Page 7 of A Bear Ski Instructor Christmas

The look she gave him told Michael she was seriously considering slapping him in the face again. Before she could do so, however, a yell drew their attention. They gazed up the hill in unison, just in time to spot two figures speeding down the snowy path. They drew closer and shot past Michael and his companion before slowing down. Taking off their skis, the duo marched back up the hill to meet them.

“What’s this?” one of the men said, taking a moment to look at the elfish woman. His brown eyes narrowed. “An elf. You’re not from Melinor.”

“I don’t think she’s from Frost Mountain either, Andrew,” Michael told his friend. “I nearly crashed into her on my way down. And she says she knows who I am.”

Andrew and the other man looked confused. “How could she know you? That makes no sense.”

“Exactly what I thought.” Michael shrugged. “I was just telling her to let me take her to the village. Maybe Elena or Reba could help her. We can come back and test the skis later.”

His friend’s eyes remained riveted on the woman. “What’s your name?” he asked her.

“I’m Rachel,” she replied. “Rachel Reeves.”

Rachel. Michael did another mental scan. Nope. Nothing like that in his memory. As far as he knew, he’d never met this woman. All he knew about her was that she somehow knew him. That, and the fact that despite his cheek still stinging from the slap, he wanted more than anything to feel the softness of her lips on his again.

He tore his gaze off her in self-disgust. He was either losing his mind or was sex-deprived. Both, most likely. Living on Frost Mountain, one learned to get used to the unusual over time. But this afternoon’s events had caught him completely off-guard.

He cut his eyes to Rachel again, trying hard to ignore the pounding in his chest. He wished he could say that she looked at least a little bit familiar, that something about her rang a bell in the depths of his mind, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, like a memory just out of his reach.

But there was simply no memory to reach for.

Chapter Three

“Who Wears Goggles in a Starbucks?”

“Hello? Earth to Rachel.”

She blinked as a pair of fingers snapped before her eyes. “Hey!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t accidentally spill some of my coffee in your lap,” Samantha Banks said, rolling her eyes at her friend. “I’ve said the same thing to you thrice in the past minute, and your eyes keep glazing over like I’m explaining quantum physics.”

Rachel bit her lip, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “Sorry. Run it by me again, will you? I’ll pay more attention this time.”

The warm scent of cocoa wafted into her nostrils as she leaned back in her seat, gazing across the table at Sam. The Starbucks was mostly empty except for a few couples seated at other tables and two women placing their orders. Quite unusual for this time of day. Not that Rachel minded one bit. The fewer people there were, the better. Gentle Christmas jingles filled her ears as if from a mile away.

Sam smirked at her. “I was saying that we need to figure out what we’re gonna have for dinner unless we want to go to bed hungry.”

Rachel took a sip of her coffee, feeling the slight burn on her tongue. “I’m exhausted. We’ve been shopping all morning.”

“We?” Her friend snorted. “Honey, you did most of the shopping. At some point, I started wondering how we were supposed to pay for all those clothes.”

“Yeah, yeah. So what are our options for dinner?”

“I was thinking pizza or mac and cheese.”

Rachel thought for a moment. “Pizza sounds perfect. We could just order in.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Sam sighed. “Maybe once we…Rachel? You’re doing it again.”

Rachel barely heard her. Her eyes were riveted on the man who had just walked into the coffee shop at the same time that “Jingle Bells”began to play.

He was tall and broad-shouldered, towering over almost everyone else. He had on a blue two-piece snowsuit and white gloves. His dark boots left a wet footprints in his wake as he made his way to the counter. All she could see of his face was a smooth-shaven jaw and pursed lips. Large, dark goggles shielded his eyes from view. The man had a pair of skis and poles clutched in his arms.

“Rachel.” Sam shot her a disapproving look.

“Sorry, I was just looking around.”

“No, you were definitely checking out that guy who just walked in.” She cast a glance in the man’s direction. “Rachel Reeves, I didn’t know you were into skiers.”

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