The Professional Bride: Billionaire Marriage Brokers Book Three (12 page)

Chapter 15

The day finally came when both Rym and Amber were able to schedule three uninterrupted hours for her first ski lesson. The January rush was over and the February rush, centered around Presidents’ Day and winter break, hadn’t started yet.

Valentine’s Day was next Thursday. If all went well with Amber’s lesson, Rym hoped to buy her skis as a gift. They weren’t romantic in any way, so it took a lot of pressure off. Not that he had any romantic ideas about Amber. However, he felt obligated to get his wife something for Valentine’s Day. What kind of a husband would he be if he didn’t? He wondered if her other husbands had bought her gifts. She had some beautiful jewelry. The diamond necklace she wore could have been from the doctor guy …

Rym pushed thoughts of Amber’s other husbands aside. It did him no good to think of her married to any of them; it only served to make him cranky.

Rym dropped Amber off at the ski shop in the lodge to get fitted for a pair of rentals while he picked up their passes.

“Just two?” asked Robyn from behind the ticket window. Rym had taken a group from a resort in New Zealand out in the past week. It was as close as he got to being an instructor again, and he’d relished every minute out of the office.

“It’s just me and the wife today.”

“Sounds good. Have a good time.”

He grinned. There was no such thing as “just a wife” when it came to Amber. She was the most amazing combination of personality traits—professional and exotic, mysterious and fiercely intelligent. Not to mention a little overprotective.

She even walked sexy.

Someone clomped across the wooden walkway, and Rym looked up to see Amber swinging her legs wide in an attempt to maneuver in her ski boots. He pressed his hand to his mouth to hide his smile.

His shoulders shook with barely controlled laughter as Amber glared. “I feel like I’ve got boulders on my feet. There’s no movement in my ankle.”

“There’s not supposed to be.”

“How am I supposed to control skis when I can barely walk?”

“You’ll learn to use your feet to steer.”

Amber shook her head. “At least I know you know what you’re doing. Don’t let me hurt myself, okay?”

“I haven’t lost a student yet.”

Chapter 16

Amber rode the “magic carpet” to the top of the small hill. She had a good feeling when she didn’t jerk getting off like she had the first five times. Each time down the baby hill, she gained confidence. Keeping her skis in a wedge was tiring but it helped her maintain control. She hadn’t fallen and, though five-year-olds were lapping her, she felt pretty good. Rym was an excellent teacher. She enjoyed having him near, and he was constantly praising her efforts.

“Let’s move up to the blue carpet,” said Rym as she slowly stopped in front of him.

Amber swiveled her gaze to take in the blue hill. Twice the length of the green hill, it didn’t look any steeper. “You’re the boss.”

After a few runs there, Rym led her back down to the big lift.

“We’re going to the top?” Amber’s fear of going up the mountain and not being able to get back down spiked.

“You’ve already had the basic lesson and you’re doing great. There’s a ski school hill that’s wide. You should be fine.”

“If you say so.” She didn’t feel all that convinced, but she climbed onto the chair lift when it was their turn.

***

“Let’s exit to the left and try Bambi’s Backyard,” Rym said. He’d caught her poring over a map of the resort the night before and knew she’d have a basic understanding of where they were headed.

“Is it steep?”

“There’s one section that might challenge you.”

She laughed nervously. “Oh good, I’d hate to be bored.”

Rym turned his head so she wouldn’t see his smile. He’d never heard sarcasm from Amber before. It was kind of cute, like her own little rebellion.

Amber put her skis in a wide wedge as they reached the edge that started the downhill section of the run. These were the edges Rym jumped over to start out as fast as possible. Amber didn’t so much ski down the hill as she moved across it. Slowly. It was exactly what he’d taught her to do and it was excruciating to watch.

Rym did a 180 and put his skies in a backward wedge so he could give her pointers.

Amber smiled at him. “Showoff.”

