Читать книгу The Best Of The Year - Medical Romance - Carol Marinelli, Amalie Berlin - Страница 16
ОглавлениеSHE WAS LATE.
Jack wasn’t sure if he was happy about that or ticked. They’d agreed to ride up to the slopes together for another couple of lessons and then have dinner afterwards.
Propping his skis and poles against one of the heavy pillars that held up the wraparound porch, he inspected his snow boots for the fifth time. Yeah, yeah, yeah, all the laces were well tied and nothing dangled where it could trip him up. He’d leave that to the infuriating woman he’d almost mauled in the sleigh.
He hadn’t been able to get her out of his head all weekend, which had seemed to drag. It had been made worse by a phone call from his coach making sure he was resting and having plenty of “fun.”
As far as the resting went, it was hit and miss. He’d slept fairly well one night, only to wake up in a cold sweat the next.
But was he having fun?
A little too much, if you asked him. He’d had no business letting things get so out of hand on that ride through the snow. His only excuse was the same pathetic one he’d given himself each time he’d been around the woman. It had been far too long since he’d gotten any.
And how crude did that sound? Paula would be so proud of what he’d become.
Except he remembered her having a little bit of naughty wrapped up in her nice. Maybe that’s why Mira’s outrageous behavior had bothered him so much. It struck too close to those memories he’d done his best to bury.
Bury. Not a good word to use. Since he’d literally buried the woman he’d loved since high school. The woman he’d gone through medical school with.
Maybe he should just do what he’d said and go to bed with Mira. Be done with it. Except she hadn’t shown up yet, and she was now—he glanced at his watch—over a half-hour late. Even knowing she wasn’t coming didn’t stop him from waiting here like a pathetic loser, going over the thousand and one excuses she might have for standing him up.
None of them, except maybe her father becoming ill, held up. Especially since he’d just seen Mr. Dupris a few minutes earlier and had given him a half-wave as he’d strode through the entrance.
Well, nothing to do but go ahead on up and ski back down. He might as well get some use out of his rental fee. But somehow doing it alone held no appeal any more.
He grabbed his skis and poles and started toward the chairlifts that lay about fifty yards to his left.
“Jack, wait!”
A familiar voice sounded behind him. If he were smart, he’d just keep going and pretend he hadn’t heard her. But, of course, he didn’t. He turned around and all thoughts of leaving disappeared.
Mira, in the same all-white snow outfit she’d worn the other day, hurried toward him, equipment slung over her left shoulder, her hair streaming around her shoulders. “Sorry. I thought you’d be gone by now.”
Thought...or hoped?
“Sorry to disappoint you.” The words were more difficult to force out than they should be.
She frowned, falling in step beside him. “Disappoint me? I had a patient this morning and didn’t have your cell number. I tried calling your room, but you’d already left, evidently.”
His cell number. It hadn’t even dawned on him to give it to her. And he had left early that morning, deciding to go for a walk in the crisp air to clear his head and to try to talk himself out of actually sleeping with the woman. When she hadn’t shown up, he’d thought she’d regretted that terrible—or was it amazing?—kiss they’d shared.
Now she was here. And he was just as torn over what to do as ever.
Catching the next flight out of Silver Pass would be the smart thing. But his coach would probably not welcome him back with open arms at this point. In fact, he might not welcome him back at all.
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, although what would he do with his life then? Allow it to spiral back down to dark places he’d rather not revisit? And if he sat around at home, that’s exactly what would happen.
Regrets, he’d discovered, were a poison that didn’t quite kill.
Two and a half more weeks.
He could always find Mrs. Botox and be done with it. He could guarantee there’d be no emotional entanglements on his part after spending a night with her.
So why did sleeping with Mira have to be any different?
It shouldn’t, but he had a feeling it would be.
“Sorry about the cell number. I didn’t even think to give it to you last night.”
She grinned up at him. “I don’t think either one of us was doing much thinking.”
His own smile took him by surprise. “Probably not. How is your patient, by the way?”
“A child with an upset stomach. Judging from the stack of crumbled candy wrappers on her nightstand, I think I found the culprit.”
“Such an exciting practice you have here, Doctor.”
She gave a slight grimace as they arrived at the chair lifts. “I’m sure it’s not as action packed as yours, but it has its moments.” She gestured at the line of running seats that swooped by before starting their ascent. “Do you know how to use one of these?”
“I’ve somehow gotten on them during both of my other outings, but I have to admit it wasn’t pretty.” He eyed the chairs. Mastering them certainly hadn’t been as easy as it had looked. At least with surfing he simply lay on his board and paddled out from shore. Everything was done under his own power, which was how he preferred it.
