Caught by the Blizzard: A romantic winter thriller (Tellure Hollow Book 1) (5 page)

As I went through the routine, I found my mind drifting back to the girl on the bridge. I’d spotted her as I rounded the corner. Stunning. Gorgeous. The kind of girl guys fight over and fight to keep. She seemed so wrapped up in taking those pictures, I didn’t feel like she’d catch me watching. It was like she was seeing snow for the first time. At one point, she’d picked up a handful of it and threw it in the air, just to watch it scatter in the breeze.

When she leaned over that edge, I was sure she was going to slip and fall in. I’d run to her before I’d even realized it, my feet carrying me across the road and leaving my self-imposed hermit life behind. When she spun around and I looked into those amazing ice blue eyes, I’d felt that pull. God, I hadn’t felt that sort of pull towards a woman in forever. Years. I wanted to kiss the red flush on her cheeks, taste her lips…

I sat up with a grunt, wiping the sweat from my face. I didn’t come to Tellure Hollow to scramble my brain any further, no matter how pretty she was. I got to my feet like an old man with arthritis and walked to the bathroom. As the shower heated up, I looked myself over in the mirror. This was the one thing the shrinks had been able to help me with. After months of therapy, I was finally able to look at myself without wanting to scream or tear my world apart.

My eyes traced the diagonal scar that ran from my left shoulder down towards my chest. I didn’t allow myself to look any further down to my hips and legs, but I knew what was there. As the mirror began to fog and I stepped into the shower, I wondered how that girl would react if she saw my scars. I hadn’t been with anyone since the accident…

“Christ, dude, she cursed you out and walked away without saying goodbye,” I muttered.
True, but she did look back
, said a voice in my head.

____________

The Gritty Cask was a lot better than I’d hoped. With a small brewery in the back and a bar menu with real food, it was a welcome slice of civilization. I’d always found ski towns were hit or miss when it came to good food and drink. After an hour in the bar, I felt right at home.

The crowd seemed to be a good mix of locals and tourists, all blissfully coexisting with the help of a little liquid lubricant. I’d stuffed my stomach with the first hot meal I’d eaten in days and found myself playing pool with Dale. He was at least ten years older and a hundred pounds heavier, the kind of guy I’d want behind me in a fight.

“So you make snow up at Powder Mountain?” I asked as he took his shot. He missed the seven and sunk the cue ball with a curse.

“Don’t you mean Angel Vista?” he said with disgust.

I frowned, wiping the blue chalk on my jeans. “I didn’t know there was another resort around here.”

“There ain’t. They went and changed the name, if you can believe it. Who does that? Who changes the name of a goddamn mountain?” He took a big gulp of his black stout and slammed it back down on the table, froth spilling over the edge.

“I don’t know, man. Did someone buy it?” I bent down, my hip screaming in pain. I nicked the side of the one ball and knocked the nine into the corner pocket. “It’s kind of rare when a mountain isn’t privately owned.”

Dale’s eyes glimmered with an anger enhanced by three pints of Guinness. “That mountain belongs to us. Our families settled here and that dickhead Richards comes in here, flashing his money around, and buys our goddamn mountain?” Small droplets of spittle fell on his ginger beard as he spoke, his voice growing louder with each word.

An equally large guy in a Polaris hat appeared from the crowd and clapped Dale on the shoulder. “Hey man, take it easy. The guy’s kid is over there.” He tilted his head to the far corner of the bar where a mix of guys and girls were playing quarters. “From what I hear, the kid’s just as bad.”

The guy he pointed to was the blond asshole from the street earlier and wouldn’t you know it, he had his arm slung around the gorgeous girl from the bridge. Figures. Just my luck. I turned away and took a sip of beer.
Better off. I have to concentrate on getting healthy
, I thought. Still, I was disappointed she was already here with someone.

