Love on the Slopes: Prologue
Ryland “Ry” Guyer’s head hurt. He squeezed his eyes tightly together, but that didn’t stop him from feeling as if a figure skater were landing a triple axel on his skull, the blade slicing into his brain with talented precision.
How much had he drunk last night?
He rolled over in bed. His bed, he hoped.
Unsure of the time and where he was, Ry forced open his heavy eyelids. The light hurt, a hammer-slamming-against-his-forehead kind of pain, but the ceiling wasn’t spinning. The walls didn’t move, either. Both were good signs. This wouldn’t be a bad hangover.
He smiled. Didn’t hurt. Another plus.
A white sheet covered him. No blankets, but he might have kicked them off. He didn’t remember undressing or going to bed, but he often didn’t after a night of part
