by Debra Webb
She needed a diversion.
Something that would allow him to feel heroic. Like the protector he instinctively needed to be. Even if for only an instant.
She’d already busted her backside once. What was one more tumble?
With a glance back at him, she said, “When we get back to town, let’s have an early dinner. I could—”
She toppled to her right, hoping like everything there were no sharp rocks hidden in the snow. She hit the snow with a soft grunt, then slid a few feet. By the time she stopped, he was crouched next to her.
He snatched off those dark glasses and looked her over. “You okay?”
For a moment she got lost in those blue eyes. The sincere concern for her well-being quickened her pulse. “I’ll live.”
He helped her to her feet, not an easy task with the pack hanging to one side and throwing off her balance.
“That was stupid,” she muttered, testing her weight on her right foot. She groaned.
“You twist your ankle?”
“Think so.” Truth was, she had, but it wasn’t enough of an injury to mention.
He took her pack and moved around to her right side. “Hold on to my arm. Lean on me as much as you need to. We’ll take it slow.”
“Thanks.” She really could’ve walked without any assistance, but the maneuver worked like a charm. Fewell was so focused on helping her that he forgot all about the panic that had obviously been clawing at him.
The trek back to the trail on the valley floor was slow going. The cold was invading her bones despite the layers of insulating clothing. The physical exertion of carrying her pack and moving at a faster pace would have prevented the cold from sneaking up on her like this. But the sacrifice was necessary. She needed him to see that he could defeat this enemy.
“You’re sure you’re up to the challenge of a fourteen?” he asked out of the blue.
He hadn’t spoken in so many minutes, the sound of his voice startled her. “Yeah, sure.” She wanted to tell him she’d climbed to her first summit of 14,000 feet when she was a teenager, but that wasn’t part of her cover. So she didn’t. “I haven’t done any climbing in a while, but I’ve been preparing for months. Increased my usual workout considerably. After all that, I go and do something this dumb. I promise I’m not usually this clumsy.”
“Maybe you’re just having an off day.”
Yeah. “Good thing you were here.”
He didn’t respond to her comment.
The rest of the trek back to where they’d left her rental was made in silence. The route was a few miles longer since the parking area beyond Maroon Creek Road was closed in winter. But the magnificent view made every step worth the effort.
At the SUV, she fished for her keys and handed them to Fewell. “Maybe you’d better drive.”
He dropped their packs to the ground, then helped her into the passenger seat—which was completely unnecessary, but she allowed him to continue playing the hero.
When he’d loaded their packs into the cargo area, he slid behind the wheel. “A hot soak is what you need for that ankle.”
She could definitely use a hot soak, twisted ankle or no. “We can order room service.” She was starved.
“That’ll work.”
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. So far, she had him eating out of her hands. The question was, could she get him to trust her enough to talk about the accident?
Just maybe.
As he drove, she studied his profile. The turnaround was amazing. He’d clearly been on the verge of a full-blown panic attack back there, and now he was as cool as a cucumber.
How could he climb into the hot seat of a race car and fly around that track for a few hundred miles and not be able to climb that first vertical ridge that required only a little technical expertise?
A mental block, she decided. He had to find a way through it or around it.
At the lodge, the crowd outside had thinned. Most of the guests were either on the slopes or shopping, Molly would lay odds on it. Any lurking paparazzi would be doing the same in hopes of spotting a story.
Fewell parked the SUV in the garage and got out. By the time she’d unfastened her seat belt and opened her door, he was there waiting to help her.
She let him. It was dumb. She was fine. But if it made him feel better, she could deal with it.
Or did she deal with it because it made her feel better?
He’d taken off his gloves, as had she, and the feel of those strong fingers curled around her hands made her a little giddy.
Unfortunately, that was not part of the plan.
CHAPTER SIX
JASON BRACED HIS HANDS on either side of the window and peered out at the mountains all around the eclectic village setting.
He’d failed.
One look at that ice axe and he’d lost it. Felt paralyzed. The panic had consumed him completely. He wasn’t sure he could have made the trek back if Molly hadn’t fallen. Somehow he’d been able to push the fear aside and help her back to civilization.
By the time they’d tramped halfway back to the SUV, his heart rate had returned to normal, as normal as one would expect with the physical exertion required to make the journey. The cold, bitter sweat of panic had given way to the clean, healthy sweat of physical exertion.
But the fear of making the technical leg of that climb, the more dangerous part, had shut him down.
Three years. Three long years. The situation had worsened in recent months and it was escalating.
Therapy was a joke. His friends and teammates didn’t understand. They tried. But they couldn’t possibly. When a man reached out to the woman he loved and couldn’t save her from falling to her death, it changed something inside him. That change had somehow set off a domino effect. Each time he found himself in a precarious situation, the panic started its slow creep up his spine. Sometimes it came out of nowhere.
He closed his eyes and forced away the memories.
