Page 52 of Beat around the Bush
“Still think that shit’s ridiculous,” Bailey announced. “Getting pulled over on a horse for drinking? I mean, come on.”
Their voices drowned out as they went on about all the moving things you could get a DUI on while I turned to Oakley. “You sure about drinking and skiing? With your driving record, I’m not sure that’s a great idea,” I teased.
She glared up at me, taking another long sip of her drink. “I’m a great driver,” she insisted.
I couldn’t help but smile at that.
“What?” she squeaked. “It was two times.”
“Since you’ve been in Bell Buckle.”
Her jaw dropped and I chuckled.
I held my hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, I’ll stop. Just make sure you concentrate on your balance and not my hands on you, and you’ll be fine.”
Her cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, but this time, I knew it wasn’t because of the cold.
***
“How does anyone do this?” Oakley complained after falling for the sixth time.
“It’s all in how you balance, which I’m now seeing you don’t have much of,” I said, lending her a hand to help her up.
“The snow is so damn slippery,” she stated as she wiped her gloved hands on her pants. “There’s no way people slide over that gracefully.”
I snorted. “Didn’t you grow up in Colorado? That’s like the world’s biggest playground for skiers.”
She reached around to wipe the snow off her ass. “That doesn’t mean I’m good at it.”
“Clearly,” I mumbled.
She whacked my arm with her gloved hand, the hit soft. I chuckled, then regained my composure. “Come on, let’s try again. Just keep your hand in mine this time.”
“I can’t hold your hand forever,” she pointed out.
I shrugged. “What would be the problem with that?”
I froze at the same time she did.
I should not have said that.
After a few seconds of silence, I cleared my throat, holding my hand out to her. “Can’t learn if you don’t practice.”
Her hand fit perfectly in mine, and I wished we didn’t have our gloves in the way.
“After today, I think I’m done with this practice stuff.”
“Going pro?” I teased.
She shot me a glare out of the side of her eye as I walked alongside her, pulling her slightly to give her momentum. She practiced moving her skis in and out of a triangle shape like I told her to.
She did great every time, until I let her go. Then she’d overthink it, lose her balance, and fall on her ass.
After about twenty feet of holding onto her, she nodded. “Okay, I think I’m ready.”
“You sure this time?”
“Yes, I’m sure. Let go,” she demanded, determined to keep her balance.