Rym’s heart leapt as if he’d taken a jump. Teaching Amber to ski had turned out to be one of his best ideas ever. Out here, where the smell of pine trees surrounded them and the air was crisp, there were possibilities. Possibilities Rym was only just beginning to see with Amber. “Yeah, yeah. When I’m done with you, you’ll be skiing this whole mountain backward.”

She looked all around her and shook her head. “You have me at a complete disadvantage, Rym, and you’re loving it.”

Rym tipped his head. “I do like telling you what to do.” He turned back around with ease and caught Amber rolling her eyes.
Today was going to be so much fun
.

At the first turn, Rym encouraged Amber to bring her skis together. The first time she did, she wobbled and let out a little scream. Slamming her skis apart, she stopped on the side of the trail.

Rym skated back to her side. Facing uphill, he asked, “What?”

“I almost fell.”

Rym shrugged. “Falling’s not so bad.”

“Um, yeah, it is.”

Rym shoved Amber to the side, where she landed with an “umph!” in the powder.

Stunned, she looked up at him like he’d grown a third arm out of his forehead. He cursed silently. He’d never actually pushed over an adult student before. The kids usually laughed as soon as they realized they were okay.

Amber reached her hand out for help up.

Rym eagerly clasped her glove, hoping he hadn’t spoiled their day. He only had the brief moment he registered Amber’s wicked grin as a warning before he was face-down in the snow. His legs were across Amber and his torso was a foot deep in the powder. “Hey.” Rym sat up, taking off his goggles so he could brush off his face.

“Hey yourself.” Amber threw a handful of snow at him and missed terribly, the halfhearted snowball falling apart before it reached him.

Scooping a handful, he took his time packing it together, keeping his eyes on her as he passed it from hand to hand.

“No, no, no, no.” Giggling, Amber scooted back on her bottom, Rym’s legs sliding to the side. She scrambled to get up and finally managed to get her skis under her. Rym could have been up long before she was steady, but he let her get a head start, preferring to play for a few minutes rather than teach her how to get up on her skis. Hurrying away as fast as she could go while keeping her skis in a wedge, she kept glancing over her shoulder.

Only after she’d made it to the first turn did Rym go after her. This area was pretty flat and wide, and it was a good place for Amber to stretch her abilities. Rym rounded the corner and tossed the snowball, which Amber easily dodged. Her laughter floated across the frosty air, and his chest warmed with affection. He’d pushed her past her comfort zone and then he’d literally pushed her down, and instead of yelling at him or giving up, she’d made a game.

They continued to exchange volleys, egging each other on.

“You sure are motivated to get down the hill.”

She pointed her mitten at him. “Wait until I tell the ski school that my instructor shoved me. You are in so much trouble.”

He threw his head back and laughed. The sparkle in her eyes told Rym she was teasing him. He found it drew him to her and the gap between them started to close.

She was laughing with him, trying to keep enough distance between them so that he couldn’t push her over again, when she missed a turn and ended up doing a sideways roll. One ski popped off and kept going down the hill, taking Rym’s heart with it.

“Amber!” he yelled as he skated, pushing his skies out to the side like a hockey player on ice to cover ground more quickly.

He kicked one ski against the other to release the binding and then used his boot to get the other off. Kneeling at her side he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay? Can you sit up?”

She gently pushed his hand away, and Rym’s hopes fell like snowpack coming off the lodge’s roof. He braced himself for the reprimand or biting words he knew were coming. The brush-off. The break of all the best that was between them would happen with just one snide remark. Then he’d see the real her, the one that she’d been hiding behind that polite smile.

Sitting up slowly, Amber took off her helmet and looked him dead in the eye. “When we tell this story later, it has to sound much cooler than it was.”

Rym stared at her, trying to understand what she was saying.

She continued, “Can we say I was whipping down moguls or something—maybe taking a jump?”

He grinned and reached out to place his hand on her shoulder.

She winced and pushed his hand away again. “That one is a little sore.”

“Did you land on it?”

Her face turned pink as she shook her head. “I dug this elbow in to slow me down, and I must have hit a block of ice because it jerked my shoulder up.”

