5. Heath
CHAPTER 5
heath
“ I ’m going to fall, aren’t I?” Sable looked skeptically at the bunny slope. She was in a black jacket and matching ski pants that I’d gotten for her. Her arms were stiff at her sides, and the skis that I rented clung awkwardly to her boots.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Everyone is going to laugh at the grown woman who’s going to fall on her butt.” She tried to make a joke out of it, but I knew that she was indeed worried about exactly that. From what I had gleaned from Alexa and Natasha from my first encounter with Sable, she’d been branded trailer trash , their words.
I could have asked someone, but I wasn’t about to tell a soul that I’d taken Sable out on a date. Partly because I wasn’t sure how Juno would react and partly because I knew Sable wouldn’t appreciate being the subject of town gossip. From what I’d gathered, she’d already endured enough judgment growing up—branded for being poor, having parents who didn’t give a damn, and eventually becoming a ward of the state. All of that had left scars, ones her ex-husband had probably deepened when he knocked up a girl half his age.
She took a deep breath. “Is it embarrassing that I don’t know how to ski?”
There it was, that fragility she hid ably but sometimes let slip. “You know, my mother doesn’t ski. She never learned as a child and didn’t want to as a grown-up. She prefers to go to the spa while my brother, father, and I ski.”
“Really?” She looked so hopeful that I was glad I could tell her about Mom, who did, indeed, not ski.
“Absolutely. Darlin’, the worst thing that can happen is you fall over. And if you do, I’ll be right there to help you back up. The snow is soft; you won’t get hurt.”
She narrowed her eyes. “The worst thing that can happen is I go flying downhill, crash into a tourist, and end up in one of those videos people post online to humiliate themselves.”
I tried not to laugh. “I promise you’re not going viral today. You’re finally trying skiing, and I’m the best possible teacher.”
Her brows lifted.
“Trust me,” I said, nudging her toward the gentle incline. “I run a resort. I’ve taught people before. You’re in good hands.”
Then I leaned close to adjust her ski goggles. “And, Bambi, there’s no one here but you and me. No one’s gonna see anything.”
Sable looked around and, finally, noticed that we were indeed alone.
“How come there’s no one here?”
“I’m the general manager of this resort. I can arrange for a private bunny hill for us.”
“Charmingly arrogant,” she quipped.
She sighed but shuffled forward until the tips of her skis hit the snow. Her whole body went rigid. I reached over to adjust her stance, holding her steady by the arms.
“Relax,” I instructed gently. “Bend your knees a little. Lean into the skis. If you stay stiff like that, you’re just going to fall over.”
“That’s reassuring,” she muttered but did as I asked.
“Good.” I stepped back. “Now, just let gravity do the work. No sudden movements, no overthinking. Just feel the snow under you.”
She gave me a side-eye but started sliding forward. It was slow at first, more of a wobble than a glide, but then she picked up a little speed.
“I’m moving!” she called back, excited.
“You’re skiing!” I called, jogging alongside her.
Her smile grew, and her body relaxed as she picked up the rhythm…until her skis crossed. She let out a yelp, flailing her arms as gravity, indeed, took over, and the next thing I knew, she was face-first in the snow.
“Okay, that wasn’t great.” The snow muffled her voice.
I knelt beside her .
“You okay, Bambi?”
She lifted her face and grimaced. I couldn’t help but smile because even tumbling down a bunny hill, Sable Nees did it with style, and looked fucking gorgeous with snow on her face.
“That sucked.”
“That was a solid first run. You didn’t hit a tourist, so I’d call that a win.”
She rolled onto her back and glared up at me. “There are no tourists here.”
“Exactly.” I extended a hand to her. “Now, let’s get you back in the saddle.”
“Let’s not.” She let me pull her up. “I’m allergic to horses.”
I smiled. “I’ll pump you full of antihistamines before getting you on one. We have a stable at the resort for the summer tourists.”
She looked up at me, her cheeks pink from the cold—or maybe the fall—and for a moment, I forgot where we were. It was just her, standing in front of me, looking braver and more beautiful than she had any right to after face-planting in the snow.
“Isn’t this boring for you?” she asked sullenly.