She moved over to the bench and snapped her boots down onto her skis. “Put on your skis, and I’ll talk you through the process.”
Once they both had their skis situated, she had him stand and move over to the line with her, handing their passes to one of the attendants. While various people got on the two-man lifts, she explained what they were doing. “We’re next. Move to the mark.”
He shuffled with her over to a blue line painted on the ground, and they waited for the couple ahead of them to sit on a chair and be carried up the mountain. Then they moved to the second line. “Look behind you,” she said, “and keep the chair in sight. Once it gets to us, the attendant will hold it long enough for us to sit.”
And just like that they were on, the lift swaying as it moved up over the snow. Mira snapped a protective bar down over them. He’d been so worried about his balance the last time he’d ridden up that he hadn’t even realized the safety feature.
“Have you ever fallen off one of these?” he asked.
“Yes, as a child.” She shifted her poles. “Did you fall the last time?”
“Off the ski-lift itself? No. But the first time I tried to move away from the chair? Yes.” That had not been one of his better moments, and probably what had contributed to his fall down the slope itself little a while later. The one Mira had rescued him from.
The lift continued up the long ascent, and Jack tried to settle back and enjoy the view. It was beautiful, the range of white mountains stretching out, skiers looking much smaller than they actually were, even though the lift wasn’t carrying them all that high.
But more than the view, or the worries about getting on or off the lift, was his concern about how aware he was of the woman next to him. Like the other times they’d skied, she was decked out all in white, but her helmet wasn’t on her head yet, just the pink beanie she’d worn during their last outing on the slopes. The chair was small enough that their shoulders and arms touched, whether he wanted them to or not. And along with each bump or wobble came the memories of what they’d done in the sleigh. The way the motions of that vehicle had shifted them together until he hadn’t been able to resist her.
This woman ramped him up, almost to the point of not caring who saw them. The truth was he hadn’t wanted to stop during that ride, and he wasn’t all that sure what had made him grab her hand just before she reached the belt on his slacks.
Maybe the realization that once she touched him there’d be no turning back. Or was it really as simple as what he’d said, that he wanted more time? More space?
Her fingers slid across the top of his hand, and he jerked his mind back from those chaotic thoughts to listen to what she was saying.
“There’s the entrance to the silver mine I told you about.” She pointed to something off in the distance about a half-mile away from the lodge. He could just make out brown wooden boards, but it appeared tiny from here. “It’s closed to the public?” For some reason he thought maybe they’d made some of the mines into tourist attractions.
“Oh, yes. Not a safe place at all. There’s a risk of avalanches out that way as well. We’ve had some snow, so the safety teams are monitoring the area. There are some off-piste skiing areas not far from there that could be affected.”
“Off-what?”
“Off-piste. It means off the trail. Areas between the groomed runs. Some of them are open for skiing and some of them aren’t. But here in Silver Pass those sections are reserved for advanced skiers, since there can be rocks and debris hidden beneath the snow—although we try to keep things marked well enough that people are aware of what’s there.”
“I don’t think I’ll be tackling any of those this trip.”
“Chicken,” she said with a smile. “We’re almost at the end of the line.” She nodded at the sign on the pole to the left that warned skiers to put the tips of their skis up.
Somehow, once they got to the offloading area, Jack managed to keep his skis pointed skyward and slide his ass off the chair, where he then glided down the little slope that led away from the circling chairs. And this time he didn’t fall or careen into any other people who were exiting the lifts.
Grabbing onto a rope that was on the far side of the space, Mira slid smoothly beside him. “Good job!”
“Mira!” Her name came from across the way, and when she glanced over with a roll of her eyes he couldn’t help but try to figure out who it was.
Ah, his former ski instructor and her ex. Standing at the top of the bunny slope, he was with a group of about twelve novice skiers. Even from here, though, he could sense the man’s frown when Mira didn’t answer him.
“You ready?” she said, her tight voice indicating she wanted to get away from there.
Judging from the steam he sensed gathering behind the other man’s eyes, he nodded. “Why don’t you go on? Unfortunately, I’m going to need to start with that beginner’s hill again.”
Mira gave him a cool glance. “Do you think I’m going to scamper off like a frightened rabbit?”
Hardly. He’d just thought she might want to avoid the guy.
They made their way over to the gentle slope, using poles and sidesteps until they were at the top. Although the instructor kept on teaching his charges how to slow their speed going down the hill, the man’s eyes were obviously on them, probably wondering what the hell Jack was doing with her again.