Rym cursed. “Can you move it?” He was such an idiot. Pushing her, not paying attention to her form or speed ... this was his fault.

“It’s really not that bad.” She lifted her elbow and turned her shoulder this way and that. Rym watched her face for any sign of pain, but he only saw concentration. When she was done with her self-examination, she smiled at him. “I think I’ll live.”

He grabbed her up in his arms and held her, relieved she was physically okay, but more relieved that his stupidity hadn’t ruined this thing between them. Whatever it was, it carried weight in his soul. A good weight. The kind that made a man decide to settle down and give up his ski-bum lifestyle.

Amber put her hands around his middle and pulled herself closer. Rym had never felt so accepted in his life. Amber had seen the worst in him. He’d treated her badly when they were first married. Yet when he held her, she didn’t pull away from him. Was that what marriage was really supposed to be like?

A class of seven- and eight-year-olds came by, and their instructor yelled, “Let’s keep it PG, folks.” The kids, lined up like ducklings behind her, made gagging noises.

Amber buried her face in his neck as he lifted his hand and waved at the girl at the end of the line. She was much smaller than the other kids and looked out of place.

He kissed Amber’s lips quickly in relief, not even aware he’d done so until he saw the surprise on her face.

Rym hurried on. “I am so sorry. I should have been paying better attention to you instead of goofing off.”

“It wasn—”

He placed his finger over her full lips, cutting off her protests. Brushing his thumb over the little hill on her bottom lip, Rym stared into her eyes. An overwhelming desire to kiss her for real welled up inside his chest, followed almost instantly by fear. The energy between them, so strong it could break down his walls, was also powerful enough to slice away his common sense. Amber was his wife—his
professional
wife, and he was just one in what would surely be a long line of husbands.

Dropping his hands and stepping away, Rym said, “I promise to be totally professional while we’re on the hill. No more pushing.”

Amber sucked in her lower lip. Rym had a hard time looking away from her mouth. “Does that mean no more kissing, or do you kiss all your clients?”

The words came out before he even realized they’d formed in his head. “Do you kiss all your husbands?” It was stupid, insensitive, and completely uncalled for, especially after she’d forgiven him so quickly for not taking care of her like he should have. He clenched his hands into fists.

Amber picked up his hand and smoothed out his fingers. She tipped her head to the side. “Rym—” she began, but whatever she was going to say was cut off by a child’s scream not far from where they stood.

They both turned in the direction the scream came from and he heard an adult yell, “Hang on!”

He looked back at Amber, but she was busy trying to get her remaining ski off. “Go!” She pushed him away when he tried to help. “Hurry!”

Chapter 17

Rym didn’t wait to see if Amber could release her binding; he took off at a run, aiming for the place he thought the screaming was coming from. It was hard to tell, because sounds echoed off the hills. Rounding the next corner, he saw the group of kids huddled next to the hill and the instructor on her stomach looking over the ledge on the other side of the trail, where the snow crew had driven three-foot wooden spikes to shore up the overhang and prevent the trail from collapsing.

“What happened?” he asked, leaning over to see down the cliff’s edge.

“She took the corner too fast and couldn’t make the turn.”

About twenty feet down the drop-off was a little girl, the runt of the class who had waved at him and Amber. She’d stopped screaming; apparently realizing she wasn’t going to fall any farther. She’d landed where powder accumulated against a tree trunk. It looked deep enough that she might not be injured. “I’m stuck,” she cried. As she struggled to pull her legs out, more snow came down the hill and gathered around her chest.

“Don’t move!” Rym yelled down to her. The instructor was already on the phone with ski patrol.

The girl’s voice trembled as she yelled back, “But I want to get out!” She started to wail. Judging by the sound of her cries, she couldn’t be more than six.

He looked at the kids huddled against the hill and saw one boy with huge tears rolling down his cheeks. “Is that your sister?” he asked. Many times parents would request that their children be placed in the same class despite their difference in age or ability.

The boy sniffed and wiped his running nose on his glove. “I was supposed to watch out for her.”

Rym kept his face positive. “She’s going to be okay, okay?”

