The 48 Hour Hookup (Chase Brothers) (8 page)

“I’m sure,” she said. “Need me to tell you which one it is?”

“I’m going to go with the open one,” he said, giving her a blank look.

“Oh.” Heat flooded her cheeks.
Idiot
. “What if that’s not the same raccoon?”

“It is. His mask is crooked. I’d know that face anywhere.”

“What if he has a cohort?” she asked.

“Then the cohort can hang out in the kitchen. We’ll check it out when we go back in.” He waded through the drift and the bushes and closed the window with surprisingly little effort. No wonder the raccoon could come and go as he pleased. “Now where are those skis you mentioned?”

She showed him to the shed, where a dozen pairs of skis lined a wall. He went through them quickly, convincing her he knew a lot more than she did about what was what in there. After a quick perusal, he handed her a pair of skis. “What size boot?” he asked.

She told him her shoe size, and he handed her a pair of boots. She’d forgotten they were in there, but of course her uncle had stocked them with the ski gear. He didn’t offer a huge selection, but his guests had enjoyed getting out on the mountain. Even though many spent their days at the bigger ski resorts more closely adjacent to town, not all came with their own gear or the desire to tackle a downhill run. Like her. If she had to ski, she liked the idea of flat ground beneath her feet. The lodge sat on the edge of a ridge, with the road climbing steeply to the front, providing dramatic views across the valley. To the back of the structure, however, the ground sloped more gently. The views were intermittent, but she felt safer that way.

That good feeling didn’t extend to sticking her foot in something that had been sitting for years in what probably qualified as the outdoors. Protected from the elements, sure, but not critter proof by any means. Hell, the
lodge
hadn’t been proven critter proof. Dubious, she turned the first boot upside down and shook it. Nothing came out, so she stuck her gloved hand inside to make sure no critters had taken up residence. When she withdrew her hand, she had her answer…and not the one she wanted. A large black spider, all eight creepy, beady eyes fixed on her. “You did this on purpose,” she grumbled. She stepped past Liam into the shed, then shook off the offending creature. Not that it did any good to free herself of the thing. She felt like she had a thousand of them crawling on her.

“Did what?”

“Gave me an enormous spider.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t do that on purpose,” he said mildly. “Though if I had, I would have been disappointed. That was the most boring reaction to a spider I’ve ever witnessed.”

“The raccoon was an aberration. I’m not usually a screamer.”

“Good to know,” he said slowly, a smile teasing his lips.

She glared, entirely too heated by the thought of him making her scream, and grabbed a brush off a nearby shelf. After thoroughly cleaning out her boots, running a pair of arachnids out of the second one, she wordlessly handed over the brush. He followed suit. No spiders in his. Of course.

Together they walked out onto the snow, which had become blinding white after her eyes had adjusted to staring at dark corners and peering inside boots in the shed. She dropped her sunglasses over her eyes and noticed he did the same. They were operating in unison. Adorable. Only he probably wasn’t worried he was about to go plummeting to his death off the side of the mountain. Or why he’d taken the first excuse to get out of that awkward physical situation they’d worked themselves into. She
still
wasn’t sure he’d ever looked at his phone to see who had called. Her own phone battery was dead, but she’d noticed his plugged into an external battery pack. Of course, because when the last thing you needed was an interruption…

Ugh
. Not so much. The
last
thing she needed was to be floating around in a daze. Her attraction him already felt like a betrayal of the woman she’d been when she’d fled the city. Or maybe she’d just slunk away, not that it mattered. If she went back, she’d be a different person. She just had to fit those pieces back together. Find a new normal. A new normal that would not under
any
circumstances include a man who was almost as recognizable as she, though for significantly less humiliating reasons.

But despite that last non-negotiable point, her traitorous mind lingered. If the rest of him was anywhere near as talented as those teasing fingers, she could only hope to find herself in a world of trouble.

Or to avoid it.

Avoiding would have been a grand idea.

Avoiding skiing would have been a close second.

