Kylie watched nervously as Ryan looked at her prosthetic foot. She was used to showing people, at least, she had been before she’d moved to Bearstone Park, unable to stand the pitying glances from her family. They’d been fine with her doing nothing. With her sitting at home and having no expectations other than living on the generous settlement she’d gotten from the lawsuit they’d had to bring against the trucking company.

One semi-truck, one icy road, and one missing foot later, and Kylie had suddenly felt like the world was ending. She’d been a teen and it had seemed catastrophic. When she’d first gotten her prosthesis, it had been painful and tiring to stand and walk, and she’d wondered how she could still be a teacher or any of the other things she’d dreamt of being.

Her family had been understanding. Too understanding. Don’t push yourself, Kylie. Don’t overdo it, Kylie. It had gotten old and had only heightened her sense of despair.

So she’d moved as soon as she was eighteen. She’d looked up the most remote place she could vacation, somewhere that had nothing to do with her old life. Somewhere on one knew what she had lost. She’d come to rent a cabin in Bearstone Park, and there, in the mountains, she’d gotten to know herself again. She’d gotten to know her friends, and she’d been accepted by the community and the children.

She’d been here eight years.

She waited for Ryan to say something. It had been a long time since she showed someone, and it was uncomfortable showing the man she’d been pursuing for so long such a private part of herself.

Would he feel that she’d been hiding something? She just hadn’t wanted to be treated different. She’d told Janna and Leslie that and they’d done an admirable job of pretending nothing was different. Part of that was they didn’t go telling people about her. They let her decide. After all, it wasn’t the most important part of who she was. Not by half.

But it was important at times like this, when she wanted to show someone she cared about that life wasn’t over just because of an injury.

The look he gave her was full of shock, but not pity, much to her relief. She could tell it was the last thing he’d expected of her.

She rolled her sock back up and pulled her jeans down and plopped on the side of the bed, allowing him a moment to adjust to the new knowledge about her. She hoped it wouldn’t completely change how he saw her. In a way, it was good she was no longer pursuing him, because it would have been harder to show him then. It would have been harder to allow him time to adjust and not care how he took it or what he said.

She still cared a little.

How could she not? He was gorgeous. Even lying here on the bed, rumpled and grumpy, he took her breath away with his long, muscled, athlete’s body. In a way, he also had an invisible injury. He wasn’t hiding it, but it wasn’t something anyone could see. She figured that was part of why he was messing up the room around him and making such obvious cries for help by not leaving his bed and not taking care of himself.

Well, she wasn’t here to take care of him. She was just here to show him he could take care of himself. He just needed to want to do so.

“How long have you had it?” he asked.

It was an odd thing to ask. She was more use to people asking how she’d lost her foot rather than asking how long she’d had it. “Ten years.”

“How old were you?”

She smiled at him. “You shouldn’t ask a woman’s age.”

He eyed her foot and then met her eyes with that clear, crystal blue gaze that made it hard to breathe. Made her heart speed up to triple its usual speed. “I feel like it’s a little late for secrets between us.”

“I was sixteen.”

“You’re twenty-six?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How old were you when you moved to Bearstone Park?” he asked.

“It was eight years ago.”

“So, when you turned eighteen. How did you become a teacher?”

“I did an online bachelor’s in education. But the requirements in this district are really low for substitutes. I mean, there aren’t a lot of options.”

“True,” he said. “Did you always want to be a teacher?”

She blinked. It was odd to have him suddenly asking questions about her. He’d never done that before. She had a fake foot, so she was suddenly interesting? “Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

“You shocked me,” he said. “That’s rare. Now I find myself off guard and wanting to know more so that I can feel less off balance.”

She laughed and he waved a hand for her to join him fully on the bed. She scooted back until her back met the headboard, but kept a few feet between them on the massive king bed. She didn’t think she could deal with being close to him right now. His effect on her was too powerful.

“So how is your head feeling?” she asked. “Is it healing okay?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“You don’t sound happy about it.”

“I missed the X Games,” he said, wadding up a chip bag that was between them and throwing it off the side of the bed. He was flushing slightly, like he was suddenly embarrassed of the mess. He needn't worry though, she couldn’t think ill of him if she tried.

Even when he’d made it clear as crystal that he wasn’t interested, he’d been there for her. Been a gentleman, even been a date at her friend’s weddings.

“There will be more X Games,” she said.

“Not for me. Not if I do what I’m supposed to.”

“Really? But you seem fine.”