The instructor turned off her phone. “They said it would be twenty minutes.”

Rym read her nametag quickly as the wailing went up a notch. The kid was about two minutes from making herself pass out or throw up. “We can’t wait that long, Robyn.” He walked down the trail about ten feet and tested the edge. It held under his weight. “See if you can calm him down.” Rym pointed at the brother, who was crying harder now that his sister was panicking.

Yanking two wooden spikes out of the ground, Rym lay on his stomach and threw his legs over the edge. He took two quick breaths, said a prayer, and shimmied over the edge. He dug the right stake into the hill with his hand and used the toes of his ski boots to create a foothold. Working slowly and judging the stability of the snow with each step, it took about ten minutes to draw level with the little girl. She’d gone quiet when he started over the hill, and he was thankful for the peace as he focused on not triggering an avalanche and not losing his handholds.

Just as he was about to make his way sideways to get to her, Amber’s head peeked over the edge. “Rym?”

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“What do you need?”

Of all the things she could have said, like “What do you think you’re doing?” or something dumb like “Be safe”—like he wasn’t already trying to be safe—she was ready to help and just do what needed to be done. He loved that about her.

Thinking the word “love” in conjunction with Amber took Rym by surprise. His grip loosened and his glove slipped off the spike. Thankfully, his feet were in a solid spot and he stayed in place.
One emergency at a time.
“I’m going to dig her skis out and throw them up. Will you make sure everyone is out of the way?”

“Yep.”

She disappeared, and he sidestepped toward the tree. Snow shifted as he drove the stake in, and he held his breath, waiting to see if the whole thing would go. It held, and he continued on.

“Hey there.” He plastered a big smile on his face and spoke quietly to the little girl. As he followed her legs down, he found her binding and popped off the first ski. “So you wanted to ski through the trees today, huh?”

She lifted her foot to give him room to work the ski out of the snow.

“Did you know there’s a bear cabin up the trail a little ways?”

She shook her head. He got the ski loose and threw it straight up the hill. It arched and looked like it was going to come right back on top of them, but Amber knocked it to the ground with her pole. Her pole was probably bent, but it was a smart move.

The other ski was harder to locate because it popped off when she landed, but he threw that one better, and Amber only had to retrieve it.

Robyn leaned over the edge. “Ski patrol just got a call for a sled at the top of the hill; they have to take that one first.”

He looked at the tiny girl, whose lip started to quiver, and back up the hill.  Waiting down here wasn’t an option. This girl needed to be reunited with her brother as soon as possible. “Does your dad give you piggyback rides?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to give you a piggy-front ride.” When he reached for her, she grabbed on to him with enough force to knock him back a step. “Easy there, Ripper.”

“I’m not a ripper.” She kept her arms locked around his neck and her legs wrapped around his middle. He let go, and she hung there by herself.

Amber’s face appeared above, but she didn’t say anything. She simply watched him, her jaw set. He chuckled. If anyone could get him back up this hill through sheer determination, it would be Amber. Rym focused on the girl. “Sure you are. Everybody has to have a ski name.”

“What’s yours?”

  Moving carefully back the way he came, Rym tried to use the holes he’d created on the way down. It wasn’t as easy with her weight, but she was small enough that he knew he could make it. If she’d been the biggest kid in the class, he would have been in trouble. “You promise you won’t laugh?”

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

“Crash.”

“Crash?”

“Yep, I was always jumping off things, and I crashed a lot, so my grandpa named me Crash.” Rym shook his head. He hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. He was probably sixteen and he’d tried to ride the rail in the parking lot. Instead of looking like the guy on TV, he looked like a pile of dirty laundry lying in the middle of the parking lot. Grandpa had arrived out of nowhere and carried him up to the ski patrol booth. They proclaimed him fine, but his pride was wounded. Grandpa nursed that too over a cup of amaretto hot chocolate.

A fresh stab of grief struck, and Rym paused in his climb, blinking back tears. Suddenly, the extra forty pounds of weight from the girl felt like four hundred.

