Christmas Duet: A Big City, Small Town Christmas Romance Bundle

by Gina Robinson

Ryan was watching her. "You okay? Need me to check your binding?"

  "Oh, shut up!" She laughed. "I still know how to get into my bindings, for heaven's sake."

  "I take it that means you still know how to step and glide, too?"

  She rolled her eyes. But as she watched the skiers and boarders hop onto the chair lift in turn, a wave of anxiety crashed over her. She found herself overthinking a process that had once been almost as natural as breathing. Slight crouch to the knees, angle one butt cheek on, and then the other.

  The lift operator watched her hesitation, and of all the humiliation, slowed the chair down for her when it was her turn. Indignant, and relieved, she got into the chair without a problem as Ryan hopped on next to her, looking way too innocent. She hadn't seen it, but she was pretty certain he'd signaled the operator to slow that chair for her. She wasn't a little old lady. Not yet, anyway. And she may have been rusty, but she wasn't a novice.

  I'll show that Ryan and pull his chain. Which is when she hatched a perfectly beautiful plan.

  The chairs on the lift were new, too. She sat with her board dangling from one boot and turned to Ryan. "If you rock the chair, you're a dead man." It was an old joke from when she was little. She was still a bit afraid of heights.

  He laughed. "Okay, small fry. I won't rock you out."

  The view as they rose up the mountain had remained constant and true and as breathtaking as it had ever been. From up on the lift on the mountain she felt as if she could see forever and through time. She'd once told her brother that, and he'd confessed to feeling the same. She thought of him now and smiled to herself, picturing him somewhere in the heavens looking through time back at her. He'd be happy she was with Ryan. She knew he would.

  From the lift she could see Canada, three different mountain ranges, three states, the large meandering lake, and Echo Bay. A kind of Christmas joy, a religious sort of experience at viewing the beautiful world overcame her and she almost broke out in carols. Next to her, Ryan's presence felt warm and reassuring. She appreciated that he was giving her space and privacy. There were no words to express the feelings the view and the mountain and being with Ryan brought out in her, and she'd rather not try.

  The mountains, the lake, and the sky blended together on the horizon in varying shades of blue, bright and brilliant to deep and muted.

  I'm on top of the world. And I love it.

  She felt like the complete opposite of the Grinch. Everything she saw below her—the snow-covered evergreen trees they were gliding over, the skiers and boarders sliding down the mountain, the tiny, busy spot of town below, the cars winding their way up the mountain from below—brought her great joy.

  Getting off the chair lift is the next most frightening time for a beginner. Or someone who hasn't done it for a while. Tara, however, had taken to it immediately as a tiny four-year-old. Now, she suddenly felt another stab of nerves as she angled sideways, ready to plant her bound front foot forward to glide off the lift. The fear stemmed from the humiliating thought of wiping out before clearing the chairs. Which many people did.

  Ryan reached over and squeezed her hand. A second later, the chair positioned itself over the departure spot. Tara planted her board, put her free back foot on the stomp pad Digger had installed, free of charge, and executed a semi wobbly J-turn down the small departure slope. But at least she hadn't fallen on her face.

  Ryan glided to a perfect stop beside her.

  "If you tell me that was very good, I'll clobber you." She winked at him.

  "Still have those violent tendencies. I thought you'd outgrown them."

  She laughed at him, seeing through him as he tried to divert her attention and encourage her. She felt hope pouring off him. It's important to him that I regain my old love of the sport.

  It was so obvious in the way he was treating her, encouraging her, and guiding her away from any unpleasant memories of the past. It was touching, very touching.

  Skiing and boarding were like air to Ryan, always had been. It was something they'd always shared. Any woman who wanted to spend her life with Ryan would have to either love it as much as he did, or be content to be a snow widow during the winter.

  "This is a new run, isn't it?" she said, knowing it was and that Ryan had chosen it with care.

  "Yeah," he said without elaborating. "We have quite a few new runs here at the Basin. It's expanded like crazy these last years." Then he grinned at her. "Follow me."

  Stepping and gliding came back to her easily. She hadn't forgotten. But she made a show of stumbling along. "It really has been a while."

