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Once again, Doug paused at the top of the last hill on Snow Can-Do. Slipping his goggles away from his eyes and over his helmet, he feigned the need to catch his breath. Without the amber tint of the lenses, the mere slip of late afternoon sunlight seemed too bright and transformed figures into shadows. At least a dozen skiers flew past his skewed vision, aimed for the inevitable line to board the lift and squeeze in that final run of the day. The wind, low but evident all afternoon, now bit into any bared skin with icy teeth.
When his vision finally cleared, he scanned the clusters of people loitering outside the base lodge.
On a spit of snow from her skis, Kerri-Sue pulled up beside him. “Nope. She hasn’t shown up yet.”
Doug offered her a blank stare. “Huh?”
“Lyn. That’s who you’re looking for, right?” She grinned. “I heard about what happened the other night. Real smooth, bringing her dinner.”
His jaw dropped. “How did you...?”
“Small mountain.” She spread her arms wide, the extension of her ski poles encompassing the entire vista of steel gray sky, white snow, and green pines. “Lots of nosy residents. And Mrs. Bascomb is the biggest gossip in the county. I’d imagine the whole town knew about your date before you even had dessert that night.”
“We didn’t have dessert,” he mumbled.
A movement near the row of Adirondack chairs caught his eye. He stared hard, hoping to discern something familiar in the figure who stood alone among the groups of friends and families. The slightest tilt of her head, a subtle gesture of pushing a curl of hair from her face, a laugh, any of the dozens of unique characteristics that made Lyn...Lyn.
“You know, Romeo.” Kerri-Sue poked his shoulder. “You might want to play a little harder to get.”
“Am I that obvious?”
“Not to Max.” She pointed up the mountain with one of her poles.
Doug turned in that direction and blinked. Not once, but three times. Still, the image remained. The skier might have escaped notice, except for the traffic-cone orange caution bib plastered to his chest. But on a mountain fraught with injured and handicapped skiers of all types, Max wouldn’t necessarily stand out. His companion, on the other hand, might cause a stir. A thick, black Labrador retriever trotted alongside the man, barking to direct each turn of the skis.
“A skiing eye dog?” Doug quipped.
Kerri-Sue snorted. “Cute. But I’m betting even Shiloh’s noticed your obsession.”
“Shiloh?”
“The dog.”
“Uh-huh. I got that. I just wondered about the name. Why Shiloh?”
The force of Kerri-Sue’s laughter could start an avalanche.
Doug frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“Anyone else would have been curious about Max before we discussed the dog. Something like, ‘Is that guy really blind?’ or ‘Isn’t that dangerous?’ But not you.”
He shrugged. “You already told me about Max and his dog earlier this week. Besides, I’ve seen blind skiers before. But with human guides. Shiloh’s the first dog guide I’ve seen on a ski slope.”
“You’ve seen blind skiers before.” She didn’t phrase the statement as a question, but she gave him an x-ray look, as if she could see straight into his insides.
Compressing his lips into a tight line, he remained mute. He’d probably already said too much.
She waited. A beat, maybe more. Finally, she gripped her poles and bent forward. “Come on. Let’s finish this run. Then I’ll buy you the non-alcoholic hot beverage of your choice while you change your boots. We can hang out in the lodge until Lyn shows up. Just try not to look so pathetic, okay?”
With his goggles replaced over his eyes, he pushed off on his lone pole and began the last series of slaloms to the lodge.
Pathetic? Hardly. Not when he considered where he was six months ago. Or even three weeks ago, when he first arrived here. He’d nearly come to blows with the physical therapy staff, his instructor, and Brooklyn Raine. He cringed when he thought about how much energy he’d expended to prove them wrong when all he needed was the right woman to prove them right. No, not the right woman. The right story.
Now every turn of the skis made him stronger, more secure, and ready to tackle the enigma that was Lyn Hill/Brooklyn Raine. It was Friday. They had a date. If she showed up...
