Saving Grace

by Kristen Proby

  “Okay,” I whisper and discreetly fan myself as he stands and turns his back to me, slipping his feet into his own boots, but I notice they aren’t ski boots.

  “Why do I feel like I have a storm trooper’s boots on?” I ask as I follow him out of the rental shop and into the snow. Jacob has my skis balanced on his shoulder. I have a pole in each hand, stabbing the snow and ice as I walk beside him. “These poles are great. I should walk with them everywhere.”

  “I can’t believe you’re that clumsy, Grace.”

  “Oh, I am. Always have been. It’s not a big deal.” I shrug and take a deep breath of cold, fresh mountain air. “I think my parents named me Grace as a cruel joke. God, it’s beautiful up here.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “Cunningham Falls.”

  His head whips around to stare down at me and his eyes narrow with renewed interest. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, my friends bought me these lessons as a gift.”

  “Why would they buy you ski lessons if you have no interest in skiing?”

  “Because we’re all taking a ski trip to Aspen in a few weeks for a girls’ weekend away, and they think I need a head start so I can flirt properly with the hot Aspen ski instructors without needing medical attention.”

  “So you’re all going to hit on ski bums?”

  “No.” I wave him off and laugh. “Cara and Lauren just got engaged, so it’s really a bachelorette weekend. I probably won’t actually hit on anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why aren’t you wearing ski boots?” I ask instead of answering him.

  “Answer the question.”

  “You answer mine.” I stop walking and throw him a mock glare, making him grin.

  “I can’t be on skis if you’re on skis and need me to help you. I’ll be on skis with you tomorrow.”

  “How long have you been doing this?” And really, how well can this pay? Jacob looks to be in his thirties. Is this his career?

  “You answer my question first.”

  “I don’t even remember what we were talking about,” I reply and begin to stomp away when he crowds me and tilts my chin back with his free hand.

  “Don’t lie to me, love. That’s one thing I won’t have. There’s no need of it.”

  “I’m not a good flirter,” I whisper and watch his breath come in and out in soft puffs.

  “Could have fooled me,” he replies with a grin. He leans down and kisses my forehead, then quickly resumes walking to a wide, clear area.

  “Where are we going?” I pick up the pace, my short legs in the heavy boots trying with all their might to keep up with his long strides.

  “Over here.”

  “The ski lifts are over there.”

  “You’re not getting on a lift yet. Maybe a little later.”

  “Well, this is boring.”

  He sets my skis on the snow and motions for me to step into them. “Keep your balance with your poles and click your boots into the bindings. Good girl. See? You’re a natural already.”

  “And you’re full of the blarney,” I reply in a horrible Irish accent.

  “That’s Ireland, darling. I’m from London. Okay, first thing’s first.”

  “You never answered my question,” I interrupt him.

  “Which one is that?”

  “How long have you been doing this?”

  He props his hands on his hips and squints his eyes in thought. “I’ve been skiing since I was four, but teaching since I was sixteen, so I guess almost twenty years.”

  “They have a ski hill in London?”

  “There are many ski resorts in Europe, darling.”

  I shrug and watch as he walks away from me, his ass looking spectacular in those black ski pants. God, what he must do to a pair of jeans.

  Did I just growl? Shit, I hope not.

  “Okay, first we’re going to start with the snowplow.”

  “The plow hasn’t been through here?” I glance around, looking for a big tractor. “If you plow the snow away, what will we ski on?”

  “No, darling,” he laughs, pinching his nose between his thumb and finger. “The snowplow is how you’re going to slow down or stop when you need to.”

  “Oh, okay.” I keep a death grip on my poles, determined not to fall. “How do I do it?”

  “You’re going to point your toes in.” He demonstrates and I follow suit.

  “This will make me stop?” I ask with doubt lacing my voice.

  “It will.”

  “What next?”

  “Put your poles up.”

  “No, they’re helping me stay standing.”

  “Grace, put your poles in front of you so I can pull you and you can snowplow for real.”

  “I’m good where I am.”

  “Grace.” His voice is firm but tender. “You won’t fall.”

  I raise the poles and watch my feet.

  “Head up. You have to watch where you’re going.”

  “I’m not going anywhere right now.”

  Jacob moves to me and tilts my head up. “You have to watch what’s around you when you ski. Your feet are fine. They’ll go where your toes are pointed.”

  “Okay.”

  He moves directly in front of me and grips the poles.

  “Keep your skis parallel for now and in a moment, move into the snowplow to slow down.”

  He walks backward, pulling me. My eyes widen and I let out a squeak, but amazingly, I stay upright.

  “Beautiful, Grace.” He grins and watches my form. “Okay, point your toes.”

  I follow his direction, and just like he said I would, I stop.

  “It worked!”

  “Of course it did. Okay, now we’re going to go over here where there’s a bit of a slope and you can try it for real.”

  I nod and firm my chin. I can do this.

  “After you loosen up,” he says. “You’re too stiff. If you do fall, you’ll get hurt. This is fun, darling. Keep your hips and arms loose.”

  I take a deep breath and shake my arms and hips, and suddenly, my skis slip and I feel myself start to fall, but strong arms wrap around me, holding me up.

