Page 22 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas

“Who are you talking to?” said a voice behind him.

He whirled about with a gasp, prepared to fight whoever had snuck up on him, and froze with his fist upraised. Standing at the edge of the woods, staring at him with a frown on her face, was a woman. In the moonlight, he could just make out her rugged features.

“What areyoudoing here?” he demanded.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Elena replied swiftly. “Taking off in the middle of the night? You’ve never done that before. I was taking a walk through the village and saw you hop over the fence.”

“Iknewthere was someone following me when I left the village.” He stifled a curse, letting out a sigh instead. “Look, I just came out here to stretch a bit.”

She lifted an eyebrow, which told him she didn’t believe him one bit. “You’re a long way from the village. Isn’t this where my mother found you when you first got here?”

Michael nodded slowly. No point in lying to her. “I was hoping I’d remember something. Turns out there’s more to me than I remember.”

“Yes, so I’ve heard lately.” She rolled her eyes. “Any success getting your memory back?”

He shook his head.

She stepped toward him, her eyes locked on his. “Don’t look so downcast, Michael. Your memories don’t make you any different. You’re still the same handsome man I tended to three years ago.” She flashed him a smile. “Give it time. Who knows? You’ll probably recover them in a few more years. For now, though…there’s nothing to worry about.”

She came to a stop merely inches away from him and reached up to cup his cheek. Her fingers were cool against his skin. “I don’t get many opportunities to be alone with you, you know.”

Michael cleared his throat. “Well, I’ve been….occupied.”

“You aren’t now, though.”

And with that, she rose on her tiptoes, bringing her lips toward his. His eyes widened, and Michael jerked backward, nearly slamming into the rock. Elena stumbled but quickly regained her balance, looking both surprised and hurt.

“What…?” she breathed.

“I’m sorry, Elena,” he told her, snatching up his shirt and coat and quickly throwing them on. “I just—”

“This is abouther,isn’t it?” A look of annoyance suddenly appeared in her eyes. “That…new elf.”

Her name is Rachel,he almost blurted. Instead, he said, “She’s the reason I came out here. She clearly knows me, and I’d like to remember whatever I can.”

“Well, have fun trying.”

And with a scoff, Elena turned and marched off into the woods.

Chapter Nine

The Museum of Lost Things

As the days rolled by in Melinor, Christmas drew nearer, and Rachel felt herself getting closer to the end of her patience. It had been weeks since she arrived on Frost Mountain, weeks since she vowed to help Michael recover his memory, but so far, nothing seemed to have changed. Melinor grew merrier by the day, but all Rachel felt was frustration.

She and Michael had hung out some more. He was the same friendly, loveable man she’d fallen in love with four years ago. Same kind of sexy grey eyes. Same muscular frame that she’d caught herself ogling now and then. Only in a way, it wasn’t really him, was it? Because he didn’t remember her.

When she expressed her concerns to Reba, the older woman advised her to be patient.

“That’s literally all I’ve been doing,” Rachel protested. “I’ve been patient for weeks, hoping for at least a bit of progress. Nothing so far.”

“The way I see it, it must be hard for him, having you show up out of nowhere and bombarding him with all that information that he doesn’t even remember.” Reba smiled. “Reminds me of a surprise attack, you know, like Pearl Harbor. You’re Pearl Harboring him. He’s going to need a while to get his head where it needs to be.”

Rachel had almost forgotten this woman was ex-military. Sometimes, it took her a moment or two to realize what the heck she was going on about.

They were walking through the Museum of Lost Things, one of the few parts of the village that Rachel hadn’t explored yet. The museum was a large building with a high, somewhat dome-shaped roof. As they walked through the building, Rachel couldn’t help thinking it looked more like a junkyard than amuseum. Chunks of metal and old vehicles were scattered across the ground every few feet. Rachel recognized a rusted plane engine in a corner next to the front half of a vintage Mercedes. Books, paintings, and appliances sat atop everything else in piles reaching toward the ceiling, forming narrow walkways between them like a maze.

Rachel picked up a book and stared at it for a moment. It was a novel. Half the front cover was missing, but she could make out the title:Tiger Enemy’s Dirty Secret. She turned the book over in her hands, eyeing the spine for the author’s name. Scarlett something. Stine? Stone? She placed the book back on the pile where she’d found it.

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