In Deep Page 4

  I also didn’t want to think about her, or us, or our work situation anymore, let alone talk about it. Except Jordan stood, arms crossed, clearly not going anywhere until I explained. “We, um—Sophie and I have history.”

  “Yeah. She told me she partnered with you at guide training a couple years ago. At the time, I figured she meant you’d work great together and take her seriously.” He shifted from one boot to the other, making the floor creak. “I’m guessing you two did more than just partner in the backcountry?”

  “Yeah.” The word came out gravelly. I cleared my throat. “Quite a bit more.”

  Jordan swiped a hand down his face with a groan. “That explains everything. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” When his eyes met mine, they were dead serious. “You have to tell her about Anna.”

  “The fuck I do.”

  “Seriously, man. She doesn’t deserve to think she’s being treated like she’s incompetent. And you don’t deserve to be labeled a misogynist. If any of the higher ups get wind of that, your ass is toast.”

  And if Sophie, or anyone else, finds out how I feel about her, my ass is toast too.

  Chapter Six

  I lifted a towering nacho off the plate and pulled the strings of cheese apart with my fingers, groaning as the salt and fat hit my tongue. The bar was noisy, and smelled like stale beer and sweaty long underwear, and I didn’t care one bit. Not with a hot plate of food and a cold beer in front of me.

  My neck and shoulders ached from my fall, and my eyelids hung at half-mast, too heavy to lift all the way. The sore and tired ran so deep even the loud music and chattering of a hundred après skiers wasn’t doing much to keep me alert. It was gonna take about twelve hours of uninterrupted sleep, and a few pain relievers, to make me feel human again.

  Someone sat on the stool to my right. I pivoted to look, and my knees almost smacked into Max’s. He held up a hand to get the bartender’s attention, but stared at me. “Mind if I join you?”

  “It’s a public bar. Sit where you like.” I popped another couple chips into my mouth, focusing on chewing instead of the heat of his muscled thigh just inches from mine.

  Liza appeared to take his order, wiping her hands with a white bar rag. I moaned on my next bite.

  “Hey, Max. What can I get you?”

  “I’ll have what she’s having.” He motioned to my beer and the plate of food.

  “Sure thing.” Liza’s eyes met mine and we giggled.

  He glanced at Liza. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” she said.

  He peered at me with enough intensity to make my chest tighten. Leaned in close enough to make my heartbeat speed up a notch.

  I schooled my face and shook my head. “Inside joke.”

  If Max didn’t realize he’d just quoted the fake orgasm scene from When Harry Met Sally, I wasn’t about to tell him.

  Max rested an elbow on the bar, moving him another few inches closer. I did my best to ignore the flare of desire coming to life below my belt. Even though we’d gotten along pretty well today, he was still on my asshole list. I planned to keep him there. It was easier that way.

  I didn’t want to have feelings for any guy I worked with. Hell, worked for. Because when you worked in a dangerous, physically demanding, male-dominated field, you couldn’t sleep with your coworkers, let alone your boss. It ruined your credibility every, damn, time.

  “Good work today, Soph,” he said, his voice gruffer than usual.

  “Thanks.” I lifted one shoulder, dismissing the compliment. “But I screwed up royally.”

  “No. You didn’t. That sluff could’ve knocked any skier off their feet. You handled it like a pro. That’s what matters.”

  I played with a cardboard coaster on the bar in front of me, rotating it on its edge. “Still…”

  “Sophie, look at me.”

  I turned to face him. Mistake. His mouth was way too close.

  Those warm gray eyes speared me. His lips parted in invitation. He put his hand on my shoulder.

  Fuck. Me.

  “You were great today. On avy control, after you broke your ski, and with that snowboarder. I heard he gave you some trouble about going to the hospital, but you handled that like a pro, too. Not that I expect anything less.”

  “No biggie.” I glanced down at my lap. I’d been positive he didn’t think I was competent—that I needed to prove myself to him. Again.

