The Right Mr. Wrong

“It is a dangerous sport,” he said. “What happened was not your fault.”

She shook her head. “I was being reckless. Taking too many chances. I knew I had to pull off an exceptional time to win, so I went for it.”

“That is what competitors do, is it not?”

“Yes.” She scooped up a spoonful of the crème brûlée and studied it. “But my coach had warned me to be careful on that curve, to pull back a little. He knew I had a tendency to push and warned me not to press my luck. But I didn’t listen.”

“Your gamble could have paid off. You might have won.”

“It didn’t, and worse, it ended my career.”

“You could have been hurt on Peel. I should not have let you continue when I saw what was happening.”

She looked him in the eye, some of her earlier anger returning. “I’d like to have seen you try to stop me,” she said. “It was my decision to go down that run, even if I didn’t do it with the best form. I don’t want anyone making allowances for me and don’t you dare pity me.”

He nodded, his expression serious. “Pity is not the word I think of when I think of you,” he said.

“Oh? Good.” She ate another bite of the dessert, then curiosity got the better of her. “What word do you think of?”

He paused, as if considering the question. “I think of words like grace. Determination. Courage.”

“I wasn’t very brave up there on Peel.”

His eyes met hers again, so blue and clear and unblinking. Eyes that held no false flattery or flirtation. “There are different kinds of courage,” he said. “And there are ways in which every one of us is a coward.”

She didn’t believe Hagan had ever been a coward; he was only saying that to make her feel better. But the knowledge warmed her more than all the hot coffee or fleece mittens ever could. She smiled. “Thanks,” she said. “You’re not such a bad guy after all. Even if you are a player.”

He acknowledged this little dig with a nod. “Think what you will about my relationships with women,” he said. “You are better off as my friend than you would be as my lover.”

The sudden tightness in her chest at his words caught her off guard. Why would he say something like that, and use such a charged word—lover? Unless, perhaps, he’d been thinking about the possibility.

She tried to dismiss the thought outright, but could not quite let go of it. Hagan was a strikingly handsome man who was rumored to have had many lovers, which implied a certain skill. She, on the other hand, could count her own serious relationships on the fingers of one hand. What would it be like to have a man like Hagan as her lover? She felt flushed and out of breath at the idea.

Of course she didn’t want Hagan as her lover. He was the last man she’d ever consider.

But she couldn’t quite ignore the small voice in the back of her head that whispered, Liar.

Chapter Four

The next week was college ski week at the resort. Hundreds of young men and women descended on the area to ski, snowboard and party. Patrol stayed busy treating injuries, giving directions to lost visitors and dealing with the occasional unruly drunk.

Maddie was no longer avoiding Hagan, but they were both too busy to do more than exchange greetings in passing. The Tuesday after their conversation at the restaurant, she and Andrea spent the afternoon marking hazards on slopes that had turned icy in the intense sunshine and above-normal temperatures. “So what’s the dumbest question you’ve been asked today?” Andrea asked.

“I’ll have to think about it a minute,” Maddie said. “What’s yours?”

Andrea grinned. “A woman asked me if a snow cat was anything like a mountain lion.”

Maddie laughed. “Actually, that’s kind of cute.” She pounded one end of a section of orange snow fence into the snow with a mallet while Andrea worked on the other end. “Yesterday I had a guy ask me why we didn’t make the moguls more even,” Maddie said after a moment. “I didn’t get it at first, then I realized he thought we had some special machine that made the moguls. I had to explain that ungroomed snow naturally forms those hummocks when a lot of people ski down it.” She shook her head. “I don’t think he believed me.”

They were packing up their tools, ready to move on to the next hazard on their list when two young men approached them. “Good afternoon, ladies,” the taller of the two said. He had sun-bleached brown hair and a smile that any orthodontist would have been proud of. “Y’all live around here, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” Andrea said. She offered a smile in return. Maddie hung back a little, wondering if they were going to have another candidate for the tourist question hall of fame.

“Then maybe you can help us out,” Handsome Smile continued. “I’m Greg and this is my buddy, Evan.”

Evan nodded and Maddie returned the greeting, still wondering where this was leading.

“We want to know where the best place is to get a drink in town,” Greg said. “Where the locals hang out.”

“That would be the Eldo,” Andrea said. “It’s down on Elk Avenue in town.”

“Cool.” Greg looked at Andrea, then Maddie, then back again to Andrea, his smile never wavering. “So, you ladies go there and it’s good?”

“Pretty good.” Andrea shrugged. “Nothing special, just a nice place.”

Greg looked around them. A steady stream of skiers and boarders zipped past, and gathered in groups of two and three along the margins of the run to talk, rest or merely enjoy the sun. “This is our first time here,” he said. “It’s a great place.” He looked back at them. “How long have you worked here?”

“This is my second year,” Andrea said.