“You should radio ahead and tell them to be ready to stop the lift when I wipe out getting off it. Because I do … Every. Single. Time.”
“Not on my watch.” Another leg squeeze. He was so damn sure of himself.
I feared I would emotionally break him that day—when Superman discovered tragedies were beyond his control. And I would be one of those as soon as we reached the top.
Only … I was wrong.
At the top, he hooked my waist, literally carrying me off the lift, down the tiny slope to a small flat area before the run. A green one. Green was easy. For some people. Not for me. Ronin slid one of his skis between mine, bringing us chest to chest.
“Ready?” He kissed me, palming my ass to keep me steady.
Would it be the last time he kissed me like that? I dropped my poles and wrapped my arms around his neck.
He chuckled. “Baby, hold on to your poles. Okay?” He slid my goggles down over my eyes, and then he retrieved my poles for me.
“Duck walk like this.” He pointed his tips into a V to show me, coaching me over to the start of the run.
I slanted my skis into a V. I’d played that game before. I knew the rules. I knew how it ended.
“We’re just going to snowplow. Okay?”
I returned a toothy grin until the cold air hurt my teeth. He was super cute. Poor guy should have invited Lila and Graham to ski with him.
“This can’t be any fun for you.” I turned my skis into a snowplow.
Ronin flipped around in front of me. “Doing my favorite thing with my favorite person? What’s not to love about that?”
“I’m going to ruin your favorite thing for you. And why are you backward?”
“I’m going to guide you down the hill. Catch you if you start to fall.”
“You can’t ski backward down the hill.” I frowned.
“I can. I can do a lot of things on skis. Let’s go.” He coaxed me forward.
I moved two feet before I started to fall. And as promised, he had me. We did this exhausting replay halfway down the run.
“Hold up, baby.” Ronin glanced toward the fence, and the skier who plowed into it. “I’m going to check on them. Move to the side and take a seat. Okay?”
“Okay.”
He guided me to the side of the run. I collapsed onto my butt, skis off to my right. Ronin checked on the other skier, and several minutes later, he started talking into his walkie-talkie. I realized it could take a while, so I removed my skies. One of them wouldn’t come off easily, so I twisted, pulled, and rammed my pole into it harder, and something snapped, but it finally came off.
Bye, bye …
There it went, down the slope without me. I broke the brake in the process of forcing my boot out of the binding. Classic move on my part.
“Shit.” I cringed, diving for it, but it was too late.
After a few minutes, another troller arrived with a sled. They loaded up the injured skier, and the troller took him down the hill.
“Evelyn … where is your other ski?” Ronin surveyed the immediate area as he walked toward me, carrying his own skis over his shoulder.
“I think I did something to the brake when I took it off.”
He slid his glasses to the tip of his nose, squinting down the hill. “Huh …” His lips twisted, and he nodded slowly, not appearing the least bit mad or exhausted like Graham did when I skied with him and Lila.
No lectures.
No eye-rolling.
Just an easy nod. A non-verbal “Okay then.” Ronin spoke into his walkie-talkie again, requesting a Model 100. I had no idea what that meant. Probably a new girlfriend.
“Sorry.” I frowned.
“For what?” He dropped to his knees in front of me, resting his hands on my legs.
“For the confirmation that your favorite person can’t do your favorite thing.”
Ronin smirked, pulling off his stocking cap. I wanted to tackle him and tear off his clothes. Seriously … he was so damn sexy with that thick chaotic hair, those sunglasses, and a spectacular smile.
“I lied about that. You’re my favorite person, but skiing is not my favorite thing. It comes in second. You do my favorite thing, and baby … you do it better than anyone.”
“Pfft …” My embarrassment and vulnerability wouldn’t allow me to entertain the idea that I was better than anyone at anything.
He smiled over my shoulder. “Thank you.”
I glanced back at the woman in red bringing a toboggan.
“She okay?” she asked.
“Yes. Vanessa, this is my girlfriend, Evelyn. She lost her ski.”
Vanessa laughed. “Happens.”
Ronin clasped my hand and pulled me up. “Hop on, my lady.”
“You’re taking me down the mountain? Gah! How embarrassing.” I climbed into the sled.
“Drinks later? There are six of us going.” Vanessa ruffled Ronin’s messy hair.
Why? Why did she touch him? And why did it bother me? I was the hug queen who thrived on human touch, always physical with my affection. But apparently, I had trouble with it after being reduced to an incompetent skier in front of dark wavy-haired Vanessa. I bet she was an amazing skier.
“Drinks?” he asked me as he secured a strap over my lap.
“Sure.” I sighed, punctuating my displeasure of the situation with a frown. “That I can do.”
He grinned, dropping a quick kiss on the tip of my nose before standing and locking into his skis. “What time?”
“In about an hour?”
“Great! Thanks, Vanessa.”
I managed to murmur a thank you as well. Thank you for being so pretty. A good skier. And ruffling Ronin’s hair. I loved it when other women ran their fingers through it.
Dammit! Knock it off, Evelyn!
We made our way down the slope, finding the runaway ski. Then we were greeted at the bottom with two more concerned patrollers.
“Lost her ski. No big deal.” Ronin helped me out of the toboggan.
My ego covered its eyes in embarrassment while I put on a brave face with a friendly smile.
“Well, that was fun.” I couldn’t help the way my entire body sagged inward. Yes, it was possible to pout with your whole body.
“Come here. Wanna see something cool?”
I shook my head.
“Yes, you do.” He propped up our skis and flipped me up over his shoulder.
“Ronin!”
“Stop pouting!” He smacked my ass while strutting about twenty yards over from the end of our run. “You like to watch, so here you go.” He deposited me on my feet as skiers came down a hill dotted with sliding boxes and rails.
I grinned. Yeah, I liked to watch.
“I’m going up. Keep your eyes peeled.”
“Going up? To do that?” I narrowed my eyes.
“Yes.” He sauntered off without looking back.
I returned my attention to the skiers sliding along the rails and boxes, some more flashy with their turns and dismounts. A few failing to land at all—except on their asses.
About fifteen minutes later, my guy came down the hill.
“Slow down,” I whispered to myself.
Nope. He didn’t slow down. Ronin jumped onto one rail, flying off with a lot of air time, and then he was right back on the second rail. Finishing with a box, he spun once in the middle before landing perfectly back onto the run. The cockiest grin took up residence on his face as he came straight toward me.