Avalanche Read online

  Besides, I had somewhere I needed to be.

  As if on cue, a body on a pair of skis slid expertly to where I was heading. The perfection of his stop was amplified by the powder that sprayed toward me.

  “Niiice,” I said, grinning.

  Alex tucked the poles under his arms, his chuckle loud and clear. The reflective green cast on his goggles flashed blue when he lifted them onto the navy hat on his head. “You see that?” He boasted. “One hundred percent perfection.”

  I grunted and propped my board up on the rack.

  Alex’s eyes slid toward my groupie and then back to me. With my back turned, I rolled my eyes at him. A nanosecond of surprise flashed in his, but it was gone practically before it appeared.

  “Hey there, bunny,” he called, hitching his chin at her. “What’s your name?”

  “Heather,” she said, taking that as her cue to come closer.

  “You just have a lesson with my man Liam?”

  She nodded. “He’s the best,”

  Alex grinned, a puff of air floating out around his mouth from his silent laughter. His eyes flickered behind where we stood and then back. “Say, ah, how long you around for?”

  I wanted to groan. She must have a friend. One who wasn’t quite as brazen.

  “All week,” Heather said.

  “That your friend?”

  Heather glanced over her shoulder and nodded.

  I gave Alex a warning look, silently telling him to shut the fuck up. He didn’t even acknowledge me.

  A slow smile spread over the lower half of his face. “We’re planning on hitting up the tavern off the lodge tonight for some drinks. Maybe we’ll see you ladies then.”

  I almost took the ski pole out of his grasp and stabbed him with it.

  After the girl giggled and practically promised to be there, she went to retrieve her board and talk excitedly with her friend.

  Once they were out of earshot, I glanced at my best friend and groaned. “Dude. Why did you do that?”

  “It’s my duty to get you booty,” he quipped.

  I punched him in the shoulder. He slid backward on the skis, but the bastard steadied himself just as fast. “You know I don’t need help with that.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe not, but she was fine and so was her friend.”

  “So bang her friend,” I grumped. “Fuck, have a threesome with them both, for all the fucks I give.”

  “Whoa.” He made a face. “Who threw a snowball in your shorts?”

  “No one.” I picked up the clipboard and made a few notes before I forgot. “Sometimes it gets old is all.”

  “Yeah, being followed around and hit on by hot snow bunnies on the daily is just a tragedy.”

  I gave him the finger.

  He hit the underside of the clipboard. “What’s up, bro?”

  I glanced up. His ice-blue eyes were concerned. “Nothing,” I muttered. “She just reminded me of someone.”

  “Anyone I’d know?”

  I gazed off in the direction she’d gone, then out over the tall pine trees heavy with white snow. “Forget it,” I said. “It’s ancient history.”

  Alex made a sound, but before he could press, I said, “Thanks for taking my next class. I better head in before the old man sends someone to fetch me.”

  “No prob.” He checked the watch buried under his jacket. “I got some time. I’m going to head in and grab a drink. I’ll walk with you.”

  Alex had his skis off, leaning them on the rack where my board had been before I tucked it under my arm. I didn’t leave my board lying around. And it didn’t go in the rental space where all the other equipment was stored either. This board was mine and no one else’s.

  “So, hey, how ‘bout those beers tonight?” Alex asked as we went.

  I chuckled. “Do you always think with your dick?”

  “Don’t you?” he asked, glib.

  “Touché.” But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t true. At least not lately. Lately, I’d been thinking with my head a lot more than my dick.

  I wasn’t too fond of it, but damn if I knew how to fix it.

  “C’mon, Liam. You’re probably gonna need a beer after the meeting with Mr. Mattison himself.”

  “Fine.” I agreed. “I’ll meet you in the bar later.”

  He slapped me on the back.

  I slid him a glance from the corner of my eye. “But no women. Not tonight.”

  “How you going to do me like that?” Alex complained.

  I laughed. “Fine. No women for me. But you can take your pick.”

  “Now that’s what I’m talking about!” he exclaimed.

  I laughed and returned his fist-bump before heading into the employee entrance, then up to my father’s office.

  Bellamy

  The second the bus rumbled to a stop, nerves assailed me.

