and turns towards the curbside pick up.
    “Oh, so is that your bag?” I demand.
    “Yeah,” he shrugs. “I think this airline has new investors, actually.”
    “Right…”
    He chuckles when I snort. “I’m fucking with you. I don’t know anything about the investors.”
    “Okay.”
    “Sorry. I get a little paranoid about my board.”
    “No kidding.”
    He grins. “If someone lost your skis, you’d be pissed.”
    “It’s never happened.”
    “Because you ski. People treat skiers with more respect…”
    “That’s not even a thing.”
    “Yes, it is.”
    “No, it’s not.”
    “How many mountains in the United States don’t let snowboarders in?”
    “I don’t know. Not that many.”
    “Alta. Park City. Mad River. I could keep going. How many don’t let skiers in?”
    I shrug. “I’m sure there are a few.”
    “No, there aren’t a few. There aren’t any. None. Zero.
    “Okay, well. I’m sorry about that,” I say.
    “Zero,” he repeats. “So, what kind of skiing do you do? Cross-country?”
    I glare at him.
    He smiles. “Just kidding. You don’t look like that much of a psycho. Jumping?”
    “Alpine.”
    He nods. “You’re a racer?”
    “Yep.”
    “What’s your best event?”
    I shrug. “Downhill.”
    He nods. “Yeah, I can see that.”
    “Yeah?”
    “Yeah, you definitely seem like a downhill girl.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “You’re kind of, you know, serious-looking,” he says with a grin. “I don’t want to say you’re uptight…”
    “I’m not uptight. I’m not the one who just almost had a heart attack because his snowboard wasn’t the first piece of luggage off of the plane.”
    “Mmm…that’s not uptight. That’s just a phobia. You seem uptight and dangerous. A combination of the two.”
    “Oh, really? Do you want to know what you seem like?”
    “To you? A douchebag, I’m sure.” When he turns and smiles at me,