His face took on a dark expression. “As you know, fine isn’t always visible.”

She shook her head. “No, don’t put me in the not-fine category. I didn’t show you that because I wanted you to see that I’m not fine. I have an awesome life. Even better than it ever was before the accident. And you can too. You just have to adjust your expectations. For instance, I have great friends, but I’m never going to be an awesome snowboarder.”

“Why not?” he asked.

“But you on the other hand, you still have money, brains, and so much talent. Even if you don’t go back to the games, you have medals, trophies, and the skills that would make you an incredible coach if you can pull yourself out of this awful shell you’ve encased yourself in.”

“I guess I have been wallowing in self-pity a bit, but you didn’t answer my question,” he said, eyeing her with an odd gleam in those blue eyes. For the first time since she’d come in, he seemed genuinely interested in something.

“What question?”

“Why not?”

“Why not what? Stop being cryptic.”

“Fancy words, teach. Why can’t you be a snowboarder?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“There are snowboarders with double prosthetic limbs. I don’t see why we can’t at least try it. In fact, I’d be happy to teach you, unless you’re afraid.”

She swallowed, pushing away the excitement that arose at the prospect of hitting the mountains not only with the hot guy that she’d been practically stalking, but with a world champion in a sport she’d always loved watching but had thought was beyond her. Still, she hesitated.

He exhaled hoarsely and sat back, arms behind his head. “No, you’re right. Not a good idea. I don’t know your limitations, and I’d be a crappy teacher right now anyway.”

“Would it be safe for you to go out on the snow with me?”

He shrugged. “It’s just teaching. We’ll be on bunny hills. I can’t imagine even my brothers would have a problem with that.”

“Overprotective?” she asked.

“Of their secrets, yes. And I guess they do care.”

“You should have seen them when you first got back,” she said. “They were all worried out of their minds.”

“So what do you think?” he asked, turning to her with that dimple in his cheek that she never saw turned her way before. His blue eyes were glowing. Should she really agree to this? She’d never thought about being able to go up the mountain like that. But if there was anyone who could show her, it’d be him. But she didn’t want to risk him being injured.

But the longer she thought about it, the more the excitement in his gaze seemed to fade. Then he sat back against the headboard.

“Never mind,” he said, folding his arms. “It was a bad idea.”

“No,” she said. “It wasn’t. I just…I don’t know if I’m ready. I hadn’t thought…”

He eyed her impatiently, waiting for her to make up her mind. She wasn’t even worried about the snowboarding anymore. She was more worried that spending that much time with him was just going to result in falling in love with him all over again, when she knew she couldn’t have him. Even now, he was only offering to help out of pity.

But it was pulling him out of his shell. It was probably the first time he’d mentioned leaving the house. Sometimes helping someone else was exactly what you needed in order to move on from your own suffering. And she wanted to give him that.

So she nodded.

His grin spread, so bright she almost felt she had to shield her gaze against it. Like the sun. “Great, we’ll start tomorrow.”

She nodded, smiled, and swallowed nervously. She hoped learning to snowboard was hard enough to distract her from spending hours a day with this devastatingly handsome, perfect man.

She doubted it.

---

She was wrong. Snowboarding was agony.

But at least Ryan seemed happy. He had his hands on his hips and was surveying the mountainside as she tried to crawl toward him from where she’d fallen getting off the lift. No matter how much he told the lift operator to slow the approach, she couldn’t seem to balance on the board with one foot buckled in and one foot out. He, on the other hand, skated gracefully down the hill as if it was second nature.

“Don’t worry,” he’d told her. “Some people do this for years and still fall getting off the lift. It’s way easier on skis. But you’ll get it. I’ll stick with you until you do.”

He was a natural teacher. At least, he would be when he stopped letting her crawl around and helped her up. As if he heard her slightly bitter thoughts, he skated over to her and sat down next to her to do up her bindings. She looked down over the bunny hill, which probably looked easy to him but looked like frozen death to her.

“Okay,” he said. “Another run.”

“Do I have to?” she asked sulkily, staring at her bindings. They’d been going for hours, and she wondered if everyone did this for hours on their first day. Or maybe she was just being a weenie. Maybe she was more out of shape than she’d thought. He’d worked with some snowboarding contacts to help her order boots and a special prosthesis, and he’d been as excited as a little kid when it had come in.

“Yes,” he said, teasing her with another dimpled grin. “But you can do it. You’re tough.”

“Humph,” she said.