Keeping up his speed, he bypassed the lift line that led to another trip up in favor of the wooden tripod ski racks on the fringes of the base area. He pulled to a stop and used his pole to pop his bindings, releasing boots from skis.
Seconds later, Kerri-Sue pulled up beside him. “Congratulations.” She clicked open her bindings, then bent to gather her skis. “I gotta tell you, I had my doubts about you when we first started. But you turned out to be one of my best students ever.”
She probably told every student the same thing, but Doug basked in the praise anyway.
“Come on.” With their skis and poles locked to the rack, she clumped up the wooden staircase to the lodge’s outdoor deck. “I could groove on a hot chocolate myself. How about you?”
He suddenly felt the dryness in his throat and, despite the frigid temperatures, replied, “Something cold.”
A sudden shriek stopped their conversation, and Doug swerved his attention to a growing crowd encircling something or someone at the edge of one of the lift lines.
“Look over there.” She pointed a gloved finger toward the triple chair lift. The circle of people clamored, jumping, reaching cell phones and cameras in the air. “I’m guessing they just found your pal, Ace.”
“I’m surprised it took them so long.”
She expelled a generous breath through pursed lips. “I’m surprised it took him so long.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on. He’s your friend. You should know how he uses his fame to impress the girls. Same routine every time he’s here. He keeps a low profile when he first arrives until he finally finds his flavor of the week. Then, suddenly, he’s pulling some sweet-faced girl away from the crowd with an ‘Easy there, everybody. My girlfriend’s not used to this kind of attention.’ About as subtle as a ten-pound bag of quarters to the face, but the results are the same. Poor girl’s seeing stars. At least ‘til the end of the week.”
“And at the end of the week?”
“He’s on to another ski resort and another girl.” Cocking her head, she studied him with a hardened expression. “Which begs the question, ‘How on earth can you be friends with such a shallow, callous boy?’ You’re more than a decade older. I don’t get it.”
“Oh, well, maybe that’s because you don’t really know the parameters of my relationship with Ace.”
“And they are...?”
None of your business.
Hmmm... Probably not the best reply. He’d have to stick with the same story he gave to Lyn. Safer that way, anyway. The fewer lies he told, the stronger his disguise remained. “Ace and I aren’t friends. We’re more like business colleagues.”
“Yeah, that’s what Richie said when I asked him, too. And that tells me a whole lotta nothing.” Her eyes glittered like ice chips. “Maybe I should just Google you.”
He kept his face a mask of nonchalance and shrugged. “Go ahead. If you dig deep enough, I bet you’ll learn all the nitty-gritty details. Really important stuff like the name of my kindergarten teacher, my grade point average in college, and my shoe size.”
“Actually, I learned a lot more than that.”
His limbs itched to squirm, but he dug in his heels—literally and figuratively. “Oh? Found out my favorite movie, too?”
“Not quite. Did you know there’s actually a reporter for The Sportsman with the same name as you?”
The dryness in his throat spread to his bloodstream, and sweat broke out on his neck. But he kept his expression bland, his tone light with a lilt of conversational surprise. “No kidding?”
“No kidding. Got me curious. So, I called The Sportsman’s office. Know what I found out? Seems that Doug Sawyer’s been on hiatus after a Humvee accident in Afghanistan.”
“Wow. That’s quite a coincidence.”
“Ya think?” she retorted. Shaking her head slowly, she sighed. “You know, ordinarily, I’d kick your butt from here to Montpelier. But Rich Armstrong is no idiot. He would have checked you out thoroughly before giving you the green light for the program.”
“So?”
“So, I’m gonna let it go for now. But...” Expression hard as granite, she bounced an index finger near his face. “Watch yourself. Obviously you’re here because you need to be here. And like I said, despite your rocky start, you’ve become one of my best students ever. Now, you and Lyn seem to have something going between you, which is nice. If it’s for real. If it’s not for real, this town will take you apart piece by piece.”
