"I know. You're a natural. You just don't know it yet."
Her blush is back, and I want to keep putting it there. I want to keep making her look at me like I've said something wonderful.
"Should we do another run?" she asks.
We return to the slope. This time she makes it halfway down before falling, laughing the whole way. When I offer my hand to help her up, she takes it without hesitation.
By the end of the lesson, she's tired but glowing. We return the equipment, and she turns to me, slightly breathless.
"Thank you. That was... great."
"You did great." I should let her go. The lesson's over. But I hear myself say, "You've got another private lesson booked for the day after tomorrow, right?"
"Yeah. If that's still okay?"
"More than okay. Same time?"
"Yes." She walks away, then turns back. "Nick?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad I booked these lessons."
I watch her head toward the lodge, something warm unfurling in my chest.
"Yeah," I murmur to myself. "Me too."
Chapter 3
Daria
The past two days have been surreal.
After my first lesson with Nick, I floated through the rest of the retreat activities in a daze. Group snowshoeing, where I barely noticed the scenery because I was replaying every word he said. Spa afternoon where Madison and Joelle grilled me about the lesson until I admitted, yes, there was definitely chemistry. Group dinner where I caught Nick looking at me from across the dining hall and nearly choked on my wine.
My second lesson this morning was even better than the first. We progressed to an intermediate slope, and when I made it all the way down without falling, Nick's pride in me felt like sunlight. He kept finding excuses to touch me—adjusting my stance, steadying my shoulders, brushing snow off my jacket—and every touch sent electricity through me. We also spent time talking, getting to know each other. We know each other’s ages, childhoods, and favorites. All the first date things without it being a date.
Now it's evening, and I'm curled up in the suite with a book I'm not reading, trying to figure out if I'm imagining this whole thing.
"You're doing that thing again," Joelle says from her bed.
"What thing?"
"The overthinking thing. Where you talk yourself out of believing something good might happen. We just met, and it’s obvious."
I set the book down. "I'm not—"
"You are." Madison looks up from painting her nails. "Daria, that man is into you. He suggested private lessons. He looks at you like you're the only person in the room. What more evidence do you need?"
"He's an instructor. Being attentive is literally his job."
"Not like that, it isn't," Claire says. "I had the hiking guide today, and trust me, there's attentive and then there's attentive. What Nick's doing with you? That's the second one."
I want to believe them. Want to believe that Nick's attention means what my hopeful heart thinks it means. But I've been wrong before. I've read interest where there was only kindness, mistaken professional courtesy for attraction.
And even if I'm not wrong—even if Nick is interested—what then? He's twelve years older than me. He lives here in Evergreen Lakes. I live in Phoenix. This is one week, a bubble separate from real life.
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.
