Second Chance Summer

“If it helps,” she said, “I realized my mistake right away and was just taking in the view. Because just look at it …” She gestured to the gorgeous scenery in front of her, the stuff of postcards and wishes and dreams. “It’s mindboggling.”

The wonder in her gaze mesmerized him and he found himself softening toward her more than a little. A little surprised at himself, he turned to take in the view with her, trying to see it through her eyes: the towering peaks that had a way of putting things into perspective and reminding you that you weren’t the biggest and baddest, the blanket of fresh snow for as far the eye could see, glistening wherever the sun hit it like it was dusted with diamonds.

He tried never to take it for granted but he did. It was interesting that it’d taken a little waif of a woman who shouldn’t even be here to shake him out of his routine and make him notice his surroundings.

“Anyway,” she went on. “I was figuring after I got my fill, I’d just head back to the ski lift and ask if I could ride it down. No harm, no foul.”

He couldn’t help being curious about her. Or maybe mystified was a better word. He wanted to know her story. “I’ll get you back to the lift,” he said.

“No, I’ve got it.” She pulled one of her skis out of the snow and laid it down. She struggled to snap her ski in, her arms trembling a little bit. He started forward, but she stopped him with a hand.

“I’ve got this,” she said.

A determined thing then. Fine. But he had to force himself to stay back when ski number two took her longer because she had a balance problem. When she started to tip over, he once again instinctively moved toward her, but she managed to catch herself on a pole.

When she finally clicked her second ski in, she looked up, flashing him this brilliant smile, like she’d just climbed a mountaintop. “See?” she said, beaming, swiping at her brow like maybe she was sweating now. “I’m good.” And with that, she pushed off on her poles.

He caught her by the back of her jacket. Even with all those layers, she was surprisingly light. Light enough that he could easily spin her around and face her in the right direction, which was 180 degrees from where she’d started.

She laughed and damn, she had a really great laugh, one that invited a man right in to laugh along with her. “Right,” she said. “Thanks. Now I’m good.”

Uh-huh. At his hip, his radio buzzed, but he wasn’t budging until he knew she was safely on the lift heading down.

She flashed another smile, this one a bit mischievous. “You do know that even an intelligent person can screw up reading a map, right? Despite appearances, I can assure you, I don’t need a keeper.”

He kept his grimace to himself, or at least he thought he had, until she spoke again.

“You don’t believe me.” She didn’t seem insulted in the least, and in fact, still smiling, she patted Hud on the arm, like he was a poor, stupid man … “You’re cute,” she said, “but I bet you’re single.”

He blinked. He was single, but what the hell did that have to do with anything?

And cute?

He was cute?

He was pretty sure his testosterone level dropped at that. “Let’s just get you off this mountain,” he said in his usual work voice. Calm. Efficient.

But she laughed at him again and shook her head. “I’ve got it from here, Mountain Man. I promise.”

If Hud had a penny for every time someone promised him something and actually kept that promise, he’d have … zip. Zero.

Nada.

And his doubt must have shown all over his face because she patted his arm again. “No, really,” she said. “If I need help, I’ll call ski patrol. But thank you.”

“I am ski patrol,” he said.

She ran her gaze up and down the length of him. It wasn’t ego to say that usually when a woman did such a thing, it was with a light of lust in her eyes. Okay, maybe it was a little bit of ego. But he was athletic—big and built—and women usually gravitated to that.

Not all women, he corrected. This one in particular didn’t appear impressed at all.

In fact, she looked distinctly unimpressed, so much so that he looked down at himself. “I’m not in my gear,” he said, having no idea why he was defending himself. “I’m not technically on duty this morning.”

She didn’t respond to this, either, instead once again pushing off on her poles. Not heading down the face of the mountain thankfully, but toward the ski lift, about a hundred yards back.

He watched her go and swore to himself. She moved a little unsteadily, keeping her knees straight instead of bending them, incorrectly putting her weight on the backs of her skis. Whoever had given her those three lessons at Breckenridge should be fired. But she hadn’t asked him for advice, and if he taught anyone to ski these days, it was little kids because they were actually fun.

She’d be fun to teach too, came the unbidden thought, which he shrugged off. She was on the right path now, out of his hair, leaving him free to take Devil’s Face hard and fast the way he’d planned before heading into work.

Except … she’d left her helmet in the snow at his feet.