Deciding to play by the other man’s rules, Jack stared him down for a few seconds. Once the guy looked away and began to actively teach again, he noticed that Mira’s attention wasn’t on them but on the abandoned mine she’d pointed out from the ski lift. “What is it?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.” She gave a quick shrug then pulled one of her gloves off with her teeth before reaching in her pocket. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through something, glancing at the gray cloud cover a time or two. “Weird,” she muttered, half to herself.
She put the phone in her pocket and then shoved her glove back on. “Do you want to lead or follow?”
“I always believe in letting ladies go first.”
“Perfect. Because I like going first. That way, I can concentrate on getting to the good stuff.”
Before he could decide if she was purposely being suggestive or not she’d used her poles to shove off the flat surface and start down the hill. He followed her, watching in awe as she expertly picked up speed and maneuvered from side to side. His balance felt pretty good today, but even so he couldn’t match her speed, even using his poles to give himself some additional impetus from time to time. She was halfway to the bottom by the time he’d made it fifty yards.
Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of another skier, coming just as fast as Mira had gone. Only this person sliced to the right just as he passed Jack, his skis sending out a large burst of snow that pelted him right in the chest. “Sorry about that, Number Five.”
What the hell? Struggling not to lose his balance or his temper, he watched as the jerk proceeded on down the hill and did a quick zigzag as he came to Mira and then pulled in front of her, forcing her to come to a quick halt.
Jack frowned. That damn instructor again. He pushed his ski poles into the snow and forced himself to go faster, making sure his skis were aimed straight down the hill to speed his progress. By the time he reached her, though, the idiot had already left, heading toward the bottom in a series of moves geared to show off his skills to their best advantage. Well, that was all the man had going for him, from what Jack could tell.
“What was that all about?”
Mira’s jaw was tight. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
“What is a number five? Is it some kind of skiers’ code for ‘make way’ or something?”
“What?” Her face went very still.
“He skidded in the snow, hitting me with the stuff, then threw me an apology and said ‘number five’.”
“I...” She took a deep breath and then tried again. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Somehow he didn’t believe her, because she hadn’t given him a blank stare or said she had no idea what it meant. She’d said it didn’t mean anything, as if she knew what the guy was talking about but was discounting it.
She scooted closer and brushed some snow off his jacket. “Sorry he’s such an ass.”
What Jack couldn’t understand was what Mira could have seen in a man like this. But he did like the way she’d sidled closer and the touch of her hands on his chest, even if there were ten tons of clothing between them.
“Did he get you too?”
“No. He was just trying to show off for his students.”
It was more than that, but if she didn’t want to get into it, who was he to try to force the issue?
She again pulled out her phone and glanced at it. “Do you mind if we head toward the mine? We won’t go all the way or anything. There’s another easy slope or two that we’ll need to cover, but they’re not much harder than this one. I just want to get a closer look at something.”
“That’s fine.” The further away they got from her ex, the better Jack liked it. He wasn’t worried about himself, he was pretty sure he could take the guy on solid, non-snow-covered ground, but he didn’t want the bastard bothering Mira. “What do you want to look at?”
“I’m not sure. One of the snowdrifts looks a little iffy from here, but it could just be the angle. I’m not seeing any alerts on the weather site.” She nodded at the sky. “But I think we might see another inch or two before the day’s out.”
Jack had noticed the thick cloud cover as well. He’d been glad for the shade, actually, as the sun glinted off the snow in a way that made his eyes burn, even with his goggles. “Will that be a problem for the resort?”
“It shouldn’t be. I’ll let you know when we get closer.” She glanced back at him. “Follow me, okay, and don’t go off the trails.”
As if he would.
Slowly, Mira guided him down one slope, taking it slow and easy before sidestepping across a plateau and arriving at another well-groomed slope. No one seemed to take any notice of them, but Mira had checked her phone several more times. Jack had no idea what she was looking at, or even for.
A flick of ice hit his cheek and then another. He reached out to touch her jacket before they started down the next hill. “Do you feel that? I think the snow’s started.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She put her hand over her brow and seemed to scan the area.
Jack followed her line of sight, but all he saw were skiers going down various slopes, as well as another ski lift on the far side of the resort carrying people up the hills.
Jamming her poles into the snow, she scrolled through her phone, her finger sliding up the screen repeatedly as the occasional flake turned into a light snow shower. Then she bit her lip. “Jack, do you think you can make it back to the lodge on your own?”
