Ian was teaching his daughter, and Evelyn was gliding along beautifully—her technique was impressive for her age.
Vivian, on the other hand, was more timid. She crept forward in tiny, careful steps, her movements cautious and deliberate.
After Eleanor fell for the third time, Evelyn couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She nudged her father. “Dad, you should go help Mom!”
Seeing his daughter was getting tired, Ian nodded. “Take a break here, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”
He turned to Gavin, who was standing nearby. “Keep an eye on Evelyn for me.”
“Of course, boss,” Gavin replied with an easy grin.
Ian skated over to where Eleanor had ended up sprawled in the snow, catching her breath.
“Need a hand, Dr. Sutton?” he asked, bending down and offering his hand.
“I can do it myself.” Eleanor turned her face away, pushing herself up with her ski poles. But she’d stopped on a short, steep slope and the moment she tried to stand, she lost control, sliding forward with alarming speed. Ian moved instantly to keep up. She was clearly unsteady, on the verge of tumbling face-first when he planted himself right in her path.
“Move aside,” Eleanor snapped, waving him away in irritation.
Ian didn’t budge. Not a second later, Eleanor—like a runaway comet—collided straight into his arms.
He caught her, solid and unyielding, and they both went down, tumbling into the snow with Eleanor sprawled awkwardly on top of him.
“Let me go.” She pushed herself up, her gloved palm braced against his broad chest.
Instead of releasing her, Ian tightened his hold, locking her firmly in his embrace. His eyes, reflecting the pale winter sky, were dark and magnetic, as deep as obsidian.
“You barreled into me, you know,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse.


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