As scared as she was, she pushed off with her poles and pizza-pied down the run. I caught up with her and showed her some of the turning drills. It took about fifteen minutes and then Evie was howling with laughter as she zig-zagged her way from each side of the run to the other. “Show me more, Nick.” Her chest puffed out as she turned her skis and did a stop in front of me.
“You got it, Evie.” I paused. “Is Evie short for something?”
“Evelyn.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate the name. I was born on New Year’s Eve, so Evie makes more sense to me.”
“What about you? I heard your girlfriend call you Nicky.” She elbowed me.
“My girlfriend?” It took me a second to realize she was talking about Clementine. “Oh, yes. Nicky is reserved for ladies sixty-plus. My full name is Nicholas, but no one ever calls me that.”
“What about nicknames?”
“Back East the guys called me Tinsel. Or Tinsey.”
She tilted her head as though she was saying each of the names and testing them out. “I like Nick.”
“Me too.” I smiled. “And I like Evie.”
The world seemed to go quiet for a second or two. The giggles of the ski school kids, the schushing of skis, the mechanical whine of the gondola cable, all disappeared. If this were a movie, it’s when I would’ve kissed her.
We found a chairlift that took us up to the top of an easy run called Puppy Pause. We spent the afternoon riding up and skiing down, and by the end of the day, we had conquered Puppy Pause.
Outdoor fireplaces burned at the base of the mountain. The Beach Boys blared from speakers outside one of the restaurants, and people in their ski gear sat at picnic tables drinking pitchers of beer. A banner advertising après-ski beers hung over the entrance to the patio.
I’d been furious that Clem had stranded us at the top of the gondola, but it turned out to be an amazing afternoon. “I don’t think I’ve laughed like that since I was a little kid.” I clicked out of the skis.
“Same.” Evie took off her skis. “It reminded me of the first time I cantered on a horse.”
I had spent the afternoon following Evie’s light brown mane whip in the wind from beneath her helmet. That image was replaced with her on a horse galloping across a field, hair flying in the wind, wearing tight Wranglers and cowboy boots.
I shook my head and gulped. I had to stop fantasizing about her. After the Christmas Classic she probably wouldn’t ever want to see me again. Still, I didn’t want the afternoon to end. If this was the only time we got to spend alone together, was it wrong to make it last as long as possible?
“Do you want to take these skis back to the rental shop and go get a drink?”
“Only if we can get nachos too.” Evie slung the skis over her shoulder in one easy motion.
“Hell yeah. I’m starving. I think that we worked up an appetite.” I copied her move and we headed to the rental shop like a couple of people who knew what the hell they were doing.
With our skis returned, the two of us got the last table in the beer garden.
A pretty waitress with black hair sticking out from underneath a wool hat handed us menus. I held up my hand. “I don’t think that we need those, we’ve decided on nachos.”
“And to drink?” She jotted our order on a notepad.
I gestured to Evie.
“I’ll take a beer, whatever you’ve got on tap,” she said.
“It’s the local brewery’s lager.” The waitress pointed to the après-ski sign with the end of her pen.
“Sounds good.” Evie smiled and rested her chin on her clasped hands.
The waitress looked to me. “The lager is called après-ski?”
Her brow knitted. “No, it’s the Chance Rapids lager.
I pointed to the sign. “What’s the après-ski special?” I was so confused.
The waitress laughed. “Would you two like to make that a pitcher?”
