In Deep

by Stacy Gold

  Fuck.

  Those were the same words she’d said to me that first night after guide class, when I invited her up to my room. I squeezed my eyes shut, struggling to control the want that bubbled up.

  Double fuck.

  I opened my eyes and peered downhill, making out Sophie’s tiny red and black form about to enter the trees. Thank God. I needed to keep my eyes on her until she reached a safe zone. That’s avalanche safety 101 and here I was, so distracted by her words, I almost forgot.

  Her arms flailed, and my heart picked up its pace. I scanned the slope, searching for what threw her off. No errant rocks or stumps were visible, but a clump of snow bounced down the hill behind her. No, a whole lot of snow bounced down the hill behind her, and next to her, and she was balanced on just one ski.

  “AVALAAAAAAANCHE!” The pounding of my heart muted the sound of my scream inside my head.

  The chances of her hearing it was zero to none, but it was all I could do until the snow, and Sophie, stopped moving. Given the way she fought to regain her balance, and angled straight toward the safe zone, she was already well aware of the avalanche happening around her.

  I kept my eyes trained on her as she skied left, out of the bulk of the moving snow. I wanted to fly after her, rescue her, but it wouldn’t help if both of us got caught in the slide. I inhaled a shaky breath and forced myself to stay put. I needed to keep watching to see where she stopped, so I could find her that much sooner once the scene was safe.

  Holding my breath, I prayed while she traversed through lacey sheets of still-sliding snow. In just a few more yards she’d be—

  Sophie jerked, flailed, then tumbled like a rag doll toward a dense cluster of evergreen trees. One of her skis flew off, cartwheeling through the air beside her, and bitter bile coated the back of my throat.

  This can’t be happening. Not again.

  With a sickening thud she came to a sudden halt above the trunk of a hemlock. The entire tree vibrated on impact. Visions of Anna, unconscious, her body bent at odd angles, threatened to overwhelm me. I pushed them away and did a quick recon.

  The avalanche was running out far below us, and the freshly scoured slope in front of me wasn’t likely to slide again. Without another thought I flew down to where Sophie lay crumpled in a heap.

  Waves of nausea flooded my system along with horrible, horrible thoughts. Thoughts that she might never walk again, and that I was one hundred percent responsible if Sophie was injured, or paralyzed, or God forbid, dead.

  I skidded to a halt next to her. “Soph? You okay?”

  She didn’t respond, didn’t move a finger. A vice clamped down on my head and my heart in equal measures. I clicked out of my skis as fast as I could and fell to my knees beside her. I tapped her shoulder.

  “Sophie? Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  One eye slit open. “Give me a sec,” she whispered.

  The sound of her voice released some of the tension on the steel band, and the erratic beating of my heart steadied.

  Her eye closed and she lay still once more, doing an internal assessment. I kept my hand on her shoulder and took a closer look at the scene. She’d taken the brunt of the hit underneath her boot and binding. Way better than her knees or neck. Or her back, like Anna.

  Shit. No.

  I had no idea if she was injured, or the extent of her injuries. She didn’t appear to be in pain, but it was hard to tell. So, I waited and hoped she was okay, my hand still on her shoulder. No way could I stop touching her. I needed that connection to ease my anxiety.

  One by one her fingers moved. Then her knees. Her legs. Her head. She shrugged and shifted but didn’t open her eyes.

  With each movement, I scanned her face, searching the corners of her eyes and mouth for signs of discomfort.

  An eternity passed in about ten seconds, until finally Sophie looked at me, smiled, and pushed herself to sitting. “Pretty sure I’m fine.” She tilted her head back and forth and side to side. “I might be a little sore tonight, but that’s about it.”

  The vise clamped down on my lungs eased off. Electric joy ran through my body. She was still in one piece, unharmed.

  I didn’t want to waste any more time ignoring how much I wanted her. I wanted to cook her dinner and massage her feet after a long day on the slopes. I wanted to hear her crazy tales about everything that’d happened since Chile. I wanted to kiss her so damn bad and tell her how happy I was she was still alive.

