Chapter 7 Zoe
ZOE
After I changed, I reported back to the reception desk, hoping to work with Stanley, the front office supervisor.
When I’d met him on the way in, he said that he sometimes helped out when regulars were checking in.
It wasn’t hard to read between the lines and realized that he meant extremely wealthy returning clients.
But whoever the VIP was, they hadn’t arrived yet, and Stanley was bent over the computer, typing rapidly.
He appeared to be in his early thirties, but he typed like he was trying to set a world record.
Movement off to the side made me look up, but it wasn’t an ultra-rich guest. Kai leaned against a wall over to the left. He’d taken off his jacket and the ski boots, but otherwise he looked the same. His jeans obviously hadn’t got wet because he hadn’t fallen in the snow unlike me.
And now I could see that his gray shirt was long-sleeved and hugged every muscle in his biceps, chest, and abs. It wasn’t very professional of me to notice that, but hey, after facing death on the mountain, I deserved a little treat.
“Hi,” I said, feeling a little unsure as he strode over. We’d spent the whole morning together, but I didn’t know why he was still here. Then it dawned on me. “I left the ski suit and the boots back in the employee area. I’ll go get them.”
He reached over the counter with one long arm and stopped me before I could turn away. “Keep them. You might want to hit the slopes again.”
Was he crazy? Had he just witnessed the same disastrous ski lesson I had?
Kai grinned at whatever he saw on my face. “A few more lessons, and you might even be able to get on and off the chairlift.”
That almost made me laugh, but I was very conscious of the front office supervisor right next to me, but Stanley had only nodded at Kai once before continuing his work. I spoke softly anyway when I answered Kai. “You might want to set your expectations a little lower.”
“I like my expectations right where they are.” Kai’s smirk was arrogant, like Asher’s. However, it wasn’t as annoying as Asher’s had been, thank god.
Then he jerked his chin to the right. “Come on, I’ve got one more thing to show you.”
What? Okay, even though he was gorgeous, and I liked him a lot better when I was wearing tennis shoes rather than skis, I wasn’t here to hang with hot guys.
“I can’t, I have to report to Mrs. Greer.” Now that I’d completed her first assignment, maybe she’d give me a real one.
“Greer won’t mind. Besides, this is still part of your lesson.”
“It is?” The words slipped out in a pouty tone before I could stop them. Wasn’t it cruel and unusual punishment to make someone do what they were terrible at and never let the lesson end?
“Yep. Come on.” His blue eyes gleamed as he shot me a smile few women could likely resist—but I tried. I really did. Until he sweetened the pot. “I’ll give you a tour. Show you all the places the guests don’t get to see.”
Blinking rapidly, I thought it over. Then I nodded, coming around the desk to join him. From the grin on his face, you’d think he’d just won a national skiing championship—which he probably had at some point in his career.
Kai gestured for me to follow him, which I did, gingerly. After the ski boots, my normal shoes felt strange, and my feet ached. I nearly groaned when he headed for the staircase that led to the lower level.
He turned around, sized me up, and seemed to instantly grasp the problem. “Guess we’ll take the elevator instead.”
“Thank you,” I said, somewhat stiffly. It wasn’t that he was doing anything wrong, but it was frustrating to keep being reminded that I couldn’t keep up. “Those were the most uncomfortable shoes I’ve ever worn, and I’ve worn five-inch heels.”
“Really.” Kai’s voice was a dangerous purr as he looked at me, his eyes sweeping up and down with interest. “What else were you wearing with those heels?”
Crap, why had I mentioned that? I’d just been trying to make conversation and not show how inadequate this whole morning had made me feel. “Nothing,” I said, then saw my mistake. My pulse spiked as I rushed on before Kai could comment on that. “Nothing special,” I clarified.
“I liked your first answer better.” He looked half disappointed, half amused.
He pressed the elevator button in front of gleaming silver doors and smirked when they slid open. “Want me to lift you onto it?”
“I think I can manage.” Though I had to admit, the way he’d easily picked me up had been one of the better parts of the ski lesson.
Once we were on the lower level, he walked slower, leading me past the restaurant I’d eaten in last night.
An incredible smell, something rich and garlicky filled the hallway.
