11. Evolution

11

Evolution

Ivy

The next day, I wake up with a skull-splitting headache, but I can easily say that was one of the most fun nights of my life. Zane, after a few drinks, becomes really entertaining and laid-back. He even told me a joke. A joke. It was a bad joke, but still. It was something I would have never imagined coming out of his mouth.

I’m downing the rest of my morning coffee in the hotel’s breakfast room when I get a text from Hazel.

Hazel

So, how is it going?

Ivy

Good. I had fun yesterday. I went dog sledding, and it was amazing. What about you?

Hazel

We’re in Orlando right now, which is always fun. Even if it’s packed with tourists. What about that hot ski instructor?

I roll my eyes. I knew she was going to bring that up. Zane claims younger sisters are annoying. Well, older ones are nosy.

Ivy

I never said he was hot. He’s actually the owner of the dog sledding farm as well, and we went wine tasting yesterday. It was fun. He’s not as grumpy after a few drinks.

Hazel

Ohhhh! Good for you. This vacation sounds like something straight out of a Hallmark movie. But we still haven’t established whether he’s hot or not.

Ivy

And I’m still not answering.

Hazel

You just did, sis. Bye.

Grr . She’s infuriating. But no matter how much she begs, I’m not admitting Zane’s hotness to her. I know Hazel. If I say how sexy he is, she’ll pester me about going out with him, rebounding and all that. And I don’t want to hear it. I’m not ready, especially not with Zane. That guy’s not rebound material. He’s crush-your-heart-and-stomp-on-it-with-ski-boots material.

After breakfast, I trudge up to my room, put my equipment on, and meet Zane in front of the hotel.

“Hey,” he says, his lips twitching at the corners when he sees me. “Sleep well?”

How can he look this good after the sheer quantity of wine we had last night? “Fine.”

His eyes light up. “Oh, someone had a rough night.”

I give him a pointed look .

“Well, you’d better be ready,” he says, clasping his hands, though the sound is muffled since he’s wearing gloves. “We’re hitting an actual slope today.”

I gasp, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Not a hard one,” he adds, probably noticing the panic in my eyes. “But a real one.”

“Are you sure I’m ready? I’m—”

“You are.”

The look in his eyes is so intense, it instantly boosts my confidence.

When we reach the mountain, he takes me on a green run, and I manage to slide down carefully while doing the snowplow, falling only twice. And it’s a long run. We do it two more times, and on our last round, I don’t even fall once.

“You’re doing great.” He nods in approval. “I think we can try a new slope.”

My eyes widen.

“Still a green but higher on the mountainside. Come on, let’s go to the chairlift.”

We ski downhill, and I’m still doing great until a kid cuts me off at full speed, throwing me off balance. I roll down the slope, the kid falling with me.

We’re a jumbled ball of skis and poles, and it takes me a second to recover.

“Sorry,” he says as we both sit down and brush off snow from our frozen faces. He must be around ten years old, from the looks of it. Well, there’s no bone-splitting pain in my body, and the kid looks fine. He’s already trying to get back on his feet. More fear than harm.

Zane, who was skiing ahead of me, hikes back up, a mean stare simmering in his eyes directed at the kid.

“What were you thinking?” he roars, his deep voice booming around us. “You don’t cut people off like that.”

The kid seems to shrink into himself. “I—sorry.”

“Why are you here alone, anyway?” Zane demands, eyes still blazing with anger.

“I’m not. I’m . . . I’m with my group.” He points down the hill to a group of kids clustered around an instructor near the ski lift. The instructor, who’s wearing a red-and-white ski suit, waves his poles to us.

“You’re with Eric?” Zane turns back to the kid, an eyebrow arched.

He nods fervently.

Zane lets out a low growl. “I’m sure he taught you better than that. Don’t do that ever again, or I’ll banish you from this mountain, got it?”

Nodding a few more times, the kid clips his ski back on—well, Zane helps him since he’s trembling like a leaf—then skis down to his group .

“Are you okay?” Zane asks, his gaze softening the moment it falls on me.

“I’m fine,” I say with a chuckle. “So, it’s children that you eat for breakfast, huh?”

He stares at me for a second, then rips out a laugh. “Yup. You got me.”

After he helps me stand up and put my skis back on, we slide down to the chairlift. I’m happy to report that this lift is a lot easier to board than the drag lift. All you have to do is sit down when they shout at you to. Easy.

It’s a bit scarier, though, since you’re basically sitting on a bench suspended thirty or forty feet above the ground, your legs dangling. But it’s also a lot more spectacular given the stunning views.

“Can you even banish someone from the mountain?” I ask through a giggle, turning to Zane. Maybe he’s some sort of royalty here that I don’t know about.

He fights a smile. “Of course not.”

“Phew. I was starting to get anxious,” I say, shoving him in the side.

He scratches his beard. “I was that scary, huh?”

“A little bit,” I say with a laugh.

“Well, it was necessary,” he says, nodding. “That kid was a public hazard. ”

I laugh again, warmth spreading through me when I remember the way he protected me. In a shy voice, I ask, “Do you have plans this afternoon?”

“Why?”

“I have a snowmobile excursion booked at two, and then some snow tubing. It could be fun, if you want to come.”

He throws me a curious glance. “I don’t do tubing, sorry. Way too touristy.”

Flames of humiliation heat my cheeks. Right. Just because we went out together once doesn’t mean he wants to spend more time with me. My head is so messed up right now. Frankly, I don’t even want to go snowmobiling. It was Dan’s thing. I just thought that maybe, if Zane came . . . Never mind. “No worries. Just thought I’d ask.”

He rubs his jaw. “I like snowmobiles, though.”

I fight back a smile. “Sorry, you have to agree to the whole touristy package,” I tease, even though I’d honestly be happy to hang out with Zane either way.

