The Resolution - Your move
Chapter 15
At 9:45, about thirty minutes after the others have left breakfast, Caro comes down the stairs and spots Gregg lounging on one of the sofas.
“Good morning,” he says, offering a warm smile.
“Morning! The snow looks incredible,” she replies, eyes bright with excitement. She’s more than ready to hit the slopes.
“About four feet fell overnight—perfect powder,” Gregg says, watching the energy spark off her.
Wanting to keep the conversation going, Caro asks about the bar and the band they’re planning to see that night.
“They’re great—very Blues Brothers vibe. Hard not to dance,” Gregg says, his grin infectious.
The skiing turns out to be amazing. They quickly find their rhythm, muscle memory kicking in. While Sally, Susie, Luce, and Jim are still gaining confidence, Caro, Nick, and Tom handle the slopes with ease.
After lunch, Gregg takes the three more experienced skiers up to a blue run, while the others stick to the lower slopes to practice.
They hop on the ski lift—T-bars for two, suspended on open chairs. Nick and Tom board first, followed closely by Caro and Gregg. The ascent takes about fifteen minutes.
“You ski well, Caro,” Gregg says as they hover above the snow-covered trees.
Don’t look down. Don’t rock the seat. Don’t drop your poles, her inner voice shrieks, uneasy with this style of lift.
“Thanks! I started young. Good balance helps,” she says, keeping her voice light and not looking down!
“You’re graceful,” he says, glancing at her. “And you all seem really close. How long have you known each other?”
“The girls met in college. The guys trickled in later. They were originally drawn to one of us”—she gives a small smirk— “but they had to win all of us over. We’re a package deal. Even now, four years out, we all live within two miles of each other.”
Gregg nods, impressed. “You look out for each other. That’s rare. Most groups I meet aren’t this tight—or this respectful.”
“How long have you been a ski instructor?” she asks.
“About ten years. I left accounting after I qualified, took a year off to ski… and never went back.”
“Wow. That’s a serious career change,” she grins at him.
He chuckles; eyes bright. “Now I own and run the ski school. I’ve got twenty instructors working for me.”
“Double wow. Are we lucky to have you as our instructor?”
Gregg meets her grin with one of his own, a cocky glint in his eye. “Totally. I don’t usually teach anymore—I prefer skiing for fun. But one of my instructors called in sick Saturday morning, and I didn’t have time to find a replacement. I checked in with your group, figured I’d see how it felt. If I didn’t like you, I would’ve reassigned you. But I did—so here we are.”
Caro shoots him a cheeky look. “So, you liked us, huh?”
He holds her gaze, taking in her sparkling green eyes, wind-flushed cheeks, and very kissable lips. Leaning in slightly, he says softly, “Yeah. I like your group. One person in particular.”
She arches an eyebrow, a teasing glint in her eye. “Oh really? I wonder if she’s lucky—or just another notch on the belt of life?”
Gregg winces, the jab hitting home. “Ouch. Harsh… but fair. How—”
He’s cut off as they approach the dismount point. They straighten their skis, adjust their poles, and glide off smoothly.
Below, Nick and Tom are waiting, anticipation written all over their faces.
“How about a race down?” Caro suggests, her competitive streak kicking in.
“You’re on,” Tom says immediately.
“What’s the bet?” Nick asks, raising a brow.
“The losers buy drinks tonight,” Caro proposes, grinning.
They exchange looks. Gregg lifts a hand. “That rules me out, then.”
Caro, Nick, and Tom glance at one another, silent agreement passing between them. Then Tom turns to Gregg.
“You’re invited—join us tonight and we’ll take you on properly.”
Gregg hesitates, eyes flicking to Caro. “You sure?”
Nick and Tom nod. Caro gives a small, knowing smile and adds her own nod.
Seeing her response, Gregg smirks. “Alright then. Let’s hit the blue run, down to the chair lift. As the pro, I’ll give you a one-minute head start.”
They agree and check the run map. Once ready, they lower their goggles, line up, and Gregg counts them off.
The blue run stretches for two miles. They all get off to a fast start, keeping close until Tom has to swerve to avoid a fallen skier. It slows him down, leaving Caro and Nick in the lead.
Caro crouches lower on a straight stretch, elbows tucked in, gaining a few meters on Nick. He tries to recover but stumbles, stays upright, but loses time.
She slips into her zone, blocking everything else out—the skiers, the noise, even where the others are. It’s just her, the mountain, and the rush of cold air against her face.
Weaving through a few scattered skiers, she spots the final stretch. She lowers herself again, picking up speed, then comes to a dramatic stop just five meters from the others—spraying Sally, Susie, Luce, and Jim with powdery snow.
Gregg pulls in just behind her with a skid stop of his own, adding to the snow spray.
“That was excellent skiing, Caro. How about we try a red run tomorrow?” he says, admiring the flushed, exhilarated look on her face.
“Absolutely! God, that was amazing,” she says, catching her breath.
Tom and Nick arrive seconds later, laughing, congratulating her, and already plotting the next run.
“Yes, yes—but don’t forget, I won the bet!” Caro says, grinning.
They laugh, all in good spirits. Tom suggests that they do it again. Caro and Nick nod eagerly.
“Alright,” Gregg says, “but stay together, watch out for each other. I’ll hang back with the others. You can race again before we wrap up for the day.”