I hate that my body remembers him more clearly than it remembers the instructions Zack has been patiently repeating for the last twenty minutes.
I hate that it keeps replaying on a loop, and why the hell was Luka on the bunny hill in the first place?
He had Annabella. A willing, gorgeous woman who’s practically begging to follow him into a private room and "payup" with a massage that was clearly not going to end at his shoulders.
Of course he had to witness my epic failure and was forced to step in at the exact wrong—right—moment to make me feel more like I can’t do anything right while I’m here. Then he questioned Zack as if he didn’t believe him when he said I was safe.
As if Luka Popovich, who wants me on a flight back to Seattle and out of his life, was suddenly worried about my bodily integrity. It makes no sense.
I’m here to do a job. A very real, very high-stakes job that I cannot afford to screw up. I’m not here to think about whether there was more to Luka showing up on the bunny hill than he let on.
So far, all I’ve managed to do is make myself look incompetent doing the bare minimum… like walking down a cement path without trying to slip and eat it in front of him. Or ski straight for the forest while flailing around like a lunatic.
A small group of five kids with another instructor glides past us with smooth and intentional movements. They stare over at me as if I’m the one who’s lost.
I roll my eyes toward the sky.
God. I must look so stupid.
And that’s the thing… I don’t care that I look stupid in front of Zack. I don’t care if Annabella thinks I’m pathetic. But in front of Luka?
My cheeks heat, and I want to fling myself into the snow just to punish my own body for reacting like this matters. Instead, I straighten my shoulders and force my mind back to the only thing that does. Getting this right and proving I’m not as hopeless as I look.
I wish he could just see me in my element. I swear I usually have my shit together. He’d be impressed, I think. Though does anything impress Luka?
"Okay," Zack says, pushing off lightly. "Let’s do one more run. This time, you’re going to stop without panicking."
"I didn’t panic," I say automatically.
Zack’s brows lift. His smile turns knowing. "Uh-huh."
Twenty minutes later, I’m sweaty, sore, and finally—finally—able to do a controlled stop without feeling like I’m about to leave my soul behind on the slope.
Zack claps his gloves together once. "See? Told you. You’ve got it."
"I’ve got it," I echo, almost surprised. Because I do.
It’s not great, or graceful, but I can stop, I can turn and I can keep myself from plowing into a tree. No more heroics from Luka will be necessary. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that.
Zack escorts me back toward the lodge, chatting easily about tomorrow’s snow conditions. I nod and pretend I’m listening. Pretend my job isn’t hanging by a thread, and my client isn’t an attractive, impossible menace who keeps saving me even though he wants me gone.
If he’d really wanted me gone, he could’ve just let gravity handle it. A tree, a stretcher, a medical evacuation, a full body cast—Bingo, problem solved… but he didn’t do that.
"Hey," Zack says when we reach the entrance. "I’ve got an opening tomorrow at noon. If you want it?"
I blink back at him. "Another lesson?"
He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. "You’ve got good instincts. You just need reps. Plus…" His eyes flick to my tense posture. "You’re stubborn enough to actually learn."
I scoff. "That’s the nicest insult I’ve ever received."
Zack laughs. "So… yes?"
"Yes," I say, because the truth is, I need this. If Luka is going to avoid me on the slopes, I’m not going to sit in the lodge like a stranded city girl waiting for him to grant me an audience.
He doesn’t get to control the terrain.
"Great," Zack says. "I’ll see you tomorrow."