“Ever since that guy bought the mountain, things have been changin’ around here. All these out-a-towners, no offense, they bring in drugs, get into trouble. Used to be a nice quiet place you could raise a family in, but not anymore,” Dale grew quiet but a vein still prominently throbbed on his neck. He glanced at the pool table and chucked his stick down. “Screw this. I need a smoke. Hey, good meeting ya Bryan. I just need to cool off,” he said as he nearly crushed my hand in his strong fist.

“No worries,” I replied. Even after one day in town, I’d gotten a good lay of the land. It hadn’t even occurred to me to research the mountain before I packed my stuff and drove up. Powder Mountain had always been a local gem. The resort and town didn’t have the glitz and amenities as other resorts. Anyone who found their way to the town did so because they were serious about skiing, not spa days and Michelin star restaurants.

I grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a water. My doctor had prescribed a new pain med a couple weeks before I’d left and I hadn’t tried drinking while on it yet. Already, my one beer felt like three. Shockingly, my stomach rumbled. Just as I was about to reach for the menu to order a second dinner, a delicate arm appeared from behind me and set a full shot glass down.

“Thank you for saving me.”

My heart skipped when I heard her voice but I also cringed. Our first meeting had been a disaster. Still, I smiled to myself but didn’t turn, my eyes focused on her reflection in the mirror in front of me. “So you decided that’s what happened?” I kept my voice low.

“I think
you
thought you were saving me, which I didn’t need by the way, but I figure it’s the thought that counts. Here. Peace.” She nudged the shot glass closer to me.

“And what if I was just looking to grope you a little? I’m walking along, see a pretty girl bent over, figure what the hell? Worst thing she can do is slap me.” I said it with a shrug, hoping she was the kind of girl who could take a joke. Please,
please
, be the kind of girl who can take a joke because that came out a lot gruffer than I’d intended.

“That’s cute.”

I finally turned on my barstool, meeting her gaze directly. Her blue eyes had softened since I’d last looked into them, but there was still a bit of an edge. I had to fight every instinct to keep my gaze from traveling down to her chest. The gray sweater she wore hugged her curves like it was painted on.

“What’s cute, exactly?”

“That you think a slap is the worst thing I could do to you.” Her nostrils flared a little. I could already tell she was that awesome combination of cute and sexy, smart and mouthy. Damnit. I really was in trouble with this one. Nothing turned me on more than a girl who could banter.

“Let’s start over. I’m Bryan.” I held my hand out. She glanced at it and her smile broadened. That smile warmed places inside me that’d been cold for far too long.

She slipped her soft hand in mine. “Liz. Well, Elizabeth,” she corrected as she sat beside me. “Beth, Lizzy, Eliza. Everyone seems to pick their favorite.”

“Multiple personalities?” I ask arching my eyebrow.

Liz glanced at me out of the corner of her eye before knocking back her shot. “Something like that.”

I traced the lip of the shot with my finger as I debated whether or not to drink it. I was already feeling fuzzy but I didn’t want to ruin the peace offering and risk running her off again. After promising myself I’d drink extra water to compensate, I downed it. I tried my best to take it like a man but I involuntarily shuddered as the liquid burned down my throat. I coughed into my fist and looked at her accusatorily.

“What the fuck was that?” I said between coughs.

“Fireball,” she giggled.

I coughed again and squinted at her with watering eyes. “I think
that
was the worst thing you could’ve done to me.” I took a big gulp of water to cool the burning.

“Not quite. You pick the next round, then,” she said, giving my arm a playful slap.

My heart stopped for a moment.
She wants to stay for another round
! Her forwardness was perfect. I’d been out of the game for so long that I wouldn’t have ever been able to approach her. All I had to do was not screw it up.

A girl shouted in celebration from across the room. She was in the group with the owner’s son, jumping up and down like she’d just won the World Series. Liz turned to look over her far shoulder and I took the opportunity to really take her in. Her brown hair was pulled back in a high pony tail, just brushing the tops of her shoulders as she turned her head. Even sitting, I could tell her proportions were knockout. Just looking at her thin waist and round hips drove me out of my mind. If this girl wasn’t a model, she was seriously wasting her God-given assets. Before I could get too worked up, I looked away and cleared my throat, drawing her attention.