  Ryan waited patiently as she "struggled" to the top between two runs. "Left or right? Left is a gentler slope. Right is more scenic and only slightly more difficult."

  Decisions, decisions. In the spirit of my charade...

  "Left. This time."

  "All right, then. Strap in and we'll cut across."

  Tara fell backwards into a sit with a plop into the soft powder and strapped her back foot into her bindings. Seattle got very little snow and when it did, it was usually wet and short-lived. Or quickly turned to concrete iciness. So she hadn't played or sat in snow in years. Cold, but it sure felt good.

  Ryan sat next to her, strapped in, and leaned over to check her bindings. "Let's see what we have here."

  A beanie covered his thick head of hair, but didn't quell the urge she had to reach out and stroke his head.

  "You have to be kidding?" she said to him. "I know how to get into bindings."

  "Sure, but these are newfangled bindings."

  "Uh-huh. Which means poor helpless me can't figure them out?" She made a fist to resist the urge to reach out and stroke Ryan's hair like she used to.

  "It never hurts to exercise caution and double check."

  Ryan was not usually a fusser. Generally, he was pretty mellow. Which meant he was worried and didn't want anything to go wrong this first trip down. Tara wondered at his motivation. He probably figured he owed it to Chad to help Tara rediscover her love of boarding.

  "Which means I get to check yours?" she said, teasing her.

  "No way!" He stood on his board and grinned at her.

  Standing up with your feet strapped to a snowboard can be a bit tricky at first. Tara, however, was a rusty pro. But she was intent on pulling one over on Ryan, with the idea of showing him he didn't have to worry about her. She leaned back on her hands and tried the old frog stand, failing, on purpose, and falling back on her butt.

  Ryan immediately stepped in. "Let me." He offered her his hand and pulled her up.

  She flashed him her best smile. "Thanks."

  Ryan had always been gentlemanly and protective of her up on the slopes. Sometimes it was annoying. Sometimes she thought it was sweet.

  All around them kids, mostly, were cruising down the hill on their boards. A couple of teenagers giggled next to them as a boy coached a pretty girl on how to get started.

  Tara looked out on the view and the blue with her heart pounding. Anxiety welled up out of nowhere. She would do this. As she dusted the snow off her butt, Ryan leered at her. "Enjoying the show?"

  He shrugged. "You always did know how to wiggle your ass."

  "Shut up." She shook her head again.

  "We'll take it slow," Ryan said. "Just push off gently and cut to the left-hand run. I'll be right behind you if you need me."

  Situated between the two runs in a nice little hole sat a first-aid station hut. At a quick glance, Tara saw several inexperienced boarders who were trying to cross between runs having difficulty and sliding desperately close to the snow precipice above the first-aid station. Ah, the perfect scenario.

  Tara pushed off and began cutting slowly down the slope in the general direction of the left run. She wobbled at first, and intentionally fell over into the powder, just to see what Ryan would do. He was right there to give her another hand up with a firm squeeze. Which felt good. Too good.

  Back on her feet, Tara slid toward the run. The
feel of the board beneath her feet and how to control it came right back. Her nerves faded away as a sense of exhilaration at performing a long-forgotten skill came back. She resisted her urge to control her speed and direction and let the slope carry her toward the first-aid station and that ledge that preceded it. She gained speed quickly and pulled away from Ryan.

  "Tara, carve over!" he called to her.

  She played helpless and let herself slide toward the station as Ryan boarded toward her.

  "Tara, slow down! Dig your board edge in!"

  As if he had to tell her. She knew exactly what to do and did the opposite.

  "Tara!" Ryan was gaining on her.

  But not fast enough. Even she could see that. If she let herself continue, she was going to end up as a pancake on the first-aid station's doorstep. Really, they should have put the station in a safer, more accessible spot.

  Even as she slid, though, she relished the bracing fresh air on her face and the spray of the powder around her. The thing with boarding in powder is that speed is your friend. Slow too much and you dig into the snow, rather than gliding along the surface.

  "Tara!"

