Cinderella in Skates (16 page)

"But Daddy," the kid's whining. "I'm bored of this lame hill. I wanna do the bigger ones."
 

His father glances over at him. "We will, Jackson, but first we have to teach Cameron how to get down this slope. Then I'll take you on the mountain we skied last week."
 

"The blue square," the kid insists.
 

I shoot a glance at Shane, who's clearly overhead the same conversation and is trying not to laugh.
 

"Great," I mutter. So much for not getting irritated.

"Oh stop," he says. "This is Wisconsin. It's what we do."
 

"Turn into champion skiers before third grade?"

He grins. "I'll have you caught up to that little guy's level in no time."
 

I sigh. "Okay. What do I do?"

Shane launches into an explanation of how I should go down the hill and I try to pay attention but nothing he says makes a whole lot of sense.

"Got that?" he asks, and I snap to attention.

"Oh. Um, yep."
 

I don't, but he doesn't need to know that. If the little kid can get bored of the bunny hill that quickly, I'm pretty sure I'll have it mastered in a trip or two.

"Then let's go," he says, and with that, he's off on his way down the hill. I watch him for a few seconds before I push off with my poles and expect smooth cruising.
 

I try to do the whole knees-together-feet-firm thing that he talked about before but it's hard to remember all of the details when there are people flying around everywhere and I'm afraid I'm going to crash into them. Or a pine tree.
 

And the next thing I know, my skis have crossed each other one more time and I land on my butt. Hard.

Shane's already at the bottom of the hill watching me while I'm struggling to get back on my feet.

I give up and sink back down into the hard, wet snow, waiting for him to get over here and help me.
 

While I'm still there, the little kid, his father and the even younger son all go sailing by me, laughing and cheering as the smallest child masters his baby pair of skis.
 

I let out a sigh.

Maybe skiing is just one winter sport too many for this Arizona girl.
 

***
 

I'm cold.
 

I'm wet.

I'm not sure I'll ever feel my toes again.

I look over at the gorgeous guy next to me with the great smile and wavy blonde hair and dorky purple ski beanie.
 

And you know what?
 

I don't care about everything that's going wrong.
 

I'm happy anyway because all of the important stuff is right.
 

By the time we sit down in the lodge for an early -- very early; it's just after four o'clock -- dinner, the only things I really want to do are shower and curl up in a heap of blankets in front of the Stanford's fireplace.

Shane had convinced me after my first spill on the bunny slope that I shouldn't give up so fast. He said he knew there was a Wisconsin girl in me waiting to break out and you know something?

He wasn't totally wrong.

I'm nothing close to a champion skier and I'm sure I never will be, but after I got the hang of the bunny hill, he'd taken me over to a green circle trail for beginners, and I'd managed to get all the way down to the bottom once without injuring myself, someone else or any wildlife.

We'd both decided it was a pretty good way to end our day on the slopes.

"The seafood's really good here," Shane says, not bothering to pick up one of the menus the waiter left on the table.

"Seafood?" I wrinkle my nose, and he laughs.

"Not a fan?"
 

"I grew up in the desert. That's not exactly by the ocean."
 

"No excuse. Wisconsin isn't seaside, either."
 

I shrug. "Just never tried it, really."
 

"Tonight's a good time to start."
 

"I think I've had enough firsts for one day."
 

"I think that's exactly why you should do it." He smiles sweetly at me from across the table.
 

I reach for the menu and glance at the delicious-sounding list of burgers and steaks and salads before I force myself to look over at the seafood section.

Salmon. Crab cakes. Tuna. Lobster. I can't keep my top lip from curling upward and my eyes from drifting back to the barbecue bacon cheddar burger topped with cooked onions.
 

"Oh, get the burger," Shane says.

I look up at him through narrowed eyes. "I wasn't thinking about that."
 

He raises an eyebrow. "Liar."
 

"I am not," I say defiantly. "In fact, I was just looking at the...pecan-encrusted crab cakes and green beans."
 

Shane smirks like he knows I'm full of crap. Which I pretty much am.
 

"Great choice," he says, reaching over and plucking the menu from my hands. He folds it closed on top of the one he never touched and smiles at me.
 

I try not to sigh.

Our waitress comes over then, and I indicate Shane should order first -- filet of salmon with a baked potato -- and when she turns her attention to me, I take a deep breath.

"I'll have the barbecue bacon burger, please," I say in a rush. "Cheddar cheese, medium well. Fries are good. Thanks."
 

The waitress looks at me funny for a second before scribbling my order in her notebook and walking away. I go straight for a sip of my water without meeting Shane's eyes.

When I finally look up, I see he's watching me with a bemused expression on his face.

"Called it," he says.

"Oh, whatever. I like what I like."
 

He grins. "Promise you'll try a bite of my fish?"
 

"Deal."
 

Shane leans back in his chair. "So what do you think?" He pauses for a second, then clarifies before my mind can start wondering just what he's getting at. "About skiing, I mean."
 

"Pretty sure I've lost all permanent feeling in my butt, but other than that, I'd probably do it again."
 

"Uh oh, I hope not."
 

"
You
hope not," I say. "I'm the one who doesn't even know she's sitting down right now."
 

He laughs. "I guess that's a good point, but if I'm ever going to get you on skis again, I don't want to send you home damaged."
 

"Oh, you want to take me out again?"

"I think we have to work on those skills."
 

"I'm not so sure I'm cut out for skiing," I admit. "Maybe I should stick with hockey."
 

"You trying to tell me something about my abilities as a ski teacher?"
 