Had Asher made that? The food last night had been great, and there had to be some reason they gave him an internship here.
It sure as hell wasn’t because of his sparkling personality.
To my surprise, Kai kept up a running commentary as we walked, pointing out things like hidden entrances to storage rooms and the hallway that led to the full-time staff quarters. I took everything in. I wanted to know absolutely everything involved in running a resort like The Fraser.
“How many times have you been here?” I asked when it became apparent that not only did he know the surroundings well, but also that he was pretty damn observant.
“A handful of times as a guest back in my glory days, and this is my third year as an instructor.”
I almost snorted at that. His glory days. Let’s see, he was in his twenties, unbelievably fit, and incredibly gorgeous. I wasn’t sure why he felt his glory days, whatever he meant by that, were over. “Mrs. Greer said you’re from Colorado.”
“Yeah, I live there now, and work during the season. But I like coming here for the holidays. It’s home.”
“It is?” We were passing by two open doors that led to an enormous gaming room complete with pool tables, ping-pong, some round tables with leather chairs that looked like they might be for playing poker, and even a bar at the end. It looked expensive and opulent, but not like home.
“My brother and I grew up about not too far from here.”
Before I could ask him exactly where that was, he held open a glass door, ushering me inside an exercise room that put every other gym I’d ever been in to shame.
My mouth gaped open as I looked around. Every single piece of equipment in this gym looked like it cost more than a car. The whole space gleamed—polished floors, a wall with mirrors, a wall with museum-quality art for some reason, and a bunch of high-end equipment I couldn’t even name.
There were rounded half-ball things stacked in a corner, some kind of straps hanging from the ceiling near the far wall, and a treadmill that looked less like exercise equipment and more like a piece of modern art with its curved wooden surface. Everything screamed expensive and state-of-the-art.
But as I looked closer, I noticed something odd.
Some of the equipment looked designed for fit athletes, like Kai, but others looked more.
.. medical. Like something you’d see in a physical therapy clinic.
In fact, there were a set of bars with a walkway in between, and I’d seen something like that in a movie where a character who’d been in an accident had to relearn how to walk.
“Why is that here?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Kai leaned against a weight rack, completely at ease.
“The Fraser gets two kinds of guests. I mean, nearly all of them are old and rich, but some come for the skiing—they’re here to train, improve their balance, and get stronger.
The other half?” He shrugged. “Old people often have health issues need physical therapy while they’re on vacation.
Sometimes it’s basic stuff. Sometimes we’ve got personal trainers helping with their rehab. ”
“So this other stuff is for skiers?”
“Yep.” He pushed off the rack and walked over to a large wooden box sitting in the middle of the floor. It had to be at least two feet tall, maybe more. “Like this. It’s a plyo box.”
Before I could ask what that meant, he jumped.
Just—jumped. Straight up onto the box, landing with both feet, perfectly balanced.
Then he hopped down and did it again. And again.
I watched, transfixed, as his powerful legs launched him upward each time.
Even through his jeans—his rather tight jeans—I could see the muscles in his thighs and calves flexing.
“Helps build explosive power,” he said, not even breathing hard. “When you’re coming out of the gate or hitting a jump on the slopes, you need that strength.”
He hopped off the box and, without even looking down, stepped onto some kind of board.
It was about the size of a skateboard, but instead of wheels, it balanced on a single cylinder underneath.
He stood on it like it was nothing, rolling back and forth, shifting his weight effortlessly to stay level.
“Balance training,” he continued, still moving. “Skiers need to be able to shift their weight in a split second. This mimics the constant adjustments you make on the mountain.”
I tried to listen to what he was saying about muscle groups and training techniques, but I couldn’t focus. I was too busy watching him move—the way his body made constant micro-adjustments, how his core stayed tight while his hips shifted smoothly from side to side. It was hypnotic.
And really distracting in a way that made me a little uncomfortable, for some reason. “Do you have to keep doing that?”
The words came out sharper than I’d intended, and I winced.
He kept rocking from side to side, maintaining perfect balance despite the cylinder rolling beneath him. “What? Moving around?” He cocked an eyebrow as his grin widened. “Or did you mean showing off?”
I gulped. Had he just admitted he was showing off? Like, for me? But I was the only one else here. “Um, both?”