♥
IF LYN STOOD ANY CLOSER to the lodge’s enormous natural river stone hearth, her hair would catch fire. Already, smoke clung to her ski jacket and sweater. Despite the blaze of heat behind her, shivers racked her bones and prickled her skin. Her stomach flipped like a member of Cirque de Soleil. Even with her gloves off, her palms dampened with sweat. The buzz of a hundred conversations occurred around her, but she barely heard them over the thunderous pounding of her heart.
Only two things could stir up these symptoms. And flu season was still a month away. The blood in her veins effervesced, making her feel lighter than air.
She owed this topsy-turvy feeling to the man she’d just spotted seated in the lodge. Admitting her attraction, even if just to herself, released a tremendous weight from her shoulders. If she stood on a precipice right now, she knew she could fly.
Perhaps his size drew her gaze to him immediately. Douglas Sawyer was built like a professional linebacker yet moved with graceful purpose. Kerri-Sue sat beside him, her expression stern while she attempted to hold what Lyn assumed was an in-depth conversation. If Doug was listening to whatever Kerri-Sue attempted to tell him, he did so while he scanned the throngs at the lunch tables packing up their gear.
His eyes found hers, locked there as a wide smile spread across his cold-roughened features. Never allowing his focus to stray from her, he rose. Sidestepping the extended legs of skiers who removed boots, duffel bags packed and ready for departure, and coolers of iced drinks, he strode straight for her.
The closer he came, the warmer she grew. His hazel gaze, bright and intense, bathed her in strong, golden sunlight. Finally, he stood in front of her, the Big Bad Wolf now resembling Prince Charming.
“Lyn.” He bent and kissed her cheek.
A spark flashed in her heart, then skittered like a lit fuse through her veins. “Doug.”
“I’m glad you came.”
A tremulous smile twitched her lips. “So am I.”
Kerri-Sue, out of breath, stopped behind Doug and poked her head out from around his waist. “Oh, thank God you’re here. If he stopped at the last hill on Snow Can-Do to look for you one more time, I would have skewered him on my ski pole. You’d be having Doug kebabs for dinner.”
Lyn’s sappy side, long dormant, woke up warm and eager. “He was looking for me?”
“For at least the last hour,” Kerri-Sue replied. “Trust me. I’m glad you came.”
The windburn on his cheeks made discerning his flush nearly impossible, but even in the dim light and dark wood paneling of the ski lodge, Lyn noticed the subtle change and melted a little more.
“That seems to be the general consensus between all the outside parties,” she admitted. “If I’d dared to try to back out tonight, my sister planned to drag me here by my hair.”
He looked around the large open room. “Where is your sister? Kerri-Sue and I should probably thank her, too.”
Lyn giggled at the disgruntled way he said Kerri-Sue’s name. “April’s somewhere outside. Wanted to hook up with her fiancé and kids. They’re here to ski, and their vacation week is almost over.”
“Well, you two have fun.” Kerri-Sue waved her walkie-talkie. “Doug, I’ll radio one of the guys to stow our gear in the Ski-Hab center until tomorrow. Me? I plan to show off what an educational wastrel I am. In public. I’ve got a meeting with my son’s math teacher tonight. The kid’s barely skidding by, grade-wise, and I’m no help at all. I can do the basics: adding, multiplication, division. Once Nate started bringing home Greek theories and square roots, I was lost.”
Another sigh, a pathetic headshake, and Kerri-Sue shuffled off toward the employees’ lounge, leaving Lyn facing Doug.
His eyes captivated her—sometimes green, sometimes gold—but always appraising and approving. Her shivers had disappeared, replaced with the languidness of a sauna’s warmth. Time stilled. The noisy lodge dissolved into a cozy oasis for her and Doug alone.
Alone with Doug in a room crowded with après skiers. How on earth could he make her feel like they were the only two people in this lodge with just a look?
Finally aware that they simply stood and stared at each other like empty, mismatched bookends, Lyn shook herself out of her stupor and filled the silence. “So... what do we do now?”
He blinked and cleared his throat. “Would you mind coming back to my condo with me? At least so I can get Norm?”