“Rym.” Amber’s call broke through Rym’s sorrow. “You can do this, Rym. You’re almost there, love.”

Love. Grandpa had loved him, the best way he knew how. Rym gathered strength from that and pressed on.

“I don’t think I’d like your name,” said the girl.

Grateful for the distraction, Rym asked, “Why not?” Six more stake holes and they’d be there.

“I would want a name that says I’m good, not that I fall down a lot.”

“That’s why you’re Ripper. You go super-fast.”

She giggled. “I am fast.”

As they got to the top of the hill, Amber reached out and lifted the girl away from him, then scooted back so he could clear the edge. Panting, he rolled onto his back to catch his breath.

Ripper ran to her brother, who hugged her like he didn’t care what his buddies in ski school thought.

It was Amber’s turn to kneel over him. “That was amazing,” she whispered.

He was still breathing hard and his breath made little puffs in the air. “No big deal.” Sitting up, he smiled encouragingly at Ripper as Robyn talked her into putting her skis back on. “Will you ski down with us?” she asked.

“I’d love to, but I’m supposed to be teaching this lady how to turn without falling over.”

Amber gave him a little shove.

“Does she have a ski name?” asked Ripper.

Amber smiled. “This is my first time. I don’t think I’ve earned a ski name yet. Maybe when I ski as good as you I’ll get one.”

Ripper shrugged.

Once Robyn had everyone in line, she smiled at Rym. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome. Be sure to tell her parents what happened. Not what I did, but that she went off the cliff and landed in deep powder. The last thing we want is for them to find out from the kids.”

Robyn lowered her eyebrows as she looked at him. Suddenly she gasped. “You’re Rym Hoagland.” She cursed, quiet enough for the kids not to hear but loud enough that Rym heard it. “There goes my job.”

How many instructors had Rym see lose their job over an accident that wasn’t really their fault, but the parents blamed them anyway? It happened to some of the best and it was a shame. He understood that there was a risk involved with skiing, and the parents all signed waivers. Each case had to be evaluated by a supervisor and they had the power to fire you if they deemed you careless. The high standards were one of the reasons their ski school consistently ranked number one in the nation. Ripper was probably just trying to keep up with kids who were older than her and she’d lost control. “I’ll have to file a report with your supervisor, but you’ll probably only get a warning. Just make sure you keep the smaller kids up front, okay?”

The kids started off, filing passed him and waving goodbye. When he turned to Amber, she had pressed her lips together so tight that there was a white line around them. “She’s not going to get off with a warning. You know that, right?”

“She might ...”

“Rym, the kid went off a cliff. If you hadn’t been here, she would still be down there.”

“Yeah, but I was here. Situation taken care of.”

“No, situation still happening. Until her parents make their reservations for next season, this isn’t over. They may not appreciate your heroics like me or Ripper. They could be really upset.”

Rym turned and stomped back up the hill to where he left his skis without answering. Amber hurried after him, but didn’t say anything.

“The policy is unfair to instructors,” he blurted.

“They know the rules when they’re hired.”

“Yeah, but things happen. An instructor can’t control everything the kids do.”

“They can’t, but they are responsible for the welfare of those kids.”

Rym thought of Robyn. She looked like the average ski instructor, except that she had that mom look to her. It was hard to explain, but some moms just looked like moms. Which meant she had kids to support.

Going slow, he managed to get Amber down the hill. She popped her skis off and threw them over her shoulder. “I can take these back. You should head inside. Thanks for the lesson.”

Rym sucked in his gut. “Amber, wait.”

She turned, and Rym couldn’t find the words he needed to tell her that he’d wanted to kiss her. That he’d thought about her, not as his professional wife, but as a woman he’d like to get to know outside of work. Which was stupid, because he
was
her work. There was no getting out of it. She couldn’t separate Rym from her job any more than she could cut off her ring finger.

“Thanks for your help.”

There it was. That professional smile again. “You’re welcome.”

Rym watched Amber until she slipped through the lodge door. He wished he could go after her, but had the feeling he’d mess that up too.