Aside from the fact my reputation is on the line, I’m one hundred percent committed to giving our guests the best possible experience. That means providing qualified, reliable andresponsibleinstructors. The greatest insult I could hit our guests with is to provide an instructor who’s only here because of hisirresponsibleactions.
How do I say that without pissing off my boss on day one?
“I think it’s a great idea to give this guy the opportunity to see what can happen if you drink and drive, but I’d really prefer to vet our instructors before I send them out with our guests.”
“No need. Ryder’s a professional snowboarder. He’s more than capable.”
“Being a pro rider doesn’t inherently qualify you to teach, especially when the people you’re teaching have physical limitations.” It’s the nicest way I can think of to object.
“I know. That’s why Ryder finished the training course yesterday.”
“Finished, or passed?” Carter may not see a distinction, but I do.
“Ryder’s work here has been approved by the judge.” It doesn’t escape me that he didn’t technically answer the question, but his piercing gaze has me swallowing back my final protest.
Well shit.
Few things are as irritating as being saddled with babysitting duty, but I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot with Carter. If that means stomaching this arrangement for the foreseeable future, so be it.
“When should I expect him?”
“Any minute now. Let me know if Ryder gives you any trouble.”
I muster an admittedly plastic smile as Carter leaves, which he’s either too polite or too amused to comment on, judging by the satisfied one he gives me in return.
As the door bangs shut, I close my eyes with a heavy sigh.And here I thought my less-than-ideal start couldn’t get any worse.
Chapter three
Ryder
My head is already throbbing before I enter the building, and having to yank on the damn door just to get inside doesn’t help. But if I have to be on the mountain at this ungodly hour, a pounding head is a welcome distraction.
I stuff my hand in my pocket and pull out the papers Carter gave me, looking for the name of the person I’m supposed to meet. Drops of water trickle down my sleeve, smudging the ink, but I can still make out what it says.Hayden Chaulke.
Glancing around the lobby, I notice what looks like a reception desk based on the little bell on the counter. It’s empty, and that suits me just fine. They said be here by nine, and I am. Not my fault there isn’t someone here to meet me, and no way am I ringing that damn bell.
I trudge over to the seating area, and after dropping my bag to the floor, I collapse on a couch.No point in standing when I can sit.That’s when I notice how quiet it is.
No music, no rhythmic thumping of ski boots as people walk down the hall, not even the ticking of a clock. The place is so silent it’s damn near void of sound. And the…décor.I think that’s what you call it? Back in the day, when this place was the locker room and loungefor the ski team, it was high class. Now it just looks sad. The carpet smells faintly of mildew after years of wet boots tracking through, and the leather couches are crinkled from overuse. If they’re going for nostalgic, they missed the mark.
Propping my feet on the scarred coffee table, I pull my hood over my head, cross my arms over my stomach and close my eyes, thinking a nice snooze is in order. I must actually doze off, because I don’t realize anyone else is in the room until a stern, snarky voice startles me from behind.
“Comfortable?” I twist my head toward the sound and glance up, one eye closed to block out the light. Tall, fair-skinned, with chocolatey hair and a slim but not quite skinny build, the figure in front of me might be unassuming if he wasn’t glaring at me.Lovely.
“Actually, I am. These couches may look like shit but they’re great for a nap.”
His eyes flare with irritation as he purses his lips. “There’s nothing wrong with the couches.”
“If you believe that you probably think that scent wafting off the floor is refreshing instead of rank.” I slouch back into the old leather and shut my eyes.
“Did I say you could sleep here?”
“Did I ask?”
“This isn’t your personal living room. You can’t just come in here and set up camp.”
I crack an eye open and look at my surroundings to verify my first impression before snapping it shut. “I can’t possibly confuse this place with my living room, trust me. And if it were up to me, I’d be napping there instead of here.”