  But I was her boss. Bosses don’t kiss their staff members, no matter how close the call.

  She shoved her fists into the snow and moved to kneeling.

  “Take it easy, Soph. That was a helluva tumble.” I wrapped my hands around her biceps, steadying her and stopping her at the same time. Mostly, though, I couldn’t stop touching her. Ever. “You sure you don’t need a minute?”

  “Nah. It was a teeth-rattler, but I’m good.” Her voice was stronger, but still raspy.

  My mouth hung inches from hers. Her exhales warmed my exposed cheek. She leaned forward, putting more of her weight in my hands, bringing her lips closer. So close.

  I sucked in a breath, tamping down the almost overwhelming desire to press my lips to hers.

  With a shake, she knocked my hands off her arms and nodded down slope. “I’m not so sure about my other ski, though.”

  Rooted tail down at the base of a tree, half her ski flopped over like it’d been sliced with a samurai sword. Unlike Sophie, when it hit a tree, the tree hit back.

  “Well, at least the hike out isn’t too long. I’ll radio someone to pick you up on a snow machine at the top of Ned’s in twenty minutes.”

  “That’s okay. I can ski out.”

  “On one ski? Seriously? Down this?”

  She sounded so nonchalant I wanted to believe her. But we had two more pitches of steep trees and deep powder between us and the nearest groomed run. I didn’t know anyone who could ski that well on one ski. I sure as hell couldn’t.

  “On one ski. Seriously. Down this.” Her voice and her expression could’ve been made of granite.

  Shit. Wrong thing to say.

  “If you’re sure, go for it. I’ll follow you.”

  Her eyebrows almost hit the sky. “In case I need your help?”

  “That. And so I can watch.” I smiled and made my tone as light as possible. The last thing I needed was for her to keep thinking I didn’t believe she was capable, of pretty much anything. That was so far from the truth it was almost laughable. It would’ve been, except it wasn’t a laughing matter for her.

  I waved at the slope below us. “Show me how it’s done.”

  Without another word, she threaded her hands through her pole straps and took off.

  Chapter Five

  I stopped at my broken ski, yanked it out of the snow, and swung off my pack. Shit, shit, shit.

  My first fucking time out with Max, my first time doing avy control here, and I got sluffed and took a serious tumble—like a newbie. No wonder he doesn’t think I can ski this. Hell, it’s no wonder he doesn’t think I can do anything.

  The top half of my ski dangled limp over my hand. I ran the tail through the straps on one side of my pack and the tip on the other side, creating a relatively stable triangle.

  I couldn’t wait to see his face at the bottom. I also couldn’t wait to put some space between me and his pheromones. Not to mention his sculpted shoulders and flat stomach, and that mouth, hanging right above mine. If I’d shifted forward two inches, our lips would’ve touched. Our tongues would’ve—

  No. Stop. Don’t think about it.

  It took everything I had to ignore the draw of Max’s mouth when he helped me up. And the strength of his hands wrapped around my arms, just like all those fucking hot nights two years ago. Or hot fucking nights—depending how you looked at it.

  The way every part of him drew me in like gravity draws an avalanche down a slope was not fair. Or helpful. It was past time to put some distance between
us.

  I gave him a thumbs-up. He returned it, and I pointed my single ski down the fall line. It’d been a while, but the weird weight shift to switch from edge to edge came back like I’d been born doing it. I dodged and weaved between the snow-laden boughs, floated through the powder, and made split second decisions and direction changes like I had two skis instead of one.

  Sinking into the rhythm of my hips arcing back and forth across the fall line, I focused on the empty white spaces between the dark branches. The world fell quiet except for the hushed shush of my edges slicing through the snow and the voice inside my head still chiding me for screwing up royally. And for almost giving in to my attraction to Max, something I could never afford to do. If I’d kissed him, it would’ve been the biggest mistake of my day.

  Even if he hadn’t ignored my calls then treated me like a total stranger since we’d been here, he was my boss. And I was bucking for a promotion in duties.

