CA 35 Christmas Past (6 page)

           
He stared at her for a
full ten seconds. She wished she could see his eyes. Like her, he wore those
dark glasses and the ski mask.

           
“If that’s what you
want,” he finally offered.

           
The words were
strained, loaded with tension. How was it that a guy as young and healthy as
this could be totally paralyzed by a fear that wasn’t tangible?
At least not yet.
They hadn’t gotten to the really dangerous
climbing. She wanted to understand, but she just couldn’t grasp the concept.
Coming here, climbing to the summit of this mountain again was a good decision,
in her opinion. But how could he possibly hope to accomplish his goal if he
couldn’t make it past this point without freaking?

           
She should cut him some
slack. Obviously, to him, the fear was real. “You’re sure you don’t mind?”

           
He pushed to his feet,
reached an unsteady hand for his pack. “If you’re unsure, to carry on would be
a mistake.”

           
She surveyed the sky
again. “Looks like snow clouds moving in, too. Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.”
They had avalanche beacons and every other essential safety device recommended.
And the weather forecast hadn’t mentioned snow. But he didn’t know that she
understood they were fully prepared, certainly had time, and that the
conditions were safe enough for this time of year.

           
Mountain climbing came
with some amount of danger. Winter expeditions upped the danger factor.
Adrenaline junkies liked it that way.

           
But this adrenaline
junkie had crashed and burned.

           
Jason
Fewell
was afraid. It was difficult to watch. She had four
older brothers, two close to his age. She couldn’t imagine any one of them
suffering this kind of setback. But it could happen to anyone if the conditions
were right. The situation had to be devastating.

           
The descent was easier
going.
Fewell
made no attempt to lead the way. Just
like on the trek in, he said practically nothing. She kept the one-sided
conversation going in hopes of giving him something besides his inner thoughts
to dwell on.

           
She had to find a way
to turn this around. Molly was no psychologist, but she had a fair
understanding of the male psyche.

           
Men like
Fewell
considered themselves above fear. This
uncontrollable reaction would call into question
all that
he believed to be true and right about himself.
Particularly
the ability to protect others.

           
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 continued anyway, because he
had been too terrified?