Carol Ross - A Family Like Hannah's

“Yes. I am. Hannah James.”

He noticed the tightness in her jaw and thought, uh-oh. He hadn’t meant to offend her, and he knew very well this process would go a lot smoother if he could make friends with her, convince her the resort would benefit from his recommendations.

Attempting to reduce the tense moment with honesty and a touch of remorse, he winced. “Oh, man... Ms. James, I’m so sorry. I may not have had the most traditional upbringing, but I do know better than to ask a woman her age.”

He added his own sheepish grin. “You, however, look very young and I was surprised. I am taken aback and embarrassed by my behavior. Can we start over?”

* * *

SURELY HE WASN’T implying she was too young for this job? And why in the world would he think that, Hannah? After he just witnessed you jumping off the chairlift like some kind of reckless teenager?

But she couldn’t help it.

Since the accident she found herself constantly looking for ways to remind herself she was alive, that there were still thrills to be had even if she could no longer race. Dr. Voss said it was harmless, therapeutic even, as long as her forays didn’t get too dangerous. Thus, she was only into “safe” danger. Although that might be difficult to convince Tate Addison of given the current circumstances.

Flashing her best carefree grin, she said, “Of course, Mr. Addison, you’re forgiven. Call me Hannah. And please, forgive me, too. This probably looks really strange, but we all need a little fun sometimes, right? And I can assure you I am both old enough for this job and qualified for the position.”

He looked relieved to be let off the hook.

“Great. Okay, I’m Tate.” He placed a hand on his chest. “And clearly you are both of those things.”

She brushed off his words with a wave of her hand. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s get your tour started, shall we?”

She pulled off her gloves and removed her hat from inside of her jacket where she’d stashed it before she jumped from the lift. She arranged the hat on her head, tucking some stray strands beneath its softness. Finally she replaced her gloves and glanced up in time to catch his assessing stare; she didn’t even want to imagine what he was thinking.

She needed to put this little setback behind her and do some damage control.

“After you.” She gestured toward the groomed portion of the hill.

They hiked back to where he had left his snow machine. There was plenty of room for two, so when he suggested she climb on, she did. He took off slowly and putted along until she directed him to stop a few hundred feet up the hill where she began to give him the status report she’d practiced.

“We’re almost directly in the middle of the ski terrain right here...”

Hannah went on to explain how the runs taking off from each of the four lifts would be arranged to accommodate every type of alpine skier—beginner, intermediate and advanced.

“Chair four—the last chair—will be a nice mix of beginner and intermediate runs along the front here, and has a dual purpose of allowing Nordic skiers access to the eastern terrain. It’s full of trails where they can cross-country ski for miles. We have plans for a small lodge in that area eventually. Alaska has a substantial amount of cross-country skiers and I believe we should really capitalize on this...”

Feeling confident and cruising through her practiced spiel, she believed their awkward meeting was well behind them when he interrupted.

“What about snowboarding?”

“What about it?”

“Does the resort offer anything for snowboarders?”

She thought for a second. The man had been a professional snowboarder for many years; of course snowboarding would be the first thing on his mind.

“Yes, of course. They will be allowed to transport their boards up on the lifts for an extra fifty dollars a day. And we’re only charging them ten percent more on rentals, food and lodging.”

His dark brows dipped down, midnight-blue eyes full of consternation. The man really was serious. Much more so than she had expected. And definitely more than seemed called for. Every snowboarder she’d ever known was pretty much the opposite of serious.

“I’m kidding,” she finally said.

“Oh... That’s funny.” He let out a laugh. The sound was deep and rich, and it surprised her. He should laugh more often, she thought, because it made him seem much less uptight.

Inexplicably proud of herself for the grin still on his face she went on. “Seriously, though, we will offer snowboarders the same things we offer skiers—top-of-the-line equipment rentals, meticulously groomed slopes and plenty of beautiful dry powder. As you can see, we have the most delicious snow here.”

“No terrain park? Or a half-pipe? Quarter-pipe at least?”

Disappointed to find his intensity already back, she recovered quickly. “Not at this time. Too expensive. We’re a family-friendly ski resort catering to the recreational skiers of beginner to intermediate levels. Our focus is—”

“Ski and snowboard resort,” he interrupted again.

“What?”

“It’s a ski and snowboard resort, right?”

She felt a furrow of frustration bending her own brow and made a conscious effort to ease it away. “Doesn’t that go without saying?”

A thoughtful expression evolved on his face. “Not really, no—not from a marketing standpoint. Snowy Sky Ski and Snowboard Resort sounds better, don’t you think? I do,” he confidently answered his own question and then went on, “Snowboarders like to feel welcome. For so long we were looked down on, even banned in some places.”

Was he serious with this? That had been, like, twenty years ago. He wanted her to change the name of the resort to that tongue twister so that snowboarders would feel welcome? Not happening.

But how best to state it diplomatically? “Um...”

“So, you expect the more advanced athletes to do what?”

She felt her brows shoot upward in surprise along with a spike of impatience. “Whatever they like. We have some advanced runs. And there’s always JB Heli-Ski for you adrenaline junkies.”

She was referring to the heli-ski operation she’d opened the winter before with her friend Cricket Blackburn. The business wasn’t a part of Snowy Sky, but she knew Tate was aware of it because Cricket had told her that he had visited Rankins a few times in the past year. Cricket had even given him a ride in the helicopter earlier in the fall, before the onset of the ski season.

“I’m not an adrenaline junkie,” he replied with a steady tone.

She had the feeling he was going to add something else, but he didn’t. He just stared with that same sober expression. She tried not to fidget, but it was so disconcerting.

“I’ve seen you compete. You’re telling me those tricks you do—the tricks you invented—that doesn’t give you a rush?”

“It was my job. I was good at it.” He shrugged like he was still thinking about the question. “Winning gave me a rush I guess. I like to win.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, trying not to let her consternation show. “You should try heli-skiing sometime. It’s fun.”

“I snowboard. I don’t ski.”

Thank you for clarifying, Mr. Literal, Hannah thought, just barely managing to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she offered up a smile. “You can take a board into the backcountry, too, you know? People do it all the time. I’m sure it’s not as fun as skiing but...” she trailed off with an easy shrug.

“Yeah, no, I mean—I know. I’ve been boarding in backcountry before. That’s not what I was referring to.”

She had no idea how to respond. He really was a tough crowd.