  I stopped at the bottom of the first pitch, waited until he slid up, and took off again before he could read the confusion and desire plastered all over my face. I popped out of the trees and skidded to a halt at the top of Lucky Ned’s, teetered on my single ski, and caught myself with my poles. Every muscle in my left leg burned from the exertion.

  Max stopped next to me and held up a fist. “Sophie, that was amazing! How’d you learn to rip on one ski like that?” His expression could best be described as awed.

  I grinned and met his fist with my own, still working to return my breathing and heart rate to normal. At least I’d managed to impress him a little.

  Now if only I could press against him too. NOT.

  Stupid thought coming from my stupid-ass head. Or maybe not my head so much. Fuck.

  Either way, I welcomed the change of mental subject. “My youngest brother had his leg amputated when he was six. In solidarity, we all learned to ski on one ski. We used to have top-to-bottom single-ski races all the time growing up.”

  “I’m guessing the amputation never slowed your brother down.”

  “Not even for a second. Why would it?” I grinned up at him. “I can still hear my mom saying, ‘Nothing slows a Tremore down except death.’ right after one of us broke something—usually a bone.”

  I wasn’t sure how to read Max’s wry smile. And I didn’t have any more time to try because a blur of red and yellow passed in front of me, going way faster than anyone should on a blue run. Especially when their snowboard was where their head should be.

  “Shit.” The word fell from my mouth, quiet but firm.

  “Wha—” Max turned to see what caught my attention.

  I sped off down the hill, ignoring the cramping in my leg as I pressed for more speed. Adrenaline popped my heart into overdrive for the umpteenth time.

  The snowboarder landed on his head and slid to a halt about thirty yards ahead of me, unmoving. I started counting seconds, just in case.

  Skidding in beside him, I shucked my pack and gloves and checked my watch, then stomped out of my single binding with my free boot. I dropped to my knees, stomach tight.

  “Hey. Hey. Are you okay?” I tapped the snowboarder’s shoulder and lowered my head, scanning his chest. It rose, and fell. Rose and fell. Thank God. I searched for the pulse in his neck with my fingers.

  Max scraped to a halt on the other side of the prone body. “What’s the word? I’ll call it in.”

  “Probable concussion and possible neck and/or back trauma. Breathing and pulse are strong and regular, but he’s been unconscious for—” I peeked at my watch. “Twelve seconds. No bleeding from his ears, nose, or mouth.”

  I tuned out the garbled hiss of the radio and Max’s deep voice, and focused on my patient—stabilizing his head with a few stuff sacks from my pack and checking his limbs. Peeling his eyelids open and checking his pupils. Talking to the poor guy in the hopes he’d wake up less disoriented. Or hell, wake up at all. It was all I could do until we got him down to first aid and into x-ray.

  Keeping half an eye on my patient, I rocked onto my heels and peered up at Max. Turned away from me, his shoulders formed a broad silhouette against the now bright blue sky.

  He spoke into the radio, making decisions in the same thoughtful, self-assured manner that drew me in when we partnered at guide school. His calm demeanor, maturity, and confidence had been so welcome after the crazy of my ex. I’d needed someone solid and trustworthy to remind me not all men were jealous, possessive, denigrating assholes. Max fit that bill perfectly, and then some.

  Then I started working here, working for him, and he barely talked to me. Barely even acknowledged my presence. He gave me the most basic assignments and acted like he didn’t know me from Adam. In no way, shape, or form did he even hint at the elephant still sitting between us. The one with the sign hanging on it that read, ‘Why didn’t you return my calls?’. Asshole.

  Max turned to me and reholstered his radio. “Jordan’s getting off the chair. He should be here in a second.”

  As if on cue, Jordan rode up towing a bright red rescue sled loaded with a backboard. He looked from me, to Max, then back again. With a shake of his head, he unstrapped his boots from his snowboard bindings.

  The snowboarder on the ground groaned. His eyes fluttered, and his mouth opened and closed. I put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Hey. Hey. Can you hear me?”

  He blinked twice, then his eyes more-or-less focused on my face, one pupil a little bigger than the other. I took his guttural moan for a yes.