  What if I was doing the wrong thing?

  This thing that I was doing seemed right until I got here and actually had to follow through with my plan.

  If you could even call it that.

  I was the last one off the bus. In fact, I sat there so long, staring out into the twilight sky and darkening street, that the bus driver appeared.

  “This is the last stop,” he said, his voice gruff.

  I jumped, having not even heard him approach. Pressing my hand to my chest, I blinked up, wide-eyed.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, miss.”

  I forced a low laugh. “Oh, no. You didn’t.” It was a stupid thing to say because obviously he had scared me. I went on autopilot, though, just muttering the first polite thing I could think of.

  “Sorry for holding you up,” I said and stood, clutching the bag into my chest. I bit into my lower lip and waited for him to step aside.

  “Not a problem,” he said and moved.

  He called a good night after me as I stepped onto the snowy street.

  The bus doors slammed behind me, and he pulled forward before I was even up on the curb. Once there, I stood still, hugging the bag close. Lifting my chin, I stared into the sky that was a deep shade of blue, but not quite dark. Fat, white snowflakes floated from the sky. They reminded me of feathers the way they sort of glided back and forth on their way to the ground.

  One hit me in the nose, its icy structure shocking me just a little as it began to melt against my skin. I smiled, the first smile I think I’d known in a long time.

  It almost felt wrong, but even so, I couldn’t chastise myself for it. Not tonight. Not after everything.

  I might be in trouble, but I’d gotten this far. That was something to be proud of.

  Along with the smile, a faint feeling of peace took hold in my chest. It was small and fragile, just like the snowflakes that fell around me, but it was there. And just like those white flakes, it was beautiful.

  I was scared, doubting every move I’d made in the last day.

  But I was alive.

  It was a good place to start.

  Someone on the sidewalk skirted around me, narrowly avoiding a collision. Pulling my cheeks from the sky, I glanced around at my surroundings.

  The place looked the same.

  Same but different.

  Was there such a thing?

  Maybe it was just me who was different. After everything that happened since I was last here, it was pretty obvious I wouldn’t be looking around with the same eyes.

  The town of Caribou, Colorado, was a beautiful place. It seemed rooted in history with its small-town feel and narrow main street filled with shops and lights. Snow fell here more often than it didn’t, and the mountain rose around the town like an intimidating force. The scent of a nearby bakery carried through the wintry air, and my stomach rumbled.

  I hadn’t eaten for nearly two days, except for some stale coffee and a pack of crackers. I hadn’t wanted to take the chance of being seen while getting any food anywhere.

  The bus ride had been long, and even when it made some stops, I refused to get off. My life li
terally depended upon it.

  Was I safe here?

  I wasn’t entirely sure, but it was the only place I could think to run.

  I snorted a little thinking like that.

  The first and only time I’d been here, I’d run, too. Run away.

  I vowed to never return, even to get back the chunk of my heart that had unfortunately stayed behind. Even after all these years, I knew it was still here.

  I felt it.

  Turning, I glanced past the bundled-up people, the cute little shops and lights. I peered through the falling snow up toward the mountain.

  Not far in the distance, a large building stood. Close by were long, white lanes that striped down the mountain, and with those were the chair lifts, lit up, carriages going to and from.

  My stomach flipped as I stared up at BearPaw Resort. The place where I first fell in love.

  The place where my heart was first broken.

  Liam

  My father tsked when I stepped into his large corner office filled with walnut furniture and sweeping views of the slopes.

  It was probably one of the nicest views at the resort.

  I was surprised he hadn’t made this some swanky room and charged triple for it. People would have paid, and his bottom line would have bled black.

  However, as astute of a business man my father was, he could appreciate a damn good view.

  Besides, say what you would about Renshaw Mattison; he was a hard worker. And if anyone deserved this prime spot at BearPaw, it was him.

  “You couldn’t have changed for the meeting?” he asked, glowering over his glasses.

  “I’m pretty sure this conversation would still be the same if I was dressed in a three-piece suit.”

  “Appearances mean a lot in the business world.”

  I availed myself upon the seat in front of his desk, leaned back, and propped one foot up over my knee. “I’m not you, Dad.”