“Why?” Was she texting her ex, getting ready to hook up with him or something?
No, she seemed genuinely worried about something.
“I’m not sure.”
Jack heard a low rumble then it stopped. He cocked his head, listening. “Does it normally thunder during snowstorms?”
She didn’t answer, just shoved her goggles on top of her head and jabbed her finger at her phone. Then she put it up to her ear. She waited and waited then someone evidently answered. She stared off into the distance. “It looks like some snow may have shifted over by the Vendry Mine.” She waited and then continued. “No, I’m not positive, but I don’t remember seeing it that far down on Friday evening.”
Friday evening. When they’d been kissing in the back of the sleigh? She’d paid attention to the snow cover by the mine? That’s the last thing he’d been thinking about on that crazy ride. It stung his pride a bit that she’d been able to concentrate on things other than his mouth on hers.
She paused again. “And in case you haven’t noticed, it’s snowing again, and we got a couple of inches last night. I’d like you to let my dad know. He’s not answering his cell.” Her brows went up. “What do you mean, he went into town?”
Jack pulled his goggles up over his head as well when the snow kept hitting them and then melting, leaving behind droplets of water. Another roll of thunder came and went.
“I think you should call him and ask him to come back. I’m telling you, you need to be ready, just in case. Something’s going on. Do you want me to have them clear the slopes?”
She waited for the other party to respond. “Are you sure?”
A puff of something that looked like a lazy roll of smoke sifted into the air over by the mine. A fire? There weren’t many trees in that particular area, so he didn’t think so. And Jack hadn’t caught sight of any lightning, neither could he imagine anyone smoking while skiing.
“Okay. I’m going to stay up here for a while. I’ll call you in a half-hour or so.” She scrubbed her cheek against her shoulder. “Will do. Yeah, me too. Bye.”
She hung up and scrolled again, then dropped the phone back into her pocket.
“Problem?” he asked, when her jaw remained tense. Had she been talking to the instructor?
As if realizing for the first time that he was still there, she slowly turned toward him. “Not really.” She hesitated and then lifted her chin. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but maybe it would best if you headed back to the lodge.”
Suspicion immediately flared in the back of his head. “Conversing with the ex?”
Why he’d said that, he wasn’t sure. Even if she’d called him, it was pretty obvious it hadn’t been to meet up with him or anything. She was worried about something over on that hill. Enough to want whoever was on the other end of that line to call her father and ask him to come back to the resort.
But his veiled accusation didn’t go unnoticed. Her eyes chilled. “What I do or don’t do is none of your business.”
Okay, that had backfired. He’d hoped she’d give him a hint as to why she’d suddenly changed course, going from flirty to worried to angry in the space of a few minutes.
He touched her hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was digging for information, actually.”
A thin layer of snow now covered the cute pink cap on her head and dotted her lashes. She smiled. “Okay, in case you’re wondering—or even if you’re not—I’m not going to get back together with my ex. Not now. Not ever. But I need to check something out, and I don’t really want an inexperienced skier on any of those harder slopes.”
“The ones closer to the mine.”
She nodded. “The snow looks like it’s moved, to me, shifted downward since our ride the other night.”
“I heard you mention that, but what does it mean?”
“We got some snow last night. And we’re due for more tonight. Not a ton, but enough to add more weight to the already thick layer. If it slides any further there could be trouble.”
He brushed a couple of flakes of snow off her nose with a gloved fingertip. Her cheeks were pink with cold, as was her nose, and she looked pretty damned adorable right now. In spite of her worried frown.
The thunder rolled again, and Mira immediately jerked around to the side and stared at the mine, where, sure enough, another puff of white erupted into the air. Not smoke. Snow. Just like when Mira’s ex had sent a burst of it shooting toward him. Once disturbed, the finer stuff drifted into the air, while the heavier stuff had hit him and then fallen to the ski slope, where it had slipped downhill a few feet. Then it had rolled to a stop.
So if the puffs he saw over by the mine were snow vapor, then something was disturbing it. But what?
At that second the rumbling started up again, this time growing in volume. He vaguely heard Mira’s “Oh, my God!” before what seemed like half the mountain began to move, sliding downward, giant plumes of vapor rising into the air. And below the action—on another set of slopes—was a group of about twenty skiers.
He finally understood what Mira was panicking about, his own chest tightening and his breathing shooting through the roof in response to what he was currently witnessing.
Because, like a tsunami that churned its way toward shore, an avalanche was slowly building up momentum. And it was headed right for that unsuspecting group.
