‘I already told you, I can buy my own drinks,’ Tania replied. She’d bought her own lunch, all but ignoring him in the Cocoon queue, holding an internal argument with herself about the point of sitting at a table with him while they ate.
‘And I already heard you. I get it. You’re single and independent and capable and you don’t need anyone to buy you anything.’ He pushed his empty plate away, folding his arms and resting them on the table. ‘But it’s just a drink. It’s not as if I’m asking if I can buyyou.’
‘See, that’s where you’re wrong. That’s exactly what you’re asking. You just don’t realise it.’
He blew out his cheeks. ‘I feel like I’m on a tightrope.’
‘How good is your balance?’ she asked, watching as the edges of his lips curled into a smile. He wasn’t backing down, and he didn’t seem to mind that she wasn’t, either.
The interesting thing was, Tania thought, that she was still seated at a table, with him, even though they’d both finished eating. It would have been easy to get up and leave. Why hadn’t she done exactly that? Never mind the tightrope he felt she was making him walk; she was negotiating her own invisible strings, which seemed determined to keep her exactly where she was. But if the irritation she’d felt about him was turning into a twisted sense of attraction, she was determined she was going to make him work for it.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘How about this? You choose a run for us to ski this afternoon, and whoever gets to the bottom first allows the other to buy them a drink.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Surely that idea balances?’
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Because I’m probably going to win.’
‘Ah. Cocky. As well as feisty and independent and capable. The list grows. OK. First one to the bottom buys the drinks. Happy now?’
‘You want to feel bought?’ she said, but there was a smile teasing at the edge of her lips, now, too.
‘At this point I’ll take anything that’s on offer, yes.’
‘Anything?’
‘Am I back on the tightrope with this answer?’ he asked.
‘I wasn’t aware you’d left it.’
‘Then I’ll take whatever is on offer.’ His eyebrows furrowed together suddenly as he reached out with one hand and placed it on hers, squeezing hard before he let go. ‘You’re driving me mad, Tania.’
‘Already?’ She stood. ‘That’s probably a record. Shall we go?’
Tania already knew Gull was competent on skis. The way he’d chased her down the run the previous afternoon told her that. But she decided not to test the man to destruction. Not yet, anyway.
She chose a wide red run, one which swept its way down the side of the mountain currently bathed in the afternoon sun. Once they’d exited the bubble, she clicked her boots into her skis and settled her goggles onto her face. ‘Are you ready?’
‘Where’s the finish line?’ he asked.
‘How about the ski stand outside Le Bar?’ She pulled her bandanna up over her mouth and slotted her poles into her hands.
He nodded, slid his sunglasses into place and grabbed his poles. ‘OK. See you there,’ he said. With a kick of a ski, he tipped himself downhill and shot away. Tania grinned underneath her bandanna, wondering if she should give him a bit of a head start. But Gull wasn’t taking any prisoners. He disappeared over the first major undulation and Tania pushed off to follow him.
She kept him in sight down the first half of the run, letting him settle into the lead. It gave her the opportunity to watch him, to see his skiing style. It was neat and no-nonsense, and he took advantage of the natural terrain, picking up speed in all the places she did. After a while, she tightened her lines, and began to gain on him.
He headed over a deceptively sharp lip and she saw his skis momentarily leave the ground. Ready to absorb the change in gradient with her knees, Tania shot over the lip. She landed in time to see Gull losing control as he battled to avoid a fallen skier. She changed direction neatly to avoid the prone figure, taking a wide semicircle back to where one of Gull’s skis had ended up. She scooped it up and walked her skis back to where Gull lay, breathing hard.
‘Are you OK?’ she said, pulling her bandanna from her mouth as she waited for him to reply.
‘Christ,’ he said. ‘I almost went straight over him.’ Sitting up, he took Tania’s hand and she pulled him to his feet. ‘Is he all right?’ He looked past her at the fallen skier, now also standing and facing their direction, a hand raised in apology. Gull held his hand up, in acknowledgement, then turned back to her. He lined his skis up and slotted his feet back into them, his face creasing as he did so.
‘Are you OK?’ she repeated.
He clearly wasn’t. As he rubbed at his left knee, his expression became taut with pain. ‘Twisted my damn knee,’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘Can you ski, or do we need to get the blood wagon out for you?’ she said.
He managed a laugh at the reference to one of the mountain’s emergency services, which traditionally involved a paramedic skier pulling a gurney on a sledge behind him, or sometimes– depending on ease of access– riding a snowmobile. Putting more weight on the knee, he sucked in a tight breath, but kept the weight even on both legs. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m OK.’ He attempted to smile at her. ‘Might have to forfeit the race, though.’
‘Told you I’d win,’ she said.