Liam watched her attempt—and fail—to navigate the simple task of simultaneously holding skis and poles, amusement teasing his lips into a grin. “How is it possible you haven’t done this before?”

“I wouldn’t say I never have. It’s just not my forte.” She’d done it exactly once, but who’d asked him?

“And you’ve determined this how?”

She stopped trying to juggle her ski poles and immediately dropped one. Annoyed, she leaned down to swipe it off the snow. “The first and only time I ever ice skated, I spent a whopping four seconds on my feet before falling from a standstill and breaking my arm two days before Christmas. It was years after that before anyone talked me into strapping skis to my feet, but ultimately I fell for that whole they’re-flat-on-the-bottom spiel and gave it a try. I must have some natural talent, because I did manage to steer into a tree, which seemed better than going down the entire mountain. Needless to say, that ultimately and efficiently ended my short-lived interest in winter sports.”

“But you’re here with me?”

“Don’t ask me to think too much about that.” She glanced in his direction, fully prepared to scowl, but was distracted by the fact that he wasn’t laughing at her. Or mocking her. He seemed to be studying her. Maybe he was skeptical. She couldn’t blame him. She’d come here every year for most of her life. That she might have skied more than once wasn’t such a stretch. Especially for a man who showed up for a furnace job with a snowboard in hand.

“What about a sleigh ride?” he asked.

“The horse would probably kick me,” she said.

“What if I promised to protect you from the horse?”

The way his arms had felt around her, he was welcome to protect her from anything. Apparently other than herself. “It might be a moot point. I still have to survive this ski trip.”

An adorable grin teased his lips. “I have the utmost faith you will survive this ski trip.”

Yeah, sure she would. He had to show her how to connect her boot to the ski. With one foot in, she almost fell over. When the second boot snapped in place, she stupidly stretched out her arms to adjust her jacket, which in turn caused her poles to lose contact with the ground, which then caused her to slide a few couple of inches. “Oh, no.”

Liam looked up as she wildly stabbed the sticks at the snow. “What?”

“I moved,” she admitted.

“You weren’t kidding about not liking this stuff.”

Claire looked up at him and found her distorted reaction scowling back from the reflection in his sunglasses. “Winter sport failings aside, I’m still not exactly the outdoorsy type,” she said.

“I kind of noticed your failings as a lumberjack,” he said dryly. “And now that I know you aren’t experienced on these trails, I’m not entirely confident you won’t send me over the edge of a ravine.”

She managed a smile, finally finding some humor in this whole sordid situation. “I think I exceeded spectacularly as a lumberjack. I managed to hit a moving target with a thirty-foot spruce.”

He cocked a brow. “You hit an idling target, and I’m not so sure that’s your bragging point here. Besides, I think it’s closer to twenty-five feet.”

Freaking technicalities. She could use a win, considering she was the one standing there, woefully inadequate in the face of snow and a gentle slope. “Well, I’m not going to send you over the edge of any known ravines.”

He paused in the middle of adjusting his sunglasses on his nose. “
Known
ravines?”

She shrugged and hid a grin. “If I don’t know they’re there, I can’t make any promises.” Maybe he was a little worried after all.

He stared for a moment, then shook his head and laughed. He had a perfect smile, and a perfect dimple when he laughed, but she found herself missing the intensity of that green-eyed stare with it hidden behind sunglasses. Though she was better off missing it.

She’d fallen for that whole good-looking guy shtick before. The fact that he was hot enough to melt the snow beneath his skis was more of a warning sign than something to lust after. Not that she lusted. Lusting was…messy. Lusting had landed her first fiancé in the supply closet with her maid of honor just hours before the ceremony. Talk about bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. He was probably
still
limping.

And she was still staring.

“Look,” she said, more than a little flustered. It was probably evident in her voice. In fact, she’d bet it was. “I’m not sure I could get these things off my feet if I tried, and there may or may not be a raccoon in the kitchen. Or an entire family of them. We have a witness to your arrival—one who will definitely remember you because he wants to get paid for fixing your truck—and I’m still going to need heat at the lodge. If none of that convinces you that I’m not going to intentionally send you over a cliff—”

He was laughing.
Laughing
.

