CHAPTER FIVE
Georgia was full of good ideas these days, wasn’t she?
Because Deanna was still sick—ended up she had a bad case of the flu complete with stomach issues, a fever, and muscle pain—Georgia had decided to venture off and hit the slopes on her own after the dull headache from the previous night’s festivities had worn off. Problem was she’d only ever been skiing a handful of times. Even so, the hills she’d skied before looked like bunny hills compared to the ones at Mountain Ridge.
She dropped her ski poles and dropped down onto her ass, content to sit off to the side of the ski run and enjoy the epic view of the Sierras for a while.
The whole skiing thing wasn’t working out for her. Sort of similar to how the whole trying-to-kiss-Everett thing hadn’t really worked out, either. What the hell had she been thinking? He was Deanna’s cousin and she wasn’t even sure she’d be staying in town. Plus, he was clearly emotionally unavailable. Georgia huffed out a sigh and let her upper half fall back into the snow so that she could stare up into dark, gray clouds above.
She was going to have to face him sooner or later. Georgia would have to swallow her pride, not to mention her embarrassment, and apologize. That was going to be fun. Not. Hopefully he’d have enough sense not to disclose their little transgression to Deanna.
Georgia watched the clouds drift by and relaxed her sore muscles. She’d forgotten how exhausting skiing could be. Especially when she’d had to haul herself up off the snow every few minutes. Though she was fit overall, her body was tired and her muscles ached. And maybe she was a wee bit frustrated that she couldn’t seem to ski more than ten feet without falling on her ass.
She let her eyelids drift closed. The sound of skiers skiing down the mountain floated into her consciousness, and the chill from the snow below her back seeped through her coat.
After a few minutes, she decided that it was time to try to make her way to the bottom again, but not before a deep voice sounded a few feet away.
“Are you injured?”
She opened her eyes, squinting briefly at the light before Everett’s face popped into focus.
“Oh, Georgia. It’s you.” He looked down at her, a wrinkle between his eyebrows. No trace of the horror he seemed to have felt last night when she’d put her lips on his. “Are you all right?”
Great. This keeps getting better and better.
She blew a breath out. “I’m fine. Just resting. Frustration had me in need of a break,” she admitted then sat up.
He chuckled with no trace of the awkwardness she had been expecting. “I take it you’re not an avid skier?” He slid back on his skis, seemingly to give her more space.
“You could say that. South Carolina isn’t really known for its skiing.” Georgia shrugged and then gracelessly used her ski poles to manoeuvre herself up to her feet.
Everett extended a hand to help her, but she ignored it.
“I was heading down the slope,” he explained, “and I saw you lying there and thought maybe you’d been hurt.”
“Nope. Not unless you can die of embarrassment.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “About last night—”
He waved it off. “Don’t even mention it. You’d had a lot to drink. Consider it forgotten.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
For the first time that day, she really took him in. He was wearing black ski pants and a red jacket with a white plus sign on the front. His ski helmet matched his jacket, and he’d pushed his goggles up on top of it. The five-o’clock shadow was gone, and the cold air had tinged his cheeks pink.
“You’re on the ski patrol?” Duh. Way to state the obvious.
“Yeah. They were looking for someone when I decided to spend some time in Hope Falls. I’ve been doing it since I moved here.”
“I suppose that’s a good way to spend the day if you actually enjoy skiing,” she quipped.
He laughed into his glove. “You’re not up for the challenge this mountain poses, I take it?”
Georgia leveled him with a what-was-your-first-clue? look. “Not so much. The few hills I’ve been on in the past have nothing on this place. I’m not sure whether I’m afraid I’ll break my neck and never make it to the bottom or barrel down the thing and not know how to stop when I get there.”
“You probably shouldn’t have even been up here with that leg anyway.” He used his ski pole to gesture to the knee she’d hurt yesterday.
“It’s just a bruise. I’m not going to let that stop me from what I want to do.”
“All right, then. Why don’t I show you the best way to ski down this run?”
Pride warred with discomfort. Both made her want to tell him that she was fine and could do it on her own, but the truth was she wasn’t sure she could. The afternoon was rolling on, and Georgia didn’t want to be stuck on the mountain once the sun started going down.
In light of the fact that she had no other options, she shrugged. “Sure. Why not?” It would give her a chance to prove to herself that she was able to be around him without her lips accidently falling against his. Right?