Page 5 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas

“Get out of the way!” he screamed.

Chapter Two

A Kiss and a Slap

There were three things Michael Malone loved more than anything else in the entire world—or at least, on Frost Mountain. He loved Christmas because it brought with it merriment and bliss. He loved the Santa costume he got to put on when Christmas rolled by because he got to spread some of that merriment to the people of Melinor.

And he loved to ski.

The wind blasted him in the face, the cold biting at his skin, a howl filling his ears as he powered down the mountain on a pair of wooden skis. He clutched his poles close to his chest, leaning forward as he rocketed through the snow. Without a helmet and goggles, wearing only a coat over trousers and fur boots, he had nothing to protect himself against an accident but his skill and wits. But Michael had cleared this hill more times than he could count. Even without his goggles, he could clearly make out his surroundings, which was the only reason he’d been able to spot the figure standing in the snow, even from a hundred feet away. As he drew closer, the figure came into focus. It was a woman. Her eyes were wide and riveted on him, like a deer caught in headlights.

Michael’s heart thudded in his ribcage. “Get out of the way!” he shrieked against the wind.

But if the woman heard him, she didn’t show it. She remained where she stood as if frozen on the spot. Definitely a deer caught in headlights. It had been a long time since he saw something like that.

“Move!” he yelled again.

Still nothing.

If she didn’t get out of the way now, he was going to crash right into her. Deer or not, she’d be flattened in an instant. Oneof these days, he and Andrew should come up with a way to put brakes on skis.

Digging his poles into the snow, he swerved to the right just as he reached her, missing her by a hair’s breadth. He tried to turn back on course, but it was already too late. He veered off the path, speeding right for the woods and into the trees.

“No!”

He heard a soft thud, and vibrations traveled up his skis into his legs. Michael lurched, and his world spun as he fell forward, crashing headfirst into the snow.

Great, he found himself thinking.

When he and Andrew decided to take some time off work at the craft shop to test out the new skis they’d made, the last thing he’d been expecting was to nearly bump into some stranger on the way down. Michael never had accidents while skiing. At least, he hadn’t had one in a long time.

With an inward groan, adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he pulled himself out of the snow, kicked off his skis, and got to his feet, and mentally scanned his body. He wasn’t hurt. He turned to face whoever it was that had interrupted his test run.

She was already facing him. “Are you okay?” she called out, a mixture of relief and guilt in her tone.

Michael brushed some snow out of his hair and nodded. “I’ll live. What are you doing out here? You’re not from the village, are you?”

Even before he completed his statement, he knew the answer. Nothing about the woman’s appearance indicated that she was from around these parts or from anywhere on Frost Mountain, for that matter. She had on a brown jacket over leather trousers that hugged her figure. How long had she been out here in the cold? Dressed like this, it couldn’t have been very long. Michaeldrew closer, carefully taking in the sight of her, and felt his heart pound again in his ribcage.

Looks like Christmas came early, Malone,said a voice in his head.

The adrenaline rush he often got from skiing down steep hills at thirty miles per hour without so much as a helmet or goggles was nothing compared to the feelings that took over his body as he gazed at the woman before him. Not even the thrill of completing an impossible stunt while Andrew and other villagers looked on held a candle to this. For a brief moment, Michael thought his heart would explode with the way it kept pounding in his ears.

The first thing he’d noticed about the woman was her slender frame. It was hard not to notice, with her leather clothing clinging to her skin, outlining the smooth curves of her rather attractive hips. Despite the cold, her skin retained a healthy creamy appearance, as if she’d stepped out into the snow only a few minutes ago. Long, jet-black hair flecked with snow fell past her shoulders. It was somewhat tousled, and Michael found himself battling the sudden urge to run his fingers through it.

Her eyes, a striking blue, seemed to pierce him to his very soul. They were almond-shaped and wide, which wasn’t unexpected for someone who’d just had a near-death experience. Staring back into them, he registered shock, terror, fatigue, confusion…and something else. His gaze slowly dropped to her lips, which were slightly parted. They were dry, either from the cold or dehydration, or both, but it took nothing away from her beauty. Her lips were full and kissable.

He cleared his throat then, giving himself a mental scolding. This woman was clearly weak and in need of help, and here he was, eyeing her like she was Thanksgiving dinner. Trying to swallow the sudden hunger that filled him, he took another step toward her, and he saw her eyes grow even wider.

“Michael?” she croaked.

He froze. She knew his name.

“What…did you just call me?” Clearly, he’d heard wrong. This beautiful stranger couldn’t possibly know who he was.

“M-Michael,” she repeated. She brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind a pointed ear. An elf, he realized. That explained her intense beauty.

Michael’s heart was beating an irregular rhythm in his ears. It dawned on him then what flashed in those stunning blue eyes of hers: recognition. This womanknewhim. Why else would he be staring at him like he was some sort of ghost?

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