  Okay, time to end this charade. She leaned back on her heels, digging the board into the snow, and fell back onto her butt about fifteen feet from the precipice above the aid station.

  Ryan glided to a stop next to her in a spray of powder.

  "Good job, ski patrol," she said. "You got here quickly."

  "Tara, don't tease. What were you thinking? Why didn't you fall down sooner if you couldn't control yourself?" He looked almost pale beneath his helmet and goggles. But maybe that was just the cold.

  "If I'd had control, I would have used it." She called upon her meager acting skills and tried to sound upset and scared. And to look vulnerable.

  Ryan pursed his lips and took a deep breath as he held his hand out to her. "I'll help you across to the run. I should have thought ahead. The run is much gentler than this crossing. You should be fine on it."

  He pulled her to her feet, but didn't let go of her hands. Instead, he put his arms around her, looking as if he were about to dance with her. "I'll guide you. Just relax and let me lead. Boarding is all about relaxing. Just remember, boarding moves are just the same as everyday motions you make all the time, just on a moving board. They'll come back to you." His tone was soft, but firm, almost a command.

  She stared into his worried eyes and nodded. There was something mesmerizing about Ryan's gaze and the concerned look on his face. About his desire to please her and help her rediscover love—of the slopes.

  She did relax as he pushed off, or as much as was possible with Ryan's arms around her. His touch and the gentle, yet firm, way he held her brought back so many passionate memories. There was a time she never wanted to leave his arms, and she was coming dangerously close to rekindling those feelings. She was supposed to be gaming him, and yet she felt he'd somehow gotten the upper hand.

  Ryan was smooth on a board. He pointed them toward the run and guided her cleanly with his hands firmly around her waist. His gaze flicked between her and where they were headed. "How are you doing?"

  "Heavenly," she said without thinking. She flashed him a wavering smile, as if she was trying to be brave. But in fact, she'd spoken the truth. On the mountain again in Ryan's arms on such a beautiful day in perfect powder was heaven. Why had she avoided this and denied herself all these years?

  She clutched him tightly, as if for security, as if he was her big, strong hero. But really she held onto him as if grasping for the joy of the past.

  He came to a stop at the top of the run. "Here we are." He stared into her eyes.

  She stared into his. Neither of them let go of the other.

  "Are you up for trying?" His tone was soft and full of encouragement. "You can do this."

  She nodded. "Yes, of course I can." She reluctantly let go of him.

  "I'll be right behind you this time. Promise."

  "You'd better be."

  He released her. She pushed off and it all came back to her, just like riding a bike.

  13

  Tara flew down the hill past all the beginner boarders and skiers. She flew past Santa Claus handing out candy canes to the children on the slopes. She sped along laughing with joy. With Ryan right behind her.

  At the bottom of the run, she pulled to a perfect stop and grinned.

  Ryan pulled up beside her. "You big, fat liar! Look at you board, as if there'd never been an interruption." Happiness tumbled through his voice.

  Tara had the distinct impression he was hoping other interrupted things, one interrupted relationship in particular, came back with the same ease. The thought was both thrilling and frightening. She and Ryan lived in two different worlds, maybe they always had. And she wasn't certain there was any way of reconciling them, even after all these years.

  She smiled at him. "That was too easy. Let's go again. On a more difficult run."

  He shook his head. "Don't get cocky, kid. We'll go the right run this time and then we'll see about upping the difficulty points."

  "Oh, come on," she said. "I think I'm ready for some tricks."

  "I think you've already pulled one on me."

  "I'm going to hit the trick park by the end of the day."

  "We'll see about that."

  The day slipped away all too quickly, and even though Tara was exhausted, she hated for it to end. She'd worked her way up to boarding the intermediate runs and even did a few easy tricks at the trick park. Then she'd watched Ryan show off for her.

  She and Ryan had gotten along amazingly well. Tara felt as if that darn old hatchet was finally buried. If only a few inches deep.

  Ryan stopped the SUV in front of Echo Bay Resort and popped the back so they could unload Tara's gear. They each hesitated in their seat.

  "Come in and have dinner with me." Tara hoped she didn't sound too eager. Because she was, and she didn't want to scare Ryan away.

