“Your hilarity is only matched by your modesty,” I deadpanned. “Okay, awesome teacher, let’s see what you got. And remember.” I pointed at him. “If I die, I’m haunting your ass for eternity.”
Josh placed a hand over his heart, a scandalized expression spreading across his face. Any hints of his earlier brooding had disappeared. “JR, I’m shocked. There are children around. Try to keep your obsession with my ass under wraps until we return to our room.”
I mimed gagging. “Unless you want my vomit decorating your fancy ski suit, I suggest you stop talking and start teaching.”
“I can’t teach without talking, genius.”
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.”
After another few minutes of bickering, we strapped on our skis and got down to business. I wasn’t a total novice, so I picked up the basics quickly. In theory, anyway.
I had the etiquette down pat, but we hit a tiny bump when Josh ran me through a series of exercises designed to make me more comfortable on skis.
“Shit!” Frustration welled in my stomach when my ass hit the ground for what must’ve been the dozenth time.
I didn’t remember it being so hard the first time around. I prided myself on being a fast learner, but we’d been at it for the better part of the morning and I’d only marginally improved.
“Let’s try again.”
To my surprise, Josh had remained calm during our entire lesson, never yelling or teasing me for not picking up what eleven-year-olds around us were accomplishing so spectacularly. Every time I messed up, he repeated the same three words. Let’s try again.
For the first time, I saw what he must be like in the emergency room: cool, level-headed, patient. It was strangely comforting, though I’d never admit it.
“I don’t think I’m built for skiing.” I pushed myself off the ground with a wince. “I propose we ditch the slopes for hot chocolate and people watching. We can guess who’s here with their mistress and who’ll be the first to hook up with a staff member.”
The we slipped out without thinking. Since when did I voluntarily include Josh in my activities? But people watching was no fun without someone to appreciate my insights, and since Ava was preoccupied, her brother was my only option.
Josh walked toward me, his steps slow and precise, until he was so close I could smell the faint, delicious scent of his cologne.
I forced myself not to shift beneath the weight of his scrutiny.
“We could do that,” he said. “But that would be quitting. Are you a quitter, Jules?”
My pulse kicked up at the sound of my name in that deep, slightly husky voice. Had he always sounded like that, or was I going crazy? His voice used to pierce my eardrums like nails dragging across a chalkboard. Now, it was…
Nope. Not going there.
“No.” I held his stare even as another bead of sweat rolled down my spine, leaving a trail of heat and electricity in its wake. “I’m not.”
The mere suggestion I was a quitter made my teeth clench.
“Good,” Josh said, still in that calm, even voice. “Try again.”
I did, again and again, until my muscles screamed and exhaustion clawed at my bones. But I would get the hang of this. I’d mastered harder things than skiing, and failure wasn’t an option. I needed to prove to myself I could do this. My pride wouldn’t allow anything else.
All the torture finally paid off an hour later when I completed all the exercises without falling and Josh proclaimed me ready for the bunny slope.
“Good job.” The corners of his mouth pulled up just the tiniest bit. “You caught on faster than most people.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to detect any hint of sarcasm, but he sounded sincere.
Huh.
We walked to the top of the hill, where Josh gestured toward a spot in the distance.
“We’ll take it easy,” he said. “I’m going to stand there, and I want you to ski down and stop in front of me using the snowplow. Do you need me to go over how to do it again?”
“No. I got it.”
My stomach jumped with nerves and anticipation as Josh took his spot and motioned for me to join him.
Here goes nothing.
I took a deep breath and started my descent. I was going a little faster than I should, given the short distance to Josh, but that was fine. I could just snowplow early.
Honestly, this wasn’t so bad. It was actually kind of exhilarating—the wind in my face, the fresh mountain air, the smooth glide of my skis against the snow. It was nothing like my weekend with Max. I might even—
“Stop!”
Josh’s shout yanked me out of my rambling thoughts, and alarm kicked me in the gut when I realized how fast I was speeding toward him.
Shit. I pushed the backs of my skis out to form an inverted V, the way he’d taught me, but it was too late. Velocity propelled me faster and faster down the hill until—
“Fuck!” I crashed into Josh with enough force to knock both of us to the ground.
My breath whooshed out of my lungs in a painful rush, and he let out an audible grunt as I landed on top of him, our limbs akimbo, snow spraying up and sprinkling us with tiny white crystals.
“What part of stop don’t you understand?” he growled, annoyance stamped on every inch of his face.
“I tried to stop,” I said defensively. “It didn’t work.”
“Obviously.” Josh let out a small cough. “Christ, I think you bruised my ribs.”
“Stop being dramatic. You’re fine.” Nevertheless, I glanced down to make sure we weren’t bleeding and that our arms and legs weren’t bent at unnatural angles. I couldn’t see bruised ribs, but his face wasn’t scrunched in pain or anything, so I assumed he wasn’t dying.
“You could’ve killed me.”
I rolled my eyes. And people said I was a drama queen.
“It was a fall, Chen. You could’ve moved out of the way.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised you’re blaming me for something you did wrong. You’re something else, JR.”
“Stop calling me JR.” It was an inane argument to have while we were plastered together on the snow, but I was so freaking sick of that nickname. Every time I heard it, I lost a fraction of my sanity.
“Fine.” The annoyance evaporated from Josh’s expression and gave way to lazy mischief. “You’re something else, Red.”
“Red. How creative,” I said flatly. “I’m baffled by how you come up with such unique and totally not obvious nicknames.”
“Didn’t realize you spent so much time thinking about my nicknames for you.” Josh tugged on a lock of my hair, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. “And I’m not calling you Red because of your hair color. I’m calling you Red because you make me see red half the time. Plus, it rolls off the tongue better than JR.”
My answering smile contained enough sugar to give him diabetes on the spot. “I can see how two syllables might be too much for your puny brain to handle.”
“Babe, nothing about me is puny.” Josh lowered his hand and let it drift to my shoulder, where it lingered long enough to sear through layers of fabric and into my bones.
My breath caught in my throat. An unwitting mental image of his nothing flashed through my mind, and a hum of electricity surged through my blood, so swift and unexpected I lost my words.