Page 44 of Head Over Skis

I look down at my right ankle, which is about double the size of my other one, and wince.

‘I think I might need more than one cup,’ I say, taking a sip.

Rory puts down his own mug and gestures towards my leg. ‘I’ve had to do a few first aid and injury assessment courses over the years. May I?’

‘Oh, sure,’ I say, trying not to sound affected by the idea of him touching me again, even if it’s purely professional.

He shifts so he’s kneeling on the floor by my side. ‘Let me know if it hurts, okay?’

I nod, and then his hands are gently pushing against my skin. He’s so focused that I feel like it’s safe to properly study him in a way I’ve tried not to these last few days. He’s still every bit as attractive as he was that night in Clapham, except his hair is a little wilder, his eyes a little brighter from the fresher air here. Alpine life looks good on him.

‘It twisted, right?’

‘Yeah, it made a pop sound too,’ I say, the memory still making me a bit queasy.

He moves towards the side where the swelling is, and I wince involuntarily.

‘Hmm, luckily it does seem like a sprain and not a tear, how much can you move it?’

‘It hurts if I move it too far to either side, and it’s a little wobbly, but I can put a little bit of weight on it if I’m slow and careful,’ I say, and to demonstrate I go to stand, only for Rory to lower me back down by placing one hand on my thigh and the other on my lower back.

‘Don’t push it,’ he says, and the movement has brought him so close our faces are only a couple of inches apart. His eyes dip down to my lips, and I don’t dare move. Kiss me, I think, watching as his lips tip open.

‘Lottie, I should tell you—’

My phone pings, and we both look towards where it lies on the table next to my mug. The movement pulls our faces further apart and the moment is broken.

‘One sec,’ I say, hoping it’s something urgent or at the very least extremely important as I check it.

If Rory’s there already, tell him he might be out of a job. Kevin letus have a break for an Instagram photo-op at the top of the slope andbought us all Mars bars for making it down a blue.

I can’t help but laugh at Tilly’s message despite its abysmal timing, and I turn the screen to Rory to fill him in.

‘Why didn’t you ever buy us food as motivation?’

He reads the message and furrows his brow. ‘Because I didn’t realise I’d be in competition with Kevin for best ski instructor, that’s why. But if that’s how he wants to play it, it’s on.’

He stands, holding out his hand to me. ‘I guess I could start by driving you to the shops to get those biscuits. And a basket full of snacks to win everyone back over with tomorrow.’

I look at his hand, floundering for a second over what to say.

‘Oh, it’s okay, I can go later,’ I say, and I mentally facepalm at the fact I’ve turned down an offer to spend some more time with him. He doesn’t retract his hand though as he continues.

‘You’d be doing me a favour, it’s a long way and I’d feel bad knowing I left you to walk there on your own. So, what do you say?’

His hand stays outstretched, and he has a point. If I want to have the best chance of getting back on the slopes tomorrow, I shouldn’t walk unnecessarily far.

It’ll save me time in the long run, and when he drops me back here, I’ll go back to my sketching. I give in.

‘Fine, as long as I get to pick the songs.’

‘I didn’t realise when I said yes that you were going to only play Christmas songs,’ Rory says, one eyebrow raised as he leans his hip against the supermarket shelves in front of me.

‘It’s snowing,’ I say in explanation.

‘It’s February,’ he counters.

‘Okay, Scrooge, who burnt your turkey as a child?’