How had he thought coming here would change anything?
The day would come when settling behind the wheel of his car to win the race would prove an insurmountable obstacle.
What would he do then?
“A long, hot soak was exactly what I needed.”
He turned at the sound of Molly’s voice. She crossed to the sofa and curled up at one end. “I feel like a new woman. You should try it.”
“A shower was sufficient.” He gestured to the cart waiting in the center of the room. “I ordered room service. I wasn’t sure what you would want and I didn’t want to disturb you, so I ordered a variety.”
She pushed up, a flash of thigh showing where her robe wrapped. “Great. I’m starved.”
He watched as she lifted the elegant silver lids and checked the entrées beneath. She inhaled deeply and moaned her pleasure when she reached the spaghetti. He’d never met a woman who admitted she loved to eat. Or who dug in with the vigor of Molly Clark. He liked that about her. Her honesty was refreshing.
“This is the one.” She set the lid aside and claimed the plate. “You’re not eating?”
“I was waiting for you.”
After leaving her plate on the table next to the sofa, she went back to the cart in search of silverware and a bottle of water. “You’re such a gentleman.”
He wandered to the cart and surveyed the offerings. He wasn’t really hungry, but he understood he needed to eat. “Except when it comes to giving up the last room at the lodge.”
Her laughter tinkled in the air. He liked her smile. Liked her laughter, too.
“You compromised,” she said in his defense. “That’s something.”
While she twirled her fork in the pasta, she watched him pick at the bowl of stir-fried vegetables with rice. “Sorry about ruining your plans for the day. I guess I wasn’t as ready as I thought.”
He was the one who needed to apologize.
“No problem. I…” What did he say? He was damaged goods? He couldn’t have conti
nued anyway, because he had been too terrified?
She held his gaze, hers expectant.
“You can try again,” he suggested. The advice was more for him than for her.
Molly shrugged. “Probably won’t be as much fun alone.”
The rice tasted like cardboard in his mouth. He swallowed. “There are guided events.”
“Yeah, right.” She stuffed a forkful of spaghetti into her mouth and chewed, then said around it, “If you want to do the wimpy stuff.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Wimpy?”
She nodded. “You know how it is. This time of year all the good routes are closed unless you’re willing to attempt the trek on your own. The Forest Service recommends staying away from the tough climbs. I didn’t come here to tromp around in the snow with a bunch of designer-clad tourists.”
He had to laugh. “It won’t be the end of the world if you don’t do a fourteen this time.”
She swallowed. “Are you kidding? That’s why I’m here.”
The woman had her heart set on claiming a fourteen-thousand-foot summit. “Your vacation’s not over yet. It could happen.”
“What about you?” She captured another forkful of pasta. “You going out again?”
His fingers tightened on the fork in his hand. The mere thought had his heart rate climbing. “Maybe.”
“You should.” She downed a gulp of water. “You’re here. Might as well, right?”
“Yeah.” If it were only that easy. He couldn’t eat. He set the bowl aside.
“You look tense.” She licked her fork. His gaze followed the movement as if he’d never seen a woman do that before. “You really should take a soak. The tub jets are fabulous.”
Images of her in that big tub reeled through his mind. “No, thanks. I’m good.”
“Too girlie for you?” She set her plate aside and studied him.
“Something like that.”
“What made you decide you wanted to be a driver?” Molly asked, not because she needed to but mainly because she wanted to know the answer.
One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile—it was the sexiest thing Molly had ever seen. Slow down, girl, you’re going about this all wrong.
“I didn’t exactly make the decision. It just sort of happened.” He sipped his water. “I started out as a flunky for the team. Doing pretty much whatever needed to be done. Worked my way up. Al, my team owner,” he explained, “noticed my instinct when driving was particularly good. He pushed me to challenge myself and I did.”
“Sounds like you and your team owner are close.” She fluffed her drying hair, combing her fingers through the damp curls.
“The whole team’s like family,” he confirmed.
“So you’ve been here before?” Molly shifted the conversation back to the here and now. “Done that same climb we started today?”
“Yes. I’ve been here before.” The tension he felt at the question showed in his posture.
The room phone rang.
Jason was thankful for the interruption.
Molly picked up the receiver. “Hello.” She listened a moment. “Sure. Okay.” She got up, held the receiver out to him. “It’s for you.”
Jason pushed up and walked over to the sofa and took the phone. “Thanks.”
She got up, grabbed her plate and wandered back to the cart. To give him some privacy, he supposed.
“This is Jason Fewell.” Jason listened as the desk clerk explained there was a problem with his rental car. The agency had left a document at the desk for him to review and sign. “Sure, I’ll be right down.” He placed the receiver back in its cradle. “There’s an issue at the front desk with the rental car. Some kind of form. I’ll be right back.”
“God, the fruit is marvelous.” She moaned as she sank her teeth into a strawberry.