I tilt my head to one side. "Well, now that you mention it, I'm pretty sure I'm not about to make any ski team rosters anytime soon."
 

"You might be right about that."
 

"I usually am."
 

He grins. "And modest, too. Are all the Arizona girls like you?"
 

I shake my head. "No chance. This right here is all unique, baby."
 

"That's what I'm afraid of."
 

We're smiling these dopey smiles at each other over the small table in the lodge's restaurant and maybe it's the adrenaline from the day or just being near each other like this, but suddenly Shane is on his feet, hands pressing down onto the edges of the table. He's leaning over the small candle flickering in the middle of the table, leaning over the plates and the napkins, and he's pressing his lips against mine.

Right there at our table in the restaurant.
 

And I kiss him back.
 

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

It's dark by the time we leave the restaurant and Shane pilots us back to his family's cabin on his snow mobile. He'd insisted on dessert, which is something I hadn't had while eating out since I was a little kid, but it somehow seems perfect -- right -- tonight.
 

I'm not afraid of the ride back through the forest and up the mountain tonight. I'm still holding tight to Shane but I don't feel the need to close my eyes and pray. I know I'm safe with him.

The snow-packed lanes through the pine trees is especially beautiful with the moonlight and stars brightening the path and I can't look away.

As we get closer to his cabin, I realize -- for the first time all day -- that his friends hadn't joined us on the slopes. I guess that isn't weird though; he'd mentioned that they were all pretty good skiers and a day of bunny slopes and green circle trails probably didn't float their fancy.

Fine by me. They hadn't been all that friendly last night anyway and I'd rather just hang out with Shane by myself. I'm glad I had the day with him; pretty sure tonight's going to be another one with us playing cards or dominoes or whatever the others want to do.

Shane pulls the snow mobile back around the cabin and stops in front of the shed. I climb off and hand him the googles. He looks at me and grins.

"What?" I ask.
 

He shakes his head.
 

"No, really. What? Is there something on my face?"

He just smiles and brings the snow mobile into the shed, leaving me standing there wiping at my cheeks.
 

He comes back out, secures the padlock on the two doors and takes my hand as we walk back toward the cabin together.

I hurry straight upstairs to shower and change into warm, thick and -- most importantly -- dry sweatpants. I glance in the bathroom mirror before I jump under the steaming water and see that there's a deep red groove framing my eyes where the goggles had rested, and I realize that's what Shane had been laughing at when I'd taken them off before.
 

I step into the hot stream of water and let it wash over me as I play over the events of the day, from Shane making bacon and eggs as the sun came up to his patience with me as I stumbled and grumbled my way down the bunny hill.
 

It's been a perfect day, start to finish, one of the best I can remember having.
 

And you want to know the weird part about it?

It came when I was living in Wisconsin.
 

***
 

I head downstairs dressed in thick sweatpants and a Phoenix Coyotes sweatshirt, hair still wet, half an hour later.

Shane's sitting at the kitchen table with his parents but looks up and smiles when he sees me.
 

"Natalie!" Mr. Melter follows his son's gaze. "How'd you enjoy your first day on the slopes?"
 

"It was interesting," I say truthfully. "But I'd do it again."
 

"Well, that's half the battle," he replies in a hearty voice, a nearly empty mug of beer resting on the table in front of him. Mrs. Stanford grins to herself as she stirs a pot of pasta on the stove.
 

Shane stands. "Let's go out back," he says to me.
 

I'm afraid he's going to suggest we sit in the hot tub like we wanted to last night and I'm going to have to tell him that there's no chance I'm about to take off these warm comfy clothes and replace them with a bathing suit.
 

Instead, I follow him to the opposite end of the deck and down a small flight of steps.
 

"Leave your shoes here," he tells me, sliding out of his sneakers and kicking them up against the cabin. I slip off my boots and tuck the socks inside them.

"You better have a reason for this," I tell him as my toes sink into the snowy ground, and I'm reasonably sure I'm going to get frostbite and my feet will fall off.

"Relax," he says. "Come on."
 

We walk a few yards away from the house and the next thing I know, the ground under me isn't cold and snowy anymore but warm and sandy.

"What...?"
 

"It's our fire pit. Here, sit." He leads me over to a couch nestled in the sand. There's another one opposite it, and two chairs on each side forming something of a circle around a big, well, fire pit.

I curl up onto the couch, freezing, and wishing he'd told me to grab a jacket before we came outside. He grabs some logs from a pile off to the edge of the sand and carries them back over to the cylinder in the middle.

"Do you need help with those?"
 

He looks over at me and smiles. "I got it."

And he does. Within a few minutes, flames shoot out of the pit and I'm almost instantly warmer.
 

He reaches into a bench behind the couch and comes back with a blanket that he hands to me.
 

"Should've done that first," he says as he helps me tuck it under my legs. "Better?"

I nod, my teeth no longer chattering uncontrollably. "This is nice."

"It is," he agrees. "Almost as nice as the hot tub."
 

As if on cue, his friends come out of the house then and immediately climb into the steaming water at the other end of the deck.
 

"I knew they'd do that," he goes on. "That's why I thought this would be better."

"It's great."
 

Neither of us says anything for a few minutes as I get lost in watching the yellows, oranges and reds of the flame licking at the darkness of the night sky.
 

"Do you really think I can do this?" I ask quietly, not taking my eyes off the fire.

"The hockey thing?" he replies. "Of course. You're already on the team."
 

I love that he immediately knows I'm talking about hockey. "Not just that. Starting. Taking Erica's spot."