Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93942 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
I’d never met a man who could make me smile just from a simple message like that. And between the internship and my upcoming final-semester course load, there’d be no time for one even if I had.
But as the afternoon wore on, I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to have a man look at me the way Diego had at Mia.
2
ZOE
“I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” I stared at Helen Greer, my boss for the next three and a half weeks. We were in her office, and despite the fact that I was standing and she was sitting at her desk, she still somehow managed to look down her glasses at me. “Ms. Greer, I’m here for an internship, not a vacation.”
“I’m well aware of that, Zoe. And it’s Mrs. Greer. I’ve been married for twenty-two years.” She gave me a look that said she clearly wanted to add which is longer than you’ve been alive, but I wasn’t sure that was true. We’d have to compare what month she got married to my October birthday.
“Mrs. Greer, I’m here to help you. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to learn how to manage a resort like this.” I tried to adapt a humble tone, which wasn’t my strong suit. “It’s so beautiful here, nestled in the mountains with the snow. You should be proud of what you’ve—”
“I don’t need you to tell me about my own place of employment. I’ve managed the lodge for over a decade, and you’ve been here, what, half a day?”
Less, actually, after a very uncomfortable ride up here—and not just because of the twisty, slippery roads. “Yes, but I’m eager to do whatever I can to—”
“As I’ve told you, I don’t need any help today.”
Her stern expression and her pursed lips implied that she’d never needed help at any point in her life. Which was just great. This internship was a requirement of my hospitality major. Graduation was a mere five months away, but I wouldn’t be walking across the stage if my internship report stated that all I did was get lectured a lot. “Surely there must be something I can do?”
“There is, as I just told you. Tomorrow morning, you’ll take a ski lesson.”
My shoulders slumped. I’d really hoped I’d somehow misheard her. “But… but I don’t know how to ski.”
“Which makes you an ideal candidate for a lesson.” She raised an eyebrow. “Most of our guests for the holidays haven’t arrived yet, but the ski instructor has, and he’s going to teach you tomorrow.”
It made absolutely no sense. I could work at the registration desk. Update their ancient website. Start on some new marketing materials. Hell, I’d even go clean windows if would count toward my internship. Not that I was tall enough to reach most of the floor-to-ceiling panes that showed off the gorgeous scenery.
I took a deep breath and tried one more time. “Shouldn’t he rest up before the rest of the guests get here? Surely, he’s got better things to do than to teach an absolute beginner.”
“I’m sure he does have better things to do.” Mrs. Greer’s sniff of disdain showed that she thought she did, too. “He’s a world-class skier with several national championships. He was a backup for the Olympics. But he’s used to teaching advanced skiers out in Colorado. The kind who got their first skis as toddlers. He’s a bit rusty instructing beginners, so he needs someone to practice on.”
My heart, which had already been somewhere around my stomach, sank to the floor. Not only did I have to take a ski lesson, but the instructor wasn’t good with newbies? Maybe Mrs. Greer was hoping I’d ski right off a cliff and be out of her hair. But I swallowed back the sigh that threatened to come out. “All right, I’ll be his guinea pig. But we’ve still got all afternoon. Is there anything I can help you w—”
“No.” She stood up, looking like she was going to use all ninety pounds of her bodyweight to push me out the door of her office. “Be in the lobby at eight tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”
Dazedly, I walked across the gleaming wooden floor, my heels making a clicking noise. The sound steadied me, and I brushed my fingers down my silk button-down shirt and to the fabric of the dark A-line skirt that hugged my hips. I’d kept my outfit pristine throughout that very uncomfortable car ride up here with that awful man.
Slowly, I shook my head. My hair was in a neat bun, my make-up was flawless. I should be working with guests, not preparing to slide down a mountain with an impatient and likely bored instructor.
There was an older couple at registration, and two people behind the counter who seemed to be finishing up checking in. The woman behind the desk handed the older man a shiny silver key attached to some kind of carved wooden keychain. There were no plastic cards that you had to swipe here. Not at The Fraser, the most exclusive resort in the southeastern part of the US.