“Hey, you two!” Gemma greets us, having just come off her latest run. “How are you guys doing?”
I smile. “Good, actually. I think I’m getting the hang of it.”
“She’s a natural,” Greyston brags, and I roll my eyes.
“Oh yeah, I’m a real pro.”
Gemma laughs. “Well, I’m going to pack it in within the hour,” she says. “Do you guys want to go somewhere for dinner afterward?”
I look to Greyston, who’s waiting for me to answer, so I nod. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”
The three of us continue on toward the lifts, talking about meeting in the chalet in an hour, and then go our separate ways. Like earlier, I’m far from perfect, and I wipe out a few times, but the more I practice, the better I get. Carving is still a bit of a challenge, but I am able to manage it for a couple of minutes before falling on my ass. Not that it’s surprising, but Greyston’s amazing, and I hate that he’s probably bored out of his mind on this stupid intermediate trail while I make a total fool out of myself. He swears that he doesn’t want to be anywhere else and that he’s having fun teaching me, but I can’t help but feel like I’m holding him back.
“Look, there’s about twenty minutes left before we have to meet Gemma,” I tell him when we reach the foot of the hill. “Why don’t you go to one of the more experienced trails? I feel bad for keeping you on the baby hills all day.”
Greyston laughs. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. I really don’t mind.”
“Maybe not,” I counter, removing my board from my feet. “But I do. Go. Have fun.”
“What about you?”
I shrug. “My legs are actually a little sore. I’ll go inside and wait for you guys. Maybe grab a cup of hot chocolate or something.”
“You’re sure?” he asks, and I nod. “All right. I won’t be long.” And, with that, he kisses me on the cheek and heads back toward the lift while I head inside the chalet and order another mug of hot chocolate. I remove my ski pants and jacket, draping them over one of the plush chairs near the fire, and I sit down and let my drink and the fire warm me up a little.
By the time I’m done my hot chocolate, Greyston shows up with Gemma in tow. They’ve got their gear packed up and are laughing about something that happened on their last run. It makes me a little jealous that I wasn’t there to experience it, but I get over it when I remember what a good sport Greyston has been all day while teaching me.
The muscles in my thighs are tight when I stand up, and I know that tomorrow isn’t going to be good. Even though it didn’t feel like it at all as the day went on, I know I’ve overworked them, and I’m going to be walking funny because of it. It sucks, because I really wanted to come back out here tomorrow—and every day of our stay here if possible—but now it might not even happen, unless I can find a way to get the muscles to relax.
Greyston picks up on it as I make my way toward them, and he eyes me curiously.
“My thighs are a little sore,” I explain. “No big.”
“You sure?”
I nod. “Yeah. So, where are we going for dinner?”
“Actually,” Gemma says excitedly, “there’s this great little restaurant in the heart of downtown. The food is to die for.”
“Cool,” I reply, trying to keep from letting my suspicious nature win. “We’ll see you there, then. Is Dom meeting us there?” I inquire warmly.
Gemma offers a tight-lipped smile. “Mmm, probably not. He’s still held up.”
Gemma grabs all her gear, including the board she loaned me, and heads to her vehicle, while Greyston and I go to ours. We follow Gemma out of the resort parking lot and into town center where she pulls up to the quaint little restaurant, and then we meet her inside.
Our hostess seats us and tells us that our server will be with us in a minute. While we wait, we peruse the menus and talk about our day. Greyston goes on and on about how well I’ve done, and while I’m pretty proud of all that I’d learned, I think he might be over-exaggerating just a smidge.
Before I can tell him this, our server shows up to take our drink order. I’m just about to order an iced tea, when Greyston pipes up. “Can we get a bottle of cab sav and three glasses please?”
The server looks at Greyston, then Gemma, and finally me. Arching a brow, he says, “ID, please?”
My face heats up, and I look away, feeling embarrassed that Greyston tried to be sneaky and order me alcohol and we were caught anyway. “Oh, I actually don’t think I have it on me,” I lie. “Don’t worry about i—”