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“Erm, when you almost took me out with a water bottle that one time when I turned up at the pub, after making the last album,” I reminded her.
“That was different,” she protested with a dark glare like she instantly remembered how she’d felt that day.
“And so is this. I’m not an instructor, baby. If you fall on your ass, you won’t blame me.”
Daisy shrugged, clamped her mouth shut and fell silent because she couldn’t argue with me about that. Seeing her mull my point over, I stepped closer to her, and lifted my shades. “It’s only a two-hour lesson. If you don’t want to do it with the instructor after that then I’ll accept it. The slopes are a dangerous place if you don’t know what you’re doing. Besides, I didn’t choose an instructor because I couldn’t be bothered to teach you, I did it so that we could both have fun.”
“Alright, you’ve talked me into it. I just hope it’s not a bossy, army type that barks instructions and expects me to be coordinated. I don’t do well with that kind of man.”
I chuckled. “No? Damn, you had me fooled,” I shot back. My sarcastic remark got me a swipe, but when Daisy nearly fell on her ass as she delivered it, I figured I’d made my point about the dangers of hurting herself.
“So where are we eating tonight?” Daisy asked in a swift change in subject.
“It’s a surprise,” I told her as we walked toward the meeting point for the ski instructor. I felt more than a hint of nerves at the thought of what I intended on doing. “But you see that little café up there?” I asked. I pointed toward four small windows on the road, at the bottom of the resort, with a view of the mountain we stood on.
“There?” she asked, disappointed when she pointed exactly where I had. It didn’t look like much at all, and the signage above the door was so small she couldn’t read it from where we were.
“Yeah. I know it doesn’t look like much, but they make the most amazing hot chocolate you’ll ever taste in your life.”
“Oh, really? Well, I’d like to see them try to make a better one than my ma with her marshmallows, cinnamon and whipped cream,” she replied.
“Daisy O’Donnell,” a heavily accented voice called out. There were plenty of people milling around where the voice had come from, then I saw the back of the guy’s head that was holding his hand up.
“Here,” shouted Daisy waving her arm in the air like she’d won a prize at bingo.
The crowd parted and a young, olive-skinned dude with Italian movie star good looks turned to face us. He beamed a toothy smile when his eyes met with Daisy, and I instantly wondered why I’d thought getting a ski instructor for my girl had been such a great idea.
“Ciao bella signora, la mia gironata é appena migliorata del cento per cento. Mi chiamo Allessandro Genesoli.”
He’d lost me at ‘hello’ but I could tell by the way he appreciatively checked Daisy out and flashed a salacious smile he approved. He looked delighted to have such a smoking hot girl for a private lesson.
“We don’t speak Spanish, so I’d appreciate it if you would address us in English.”
“He’s speaking in Italian, and he said, ‘Hello, beautiful lady. My day just got better, one hundred percent better. My name is Allessandro Genesoli,’” a helpful middle aged, American woman with a Southern accent smugly informed me. I could see the instructor immediately wanted to throat punch the interfering woman for calling him out on what he had said.
Daisy chuckled shyly and shook his hand, while I growled and removed my shades to look the fucker in the eye. Allessandro’s charming smile fell from his face when he looked anxiously toward me after the woman had translated what he’d said.
“Oh, did he now?” I remarked. My question had sounded threatening as I glanced the length of him. I towered over him height wise and I wasn’t particularly tall. I pulled down my snood and narrowed my eyes in an intimidating move. I could see he recognized me, but his stance was still super confident. “I’ll be coming along for the ride,” I informed him in a low gravelly tone.
“This is a private lesson for one?” he half-stated, half questioned.
“I can ski, but I’m staying with my girl,” I informed him.
Allessandro didn’t look particularly impressed with my demand, but he glanced from me to Daisy and shrugged. “As you wish, but I will expect you not to interfere.”
“Yeah, no interfering,” Daisy echoed and grinned because she knew Allessandro had pissed me the fuck off.
“Okay, first we must have a lesson in falling over before we do anything else,” he informed Daisy.
“Erm, isn’t the purpose of a ski lesson so that I don’t fall over?” she challenged. Her eyes darted from him to me for reassurance, but the instructor continued.
“Oh, you will fall—many times. But where and how you fall is important for you to be safe and not be permanently injured or die.”
“So, lesson one, how to fall without breaking my neck?” she clarified.
“Exactly. But first, even before this, we must learn the rules of the slopes.”
“Jesus, should I have brought a notepad and pen?” she asked, glancing toward me. I couldn’t see the expression in her eyes because of her goggles.
