Catching the next flight out of Silver Pass would be the smart thing. But his coach would probably not welcome him back with open arms at this point. In fact, he might not welcome him back at all.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, although what would he do with his life then? Allow it to spiral back down to dark places he’d rather not revisit? And if he sat around at home, that’s exactly what would happen.
Regrets, he’d discovered, were a poison that didn’t quite kill.
Two and a half more weeks.
He could always find Mrs. Botox and be done with it. He could guarantee there’d be no emotional entanglements on his part after spending a night with her.
So why did sleeping with Mira have to be any different?
It shouldn’t, but he had a feeling it would be.
“Sorry about the cell number. I didn’t even think to give it to you last night.”
She grinned up at him. “I don’t think either one of us was doing much thinking.”
His own smile took him by surprise. “Probably not. How is your patient, by the way?”
“A child with an upset stomach. Judging from the stack of crumbled candy wrappers on her nightstand, I think I found the culprit.”
“Such an exciting practice you have here, Doctor.”
She gave a slight grimace as they arrived at the chair lifts. “I’m sure it’s not as action packed as yours, but it has its moments.” She gestured at the line of running seats that swooped by before starting their ascent. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“I’ve somehow gotten on them during both of my other outings, but I have to admit it wasn’t pretty.” He eyed the chairs. Mastering them certainly hadn’t been as easy as it had looked. At least with surfing he simply lay on his board and paddled out from shore. Everything was done under his own power, which was how he preferred it.
She moved over to the bench and snapped her boots down onto her skis. “Put on your skis, and I’ll talk you through the process.”
Once they both had their skis situated, she had him stand and move over to the line with her, handing their passes to one of the attendants. While various people got on the two-man lifts, she explained what they were doing. “We’re next. Move to the mark.”
He shuffled with her over to a blue line painted on the ground, and they waited for the couple ahead of them to sit on a chair and be carried up the mountain. Then they moved to the second line. “Look behind you,” she said, “and keep the chair in sight. Once it gets to us, the attendant will hold it long enough for us to sit.”
And just like that they were on, the lift swaying as it moved up over the snow. Mira snapped a protective bar down over them. He’d been so worried about his balance the last time he’d ridden up that he hadn’t even realized the safety feature.
“Have you ever fallen off one of these?” he asked.
“Yes, as a child.” She shifted her poles. “Did you fall the last time?”
“Off the ski-lift itself? No. But the first time I tried to move away from the chair? Yes.” That had not been one of his better moments, and probably what had contributed to his fall down the slope itself little a while later. The one Mira had rescued him from.
The lift continued up the long ascent, and Jack tried to settle back and enjoy the view. It was beautiful, the range of white mountains stretching out, skiers looking much smaller than they actually were, even though the lift wasn’t carrying them all that high.
But more than the view, or the worries about getting on or off the lift, was his concern about how aware he was of the woman next to him. Like the other times they’d skied, she was decked out all in white, but her helmet wasn’t on her head yet, just the pink beanie she’d worn during their last outing on the slopes. The chair was small enough that their shoulders and arms touched, whether he wanted them to or not. And along with each bump or wobble came the memories of what they’d done in the sleigh. The way the motions of that vehicle had shifted them together until he hadn’t been able to resist her.
This woman ramped him up, almost to the point of not caring who saw them. The truth was he hadn’t wanted to stop during that ride, and he wasn’t all that sure what had made him grab her hand just before she reached the belt on his slacks.
Maybe the realization that once she touched him there’d be no turning back. Or was it really as simple as what he’d said, that he wanted more time? More space?
Her fingers slid across the top of his hand, and he jerked his mind back from those chaotic thoughts to listen to what she was saying.
“There’s the entrance to the silver mine I told you about.” She pointed to something off in the distance about a half-mile away from the lodge. He could just make out brown wooden boards, but it appeared tiny from here. “It’s closed to the public?” For some reason he thought maybe they’d made some of the mines into tourist attractions.
“Oh, yes. Not a safe place at all. There’s a risk of avalanches out that way as well. We’ve had some snow, so the safety teams are monitoring the area. There are some off-piste skiing areas not far from there that could be affected.”
“Off-what?”
“Off-piste. It means off the trail. Areas between the groomed runs. Some of them are open for skiing and some of them aren’t. But here in Silver Pass those sections are reserved for advanced skiers, since there can be rocks and debris hidden beneath the snow—although we try to keep things marked well enough that people are aware of what’s there.”
“I don’t think I’ll be tackling any of those this trip.”
“Chicken,” she said with a smile. “We’re almost at the end of the line.” She nodded at the sign on the pole to the left that warned skiers to put the tips of their skis up.
Somehow, once they got to the offloading area, Jack managed to keep his skis pointed skyward and slide his ass off the chair, where he then glided down the little slope that led away from the circling chairs. And this time he didn’t fall or careen into any other people who were exiting the lifts.
Grabbing onto a rope that was on the far side of the space, Mira slid smoothly beside him. “Good job!”
“Mira!” Her name came from across the way, and when she glanced over with a roll of her eyes he couldn’t help but try to figure out who it was.
Ah, his former ski instructor and her ex. Standing at the top of the bunny slope, he was with a group of about twelve novice skiers. Even from here, though, he could sense the man’s frown when Mira didn’t answer him.
“You ready?” she said, her tight voice indicating she wanted to get away from there.
Judging from the steam he sensed gathering behind the other man’s eyes, he nodded. “Why don’t you go on? Unfortunately, I’m going to need to start with that beginner’s hill again.”
Mira gave him a cool glance. “Do you think I’m going to scamper off like a frightened rabbit?”
Hardly. He’d just thought she might want to avoid the guy.
They made their way over to the gentle slope, using poles and sidesteps until they were at the top. Although the instructor kept on teaching his charges how to slow their speed going down the hill, the man’s eyes were obviously on them, probably wondering what the hell Jack was doing with her again.
Deciding to play by the other man’s rules, Jack stared him down for a few seconds. Once the guy looked away and began to actively teach again, he noticed that Mira’s attention wasn’t on them but on the abandoned mine she’d pointed out from the ski lift. “What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.” She gave a quick