A new kind of tension tightened in Jason’s belly. A few minutes out of the room would be a good thing. This lady was getting under his skin way too fast.
“I’ll save some for you,” she called after him as he headed for the door.
“I can always order more,” he reminded her before slipping out.
The corridor was empty. Who would hang around their room when on vacation in a snow-covered paradise like this?
Other than him?
And his roommate?
Jason shook his head. He wasn’t sure if she was staying close because she felt sorry for him or because she was lonely, too.
Too…That truth rattled him.
He was lonely.
That admission had been a long time in coming.
He hustled down the stairwell. Tomorrow morning he should run. The thinner air would be somewhat limiting, but staying in shape was essential. Too hard to come back from a few days of laziness.
After pushing through the door to the first floor, he strode across the grand lobby and bellied up to the front desk.
“I’m Jason Fewell. You have something here for me to sign.”
Two female clerks stood behind the counter. They exchanged a look that said they had no idea what he was talking about.
“I’m sorry, sir. Did someone call you?” the one named Carrie asked.
Jason nodded. “He said his name was Austin.”
Another of those looks passed between the two.
“Sir, we don’t have an Austin at the front desk.”
Confusion tugged at his brow. “Maybe he works in the manager’s office or in reservations?”
Both heads shook. The one whose name tag read Ellen confirmed, “No, sir. We don’t have an Austin on staff at all.”
“But the call,” Jason countered, “was from inside the lodge.”
“If the caller knew your room number,” Carrie explained, “he could use any of the house phones.” She gestured to a table in the lobby. “Maybe a friend is playing a prank on you.”
Realization tingled at the base of his skull. He didn’t bother explaining that he didn’t have any friends here. He knew exactly what was going on.
MOLLY PULLED A SWEATER over her head. She had a bad feeling about this call to the front desk. Why would a rental agency drop off a form at the lodge without calling Fewell first?
They wouldn’t.
She shoved her feet into her boots and headed for the door.
This was a setup.
Walking wasn’t an option. She ran for the stairwell. Plunged down the four flights of stairs. Her ankle stung but not enough to slow her down.
When she burst into the lobby, the front desk had already called security.
A male cameraman and a female reporter were still shouting questions at Fewell even as security hauled them toward the door.
“Come on, Jason,” the woman urged, not ready to give up her quest, “tell me why you came back here after what happened three years ago.”
The security guards were making quiet promises to have her hauled into the police station if she didn’t cooperate and leave the premises.
Fewell stood there, unmoving, unblinking.
“Do you still feel responsible for Cynthia’s death?” the reporter shouted, getting in one more jab before the guards got her out the door.
The few guests that had wandered in during the commotion stared at Fewell, whispering among themselves. One even going so far as to point.
“Come on.” Molly took Jason by the arm. “Don’t give them anything else to talk about.”
He glared at her, his face pinched in pain.
“Come on.” She tugged at him. “Jason,” she urged. “Just…come on.”
Molly hauled him to the elevator since it was closer than the stairs and the doors on one had just slid open. When the doors had closed, she asked, “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
The hell it didn’t. “It does matter.”
He sent a deadly look down his shoulder at her. “I do not want to talk about this.”
“Okay.”
The silence thickened, making the elevator feel
as if the walls were closing in.
When the doors opened, he waited for her to exit.
A gentleman to the end.
She shoved the key card into the lock and opened the door to their suite. “I’m filing a complaint with the manager.” She kicked off her boots.
“It wasn’t the staff’s fault.” He wandered to the window and stared out at the darkness.
The view in Aspen was beautiful, that was true. But he spent way too much time at that window. Like a prisoner who longed for freedom.
“I know you said you don’t want to talk about the things that reporter said, but sometimes it helps to talk.”
“Not for me.”
“Well—” she moved in next to him at the window “—if you’re referring to therapy, that doesn’t count. Not in my book.”
He glanced at her, his face grim. “It’s supposed to help.”
“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.” She leaned against the window frame and studied him. “But it always helps to get it off your chest with someone who’ll really listen.”
“Lady—” he shook his head “—my team, my family, they’ve all been there for me, but no amount of talk has changed anything.”
Molly took the plunge. “Who’s Cynthia?” She held her breath.
“I guess you’re one of the few who didn’t read about it. Or watch it on the entertainment news shows.”
She shook her head. “No. Sorry.”
He braced a hand on the window frame. “Cynthia O’Neal was my girlfriend. We came here three years ago for the Christmas holidays.”
“Oh my gosh.” Molly shook her head. “I feel terrible for giving you so much trouble about the room. I had no idea.”
“The room…” He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“What happened?”
“We had climbed all over the country. Here, too. She loved the mountains here better than any place else.”
Molly waited patiently for him to continue. She knew this was difficult for him.
“The trail you and I started today was one of her favorites.”
“I can understand that. It’s a beautiful place.”
