“Kit is your type. Maybe . . . Matthew Goode?”
“Okay, Downton Abbey. I don’t know why you always go for the fancy boys, but whatever works.”
“Not anymore—I learned my lesson. No more rich party boys for me. But I do love a good English accent.”
Ella grinned. “Okay, well, the key to riding powder is to hold your arms out and lean back. But not too far or you’ll go over. But you want to lift your tip.”
Brette held her arms out, settling her hips. “Like this?”
“You look like a duck, but yeah.”
“Better than a T. rex.”
Ella shook her head. “Keep an even rhythm, don’t cut too hard—make a nice smooth line. And don’t rush.”
“Oh, fear not.” Brette headed over to the edge of the bowl. “And you owe me.”
Ella laughed. “I’ll ski behind you.”
But Brette didn’t move, just kept staring at the thick, powdery snow, now bumbled and tossed by a day of skiing and shredding. But still soft, still whisper-light in the crisp air.
“How did you learn to do this? I mean, I know the M&M’s have a condo here, but—”
“I spent some time in BC, at Fernie. And Whistler. And . . .” She swallowed, forced out the word. “Outlaw. Best powder on the planet.”
There, she said it without flinching. And someday, she’d manage it without feeling claws inside, hollowing her out, leaving a burn where her heart should be.
“Hey, isn’t that where that guy died? Your family knew him.”
Brette, proving she’d done her journalistic homework.
Ella nodded. “Dylan McMahon. You ready?”
“Were you there that day?”
“I’m really cold, Brette. Sitting on that chair didn’t help.”
Brette’s mouth closed in a tight line, and Ella hated that she’d hurt her. But she couldn’t—really couldn’t—talk about it.
At least not the entire story.
Not without losing her law license.
But she couldn’t stand Brette’s face, so, “Yeah, I was there. I saw Dylan die.” And Gage Watson’s brilliant future end in a devastating crash.
Brette nodded and thankfully turned back to the bowl.
“No one is going to die today,” she said, and Ella could have hugged her for it.
“Let’s do this!” Brette yelled. She pushed off, leaning back, arms wide as she flew down the slope.
No one is going to die today.
Ella pushed off behind her, praying her words were true.
2
MAYBE HE WOULD NEVER DO THAT AGAIN. In fact, if pushed, Gage could admit he could have used a tail. Ty, or even maybe Skye, helping to control the sled.
“You’re okay, kid,” Gage said as he slid to a stop near the ski patrol shack.
Hunter appeared a bit whitened, and even Gage’s pulse pounded in his throat at their descent. His thighs burned with the strain of slowing them down through the powder.
Worse, twice the sled overtook him, and he’d had to rally around it, pull it back into submission.
His entire body trembled, and sweat filmed down his back as he unhooked his helmet, pulled it off, and guided the rescue toboggan onto the platform near the ski patrol shack.
Late afternoon shadows draped the receiving area in gray, and he pulled off his sunglasses as he unbuckled his bindings from his board. The après-ski aroma of grilled steaks and the sound of raucous music lifted from the nearby Blackbear Base Camp Saloon.
“Hunter!”
Gage turned at the voice and saw a middle-aged woman in a purple ski outfit, white Sorel boots, and short dark hair running toward him.
“Mom,” Hunter said, his voice shaky. Maybe he’d been holding it in, but the fifteen-year-old hotshot blinked back tears, his jaw tight as his mom rushed over.
“How could you do this?” she said, bending over him. “They told me you jumped! What were you thinking?”
Gage turned away, just for a second, the words ringing in his ears.
“What were you thinking?”
The Great Question, for every idiotic move. Had Hunter not gotten hurt, the comments on the YouTube videos would be more akin to “stellar, dude!”
Kids.
No, kids who didn’t think, who only wanted to show off, or worse, prove themselves to the world.
And kids with iPhones. The little red record button made everyone stupid.
“You made it down in record time!”
Gage glanced around and spied Jess Tagg, EMT from PEAK Rescue, jogging up to him. She wore her blue jumpsuit uniform, and her blonde hair was in a singular braid down her back.
He said nothing, hoping she didn’t see the truth in his eyes.
Stupid, bravado decisions got people killed. He should have known better than to take the run on his own.