Riding in the sled was worse than I thought. It took twenty minutes for ski patrol to show up, then they insisted on strapping me to the sled while everyone—including Blake’s obnoxious groupies—watched. They drove so slowly that kids snowplowing down the bunny hill could have passed us, and by the time we reached the medical center I was ready to pretend my knee was fine so they’d let me go.
I texted Dad after Blake convinced me to call ski patrol, and now he’s pacing behind me inside the med center while a guy in an official red ski jacket appraises my knee. My snow pants are shoved as high up my leg as I can get them, but they keep sliding down. Red Jacket touches his chin before making eye contact with Dad. “Snow pants have to go.”
A fresh wave of humiliation sweeps over me. Of all the days to wear long underwear with frolicking bunnies. I unsnap my snow pants and shimmy them to my ankles, then slide the bunnies over a knee that is considerably larger than it was when I got dressed this morning.
“Christ, Cally.” Dad forces out a deep breath and rests a hand on my shoulder. “What were you trying to do?”
If I admit I was upside-down without an adult within fifty feet he might not let me out of his sight the rest of the vacation. “Nothing crazy. Just my usual three-sixty. I caught an edge when I landed.”
Red Jacket pokes my knee and I suck in a breath.
Please don’t let it be serious.
“Looks like a mild sprain. There’s a med center in town that can tell you for sure, but I suggest you stay off it for a few days.”
I whip around and face Dad. “A few days? That’s our entire trip!”
He squeezes my shoulders. “You don’t want to risk a serious injury, do you?” That’s Dad for you. Always logical, thinking long-term instead of immediate gratification. “Don’t think of it as ruining your vacation. Think of it as an opportunity to...” he trails off.
I sigh as Red Jacket unrolls an Ace bandage. “Even Mr. Positive can’t come up with a way to spin to this.”
Red Jacket finishes wrapping my knee, then slides the bunnies back down, covering my leg. “Could be worse. It could be broken.” He glances toward a closet in the corner of the room. “We’ve got some old crutches you can use.”
I grasp the waistband of my snow pants and yank them back on, ignoring the flash of heat that grips my knee. “No, thanks.” Dad slides an arm under my shoulder and helps me to my feet.
Red Jacket gives a half wave. “Suit yourself. Take it easy out there.”
I roll my eyes. Didn’t he just tell me not to ski anymore? I’m still looking at the ceiling when Dad stops so suddenly that I nearly lose my balance. “What the—”
“Excuse me,” Dad says.
Blake is leaning against the doorjamb just outside the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, goggles still flipped on top of his helmet. He pushes himself upright when he sees us, his gaze bouncing between me and Dad. “Cally, hey. How’s your knee?”
Dad quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Dad, this is Blake. He rescued me from near death.”
His eyebrow rises even higher. It’s not like me to admit I need rescuing, especially from a guy.
“Okay, not near death. But certain crushing from a boarder.”
Dad’s face relaxes and he gives Blake a once-over. “Blake, thank you for saving my heart’s delight from certain board crushing.”
Blake flushes. Dad and I have been like two peas in a pod since Mom died seven years ago, and not everyone knows how to handle our schtick. “Yes, sir. I mean, you’re welcome. I’m glad I was there.”
Dad releases my arm and watches as I put pressure on my bum leg. Blake seems abnormally interested in my ability to balance, and while I try to play it off, Dad notices. He looks me in the eye, silently asking what I want.
“Can I stay here? In the lodge?”
“You need to ice your knee.”
“I’ll get ice in the lodge.”
“And an ice bath later.”
I nod.
“Do you promise to stay there? At least for today?”
I criss-cross my finger over my chest. “I promise.”
“Text every half hour.”
This time I salute.
Dad points his finger at me the way he has since the first time I rode my bike to a friend’s house when I was eight. To anyone else it looks like he’s scolding me, but really he’s projecting all the worry he’s carried with him since Mom died. He smiles at Blake before walking away, and calls over his shoulder. “Behave.” He’s said it a million times, but this is the first time I’ve blushed.
That one little word implies so much when you’re standing next to a hottie.
“What are you doing—”
“Do you want to—”
Blake and I speak at the same time and I swear my cheeks are so hot I won’t need a coat the rest of the day. I smile. “You first.”
Blake steps closer to my side and starts to touch my arm, then hesitates. He lowers his lashes and his dimple winks at me. “I owe you a hot chocolate.”
How did I forget that? Sophia is right. I am an idiot when it comes to boys. Guys-guys—the ones I play sports with and who first taught me to jump—I can handle. It’s this flirty-blushy-sweaty thing I’m not used to.
I link my arm through his. “This better be some damn good hot chocolate. That ride was beyond shameful.” He laughs, pulling my arm tighter against his body, and my heart pitter-patters.
It actually pitter-patters.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“Are you sure you can walk?”
I shrug. “We’re about to find out.” But when I put pressure on it I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from yelping.
Slope Rule #2: Never let them see that you’re hurt.
My heroics don’t go unnoticed. He disentangles his arm from mine, steps in front of me, and squats.
“What are you—”
“Let me carry you.”
I take a step back. Well, really, I waddle backwards, but the result is the same.
“Cally, I won’t stop pestering you until I know you’re safe inside the lodge.”
The smile falls from my face. I don’t move.
He looks up at me and his face grows serious. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, trying to ignore the sinking feeling sliding around my heart. Of course he’s just being nice. If I saw someone biff it after landing on their head, I’d probably stick around to make sure they don’t need to go to the hospital, too. But that doesn’t mean he’s interested in me. Guys don’t see me that way.
“Did you change your mind about the hot chocolate?” His eyebrows furrow, making his blue eyes seem darker.
“No, I just... I’m sure you need to get back to your friends.”
He turns toward the mountain and shields his face with his hand. “They seem fine.”
A laugh escapes me. “You can’t even see them.”
He raises a shoulder. “Don’t need to. So, hot chocolate?”
Fourteen different replies get jammed up in my throat. I choose one that I hope is flirty enough to get Sophia’s approval. “How can I resist a guy willing to throw out his back for me?”
Blake locks eyes with me, lips parted, then he smiles so big it’s like the sun’s bouncing off his teeth—one of which is perfectly non-perfect, chipped just enough to give him character—and I have to blink to stop myself from staring. “Come on.” He resumes his squat and I hesitate before wrapping an arm around his neck. He puts one arm behind my back and slides the other beneath my knees, and in one motion I’m in the air, not quite sure how I ended up in the arms of this gorgeous guy who I’ve known for barely half an hour.
One thing’s for sure: I’m texting Sophia as soon as I get inside.