And for a second, he simply stilled, seeing a crazy intention in her eyes.
One he harbored right now too. For no other reason than just the need to sort through the clutter and listen to the tug of his heart.
And then she pulled him, gently, down to her. And he didn’t resist, didn’t even think, really, just gave in to the soft nudge of her hand, leaned down and kissed her. A feathery press of his lips to hers, sweetly, almost in comfort.
She sighed and kissed him back, just a whisper of desire in her touch.
But it lit something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in—well, never, really. Brette was steel over velvet, taken down by life and circumstances, brave and loyal, and still willing to let someone past the broken edges of her heart.
Tyler Remington could too easily fall in love with Brette Arnold.
He let his caress linger for a moment. When he eased back, he felt her smile even before it touched her eyes.
Such beautiful eyes.
“Well,” she said. “Here I was afraid you were already taken.”
He could barely hear over the thunder in his chest. “Taken?” he managed.
“Yeah. It looked like you and Jess . . .” Brette made a face. “I was reading into a lot of things today.”
He managed a feeble laugh. “No, Jess and I are just friends.” But the words burned in his throat.
“Good. Because I’m not a man-stealer,” she said. “Even if you, Ty, are a man worth stealing.”
He smiled at that, not sure how to respond. Because it might be that she was well on her way to stealing his heart.
14
GAGE HAD REALLY LOST HIS MIND NOW because no snowboarder with all his working faculties, no matter how accomplished, rode through a steep, deeply powdered, pine-cluttered mountainside in the dark of night.
Lost. His. Mind.
The light from his head lamp cut through the darkness at sharp angles, and he just hoped he was heading toward the eastern ridge, the closest clear point to call in a rescue.
Which, most likely, PEAK couldn’t manage, not with the winds picking up, the night closing in. But he had to try.
And after he connected with PEAK, he’d hike his way back to Ella.
He couldn’t erase Ella’s distraught expression from his brain—of course he’d go for help. In fact, the one thing he could do right was find his way through these trees.
He ducked a low-hanging branch, angled his board toward a clearing in the trees, shot through them, and—
He emerged into a clear white field that ended in a nearly thousand-foot drop-off of sheer granite.
He skidded to a stop, breathing hard, sweat trickling down his back despite the howl of the wind. Below the cornice that capped the rocky edge, the world fell away into a rugged valley of granite, pine, and unridable terrain.
In his original descent, he hadn’t gone this way for those exact reasons—the lethal drop-off. But tonight, this position provided a clear view to the VHF antenna at Crystal Point. It was just the boost he needed for his radio reception to clear the mountains and reach PEAK HQ communications.
Overhead, a half moon had risen, the stars just starting to wink awake. The luminosity shone enough for him to trace the razorback peaks to the east. It would be a glorious, even romantic night under the stars if Ella’s brother wasn’t fighting for his life.
He worked out his walkie. “PEAK HQ, PEAK HQ, this is Watson. Come in!”
Static, and he pressed the unit to his helmet, wincing. Please.
The wind stirred up eddies of powder around him, and the temps had dropped drastically with the disappearance of the sun. His cheeks burned with cold, and as his heartbeat slowed, he knew it wouldn’t be long until the cold found his bones.
“Ty! Pete! Someone pick up!”
Please let someone be there at HQ. But he couldn’t imagine that anyone would have left. Not with him and Ella out on a search.
“Watson, this is PEAK HQ. Go ahead. Over.”
Jess. Thank you. He wanted to weep with the sudden rush of relief. “We’re just east of Cathedral Canyon, about a mile or more west of the final ridge. We found Oliver.”
“Roger, Watson. What is his condition?”
“He might have internal bleeding—we need an extraction ASAP.”
“Stand by,” Jess said, and he imagined she was conferring with Miles or maybe Pete. The wind ruffled his jacket, pressed him toward the edge, and he fell to his knees, just to ground himself.
The last thing he needed was to take a header off the ridge wall.
“Watson, Miles here. We’re watching the wind off the mountain, and it’s gusting up to forty miles per hour. In the darkness and that complexity of flying in, it’s a no-go right now. We might be able to get in at first light.”