I RODE THE MAGIC CARPET up the smallest slope, surrounded by three-year-olds and their parents, feeling ridiculous for the nervous thumping of my heart. Rental skis were strapped to my feet in stiff boots, my snowsuit swishing with every movement. The poles in my hands clattered against my boots as I glanced over my shoulder at the lodge.

That was where I wanted to be—not here, about to careen down the hill and probably crash into a bunch of preschoolers.

“You’ll be fine,” Rhett murmured as he walked up the hill beside me. “It’s just the bunny hill, and I’ll be right here with you.”

“How did you convince me to do this, again?”

“I told you it’d be fun.”

“So you lied.”

“I also called you chicken, and your pride got involved.”

I glared at him, but turning my head made me lose my balance, and I almost fell off the black conveyor belt. Rhett steadied me just in time for me to bobble my way off the carpet. I screeched, grabbing his arm as he walked me a little ways away on a flat patch of ground.

I scanned the hill near the T-bar, but I couldn’t see Nate and Alec. Their instructor must have taken them higher up the mountain today. They were braver than I was.
I turned back to the kiddie hill spread out before me. “I’m going to hurt myself.”

“You’re going to be fine,” he said, dropping his skis to the ground. He snapped his boots into the bindings with a stomp and smiled at me.

“You should be wearing a helmet,” I told him. I knocked my own helmet for emphasis.

“I’ve been skiing all my life, Piper. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but you haven’t been skiing all your life with me. I’ll probably knock you out when one of my skis comes flying off.”

“Daddy, huwwy up! Weehee!” A little girl came flying off the magic carpet, pushed her way toward the hill, and started slicing back and forth while her father laughed nearby.

“Good job, kiddo!” he yelled, gliding effortlessly down the hill behind her, his hips moving smoothly side to side. The little girl crossed the hill the other way, and they high-fived each other as she giggled. Show-offs.

Rhett nodded at them. “If a toddler can do it, so can you.”

“That’s not helpful,” I grumbled.

“You can have hot chocolate when we’re done,” he cajoled.

“You realize I’m not an actual toddler, right?” I complained, and Rhett laughed. The worst of it was, a hot chocolate sounded pretty good. I let out a long breath and shook out my hands to get rid of some of my anxiety.

He held out a pole, and I wrapped my mittened hands around the end of it. He pulled, and I wobbled as I slid toward him.

“You’re the bravest, most amazing woman I know,” Rhett said when he caught me, my skis nestled between his. “You can conquer the bunny hill.”

“I can conquer the bunny hill,” I repeated, nodding.

“Skis like a pizza slice, remember?”

“Pizza slice.” I nodded.

He maneuvered us around, pointing me toward the lodge. “We’re just going straight down. Don’t worry about turning, just keep those skis like a pizza slice, bend your knees, and enjoy.”

I sucked in a breath and nodded. The world was tinted green through my goggles, my skis dusted with bits of snow. I looked at the curled tips, then pushed off. I wobbled again, but I bent my knees a little more and caught myself. My poles bounced on the ground, the outer edges of my skis carving up the snow like a plow. Breaths puffed out of me, and a nervous laugh bubbled up.

“I’m doing it! Rhett! I’m doing it!”

“You’re doing so good!” he said from behind me. “Keep going!”

The bunny hill was almost flat, but I was still picking up speed. Panic began to seep into my bloodstream as I got halfway down, my legs trembling with the effort of keeping the tips of my skis angled toward each other. “Rhett!” I called out as I sped up. “Rhett!”

“I’m right here, baby. You got it! You’re doing it!”

“I’m doing it!” I yelled back, a tremble in my voice. The tips of my skis drifted apart.

“Pizza slice, Piper! Pizza slice!”

“I’m trying!” My legs burned, and my skis slid a few inches further apart. The pizza slice was becoming a pizza trapezoid. A low scream built up as I tried to regain control, my vision narrowing as wind whistled past me. Rhett slid into my peripheral vision, but I was too focused on my own skis to pay much notice.

