Saving Grace (Love Under the Big Sky, #2.5)(5)

“And you’re full of the blarney,” I reply in a horrible Irish accent.

“That’s Ireland, darling. I’m from London. Okay, first thing’s first.”

“You never answered my question,” I interrupt him.

“Which one is that?”

“How long have you been doing this?”

He props his hands on his hips and squints his eyes in thought. “I’ve been skiing since I was four, but teaching since I was sixteen, so I guess almost twenty years.”

“They have a ski hill in London?”

“There are many ski resorts in Europe, darling.”

I shrug and watch as he walks away from me, his ass looking spectacular in those black ski pants. God, what he must do to a pair of jeans.

Did I just growl? Shit, I hope not.

“Okay, first we’re going to start with the snowplow.”

“The plow hasn’t been through here?” I glance around, looking for a big tractor. “If you plow the snow away, what will we ski on?”

“No, darling,” he laughs, pinching his nose between his thumb and finger. “The snowplow is how you’re going to slow down or stop when you need to.”

“Oh, okay.” I keep a death grip on my poles, determined not to fall. “How do I do it?”

“You’re going to point your toes in.” He demonstrates and I follow suit.

“This will make me stop?” I ask with doubt lacing my voice.

“It will.”

“What next?”

“Put your poles up.”

“No, they’re helping me stay standing.”

“Grace, put your poles in front of you so I can pull you and you can snowplow for real.”

“I’m good where I am.”

“Grace.” His voice is firm but tender. “You won’t fall.”

I raise the poles and watch my feet.

“Head up. You have to watch where you’re going.”

“I’m not going anywhere right now.”

Jacob moves to me and tilts my head up. “You have to watch what’s around you when you ski. Your feet are fine. They’ll go where your toes are pointed.”

“Okay.”

He moves directly in front of me and grips the poles.

“Keep your skis parallel for now and in a moment, move into the snowplow to slow down.”

He walks backward, pulling me. My eyes widen and I let out a squeak, but amazingly, I stay upright.

“Beautiful, Grace.” He grins and watches my form. “Okay, point your toes.”

I follow his direction, and just like he said I would, I stop.

“It worked!”

“Of course it did. Okay, now we’re going to go over here where there’s a bit of a slope and you can try it for real.”

I nod and firm my chin. I can do this.

“After you loosen up,” he says. “You’re too stiff. If you do fall, you’ll get hurt. This is fun, darling. Keep your hips and arms loose.”

I take a deep breath and shake my arms and hips, and suddenly, my skis slip and I feel myself start to fall, but strong arms wrap around me, holding me up.

“Maybe not that loose, now,” he says with a laugh.

And for the next hour, he shows me how to walk sideways, stop, take the skis on and off, and all of the other simple things I’ll need to know.

“Okay, I think I’ve mastered this.” I sniff, my nose drippy from the cold air. “I love the cold.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it feels good to have cold cheeks and to breathe in the chilly air. I love living here.”

“Well, then, this sport is perfect for you.”

“You’re a good teacher, you know.”

He takes a glove off and pushes his hand through his hair and I suddenly ache to be the one to do that for him. The man has seriously touchable hair. “Of course, it takes one to know one.”

“You’re a teacher, are you?”

“Aye, I am,” I reply in a horrible Scottish brogue.

“I’m not from Scotland, love.” His green eyes dance with laughter as he shakes his head at me. “What do you teach?”

“I’ve taught fourth grade for close to six years.”

“Did you skip school today to hang out with me?” He helps me snap off the skis and leads me to the chairlift.

“No, I had meetings this morning, and the rest of the day off. Are we going up the chairlift now?”

“Yes, but just the bunny hill today, I’m afraid.”

“I’m okay with the bunny hill. I work with ten-year-olds every day, so I’ll be among my people.” He helps me get situated on the lift. “How did you choose this for a career?”

He frowns, and looks like he’s about to admit something to me, but he shakes his head and says, “I have always loved the snow. My family took many winter holidays and those were always my favorites.”

I nod and watch the trees pass beneath us.

“I love your enthusiasm,” Jacob murmurs. “You’re a beautiful woman, Grace.”

“Thank you,” I whisper, unsure what else to say.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t,” I immediately respond.