“What. Is. So. Funny?”

“The last twenty-four hours of your life sounds like something someone invented around a campfire, that’s what.”

“I’m glad you’re amused.” Actually she kind of was, because watching him laugh made it impossible for her feel any actual irritation, or to fear too much for her life with those match sticks on her feet, but she had to object on principal.

“I’m probably the
last
person who should be amused,” he said, still laughing.

“Are we going to ski or not? At some point a warm fire is going to sound fantastic, and right now, we’re woefully without the means to make that happen.”

“Yeah, we’re going to ski.” He demonstrated what she was supposed to do, which seemed easy enough. “Tell me which way to go, and I’ll go first to cut tracks for you. That’ll make it a cakewalk.”

Cake. Sure. Cake with an epic view of Hot HVAC Guy’s ass. Now
that
was something that should be on the menu of every bakery in America.

Despite her misgivings, she managed to stay on her feet, and the tracks through the fresh snow meant she didn’t have to steer. Just propel herself, and she suspected he kept the pace slow for her. It was a lot of work, but she handled it, at least until about fifteen minutes in, when she was concentrating on staying upright and hadn’t noticed that he’d stopped ahead of her.

At the last minute, she slammed her poles into the snow, wondering how it could be so hard to stop when pushing required such effort. Before the universe had given her an answer to that particular question, she ran over Liam. Literally. With absolutely no ability to steer, she rammed into him, knocking him off his feet.

She jabbed the ski poles at the ground with force, slowing her down enough that she didn’t fall when she reached the end of his tracks. “Sorry,” she said, probably not sounding like it because she was immensely pleased with herself for staying upright. “Here, let me give you a hand.” She reached out and did her best to ignore the tingles zinging through her when he gripped her hand through two layers of thick gloves and allowed her to help hoist him upright.

She hadn’t predicted how close they’d be when he stood, or that her gaze would drift to his mouth. She expected to see the corners quirk, threatening a smile, but they didn’t.

“The, uh, cabin is ahead.” Somewhere. She couldn’t remember if it was a half mile or two miles. Just that they needed to be back on that trail, because she was having trouble remembering what a bad idea they were.

He was slow to look away from her mouth. When he did, she nearly sighed with relief. They moved ahead on the trail, mostly silent but for the slice of the skis through snow. With the path obvious, she didn’t even need to provide directions.

Several minutes passed before the old cabin came into view. Her heart sank. The place had fallen into such disrepair that gaping holes marred the roof, and the windows were busted out. “This it?” Liam asked.

“It used to be.”

“Do you think it’s okay to look around anyway?”

“I don’t see why not.”

They stepped out of their skis, leaving them on the battered porch. He tried the knob. Unlocked. Inside they found no trace of supplies, or any sign there’d ever been any. The only things remaining inside were either nonflammable or nailed down, which made it a bust for makeshift firewood, too. “Well, this was a wasted trip,” she said.

“Not so much. You skied.”

“And knocked you down.”

“But you didn’t hit me with a tree.”

“We’re not back yet,” she said. They left the cabin, secured the door as best they could, and stepped back into the skis. At the thought of retracing their route, exhaustion hit, and so did the need for a nice hot bath.

A few minutes into the return trip, the ground sloped downward. She wasn’t paying attention, and when she pushed off she managed to slide right into him, knocking him down a second time. Only this time she went down with him.

Lovely.

How he could be so warm through a layer of outerwear that was exposed to the same thirty degrees that touched her own skin, she didn’t know.

They lay there, snow pillowed around them, skis somehow tangled. She probably should get up, but that would involve twisting her foot so it didn’t face nearly backward—an awkward, albeit painless, side effect of landing in a heap—and she wasn’t entirely sure she could do that. Or that she even wanted to.

Although Liam would probably like that very much, because he was the one with his head in the snow. She started to mumble an awkward apology that would have ended with something like
you were warned
or
I told you so
, but she didn’t get the chance.