“What is?”
“Teaching a grown woman how to ski?”
“When the woman is as beautiful as you, darlin’, it’s not a hardship,” I replied as we made our way back toward the start of the hill. “This is really the first time you’re skiing?”
She lived in Aspen, and I couldn’t imagine her not having tried the slopes ever before.
She chuckled. “We didn’t exactly have the budget for skiing. Woody Creek trailer park doesn’t come with lift passes.”
I hated how easily she said it, like she was used to brushing off how much she’d missed out on. “Your husband skis?”
Her smile wavered. “Ex-husband, and yes.”
“Sorry.” I felt like an idiot now. “Alexa keeps saying husband when she talks about me, and I keep correcting her, and now I did the same thing to you.”
“Not a big deal.” She held her skis the way I’d taught her. If nothing else, Sable was a quick learner. “Jack skied with friends and…,” she paused as if recalling an unpleasant memory, and then making her peace with it, she finished, “he thought it was embarrassing I didn’t already know how. I did think about doing it without him, but I just didn’t.”
She didn’t because the son of a bitch had made her feel ashamed. I fucking hated that asshole. “Well, I’m glad you’re here now. And for the record, you’re not bad at it. With a little practice, you might even make the locals jealous.”
She snorted. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
But I saw the way her face softened. She needed someone to tell her she could do things because, all of her life, people had told her she couldn’t. I was no knight in shining armor, or at least, I never had been, and I didn’t think Sable needed saving—but it felt fucking awesome to take care of her, give her what no one else had, including that jerk of an ex-husband of hers.
We lined up at the top of the bunny slope, her skis, as most beginners had, in the shape of a pizza, the front ends pointed in toward themselves.
“You ready?” I adjusted her stance.
“I’m not sure ready is the right word, but this time” —she gave me a determined look— “I’m not gonna let gravity win.”
“That’s the spirit.” I felt my chest puff up with pride for her. Sable had a core of steel. That was what had gotten her over all the crap life had handed her. “Now, Bambi, just let the snow do the work.”
“And if I crash again?”
“Then you’ll get back up,” I told her. “That’s how it works.”
She blew out a breath and started forward, gliding more steadily this time. Her movements were still a little stiff, but as she picked up speed, I could see her begin to loosen up, her body moving with the skis instead of fighting them.
“I’m doing it!” she called, her voice full of exhilaration as she slid past me.
“You’re skiing, Bambi!” I yelled after her, skiing slowly to keep pace.
She made it halfway down the slope without a wobble, then, at three-quarters of the way, her face lit up with pure joy. It was the kind of smile that made you forget everything else.
When she reached the bottom without falling, she turned to look at me, her arms flung in the air like she’d just won a gold medal. “I did it!”
“You did!” I called back, laughing as I reached her. “You’re practically a pro, darlin’.”
She was grinning ear to ear, her cheeks pink, and her dark hair spilling out from under her helmet. “Okay, I can see why people like this. That was amazing.”
“It’s addictive, isn’t it?” I couldn’t help myself and leaned down to kiss her nose. “Just wait until you try the bigger slopes.”
“I’d like to wait for that…a long while,” she warned, laughing, but I could tell she was as proud of herself, as she should be.
“You want to try again?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.
She nodded, already turning toward the towrope. “Hell yeah. I’m not stopping while I’m on a roll.”
By the time we finished a few more runs, Sable was gliding down the bunny slope with confidence. Watching her find her rhythm, her joy, was special…because she was special.
At the bottom of her last run, she turned to me, breathless but beaming. “Okay, I’ll admit it—you’re a decent teacher.”
I pretended to look wounded. “I give you the gift of skiing, and all I get is decent ?”
She smirked. “Fine. You’re awesome . Happy?”
“Very.” I ran a finger down her cold cheek. Her skin was smooth, flushed, and healthy. I wanted her. “But you’re the one who did the work.”
Her smile softened, and she looked at me for a moment like she didn’t quite believe what I’d said but wanted to. “Thanks, Heath.”
“Anytime, Bambi.” I lightly tugged on the edge of her helmet. “Now, let’s grab some food before you turn into a human icicle.”