“Pull your legs back together, Piper,” he coaxed.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me,” I snapped while panic mounted. “Rhett! I’m going to crash!”

“If you can make a dirty joke, you can slow yourself down, babe.”

“I can’t! I’m going too fast!” In a last, desperate attempt to regain control over my legs, which were now spread so wide that my snow pants felt like they were going to rip, I pushed myself up with a pole and lifted my right ski. For just a moment, I thought I’d done it. I balanced on one leg as I flew down the hill, surrounded by toddlers, and brought my ski back in line.

But that was the problem: I brought my ski back in line. With the skis parallel to each other, I built up so much speed that panic robbed me of control. A wordless scream ripped out of me, and I flew down the nearly flat bunny hill while small children scrambled to get out of my way. Rhett propelled himself forward with powerful glides, and once he was ahead of me, he held out his pole.

“Grab it!”

“Rhett!” I reached ahead, bending at the waist while my arm windmilled and missed the pole.

“Grab the pole, Piper!”

Relief swept through me as my hand wrapped around Rhett’s pole, and he immediately began to slow us down. Unfortunately, that relief was short-lived. We’d both been so focused on getting me to grab the pole that we didn’t realize our direction had veered left, toward the orange plastic fencing that wrapped around the base of a very big pine tree.

Rhett crashed into it, flipped over, and took me with him. My skis went flying and stabbed into the snow at the side of the tree. In a tangle of fencing, pine needles, snow, and Rhett, I spluttered and flailed, pathetic little screams slipping through my lips.

Rhett caught my arms and held them down—and that was when I realized he was chuckling. His head fell back against the powdery snow, the fencing tangled beneath us, and he laughed. I smacked his chest with my hand, then snorted and fell onto my side, tucking my head into his shoulder as I giggled.

“Are you okay?” The little girl from earlier stopped at our feet, spraying us with a fine dusting of snow.

I lifted my head. “We’re fine.”

“You have to keep your skis like a pizza,” she explained. “Like this.” She demonstrated, moving her little skis into perfect position.

“Right. Thanks. I’ll try that next time.”

She nodded and skied off to rejoin her father a few feet away. My gaze slid sideways to look at Rhett, who was looking at me with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

“There won’t be a next time,” I grumped.

“Why not? You did good!”

“You owe me a hot chocolate, Rhett,” I said, and clambered up to my feet. The lodge beckoned. If I was lucky, Grandpa’s chair might be free by the fire. I could put my feet up and forget about this whole silly endeavor.

My fiancé stood, catching a ski before it raced off toward the lodge. He clipped his skis together, stabbed them into the snow, then did the same for mine. Then he caught my hand and dragged me close so he could kiss me. “I’m proud of you, Piper. You sure you don’t want to give it another try?”

I bunched my lips to the side, looking at the black conveyor belt bringing children up a tiny, gentle incline. My hip was sore, and I had an ungodly amount of snow down the back of my pants.

But if I was going to be married to a man who owned a ski hill, I might as well learn how to ski. I huffed, clicked my tongue, and grabbed my skis. “This hot chocolate better be worth it,” I grumbled.

Under the clear blue skies, I looked up at the man I’d agreed to marry, and I saw nothing but love and belief in his eyes. That was what did me in—the fact that he truly thought I could do it. I wasn’t used to having a partner who was so unshakable in his confidence about me. It made me want to live up to his expectations—especially when I knew that he’d be right there with me if I fell.

I took a deep breath. “All right. One more time.”

“Atta girl,” he said, and pulled me in for a soft kiss. “Love you.”

“Try not to aim for the tree next time you swoop in to save me,” I replied.

He laughed, and I couldn’t quite help the curl of my lips in response. As he carried our skis toward the base of the magic carpet, I realized that the rest of my life could be a whole lot more fun than I’d ever anticipated. If I got a few bruises and sore muscles in the process, it would be worth it to spend it with Rhett.