And quite alone.
Not smart on her part. The weather had been particularly volatile lately. Right now it was clear as a bell and thirty degrees, but that could change in a blink. High winds were forecasted, as was another foot of snow by midnight. But even if a storm wasn’t due to move in, no one should ski alone. And especially no one should ski alone on Devil’s Face, a 2,800-foot vertical run that required technical expertise and nerves of steel. There was a low margin for error.
As in no margin for error. One little mistake was a guaranteed trip to the ER. As skilled as he was, even Hud made sure his brothers knew where he was and that his radio was in good working order.
“Hey,” he called out to the girl. “You okay?”
Nothing.
He glided on his skis the last few feet between them and touched her shoulder.
She jerked and craned her neck, staring at him for a beat. Then she pulled off her helmet and dark lenses, and yanked earbuds from her ears. Tinny music burst out from them so loud that he wondered if she could still hear anything at all.
“Sorry,” she said. “Did you say something?”
“I asked if you’re okay.”
She flashed a smile like the question was silly. “Of course.”
Of course. She wore a tight ski cap beneath her helmet, also cherry red, with no hair visible and enough layers that she was utterly shapeless, but he could see now that she wasn’t a girl at all. A woman, maybe mid-twenties. Dark eyes. Sweet, contagious smile.
Pretty.
But he’d been a cop for long enough that he could read people, often before they said a word about themselves. It was all in the posture, in the little tells, he’d learned.
Such as the layers she wore.
Yes it was winter and yes it was the Rocky Mountains, but thirty degrees was downright balmy compared to last week’s mid-teens. Most likely she wasn’t from around here or the mountains at all.
Then there was the slightly unsure look in her eyes, a vulnerability that said she was at least a little bit out of her element and knew it. Her utter lack of wariness told him something else, too, that probably wherever she’d come from, it hadn’t been a big city.
None of which explained why she was sitting alone on top of one of the toughest mountains in the country. Dumped by a boyfriend after a fight on the lift? Separated from a pack of girlfriends and taking a break? Hell, despite appearances, maybe she was a daredevil out here on a whim.
Or it could be that she was simply a nut job. Nut jobs came in all shapes and sizes, even mysterious cuties with vulnerability in their eyes that suddenly made him feel extra protective. “You sure you’re okay?”
She narrowed her eyes a little. “Why, don’t I look okay?”
He knew a trick question when he heard one. Knowing better than to touch that one with a ten-foot pole, he swept his gaze over her. No visible injuries. But then again, he couldn’t see much given her layers. “So you’re not hurt.”
“Nope.” She paused. “You’re probably wondering what I’m doing here.”
“Little bit.”
She sighed. “Did you know that people who don’t understand ski maps, or maps at all really, shouldn’t ski alone?”
“No one should ski alone,” he said.
“You are.”
Only because he had a radio at his hip with a direct connection to command central, and an entire team of ski patrol who could look up at the board in the main office and see exactly where he was. But then her words sank in and he stilled. “Are you telling me that you’re on Devil’s Face, the most challenging run on this mountain, by accident because you misread the ski map?” he asked, doing what he thought was a damned fine job of holding back his incredulous disbelief.
She bit her lip, ineffectually trying to hold back another smile, which didn’t matter because her expressive eyes gave her away. “I realize my answer’s going to make me look bad,” she said, “but yes.” She nodded. “Yes, I’m here because I misread the map. I had it upside down.”
“This run is a double diamond expert,” he said. “You’re risking your life up here,” he added, trying really hard not to sound like a judgmental asshole, but seriously? How many clueless people had he rescued this week alone?
“Well, I’ve taken lessons. Three of them. Breckenridge,” she said.
Three. Jesus. “How long ago?”
She bit her lower lip. “Um, a few years. Or ten. I thought it was like getting on a bike,” she said to his groan of frustration. “I visualized it and—”
He wondered if she’d visualized the hospital bills.