Rekindling Christmas by Yvette Hines Read Free Book Online

out over her shoulder, “Just remember to keep
your feet a narrow shoulder-width apart.”
    Practicing the movements again for a
moment, Ryanne figured that she would be able to handle some basic downhill ski
instructions. She turned around and caught a glimpse of the instructor leading
a couple of women, and a few men now, toward the first small slope. Pointing
the tips of her skis in the direction of the beginners group, Ryanne dug her
poles deep into the snow and shoved hard, wanting to catch up with them.
    Nervousness engulfed her and she
looked down at her skis, seeing that their tips were not parallel as they
should have been, and before she knew it, she’d run into a wall of sorts.
    *           *           *
    “Damn it!”
    The bundle of blue that had come
barreling into his body, knocking them both to the hard-packed snow, was
bucking and elbowing him as they tried to get up.
    “Just hold still.” Carson dropped
his poles and attempted to grip the person on top of him, to keep them from
getting more tangled than they already were.
    “Oops.” A frazzled female voice came
out of the blue-jacketed form.
    “Oomph.” Carson was jabbed in the
ribs.
    “Sorry.” The voice now sounded
breathless and worried.
    “Oomph.” The handle of the person’s
pole caught him in the chin. With a quick bear hug around the person’s arms and
torso, he barked, “Can you please stop moving?”
    The blue cloud froze. The only thing
moving was her chest as the person panted heavily against him.
    “Better. Now if we just take this
slow, we can—”
    Gutted, skinned, and hung out to
dry; done for was exactly how Carson felt when the other person lifted her head
and he got a good look at her face. Ryanne McCall’s face. His teenage dream,
fantasy, and friend was lying in his arms, her limbs intertwined with his. It
didn’t escape his mind or body how he’d imagined on too many nights how they
would feel in such a position, after or before they made love.
    Shit . He could feel his cock responding
from the slight weight of her form and the memories, and there wasn’t a damn
thing he could do about it with their skis locked together. If Ryanne felt the
evidence of his budding erection, she didn’t respond. Matter of fact, she
hadn’t said one word except “sorry”. Then Carson realized neither had he. He
smiled, hoping it didn’t come across as one of those awkward, geeky grins he
couldn’t help giving her when they were neighbors.
    “Hi, Carson.” Her voice sounded like
silky jazz music, and it turned him inside-out just as it had years ago.
    “It was you.”
    She frowned, her chocolate-brown
eyes accessing him. “Me? When?”
    “Last night at the mixer.” Even now,
with most of her hair hidden under her blue-and-white cap, with nothing but a
thick ebony braid hanging over her shoulder, he knew she had been the girl at
the table. Raising his hand, he followed the edge of her hat along her forehead,
wishing he didn’t have on his bulky gloves.
    “Hey, Car, I’m all for you gettin’ a
fuck, but I don’t think the resort will take too kindly to you taking the girl
out here in the middle of the slopes.”
    Phillip’s voice jostled Carson out of the intimate bubble. Tilting his head back, he stared up into the face of
his best friend, who at that moment he could have dragged down the slopes by his
bald head.
    “Can it, Phillip. You’re the last
person to be preaching about sexual censorship.”
    Ryanne began to squirm again, reminding
Carson they still needed to release their skis.
    “Phillip? As in Phillip Stifler?”
    “As long as you’re not claiming I’m your
baby’s daddy, it is me in the flesh, sweetheart.” Phillip was oozing with charm
as always.
    The desire to shove a fistful of
snow into his friend’s mouth assailed Carson. Unsnapping their boots from the
skis was the easiest way to get them loose. Once that was done, he helped
Ryanne to her feet.
    “It’s me, Phillip.