7. Surprise
7
Surprise
Zane
After breakfast, I spend some quality time with my dogs, then drag myself down to the ski hut. Ivy is already standing in front of it in all of her pinkness, waiting for me. Surprisingly, the sight isn’t as unpleasant as I thought it would be. My eyes must be adjusting to all the colors. I look around, but I don’t see anyone else. Still no husband today. Maybe he’s sick or something.
“Morning,” I grumble, using my boot to sweep away the snow in front of the shack so I can open the door.
“Good morning,” she says with a bright smile. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
I glance back at her but don’t say a word. Instead, I stomp inside, grab the equipment, and come back out.
I can tell she wants to chat during the walk to the bunny hill because she keeps glancing at me, but she doesn’t engage in conversation. I feel a little bad for her. She’s on vacation, eager to learn to ski, and she’s stuck with me. Probably not what she pictured when she was planning her romantic getaway for her and her man.
Once we reach the bottom of the slope, I drop her skis on the packed snow and kneel down to help her put them on, but to my utmost surprise, she manages to do it herself before I even touch her boot.
With a frown, I stand back up. “Okay. We’ll start by doing some walking with the skis—here, on flat ground. Then, when you feel ready, we’ll try the slope again.”
“I’m ready,” she says with a nod, offering a full-fledged smile.
I hold back a sneer. “I’ll be the judge of that. See that pole over there?” I point to a light pole about forty feet away. “Using your body and legs, do the reverse V I showed you yesterday, and skate to the pole and back.”
She gives me a firm nod, and I’m impressed by her confidence. A far cry from yesterday .
She gets going, and I can’t fight the faint smile tugging at my lips. This girl is full of surprises, isn’t she? Yesterday, she could barely stand, and now she’s actually doing good . Not great—I can tell she’s really struggling, and she falls a few times—but it’s a huge improvement.
“So, how did I do?” she asks when she returns, slightly out of breath.
“Better than yesterday. Not that the bar was very high.”
Her mouth opens slightly, then clamps shut. “Well, a student can only be as good as their teacher.”
I smirk. “Then you’ll be excellent. Come on. Let’s go to the lift.”
Once there, I greet Shane and ask him again to slow the lift for her, but this time, I go first. “This way you can watch your teacher ,” I say, and she gives me a forced smile.
She manages to take the perch without falling, so I give her a few claps of encouragement once she reaches the top. But she doesn’t seem to appreciate the gesture and glares at me instead. She still looks just as beautiful with that annoyed scowl, though the elated smile she usually wears wins. No debate.
I show her the snowplow one more time, and she surprises me again . She follows me all the way down the slope, keeping the right posture and managing the turns as I demonstrate them. Either she became amazing overnight, or I am a better teacher than I thought. I guess the mood helps too.
Two hours later, we’re taking off our skis at the bottom of the slope, and she looks like she’s about to pass out.
“So,” I begin. “Are you the kind of girl who performs well at everything and can’t endure failure?”
She raises her head, her cheeks slightly flushed from exhaustion. More pink. “Huh?”
“You clearly trained on your own after our last lesson,” I say, my tone accusatory.
Her blush deepens. “So?”
I knew it. “So, you are that kind of girl, then? But I’m telling you, skiing for the first time at your age is hard. You have to be prepared to fail—”
“Are you calling me old?” She props a hand on her waist.
Well, looks like my inspirational speech was a bust. I shake my head, rolling my eyes. “We’re probably around the same age.” Late twenties to early thirties, I’m guessing. “I’m just saying. Don’t wear yourself out by training non-stop after our lessons. It won’t do you any good. Learning as an adult is hard.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t have anything better to do last night, that’s all.”
I raise my eyebrows. Ouch. That’s some honeymoon. “By the way, will your husband be joining us this week? Otherwise, I can just return his skis.” My tone surprises me. I was going for a neutral question, but somehow, a hint of annoyance worked its way in.