“So Liz, what’s the most dangerous place you’ve ever taken a photo?” My voice sounded like I hadn’t used it in years and for the life of me, I couldn’t swallow my nerves.

She tilted her head at me, surprised by the question. She looked up, deep in thought. “Hmmm, that’s a good question. I’ve shot rodeos before, but that’s not too scary. I’ve done drag races.” She counted each one on a finger until her eyes went wide. Jumping up in her seat like she’d sat on a tack, she exclaimed, “Oh, I know!” She grabbed my knee as she continued. “I was on the edge of a big dune at the beach during a hurricane. I was on my stomach leaning over the edge and it was sketchy, like,
really
sketchy. I wanted to get a shot of the foam shooting up into the air but I wasn’t thinking. The ridge on the dune had been formed because the waves were eroding it all away. I remember feeling the sand shift underneath my elbows and I barely managed to roll away before it collapsed under me.”

Between the intensity of her eyes and being touched by a woman for the first time in years, it was difficult to concentrate. “Wow, okay. You have some type of death wish with water?”

She shook her head and removed her hand, the absence leaving my knee cold. “Nope, but I got the shot,” she said with a wink. “I’ll show you sometime. Speaking of shots, it’s your round.”

“Anything but that last shit,” I laughed.

“Alright, whiskey?” she offered, waving the bartender over. Out of everything, she had to pick that. Whiskey to my temper was like spinach to Popeye. I’d already complained enough about the drinks, I didn’t want to look like a wuss. I vowed to drink three glasses of water.

“Sounds good.”

Thankfully, the alcohol loosened my nerves because they weren’t going to unwind on their own. Like everything in my life, my flirting and conversational skills were a bit rusty, but things started to flow well. The longer I talked to Liz, the more I felt like myself. She was clever and sarcastic, but not mean. She was quick to laugh and I loved trying to make her smile.

As we were getting to know each other, I found myself dodging direct questions about my past. I didn’t want to go into it, didn’t know how. She hadn’t given me The Squint and didn’t seem to know my history, so I wanted to keep it like that. It felt too good to be me, not Bryan The Tragedy. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I hadn’t quite worked out how to tactfully answer some questions yet.

A half hour later, my head was really starting to swim. It was with a twinge of concern that I realized how drunk I’d gotten, but I was too far gone. All the water in the world wouldn’t have saved me. Liz wasn’t exactly sober herself, nor did she seem to care or notice.

“So what do you do?” Finally, a question I didn’t have to avoid.

“I work at Freddy’s, just across the street actually.”

“And what do you and Freddy do?” She took another sip of her drink. My eyes dropped to her pink lips, wondering what she’d do if I just pulled her stool over and kissed her.

I blinked my fantasy away. “No, it’s Walt. I’m not sure who Freddy is. Maybe Walt’s name is really Freddy. Maybe he’s like you, with all the multiple personalities.” She laughed at that, so I continued. “Who are you when you’re Elizabeth?”

Without missing a beat, she replied, “Daddy’s girl. He’s the only one who calls me that anymore.”

“Lizzy?”

She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, pointing to the pretty Asian girl hanging off the douchebag. “Her best friend.”

“Liz?”

She shrugged but gave me a half smile. “Trying to figure that one out still.”

I nodded, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “What about Beth? What’s she like?”

Her expression clouded, the humor falling from her face. I winced, sensing that I’d poked a sore spot without knowing. “She doesn’t come out very much anymore.”

Before I had a chance to salvage the conversation, the blond asshole with a pinched face appeared between us. He was wearing a thick sweater that probably cost more than I’d earn in a week at Freddy’s. Liz tensed as he wrapped his arm around her.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” he said, completely ignoring my presence.

“Here I am,” she replied, shrugging his arm free from her shoulders. Her discomfort was obvious.