“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 allof 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?”
Kai jumped off the board, and it slipped off the cylinder with a clatter. He kicked it aside as he shook his head. “Once you get to know me better, you’ll find out I’m always moving. As for showing off—I only do that some of the time. Okay, most of the time. But that’s better than always.”
Despite myself, I felt my lips twitch.
“All right,” he said, moving closer. “Let’s get you started.”
Unease crawled up my spine. I didn’t know how to use any of this equipment, and I really didn’t want a professional athlete watching me fumble through more things I was terrible at. That had already happened enough today. “You want me to work out?”
“I want you to learn to loosen up your hips.”
Of course he did.
A few minutes later, I found myself standing on what Kai called a lateral ski trainer—a platform with two separate foot plates that slid from side to side. My legs kept wanting to slip out from under me, and I had to grip the handles in front of me just to stay upright.
“You’re fighting it again,” Kai said from somewhere behind me.