  “Don’t move. You took a bad spill snowboarding. I’m with Ski Patrol, and we’re going to put you in a sled and take you down the mountain to first aid.”

  His eyes bugged-out, but he replied with a wispy, hoarse, “Okay.”

  Jordan grabbed the backboard, and I moved around to stabilize the snowboarder’s head while Jordan and Max knelt on either side of his hips. On the count of three, we shifted him over. The poor guy cried out. I winced, and hoped he would be okay.

  I also hoped Max and I would be okay. That we could find a way to work together. After spending the day together, I missed his steady friendship and support as much as anything else.

  ****

  I slogged through the snow to the patrol shack, exhaustion weighting down my bones, and shoved the door open. The empty, sunlit room greeted me like a birthday present. Between the stress of doing avy control, and Sophie taking that spill, the morning had turned into an adrenaline-filled roller coaster. One that lasted longer than planned once that snowboarder wrecked.

  Sophie was amazing, though.

  Unfortunately, I wouldn’t be able to watch her work again. Patrolling with her was too hard on my emotions, and my self-control. It made me do stupid things, like not watching her ski a dangerous slope. And like almost kissing her.

  My stomach grumbled. I glanced at the round, institutional clock on the wall. Eleven thirty. No wonder I was starving. Flipping back the cover on the morning box of donuts, I grabbed a cruller and a chocolate glazed in one hand. With the other I poured a cup of coffee from the perpetually full pot. Hands full, emotions still whipsawing, I shoved open the door to my broom closet of an office with my hip.

  Kicking the door shut with my ski boot, I placed my long-overdue breakfast on my desk, careful not to spill on the paper piles that covered every available surface. I’d never realized how much paperwork this director’s job entailed. I’d also never been so happy to have a bottomless pile of paperwork I could bury myself in for a few hours.

  Definitely a better option than spending another minute in close proximity to Sophie. The more time I spent with her, the more time I wanted to spend with her. I wanted to make her laugh, tell her she was amazing, help her achieve her every goal. Except every time she smiled at me, my palms itched to run over her smooth, freckled skin. To slide down her hips, and up the silky length of her inner thighs until she was naked and spread—

  The outside door opened, letting in the sounds of a ski resort in full swing: ru
mbling generators, creaking chair lifts, classic rock. The door closed and the main room fell quiet again except for the ski boots clomping across the floor.

  I focused on the papers in front of me and prayed whoever it was would grab a cup of coffee and leave. A fist rapped a rhythm on my office door. Dammit.

  “Come in.” I snatched up my mug and used it to hide my scowl.

  “Hey, Max.”

  “Hey, Jordan. How’s the snowboarder?”

  “We finished looking at the x-rays. He’s got minor fractures in his C2 and C3, and a broken collarbone, but feeling and movement in all his extremities. The ambulance just picked him up. He was pretty pissed about going to the hospital, so I have a feeling he’ll be fine.” The corners of Jordan’s eyes crinkled. “Of course, Sophie didn’t give him much choice.”

  My lips twitched at the image of tiny Sophie, hands on her hips, standing firm as that guy—easily twice her size—argued about going to the hospital. “I hope he wasn’t too much of an asshole.”

  A smile broke across his face. “No more than she could handle.”

  “Good, because otherwise I might have to give her a raise.”

  “I don’t think a raise is what she wants.”

  Jordan’s pointed look made it clear he’d changed the subject to one I had zero desire to address. Not after this morning. Not when I was still trying to figure out why I couldn’t stop wanting her as much as I wanted to protect her, and what I was going to do about either.

  Somehow, I had to find a way to work with her and keep her happily on staff. Sophie was more than capable of doing her job, but apparently, I wasn’t capable of doing mine. Not where she was concerned.

  I schooled my face into what I hoped was an emotionless expression. “What do you mean?”

  “She talked to me the other day. Told me she didn’t think you respected her abilities. I never got that impression. What gives?”

  I set down my coffee and wracked my brain for the right approach. Jordan was a good friend. We’d shared a lot of days on a lot of mountains, but he’d known Sophie even longer. If she never said anything about our past relationship, I didn’t want to be the one to spill.