The Billionaire Athlete’s Christmas Fling - Leslie North Page 0,23

at top speed, heading down the side where fewer skiers were in her way. With her helmet and goggles on, Chase couldn’t see her face from this distance. But he did see the way she wobbled about halfway down, then again three-quarters of the way. Anxiety clutched at his throat. He wanted to run and stop her, but he’d never get to her in time.

Chase held his breath and waited. Seconds later, she approached the jump and he noticed instantly her skis weren’t straight. The angle of the tiny jump fought against Lindsey’s skis and she went down hard in a spray of snow, skis, and legs all tangled up.

He took off running, ignoring the pulling pain in his leg, his heart in his throat. He was dimly aware of Tana running next to him. All the sounds from the ski hill faded into an ominous silence. Get up, get up.

Lindsey hadn’t moved by the time they got there.

“Are you okay? Talk to me, Lindsey,” he said, fear gripping every inch of his body.

Tana was near tears as she held her daughter’s hand. “Lindsey, honey. Talk to mommy.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “That was awesome,” she whispered.

“No, it wasn’t.” Tana’s voice shook. “You took a big spill. Come on, can you get up—”

They needed to move quickly—out of the way of the other skiers. “Is everything okay? Can you wiggle your toes?” He gave her a quick assessment, making sure nothing was broken before scooping Lindsey up in his arms. The path was clear. Tana’s footsteps closed in on them a minute later.

“Let’s get her to the car.” A shake in Tana’s voice told him that she felt just as scared as he did. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Mom, I’m okay. Everybody falls sometimes. Can you put me down, Chase? I wanted to go for another run.”

“No.” The forceful denial came from them both.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We need to get you somewhere stationary, so we can be sure you’re all right,” Chase added. It was also for his own peace of mind.

“I am all right,” Lindsey complained. “I don’t have a broken leg. See? My knees are fine.” She swung her heavy ski boots in Chase’s arms, putting more pressure on his bad leg. “Put me down.”

“Relax, Linds.” Tana stuck close to Chase’s side, one hand on Lindsey’s arm. “We’re going home.”

“I don’t want to go home. I want to stay here! Put me down.” Lindsey swung her legs harder, with all her might. “Chase, I’m not done skiing.”

“For today, you are,” he answered. He’d have to call someone to go out and pick up Lindsey’s skis and poles and have them returned to the rental shed.

Tana and Lindsey argued back and forth all the way to Tana’s car. Chase focused on putting one foot in front of the other, while she kicked and pushed against him.

The farther they got from the ski hill, the redder Lindsey’s face got. “Come on. I don’t want to go.” Clearly, she was overtired, although her alertness was more reassuring than anything. They weren’t dealing with a concussion.

Chase bent and put Lindsey in the backseat of the car while Tana hopped in the front and started the ignition. He reached for the seatbelt, but Lindsey batted him away.

“I can do it myself.” Her eyes met Chase’s with a ferocity he recognized from Tana. “Don’t touch it.” The girl’s face flushed, and she looked pointedly down at the belt buckle and slammed it home with a pout. Lindsey turned away from him, staring at the other window. She lifted her ski boots and kicked the back of her mom’s seat.

“Knock it off, Linds.” Tana’s voice stayed even, but he could tell she wasn’t happy. “And you need to apologize.”

“Sorry,” Lindsey said sullenly.

“All right,” he answered her evenly. Was this what it felt like to be a dad? To do the right thing, even when the other person involved put up a fuss. To put someone else’s safety ahead of everything else. It was a strange feeling, for sure. For as long as he could remember, he’d only worried about himself. And more recently, his grandmother. And now, Lindsey and Tana. The list was growing, and for once, he didn’t seem to mind.

Chase hopped into the passenger seat without a word. Her leg might not be okay, after all. Tana had warned him.

Tana drove with military precision, eyes locked on the road.

He couldn’t gauge her emotions, and her silence