  Now I wasn’t sure what to think. Or if I even could think with his hand a few inches above my now-tingling nipple. Act like a professional, Sophie, not a horny teenager.

  I pressed my lips together, trying to force the tingles out of my mind—and other parts of me. “I couldn’t let him walk out on his own. Not with a concussion and cracked vertebrae.”

  “Sophie.”

  “What?” I flicked my eyes up to his face again, not really wanting to look at him. It was easier to ignore how damn hot he was if I wasn’t looking at him. Especially when he was sitting right fucking next to me in a pair of faded jeans and a flannel and two days of scruff, and being nice. And supportive. And acting like the Max I remembered. The one I fell way too hard for two years ago.

  “Quit deflecting and say thank you.”

  “Thank you.”

  He squeezed my shoulder but didn’t remove his hand. The heat from it spiraled down, mingling with the flames already licking around the tops of my thighs. I wanted to lean forward and close the distance between us. Slide my mouth against his. Get more of that heat.

  “Here you go, Max.” Liza set his beer on the coaster in front of him. “Your nachos are coming right up.”

  He settled back in his seat and grabbed the condensation-covered glass, leaving a cold, empty spot where his big hand had been.

  The lust cloud hanging over me killed my hunger, but he had to be starving. “Have some of mine until yours show up.” I slid my plate in his direction.

  “Thanks.” His face brightened and he reached for the pile of chips between us, his shoulder brushing mine. The casual touch set off a jolt of pleasure.

  “Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?” I blurted.

  His brows drew in. “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve been ignoring me all season, acting like I’m not capable of doing my job. Now you’re working with me, and telling me what a good job I did. Why the sudden switch?”

  “In no way, shape, or form do I think you’re not capable of doing your job. You’re one of the most capable patrollers I know. I’m sorry if I gave you a different impression.”

  A warm glow filled my chest. My whole life I’d worked twice as hard to be as good as the guys. All I wanted was for my abilities to be recognized—to not constantly have to prove myself.

  Well, maybe that wasn’t all I wanted from Max. But hearing those words, from those lips, came a close second.

  His nachos arrived. “Help yourself to some of mine if you want.”

  “Thanks.” Too bad it wasn’t his nachos I wanted.

  ****

  Sophie, sitting so close, in a tight blue shirt the same color as her eyes with her long blonde hair half-covering her face… Jesus. I fought the urge to touch her again. I didn’t want her to realize all those little brushes were intentional.

  I should’ve slid off my stool and gotten the hell out of that bar and as far from her as possible. Except, with a plate of hot nachos and a pint of cold beer in front of me, leaving would’ve raised too many questions.

  Instead, I ate and drank and pondered our situation.

  I wanted Sophie. There was no denying it after today, when she got caught in that avalanche, and all those painful cracks in my heart threatened to break. God, I didn’t want to lose her again. When she sat up and smiled and said she was okay, it took every ounce of self-restraint not to kiss her and tell her I’d missed her. That I was sorry and wanted to start over.

  That I wanted her to risk her job—potentially her career—to be with me.

>   Fuck. I am such a dumbass.

  With Emerald Mountain’s strict policies, no way could we be anything more than friends and coworkers unless we were married. And dating the boss wouldn’t be good for her career, or right on my part, despite our past history or my current feelings.

  I’d kept my distance this long, I could make it until the end of the season. Then I’d tell her about Anna, apologize for never returning her calls, and beg her to give me—give us—another chance.

  I slugged the bitter dregs of my beer and waved to Liza to put it on my tab. Spinning my stool, I stood up on the side away from Sophie. “I’m outta here, Soph. See you tomorrow.”

  “Have a good night.”

  She barely glanced up and it bothered me. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Definitely not a good night kiss. Still, even though I didn’t need her to want me, I wanted her to like me. I wanted her to care, at least a little bit, even though I shouldn’t.

  Swiveling my head to release the built-up tension in my neck, I weaved across the crowded bar to the bathroom. I’d made it through one more day of working with her, this time in very close quarters, and she wasn’t injured and I hadn’t done anything too stupid. I called it a win.

