Page 34 of My Brother's Best Friends

“For any type of sport, actually,” Alex agrees.

The ski shop is a short walk from the hotel, and with the sun beating down, I work up a sweat.

Inside the shop, Kellan flags down the college kid behind the counter. Just like the hotel, the ski shop is done up for the holiday. Red-and-green tinsel zigzags across the ceiling, and fairy lights blanket the snowboard display wall—each board popping dramatically.

A lone Christmas tree near the back is ringed with gift ideas, and judging by the short line at the register, plenty of guests have taken the hint. Christmas jingles drip through the wall-mounted speakers.

“Three pairs of 180 cm and one pair of…” Kellan says, pausing to look at Makayla with a critical eye. I can tell he’s guessing her height and weight and that he doesn’t want to ask her outright. “I’d say 150.”

“You got it,” the kid replies.

He selects three identical pairs for the three of us, and one slightly smaller for Makayla. I leave Alex to handle payment, while Kellan and I grab the skis and escort Makayla out to the fitting area in front of the store.

Alex joins us a second later, before we’ve even had a chance to give her any instructions. I’m about to let Kellan handle this as well, when Makayla puts her hand on my arm.

“Will you remind me how to do this?” she asks sweetly.

Kellan lines up his skis and steps into them, locking his boots in place. He bends over to strap them firmly, demonstrating exactly what Makayla needs to do. She nods patiently but still looks to me for assistance.

“The boots are made to lock into the skis,” I explain. “All you have to do is step in the right way.”

“Okay,” she responds, giving her hips a playful little wiggle.

That starts my engine all over again and I realize that there’s nothing safe about the ski slopes—at least where we’re concerned. Every gesture—every smile, every fleeting glance, intentional or not—sets off a chain reaction inside me. It’s going to be a challenging ski session, to say the least.

I shake my head. If I want to regain some form of control, the only thing I can do is remove myself from the situation.

“I’m going to the ski lift,” I say.

“Hang on,” Kellan replies, putting a hand on my chest.

I stare at him until he removes it, making sure he understands that I’ve made up my mind.

“Just let us give her a quick tutorial, and we’ll all ride up together,” Alex continues.

It’s like they share a single mind. I hate being the only one struggling to think clearly. Looking away, I’m determined not to succumb to the passion that is clearly building up between us. I pull out my phone, mindlessly scrolling while I wait for Alex and Kellan to wrap up their so-called basic ski instruction.

After about fifteen minutes of verbal foreplay disguised as teaching, Makayla exhales with confidence. “I think I’m ready.”

“Should we go?” Alex asks, gesturing toward the lift.

I pocket my phone and begrudgingly trail the trio across the hard-packed snowfield. Makayla holds onto Kellan’s arm as we go, trying out movements that are foreign to her.

At the base of the lift, we watch a bench swing around the wheel. It’s getting closer, and just as it sneaks up behind us, Kellan transfers Makayla’s hand to my arm.

“Gotta tie my boot,” he says, bending to stage what is obviously a farce.

“Shoot—sorry, I have to take this,” Alex says, turning his back and flashing me his phone. The screen is dark.

“Oh, you pricks,” I mutter, left with a split second to decide whether I want to ride up the mountain alone with Makayla. “Let’s go, Kay.”

Choosing not to be rude, I swing her up onto the seat, then hop up beside her. We dangle precariously for a moment before our weight balances out. Then we sit back to enjoy the breathtaking view as the chair lift climbs slowly toward the peak.

“What was that all about?” she asks.

I give her a sideways glare. “I figured you’d recognize a routine if you saw one.”

“Ah. Not bad,” Makayla chuckles dryly.

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