Four Nights to Forever by Jennifer Lohmann

teenager and she said the words with an exaggerated whine, but her eyes sparkled and she was clearly trying not to smile and failing.
    He laughed in response. “No steps to this lift. We’re going through the trees, to a run with jumps. Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the bridge.
    She pursed her lips, her head pulled back with suspicion. “I never liked jumps.” Her nose wrinkled. “I was never good at them.”
    “Do you trust me?”
    He’d only meant the question to be about skiing and their lessons, but her “I guess” answer still smarted.
    “You only guess?” His goggles were down over his eyes, making it easier for him to swallow his hurt. All he had to do was smile and let the dark lenses do the rest.
    Cassie was too observant and caring not to notice, though, and her eyes softened with understanding. “No, I trust you.” She walked the couple of steps until she was alongside him. “Following your lead hasn’t led me astray yet.”
    Maybe she was only talking about skiing and lessons, but her words immediately brought their shower to mind and how responsive she had been to him. Which led his mind to the curve of her back as she’d pressed against the shower wall and the way her hips had bucked against his fingers. He was roasting in his ski pants and shell before they even got on the slopes.
    “Then put your goggles on and follow me.” After the trails through the trees, he was going to show her the places where making first tracks was always possible, even two mornings after a big storm.
    Just in case she came back.
    *
    Cassie’s knees bent and straightened like a spring as her skis bounced over the small bumps along the path Doug had guided her to. The gaps between the trees were wide enough that she never felt like she was going to careen into a tree and break her neck if she fell, but she had to duck under pine boughs a couple of times.
    “You okay?” he called over his shoulder.
    She stabbed her poles into the snow and pushed forward. “Yes.” She managed to say the word with more force than she felt. She didn’t like—and had never liked—jumps. But there was no going back now.
    He had asked if she trusted him. And she had meant it when she’d said yes. It didn’t mean she was looking forward to the sensation of her skis leaving contact with the snow, though.
    “It’s only a little farther.”
    “Okay.” Not only did she trust him but she wanted to keep trusting him, so she dodged another branch and skied until she was beside him.
    He stopped at the top of a break between trees that was several yards wide and seemed to continue all the way down the mountain. She followed suit. It didn’t look steep, but she wasn’t worried about the pitch of the mountain; she was worried about the small mounds of packed snow that she was supposed to work through. One was too tall for her to hope she’d keep contact between her skis and the snow. She would either have to jump or go around.
    “Ready?” he asked. She couldn’t see his eyes, but his hopeful expectation was clear in the rise of his cheeks.
    “Yes.” I’m ready for you.
    “You’ll go first and stop after that last jump. Depending on whether or not you like it, we’ll do more.” She nodded, and he must have noticed that her whole body was tight, because he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “You don’t have to do this. There’s a way out of here that’s not over the jumps.”
    “No.” She shook her head. “I want to.”
    Hotshot. I want to be a hotshot.
    When he smiled, she believed she could do it. “Go get ’em, tiger.”
    She growled to hear him laugh, then pushed off toward the jumps. The first few weren’t terrible. They were only slightly bigger than the bumps on the trail that had led them here. Both her knees and skis bent to accommodate the mounds and she stayed in contact with the earth enough that her stomach never sank. But the magic couldn’t last. The biggest jump was up ahead.
    Being timid