He smirks, shaking his head. “You drive a tough bargain, Ivy. But I have to draw the line somewhere. If I were you, I’d reconsider, though. Might be a good idea to have a man tagging along. Snowmobiling isn’t for the faint of heart.”

“What makes you think I don’t own a motorcycle at home?” I ask, struggling not to strangle myself with a laugh that threatens to bubble up. The idea of me on a motorcycle is equal parts scary and ridiculous.

He laughs harder, and my stomach does a backflip. Who knew it was that skilled in acrobatics?

Zane’s bellowing laughter shakes the bench, and we’re suddenly wobbling a little too much for my taste.

“Uh-oh,” I say, instinctively gripping his arm.

His laugh dissolves, replaced by the frown he often sports. “You’re okay. We’re not going to fall,” he says, placing an arm around my shoulders. I freeze, unable to react or move an inch. It feels weird, but also nice to have his strong arm around me. I immediately feel safe, and my heartbeat slows. Letting out a long sigh, I say, “Thank you. That was kind of terrifying.”

I expect him to withdraw his arm, but he keeps it firmly in place, and I’m not about to complain. Being held by Zane is something else.

“So, have I made my case?” he asks, giving me a pointed look.

I roll my eyes, biting my lip to contain my smile. “Shut up.”

He chuckles, staring ahead to admire the view, and I do the same while simultaneously attempting to chase the butterflies out of my belly .

“I’m curious now,” he says as we’re approaching the top of the lift. “Do you own a motorcycle?”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “No, but that’s beside the point. Women are just as capable as men at handling heavy machinery.” Not that I’m personally interested, but still.

He nods. “I won’t argue with that. Belinda had one, and she would take us out on trips every weekend. It’s not as fun as sledding with the dogs, but it’s a close second. If you’ve never driven a motorcycle before, though, it can be a little scary, that’s all.”

Wow. Belinda sounds like a rockstar. “Fine, you can skip the tubing and come for the snowmobiling.” I cave, partly because I’ll take as much Zane time as I can, and partly because I wasn’t that into the idea of snowmobiling in the first place, and his comments only made it worse.

Zane

I had to stand my ground on tubing. What could be more touristy than barreling down the hill on an inner tube, giggling and screaming? I’m a local, a mountain man. That’s beneath me. I can’t be reduced to that level, but I almost caved and said yes. Ivy looked so hopeful and gorgeous. I have a feeling that refusing her anything is a major struggle. Or maybe it’s just me.

“My boy,” Belinda says, opening her front door. I told her I would stop by for lunch. “How are you, my boy?” She gives me a long hug, and I kiss her on the cheek.

“I’m good. Just finished a lesson. And you?”

“Fine, fine. Went down to Mrs. Carr’s to play cards this morning. We had fun.”

“Did you win?” I already know the answer. Belinda is a fierce sore loser, so if she says she had fun, it can only mean one thing.

“Of course I did,” she says with a laugh.

I follow her down to the kitchen, where the smell of smoked sausage one-pot casserole fills the room.

“Smells good in here.”

“Thank you,” she says, opening the lid to stir the pot’s contents. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes if you want to go outside to see Boomer.”

She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’ve known Boomer ever since I first started mushing. He was just a puppy at the time.

I slide the door to the back porch open, and Boomer stands up from his favorite corner when he sees me. He slowly hobbles toward me. Far gone are the times when he would scamper and jump all over me, and my heart constricts at the reminder.

“Hey, bud,” I say, scratching his face and petting him. He lies down and rolls onto his back. “Yeah. You like that, huh? You’re so handsome, aren’t you?”

He barks in response and gets up to lick my cheek.

I stay out there for a while, giving him some love and talking to him until Belinda calls out that lunch is ready.

We sit down to eat, and as always, the food is delicious. Belinda is an excellent cook. She tried to show me a trick or two, but I don’t have the patience for it.

“So, are you going on a ride this afternoon?” she asks.

I take a bite of moist, smoky sausage. “No. I’m going snowmobiling with a friend, actually.”

She shoots me a smirk. “A friend, huh?”

Here we go. I knew this was coming, but frankly, it’s better if I rip off the Band-Aid now. As long as Daisy isn’t here to add her grain of salt into it. I can’t seem to have friends when it comes to her.

“Yes.” I return her pointed look. “A friend.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Is she the same friend you took on a ride yesterday?”

“Yup,” I say, now purposefully avoiding her gaze.

“I thought you said she was a client,” Belinda says with an innocent tone .

“Well, that evolved into friendship, I guess. Or acquaintanceship? If that’s a thing.”

I can tell she’s trying to conceal her smile, which makes my pulse pound harder. Why is everyone so interested in my friendship—or acquaintanceship—with Ivy?

“I see. What’s her name?”

“Ivy,” I mutter, her name burning my lips. “She’s on vacation here from Florida.”

She frowns, putting her fork down to grab her glass. “Alone?”

“Yeah. From what I understand, it was supposed to be her honeymoon? But her fiancé bailed last minute.”

Belinda winces. “Poor girl.” With a softer voice, she adds, “Be careful, though. Someone who’s just passing through and who just got out of a complicated relationship isn’t someone you want to get involved with.”

I almost choke on a sausage. Tapping on my chest, I cough and wash it down with some water. “I’m not getting involved with anyone.”

“I’m just looking out for you, my boy.” She places her hand over mine. “Don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“I know,” I say, putting my other hand on top of hers. She’s always looked out for me, and I’m so lucky to have her in my life. “You have nothing to worry about. I’m just keeping Ivy company because she’s alone, that’s all. ”

Which is perfectly true. There’s nothing else going on. She’s my client—and my friend, I guess—but the evolution stops there. I remember all too well how a broken heart feels, and I’m not about to let that happen again.