  If only I could to do the same thing for about fifty more days in row, I’d be a champion. Once the resort closed I’d have the entire summer to figure out how to handle this situation, and maybe find a new job. First, I needed time alone to figure out how to handle being around Sophie tomorrow. And the next day.

  I headed for the front door.

  “Hey, Max.” Jordan’s voice carried over the bar noise.

  I cringed, turned, and picked his face out of the crowd. “What’s up?”

  “I need your help.”

  Freedom was only twenty steps away, but it might as well have been twenty miles. “What do you need?”

  “I need you to play pool. Seth and I just won the table, but our challenger is short a partner. C’mon.” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, at the back room of the bar.

  “No thanks. I’m beat.” I took a backward step toward the door. “Besides, you know I’m terrible at pool.”

  “Ahhhhh, but your partner is a shark. I’m hoping you can balance the odds in our favor.” He grabbed my arm and towed me in the direction of the purple-felted table where Seth stood racking balls. “C’mon, man. It’s only seven thirty. Play one game, and I’ll buy the beer.”

  “Fine. One game. Then I’m out of here. Just don’t blame me if I miss every shot.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t blame you one bit. Your partner might though.” We stepped into the pool room and he quirked his head at a tiny blonde busy chalking her stick.

  I froze, tension flooding my neck and shoulders. What the hell was he up to?

  “Grab a cue. I’ll get a pitcher.” Jordan clapped me on the back and headed for the bar.

  Chapter Seven

  Hours passed. The crowd in the bar thinned to non-existent. Jordan and Seth left. Our cues lay abandoned on the pool table. I leaned in and poured the last of the beer into my and Sophie’s glasses. Despite the ripe, alcohol and sweat aroma of the almost empty bar, the cinnamon-apple scent of her freshly washed hair shot through my head and straight to my dick.

  If I leaned forward a few inches more, I could nuzzle in and taste the soft, sweet skin on her neck. Drag my lips around to her hot mouth and devour her. Partly just to make sure she was still here, alive and unharmed. Partly because the more time we spent together, the more time I wanted to spend with her—in bed and out.

  Smart, skilled, and confident did it for me every time. And Sophie was all that and more. A whole lot more. Everything I’d ever wanted in a woman wrapped up in one tiny package. I never should have let her get away. I should’ve returned her calls way back when.

  I didn’t want to admit it, but Jordan was right. Sophie deserved to know why I never called. Why I’d been keeping her off the upper mountain. I took a sip of beer and steeled myself. Memories of that day always came with a flood of pain and guilt and fear. But making Sophie happy was worth every bit of it.

  “Nice work on the pool table.” I held up my pint glass.

  She tapped her glass to mine and smiled. “Thanks.”

  “Jordan said he had a ringer who needed a partner. Did you learn that from your brothers too?”

  “Nah. They were all about darts and foosball. I worked as a cocktail waitress in a pool hall for a couple years.”

  I couldn’t quit staring at her mouth. Couldn’t stop wanting to glide my tongue over the plump part in the middle of her lower lip. To bite it so she gasped and let my tongue slide in.

  I wanted to taste her so damn bad. I wanted to hold her and caress her and pin her arms above her head and fuck the shit out of her until she gasped and moaned and begged for more. Then give her more until she came, so hard, squirming beneath me with her head thrown back, mouth open. Gasping.

  I sipped my beer and yanked my mind out of the gutter. “So, what do your brothers do? Are any of them ’trollers, too?”

  “Why?” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think a woman can decide she wants to be on ski patrol all on her own?”

  Dammit. Wrong approach.

  I kept my tone light. “Not at all. Just curious. Last time we were together, you wanted to be a heli ski guide.”

  She harrumphed, but the anger simmering behind her eyes didn’t come to a boil.

  “My oldest brother is a certified guide, though he’s a stay-at-home dad nowadays. My youngest became an avy forecaster. The rest all work in the outdoor industry in one way or another.”