“It was hard at first for me, too. Snowboarding has a harsh learning curve.”

“Sure,” she said.

“But it’s been half a day. Let’s get you linking turns.”

“I keep falling,” she said.

“Because you’re not looking where you’re going. When you look, you turn your body with you.”

“Right,” she said. “Says the guy that seems to naturally float.”

“Pros are supposed to make things look easy,” he said. “That’s why they’re pros.”

She muttered something under her breath and he laughed, though he couldn’t possibly have heard her.

“All right grumpy, let me know when you’re ready to go. I could stay up here all day.”

“Right,” she said, knowing he absolutely meant it. She was starting to realize how little she knew him, since she’d only known the Ryan that existed off of the mountain, not the one on it. And this was a huge part of who he was. He was so happy here.

She couldn’t help feeling happy too. She loved being in the outdoors and trying something new. Especially with a beautiful man. She’d been holding back with men for a long time. Maybe she’d known Ryan was sort of unavailable, and that had played a part in her going after him.

No, it was that hot face and body, that cocky grin when he pulled off a trick, and that possessive gaze he gave her sometimes when he thought she wasn’t looking. There was definitely something between them, though he’d always denied it, and now that he was focused on helping her, touching her often to help with drills, she was surer than ever.

That chemistry between them, he had to feel it too.

She shivered as he leaned over her to do the bindings on the other side. He was so broad, so wide through the shoulders, that he felt like he completely sheltered her from behind. She missed his warmth when he pulled back and closed his eyes and tilted his face to feel the sunlight streaming from the cold, blue sky above.

“A perfect day,” he said. He looked at her. “A perfect partner.”

She blinked, trying not to let her mouth fall open at that unexpected exclamation. He leaned in before she could stop him, and she felt his breath, knew he was close even as she looked straight ahead, wondering what he was going to do. He placed a soft kiss on her cheek and she let out a little gasp of shock. His lips were warm and sent fire shooting right through her, all the way to her toes.

“Thanks for getting me out here,” he whispered against her ear, as she stayed bolt straight. “It means a lot to have you.”

She looked at him, wondering what that meant. “Huh?”

He pushed to a standing position and then pulled her up, helping her get into a balanced position. “You know, as a friend. It’s good to have someone I can relate to.” Then he let her go and started down the mountain. And the scamp had pointed her so that she was headed that way too.

She didn’t know which made her madder. That he’d tricked her into starting the run with him, or that he’d ruined a perfectly good moment by saying the word “friends”.

She watched his back sway as he gently carved down the front of the hill and stopped, spraying snow in an arc as he pushed the board out behind him and balanced on it, facing her with folded arms.

“Your turn,” he called, as she slowly made her first turn. She jumped at his voice and face planted for a millionth time that day, and cursed him for his teasing and the way her legs were still shaking, either from exhaustion or from that unexpected kiss. The only physicality that had happened between them.

Had she ever even been kissed by a man in that way?

She touched her cheek but could hear him yelling at her to go again. She stood with a grim focus. Damn, she would become the best snowboarder in the world if it meant shutting him up. For a moment he’d been the helpless one, the one who needed someone, but now he was back in control. A coach, an athlete, a taskmaster.

A friend.

A friend who kissed her on the cheek and made her body heat to a thousand degrees. She stood and pointed her board determinedly down the hill, headed straight for him. Saw admiration in his eyes as she coasted on one edge and then bravely pressed down on her heels and turned to the other. When she pressed down on her toes and completed another turn, she yelped with shock and met his eyes, which were coming close. Too close.

She fell forward but he caught her in strong arms, and they went to the ground together, clashing in a pile of boards and snow clothing.

When they recovered, he was holding her atop him, ignoring the weight of her light board over his legs. He looked up into her eyes with a gaze that was impossibly blue. So vivid, reflecting the bright winter sky.

Heat burned between them, and she could see the excitement in his eyes for her achievement of linking three turns. Or was it a different kind of excitement? His hands were under her armpits, holding her like she weighed nothing. He sat up and set her in front of him. He let out a pent up breath and she continued to look into his eyes.

This was about more than snowboarding. He knew who she really was, and she was finally seeing him in the same way. And this was the first thing they’d overcome together, and the moment, combined with their attraction, just felt like too much.

“Ryan,” she said. “Thanks for teaching me. I really appreciate—”

But she didn’t get to finish. Because there, under a frozen sunny sky, Ryan gave Kylie her first real kiss.