“Norm?” Her happiness aura cooled several degrees. Had she somehow mistaken his invitation? Did he plan to set her up with a friend?
He shook his head. “Not Norm like Norman. Norm like normal.” He grabbed the cuff of his empty sleeve and wagged it near her. “Before we have dinner, I’d like to attach my prosthetic.”
Rather than restoring her excitement, his admission only depressed her more. “You still think the lack of an arm makes you abnormal?”
“No.” He unzipped his heavy jacket. “But I’m betting you’re not wearing a ski bib and four layers of clothes underneath your coat. The prosthetic is just the beginning. I’d also like to get out of this gear and into some regular clothes. In fact, I wanted to run something by you. And, please, if it makes you uncomfortable, say so.”
The chills returned, weak but evident. “What?”
For the first time since he’d strode toward her, he looked away, focusing his attention somewhere above her. Or beyond her. Definitely not at her.
“Well,” he told the stone hearth, “Like I said yesterday, I’m not really comfortable behind the wheel just yet. Which is why I thought it might be better if your sister dropped you off here today. But I didn’t really think it through. Because I hate the idea of you going home by yourself in the dark after dinner. So, I thought, if it’s all right with you, we could go to my place and order something delivered. Then Ace could drive you home afterwards.”
She didn’t know whether to be touched or humiliated. Was he really concerned about her welfare, or did he have some other reason to suggest they spend the evening with Ace? Maybe after their last date, he thought she’d bore him silly? Sure, between the long day and the painkillers she hadn’t exactly been the most scintillating dinner companion. But she’d slept until well after nine this morning and had even skipped her afternoon prescription dose, preferring to deal with the occasional twinge of pain rather than a continuous cloudy, fuzzy feeling.
Maybe he worried that they had too little in common to maintain a decent conversation? The hotshot sports rep and the provincial little innkeeper? Of course, they had more in common than he knew. He had no idea she was more than just the owner of a rural bed and breakfast. Which, of course, was her fault. She wondered how he’d react if he knew who she really was. Not that she’d tell him.
Or... would she? Could she trust Doug with her secret? The idea terrified her, but logic chastised her. For heaven’s sake, the man worked for Ace Riordan, a celebrity whose star burned far brighter than hers these days. Besides, by now, who really cared about her anyway? Maybe Mrs. Bascomb was right.
Here she stood, on the border of uncharted territory. For too many years she’d hidden away, buried her heart. Now, oddly, this complex giant of a man had found a way to reach her. Did she want to meet him halfway? Because if she did, she’d have to be honest with him. About her past, who she used to be.
She had to tell him. Tonight.
“Lyn?” he prompted.
Still pondering her own dilemma, she hesitated. “Umm...”
“Ace won’t be there for dinner,” he said suddenly, reminding her of the topic of their conversation. “He’ll probably be wining and dining some poor, unsuspecting girl with stars in her eyes. At least, that’s what Kerri-Sue believes. But he’s usually back around ten, if that works for you. And since I have Ski-Hab accommodations, all the local restaurants offer delivery. Anything you want, from avocado to zeppoles.”
Avocado and zeppoles?
He’d rehearsed this speech. No one came up with avocado and zeppoles at the drop of a hat. Which meant, despite his “only if you’re okay with it” speech, he really wanted her to agree to his request.
She thought back to their last dinner, also a takeout meal in a private location. The scene with the soup spoon took center stage in her mind, followed by his comment moments ago about getting “norm,” and the mental light bulb clicked on. He still wasn’t comfortable in public with his prosthetic.
Her heart wept for his insecurity, and she blinked to clear sentimental tears from her eyes. Offering him her brightest smile, she exclaimed, “That sounds perfect, actually. Not the avocado or the sugared dough balls, but maybe we could come up with something in between?”
Relief eased the tension lines around his eyes, and his confident grin returned. “Order anything you wish. If the restaurants around here don’t have it, I’ll have it flown in for you.”