  “Figures.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her lips went thin. Somehow, I’d fucked up again.

  “I mean, I’m not surprised you all work in the industry.” My brain spun, searching for a way to diffuse the conversation. “My younger sister inspired me to become a ’troller.”

  “Good save.” One corner of her mouth twisted up. “I just started believing you respect my abilities. I’d hate for you to prove me wrong.”

  I stared into her eyes, which were only marginally less distracting than her lips. “Sophie, I have respected your abilities since the day we met.”

  “So, what’s your point, then?”

  “Just wondering what inspired you.” And trying my hardest to segue into a topic I didn’t really want to bring up. “Anna was a slalom racer in high school, then a junior’s coach. When she finished college, one of her friends suggested she apply for ski patrol. She loved it, and used to regale me with stories from her job. I decided to follow in her footsteps.”

  “Oh.” The tension in her face faded. “Where does she work now?”

  “Ecuador.”

  “Huh. I didn’t think Ecuador had any ski resorts.”

  “It doesn’t. She started a paddleboard tour company with her boyfriend.”

  “Wow. That’s a shift.” She leaned in again, and another waft of apples and cinnamon threatened to derail my train of thought. “Why’d she quit ’trolling?”

  I opened my mouth to speak. Closed it. Opened it. Grabbed my pint glass, took a swallow, tried again. Staring at the glowing red and white beer light hanging above the pool table, I let the words tumble out. “We were doing avy control together the first winter after you and I met, and we’d just ski cut a slope and traversed over to what we thought was a safe zone. I decided the snow was stable and dropped in. The whole face ripped on my first turn. It was the biggest avalanche I’d ever seen.”

  Sophie’s hand landed on the rigid muscles of my forearm, the heat from it soaking through my shirt to my skin. Heat so intense it left a small, hand-shaped burn on my heart.

  “I ended up buried to my waist, and dug myself out, unhurt. Anna wasn’t so lucky. The slide swept her down and sieved her through a stand of trees.”

  She gasped. “I’m so sorry, Max. That must’ve been horrible.”

  I still couldn’t look her in the eye. Not if I was going to get all this out. I
nodded instead. “It was. But not as horrible as digging out her crumpled body. Or seeing her laying in the snow, twisted and broken, and wondering if she’d make it. Or knowing she almost died because of me. Because of my bad decision.”

  “But she recovered, right? I mean, she’s living in Ecuador, and paddleboarding, so she must’ve.”

  “Yeah. She recovered, eventually. But it was touch and go the first few days. She broke her back in two places, plus a few ribs. Collapsed a lung, tore her liver, and pretty much destroyed one of her knees. Doctors thought she’d spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.” My throat grew tight and I forced down a dry swallow. Two years ago might as well have been two days ago. “I couldn’t let that happen, so I moved in with her. For a year I did her housework, cooked for her, helped her through rehab. For another year, I struggled with whether I wanted to go in the backcountry again, let alone be a ’troller anymore—if the risks were worth the rewards.”

  “Wow.”

  I closed my eyes, but the images projected against the back of my eyelids were so vivid, I could’ve been standing in the snow, helpless, staring down at Anna, instead of sitting in this quiet bar. I filled my lungs, but my chest still ached.

  “Yeah. Even though her doctors eventually gave her the okay to do whatever she wanted, she’s never skied again.”

  “And you blame yourself.”

  I glanced at her and shrugged.

  “I get it. But it wasn’t your fault.” Sophie squeezed my arm. “And if I get hurt out there, it won’t be your fault either.”

  “I know, it’s just—”

  “Max, you can’t keep me from doing every part of my job so you can avoid your guilty conscience.”

  My eyes burned, and I wasn’t sure I could get out any more words. “I just don’t think I could handle it if another person I—” I cleared my throat and continued, “If another person I cared about got seriously injured, or killed, because of me.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. Truly. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like. But if you believe I have the skills and capabilities, you’ve got to let me do my job. Every part of it.”