  "On me," she said when he didn't answer right away. "Last I heard, Gram was intent on making her special mincemeat pie, and I'd lay money she saved a few slices for us."

  "I'd love to, Tara."

  She sensed a "but" coming. Unfortunately, she wasn't disappointed.

  "But I'll have to take a rain check. I have to get home and feed my girl. She's been cooped up all day. She deserves a little time and attention and a nice romp outside before we hit the coldest temps of the day."

  Tara was disappointed. Maybe she'd been wrong and Ryan wasn't as interested in her again as she thought he was. Losing out to a dog? Now that wasn't so great on her ego. She almost told him to go get Blondie and bring her over. But if he hadn't thought of that on his own, she wasn't going to push him.

  "Another time, then. I'll hold you to it." She hopped out the SUV and helped Ryan unload her gear.

  He set her board bag just inside the lodge door. They both ignored the mistletoe dangling over their heads. No matter how many times Tara removed it, that silly stuff always seemed to reappear as if by magic. Though she suspected Gram and a stepladder were the real culprits. Gram probably had a mistletoe man who made unending emergency deliveries on the sly.

  Tara walked Ryan out. "I had a really great time tonight." Sheesh, I sound like a junior high girl on her first date. Lame.

  Ryan smiled. "So did I. We'll do this again?"

  He was sending really confusing signals.

  She nodded. "Sure."

  They stood facing each other and looking into each other's eyes. The day had seemed like a date. A goodbye kiss seemed appropriate, but they suddenly both seemed awkward. Tara couldn't figure out what had happened. They'd had no problem kissing out of the blue yesterday. But that had been reactionary. To kiss now would be purely intentional and a much bigger commitment.

  "I'd better be going," he said.

  She nodded. "See you tomorrow when you stop by for your morning coffee?"

  "Yeah, if you can get up that early."

 
Tara watched him get into his vehicle and drive off toward his cabin, feeling a funny sense of unrequited love welling up. If this was a modern retelling of Dickens' A Christmas Carol, next one of the spirits would show her Ryan happily married to someone with a brood of merry children. They'd probably be riding snowmobiles and playing with that darn dog.

  The thought of Ryan married to someone else made her not only unaccountably sad, but jealous to the extreme. Frowning, she went inside and sneaked up to her room with her gear, studiously avoiding Gram. Mercifully, Stormy and Kathleen had Sunday off and their weekend replacements didn't take an interest in Tara's love life or lack thereof.

  In her room, Tara got out of her snowboard gear and changed into a sweater, skinny jeans, and fresh warm wool socks. As she set her gear in the corner, she spied the box of ornaments that she'd meant to give to Ryan when he dropped her off. She pulled back the curtain and looked across to Ryan's cabin. A light burned brightly in the window and she got an idea—a delightful, wonderful idea.

  Ryan parked, grabbed his gear, and let himself into the cabin. Blondie attacked him instantly, nearly knocking him over. "Hey, here's a girl who's happy to see me!" He kneeled down and scratched her behind her ears.

  Ryan was still confused about what had happened up on the mountain. On the one hand, he was delighted that Tara had taken to the slopes again with such ease, even though she'd punked him. Mission accomplished. He could stop blaming himself for killing a great joy of hers. One amend made.

  On the other hand, he was completely confused and too hopeful. It certainly seemed that she'd been flirting with him; teasing and playing with him just like the old Tara. He wanted that old Tara back. He wanted her back in the body and mind of the current Tara. But he was wary, not wanting to push too hard or too fast. So he resorted to his dutiful dog owner excuse so he could think things through.

  As he went to the cupboard for Blondie's food, he looked around his cabin. It was woefully lacking in Christmas spirit and decorations. All that ornament shopping yesterday had made him feel guilty. Or maybe inspired. He should have bought a few for himself and put up a small tree. If he could muster the heart for doing it all alone. Yeah, his mom would have helped him and dragged his dad along. But what Ryan really wanted was a special woman—like, say, Tara—to help him. At the very least a good buddy like Chad. And barring a miracle, he wasn't getting either one of those wishes.