Luckily, my t-shirt was thin enough to fit under the jacket. I got it zipped up and peered into an ornate and likely antique mirror.
If you didn’t count the uncertainty on my face, I looked like I was ready to hit the slopes. Sort of.
Due to the boots—which I didn’t even try to put on—the bag was still heavy as I walked out front.
Clara gawked when she spotted me. “Looking good, Zoe,” she said. “Good luck out there.” She waggled her eyebrows and then tilted her gaze toward Kai, and I knew she wasn’t talking about the lesson.
“Looking good indeed,” Kai echoed her words as I reached him, his tone lower and more intimate. His eyes swept along the lines of the ski suit. Was he checking me out? Maybe if he thought I was hot, he’d be less inclined to let me slide right off a cliff.
“It’s a little tight,” I said, tugging at the padded material over my thigh. “Did Asher tell you I was a size zero or something?” That would be just like him to deliberately select something that wouldn’t fit me right.
“Nope. He mentioned your curves.” Kai’s eyebrows arched acrobatically, and I quickly looked away, my cheeks heating up as I did my bestnotto think about that.
Fortunately, Kai seemed to be getting into instructor mode. ”Go sit on that bench and I’ll help you with the boots.”
Somewhat to my surprise, I was able to walk normally despite the thick ski suit. As Kai had told me, it was well made. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me that this resort sold top-of-the-line apparel. I perched on the edge of the bench as Kai grabbed the boots from the duffel bag. He knelt in front of me, one ski boot in each hand.
He patted his knee. “Come on. Left foot.”
I hesitated for only a second before lifting my foot and placing it on his leg. The position felt awkward, intimate in a way that made my cheeks warm.
“Not exactly a glass slipper,” he said, grasping myankle and guiding my foot into the clunky boot. His grip was strong, his fingers warm.
Despite the fact that there was a drop-dead gorgeous man kneeling in front of me, I laughed. “I’m not sure which would be more comfortable.”
“Once you’re flying down the slope, you won’t even remember you’re wearing these.” His fingers moved quickly through the fastenings—click, click, click, click. He tightened each one with practiced efficiency, barely glancing down. “Not too tight, not too loose. Snug but not cutting off circulation.”
As he picked up the other boot, I held out my hand. “I’ll do it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.” It felt ridiculous to need help putting on footwear.
“Knock yourself out.” He handed me the boot and stood, crossing his arms as he watched.
I took it from him, determined to prove I’d been paying attention. Three buckles plus the power strap at the top. I wedged my foot in—it took more force than I expected—and started fastening. The first buckle clicked into place. Then the second.
The third one gave me trouble. My fingers fumbled with the mechanism, and I had to try twice before it latched properly.
“Just click and pull,” Kai advised.
Easy for him to say. I gritted my teeth and finished the last buckle, then the power strap. “There.”
“Not bad.” It wasn’t exactly praise, more like an acknowledgment that I’d managed not to completely screw it up.
I stood carefully and immediately understood what he meant about the boots. They were incredibly stiff, rigid around my ankles like casts. And heavy. Each one felt like it weighed as much as a grand piano.
I took a tentative step, then another. My ankles refused to bend, locked in place by the unforgiving plastic. Every movement felt wrong, clumsy, like I was piloting some kind of machinery instead of just walking.
This was exactly the kind of situation I hated—being thrown into something with no chance to prepare, no time to practice it first where others couldn’t see. There was no way to research my way to being good at skiing. I just had to do my best and somehow deal with it if I failed spectacularly in front of a super-hot ski god who wasn’t used to working with beginners.
Which wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped my first day of my internship would go.
“Come on.” Kai was already at the humongous carved wooden doors.
I clomped after him, doing my best not to look as awkward as I felt. Each step was deliberate, effortful. I probably looked like a penguin.
But then we stepped outside, and I stopped.