Her face flashes from annoyed to hurt. “There is no husband. Don’t you get that? He dumped me. Yes, you heard me right. I’m the pathetic girl who’s on her honeymoon alone. So leave me alone, okay?”
I open my mouth to apologize, but she turns around and marches away from me—with her boots on this time.
Ivy
Here, I thought Zane was just being thoughtful, not asking about my missing husband, when in reality, he just didn’t have a clue what was happening. Every other person I’ve talked to immediately understood that my fiancé dumped me, but not Zane. I can’t decide if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.
With the ski hill behind me, I realize that I’m starving and hope to fill up for lunch. I had a reservation at a nice restaurant last night, but I couldn’t handle another pity look—not to mention my entire body hurt. So instead, I grabbed some snacks from the lobby and ate them while relaxing my sore muscles in the bathtub. Hey, don’t judge. I’m on vacation.
I walk up to my room as fast as I can with my blistered feet, take a quick shower, and get changed before walking down the narrow street until I find a small restaurant with empty tables. I order a burger, connect to the wi-fi, and reply to Hazel’s text while I wait.
Ivy
Yes. Everything’s fine. I had my second ski lesson today!
I add the exclamation point to convey my excitement because, even if it’s non-existent right now, I need her to believe I’m okay.
Hazel
Oh, fun! Is it hard?
Ivy
Very. Especially when you start out as an adult.
Hazel
Do you have a hot instructor?
Ivy
I have a grumpy instructor. Think, the yeti meets Garfield with the Grinch’s attitude.
Had would be a more suitable term. I’m not doing any more lessons with that guy.
Hazel
Oh . . . Okay. But is he hot?
Placing the phone on the table, I cross my arms over my chest. I’m not dignifying that with an answer. What kind of question is that, anyway? Why does she even care? His looks are completely irrelevant to the situation. What is relevant is that he’s rude and insensitive, not that his eyes are fifty shades of gray or that his body is one of a Viking.
My thoughts are interrupted by the waiter, who arrives with my order, and I devour my burger in no time. Turns out, skiing really works up an appetite. At least I made it down the training slope this time, so it’s not a total failure. Tomorrow, I’ll see if another instructor is available to teach me. Hopefully, one that doesn’t have “Abrasive” as his middle name.
After lunch, I make my way to the husky farm. It’s a little out of the way, but the town is so small, it takes me only twenty minutes to reach it. The farm is bigger than I expected, set on a large piece of land with two wooden buildings that stand tall. In front of the smaller structure is a large enclosure with dogs scampering and fooling around in the snow. My heart melts in a puddle of puppy love. They’re adorable .
“Hey there!” A boy with dark hair and a warm smile says. He can’t be a day over twenty. “Welcome.”
“Hello. I’m Ivy Clark. I have a reservation for a sled ride today, but it might be under ‘Ross.’ There will be only one person doing the ride.” I blurt my explanation in one go and end up a little out of breath. At least now, he won’t ask.
One of his eyebrows arches. Great. He clearly thinks I’m a lunatic. Well, at least crazy is better than pathetic.
“Awesome,” he says, clapping his hands. “I’m Seth. I’ll be your guide today. I just have a couple of things to finish up, and then I’m all yours.”
“Sorry. I know I’m a little early. I was excited to see the puppies.”
He chuckles. “No problem. Feel free to go over there and say hello. Just don’t feed them anything.”
I nod. “Great. Thanks.”
I have to force myself to walk and not run to the enclosure, and as soon as I get closer, the huskies all run toward the fence and press their faces between the bars, asking for cuddles. They’re the cutest things. Beautiful, fluffy fur and huge eyes. They jump at me, panting, and it’s almost like they’re smiling at me. In the five minutes I’ve been here, they’ve been a better comfort than anything else. Dog therapy really is a thing .
Just when I’m trying to extricate myself from a dog that’s giving me a French kiss all over the face, I hear a low groan behind me. I don’t need to turn around to know who it belongs to.
“What are you doing here?” he growls.