  “Maybe not that loose, now,” he says with a laugh.

  And for the next hour, he shows me how to walk sideways, stop, take the skis on and off, and all of the other simple things I’ll need to know.

  “Okay, I think I’ve mastered this.” I sniff, my nose drippy from the cold air. “I love the cold.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah, it feels good to have cold cheeks and to breathe in the chilly air. I love living here.”

  “Well, then, this sport is perfect for you.”

  “You’re a good teacher, you know.”

  He takes a glove off and pushes his hand through his hair and I suddenly ache to be the one to do that for him. The man has seriously touchable hair. “Of course, it takes one to know one.”

  “You’re a teacher, are you?”

  “Aye, I am,” I reply in a horrible Scottish brogue.

  “I’m not from Scotland, love.” His green eyes dance with laughter as he shakes his head at me. “What do you teach?”

  “I’ve taught fourth grade for close to six years.”

  “Did you skip school today to hang out with me?” He helps me snap off the skis and leads me to the chairlift.

  “No, I had meetings this morning, and the rest of the day off. Are we going up the chairlift now?”

  “Yes, but just the bunny hill today, I’m afraid.”

  “I’m okay with the bunny hill. I work with ten-year-olds every day, so I’ll be among my people.” He helps me get situated on the lift. “How did you choose this for a career?”

  He frowns, and looks like he’s about to admit something to me, but he shakes his head and says, “I have always loved the snow. My family took many winter holidays and those were always my favorites.”

  I nod and watch the trees pass beneath us.

  “I
love your enthusiasm,” Jacob murmurs. “You’re a beautiful woman, Grace.”

  “Thank you,” I whisper, unsure what else to say.

  “Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t,” I immediately respond.

  “Are you driving back down to town when we’re done today?”

  “No, I have a room at the lodge.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I’m going to fall off this lift. I’m warning you.” I’m watching people hop off the chairlift as it nears the top, but the chairs don’t stop completely. You have to be quick.

  “No, you won’t.” He takes my glove-covered hand in his and squeezes. “Have a little more faith in yourself, love.”

  chapter 3

  ~ JACOB ~

  Have I ever been this captivated by a woman in my life? Not that I can recall. This little pixie is a spitfire, full of energy and quick to learn. Her sense of humor is damn hilarious and I’m dying to know what secrets she has hidden beneath all those layers of heavy snow gear.

  I could easily spend days with her and not tire of her.

  That itself is a novelty.

  I can feel her tense up as we near the top of the lift. She laughs off her awkward clumsiness, but I can see the unease that it causes, making my heart go out to her. I’ve never known what it is to not feel comfortable in your body. Athletics always came easy to me.

  “You’ll be fine, darling,” I murmur, and help her off the chair, keeping a hand on her arm and leading her away as I wave at the ski lift operator.

  “Hey, Bax,” he calls with a smile.

  “You’re popular around here,” she says with a grin. “I guess I can see why.”

  “And why is that?”

  “Well, you’re friendly. And handsome. And you seem to know what you’re doing.”

  “I’d better know what I’m about, love. I can’t have anyone getting hurt, now can I?”

  “No, we can’t have that.”

  I lead her over to an area that has a gentle slope and is perfect for beginners. It shouldn’t scare her. Though I’ve skied places on this mountain that made me break out into a cold sweat.

  She’ll never see those places.

  “So you think I’m handsome?”

  “You know you’re handsome.” She laughs and brushes some snow off her pants. It’s begun snowing. Large, fluffy flakes are lazily making their way to the ground.

  “Handsome enough to have dinner with tonight?”

  She bites her lip and I know she wants to say yes. I want her to say yes. I want to do much more than have dinner with her, but I’m willing to take it slow.

  For the first time in a long time, I’m enjoying a woman’s company when she’s fully clothed.

  Good grief.

  “Well, you are rather handsome,” she replies, trying to copy my accent and failing miserably.

  Fuck me, she’s adorable.

  “Your accent needs work,” I reply, and brush my finger over her nose.

  “I’m just trying to blend in. I’m a chameleon.” Her face is perfectly sober, but her hazel eyes are full of laughter. Her golden blond hair is cut short, shorter than I normally prefer, but it’s perfect on her. It frames her delicate face, setting off those witching eyes.

  “Dinner, Grace,” I remind her.

  “If you insist.”

  Oh, I think I’ll be insisting on quite a few delicious things, darling.

  I smile softly to myself and lead her through more snowplow moves, how to turn, and damn if she isn’t learning quickly. She’s a natural.

  “You’re doing great, Grace.”

  “I am?” She smiles widely as I help her out of her skis.

  “Absolutely. You’ll be flying down this mountain in no time.”

  “How are we getting down to the lodge?” she asks nervously.

  “We’re riding the chair, love.”

  “I’m sorry, this can’t be very much fun for you.”

  “Actually, I’m having a lovely day.” I help her back onto the chair and hop on next to her. “I’m grateful that your friends are getting married and talked you into Aspen.”

