Page 21 of Ghost of Ex-mas Past
“You okay?” He’s kneeling next to me, which must mean he took his skis off.
“Maybe?”
There’s awhooshas someone swerves past. I better get up before I get run over.
Charlie must have the same idea, because he grabs my hand and peels my fingers off the pole grip. Huh. I was still hanging on. Oh wait, just with one hand. My other hand clenches on air.
Next, he moves down to my boots and I feel the tug as he pushes hard on the release button of my ski. With a snap, it comes undone, and my left leg can move freely.
When he moves to the right and pushes, a sharp pain shoots up from my ankle and I cry out.
“Shit. Bea?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine. I think I tweaked something?”
“Okay, why don’t we get you up on your other foot and untwist this one?”
Charlie stands over me, reaching down to grab me beneath my armpits and haul me to my feet. My gloves scramble for purchase until I snag his pockets and hold on.
We’re a tripod, him bracing himself in the snow and me leaning into him while the occasional skier passes in awhoosh.
“Okay, just...hang on.” Charlie grunts and shifts as he tries to maneuver his foot around to the back of my boot and apply enough pressure to snap the ski off.
“Get a room,” someone shouts as they pass, the Doppler effect in full gear so that the R is loud and theooooomis elongated.
I giggle. To be fair, Charlie, wrapped around me like this and stomping on the release does look like he’s humping me.
Finally the ski comes off and without my foot, it hits the snow and slides down a few feet. Charlie and I teeter for a moment before we both lose the fight and come crashing down onto the snow.
Somehow I end up on top of Charlie, our helmets whacking each other before my head bounces off to one side.
Gah.
Charlie’s helmet turns toward me and this is the closest I’ve been to his eyes in a long time. I’d forgotten how green they are right around his irises.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Fine.” Well, I’ve now fallen twice in five minutes, and neither time could be counted as sexy at all. I roll off Charlie.
He sits up and points at me. “Stay there.”
He gathers up our skis and poles and moves them to the side of the slope and into the woods where no one is going to run them over. Then he’s back in front of me, holding out his hands.
“Can you stand?”
I grip both his hands and rise on one leg. Once I’m stable, I test putting my weight on my right leg.
I wince and Charlie frowns.
There’s no way I can ski down like this.
“All right, let’s get you to the side so we don’t get run over and I’ll go for help.” Charlie offers me his hand again.
“Help?” I yelp. “What kind of help?” Together we shuffle (him) and hop (me) to the tree line.
“It’s not a big mountain but it would probably take us hours to get down like this. They have snowmobiles for people who get injured.”
I’m just about to sit down again when I hear the sharp, crisp noise of someone expertly stopping on snow behind us. “You folks okay?”