  “Me, too.” She smiles up at me and I want to kiss her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I pull my glove off and pull my knuckles down her cold cheek, glide my thumb over her plump lower lip.

  “Grace, I’m going to kiss you here on this chairlift.”

  Her tongue pokes out of her mouth, wetting her lower lip and brushing my thumb and my cock tightens. I lean in and rest my lips on hers, waiting for her to push me away, but she plunges her fingers into my hair and holds on and I sink into her. I rub my lips back and forth over her soft skin before licking her lower lip and slipping my tongue inside, over her tongue and exploring her mouth. She moans softly, opening readily and I sink in farther, caught up in her clean scent and the smell of the snow around us.

  I pull back to find her eyes wide and glassy. The pulse in her throat throbs quickly, matching my own.

  Bloody hell, I want her.

  I glance around to find that we’re almost to the bottom of the lift. I lean in and place my lips beside her ear, press a soft kiss, and then whisper, “I owe you dinner.”

  “I’ll collect,” she immediately replies as a shiver moves through her, making me grin.

  Sweet, strong girl.

  We hop off the chair without incident. She seemed to grow more confident as she became more sure on the skis, and it’s showing now. She’s less hesitant as we move away from the lift toward the rental shop.

  “I’ll be glad to get rid of these boots,” she says with a wrinkled nose. “They’re heavy.”

  “It’s a workout, indeed.”

  “Indeed,” she mimics.

  “You enjoy teasing me about my accent, love.”

  “I don’t mean to be offensive,” she rushes to assure me. “It’s my stupid sense of humor. You can tell me to shut up.”

  I pull her to a stop and drop my face close to hers. “I think you’re charming and delightful, and I don’t want you to shut up. I was teasing you in return.”

  “Okay.”

  “I told you before, I’m enjoying your company very much.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, let’s ditch this gear and get you warmed up.”

  “I wonder if I can order a hot chocolate in the lobby and sit by the fire.”

  “I’m quite sure you can order whatever you like,” I reply. You can have anything you want.

  I’ve known the woman for a matter of hours and I’m ready to offer her the world.

  Jesus Christ, grow a pair, Bax.

  We turn in her equipment and walk back to the lodge, avoiding the icy patch that she slipped on earlier.

  Watching her fall had my heart in my throat.

  “Jeanette,” I call as we walk through the lobby to the fireplace. “Would you please order us two hot chocolates?”

  “Of course, Bax,” she replies with a knowing smile. She’s such a mother hen. Always trying to set me up with someone.

  Maybe this will shut her up.

  “Have a seat, love.” I lead her to a plush love seat, but instead of sitting next to her, I sit on the ottoman across from her and take her boot off of her left foot, pull it up into my lap, and begin to rub it vigorously over her wool sock.

  “You do not have to touch my sweaty foot!” She tries to pull away but I hold strong.

  “I’m warming you up, Grace.”

  “The fire will do that for me.”

  I raise a brow and watch her quietly as I continue to rub her slender foot. She finally relaxes and sinks back into the cushions of the couch.

  “God, you’re good at that.”

  “We can’t have your toes fall off from frostbite.”

  “I don’t think I was quite there yet,” she replies with a laugh. “But thanks for having my back.”

  “What did you think of your lesson?” I ask and turn my attention to her r
ight foot. I want to strip her naked and explore every inch of her tiny body, lose myself in her for hours on end.

  Once I started, I don’t know if I could ever let her go.

  And where in the bloody hell are these thoughts coming from?

  “I had fun,” she replies with a soft sigh. “I didn’t fall once, thanks to you.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t let you fall.”

  “You might have to come with me to Aspen. Who needs poles when they have Jacob to keep them upright?”

  She laughs, and I smile at her, but my insides still. The thought of her in Aspen, with another ski instructor paying her the same attention I am, pisses me the fuck off.

  And that’s absolutely ridiculous.

  “Jacob?”

  “Yes, darling.”

  “Where did you go? You zoned out there for a minute.”

  I shake my head and join her on the couch as our drinks are delivered.

  “Here you go, Bax.” The young room service attendant places the tray holding the hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies on the ottoman before us. I slip my hand into my pocket, pull out some money, and hand him his tip.

  “Thank you, Michael.”

  “Anytime.”

  “Your coworkers are very respectful to each other,” Grace observes, and nibbles a cookie.

  Now is the time to tell her. It shouldn’t be all that difficult to mention that I’m not merely an employee, but the owner of the place. However, the thought of her anger and embarrassment is like a punch to the gut.

  I’m just a normal bloke, having a conversation with a woman. Not the playboy billionaire from London.

  I rather like the way this feels.

  “Thank you,” I reply instead, and take a sip of the warm chocolate. “It’s a nice place to work.”

  “Hmm,” she agrees. She’s leaning back in the seat, her eyes growing heavy as she sips her drink, lost in her thoughts. I watch her for a while, wondering what she’s thinking, but not wanting to ruin this quiet moment.

  “We’d best get back to our rooms so we can change out of these clothes for dinner.” I stand and hold my hand out to her, pulling her to her feet beside me.

  “I’m on the fifth floor,” she says. “Where do you stay?”