  “Of that I am acutely aware.”

  I grunted. “Well, it’s not too late to change your mind.”

  He chuckled. “I still believe you are the right man for the job, no matter your dress habits.”

  “That’s good, because if I do end up taking over this place someday, I’m still dressing like this.”

  “Headstrong. Just like your mother.”

  It wasn’t an insult. In fact, I took it the opposite. My father loved my mother more than anything, so for him to say I was like her spoke volumes.

  He cleared his throat. “So have you thought about our last conversation?”

  “That you want me to take over BearPaw Resort?” I sat up. “I’ve thought about it.”

  “And?”

  I sighed. “I’m still thinking.”

  He frowned.

  “I’m not the business type, Dad.” I gestured to my clothes as proof. “I’m an athlete. I spend most of my time outside. Up until last year, I didn’t spend too much time in one place.”

  “Things are different now.”

  How could I forget? I glanced down at my knee, then shifted.

  “There are plenty of high-level execs here that would kill for this job.” I pointed out.

  “Yes. Well, they aren’t my son.”

  “Nepotism at its finest,” I drawled.

  My father gave me a distasteful look and stood. With his hands clasped behind his back, he stared out over the slopes. The lights had come on a few minutes ago. Soon, it would be completely dark. I loved to night board. Night ski. Cruise around on the snowmobile after hours.

  “This started as a family business, and that’s the way I would like it to remain. I realize you had other plans for your life, but now you’re back. You were raised here. I know you know this place like the back of your hand. I could teach you anything else you needed to know.”

  “I could do the job,” I said, confident.

  He glanced around. “Is that a yes?”

  I smiled, swift. “No. It means I don’t doubt my skills at running this place.”

  “If you still want to teach,” he began, “I’m sure it could be worked out.”

  I laughed. The idea had some merit to it. Imagine the head honcho of this place out there on the mountain, giving ski lessons. People would never expect that.

  I liked doing the unexpected.

  Some people might even argue that’s what I was known for.

  “I was hoping to start training you in the spring.” My father spoke, glancing back outside.

  My eyebrows rose. That was sooner than I realized. “You ready to retire, Dad?” I asked, a hint of teasing in my voice.

  He didn’t laugh. Instead, he answered, “I just want to make sure you’re ready when the time comes.”

  My brow wrinkled. “Time comes for what?”

  He turned from the window and smiled. “For when your mother decides she doesn’t want to be a snowbird and books us a winter cruise.”

  I barked a laugh. So Mom was talking about retiring.

  My father watched me, waiting.

  I sighed. “It’s only February,” I replied.

  “So?”

  “So spring is a few months away. I still have time to think.”

  Sitting down behind his desk, he nodded. “Yes. You have some time.”

  “Meeting adjourned?” I pushed to my feet.

  “I’ll see you at Sunday dinner.”

  “I’ll be there with bells on.” I went to the door, already thinking of a hot shower.

  “I know this isn’t what you expected,” he said abruptly.

  My chest tightened, and I turned. “No. It’s not.”

  “And I’m sorry about that, son.” He came around the desk, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. “But I’m not sorry you’re home.”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe it’s just fate’s way of letting you know BearPaw is where you belong.”

  “I’ll think about it, Dad,” I told him, gripping his shoulder. My throat was tight as I let myself out of the office.

  It wasn’t that I was sorry I was back here with my family and where I grew up and my best friend lived.

  It was just hard to let go of the past. Of things that could have been.

  Bellamy

  The cab pulled up to the front of the resort, and all those qualms about coming here became storms. I really wasn’t sure about this. About being here.

  I didn’t know where else to go.

  I had no one. Unless you counted the cops who put me into witness protection.

  *snort*

  Those dudes definitely didn’t count.

  When I’d been huddled in the back of that cab with my getaway bag clutched in my lap and the cabbie kept staring at me, asking me where to go, the only place that came to mind was here.

  Of all places.

  I swore I’d never come back, yet here I was.

  Honest fact was with the bad I had experienced here, there had also been so much good.

  Only once in my entire life had I spent a vacation with my father. Only once had I had his undivided attention for two whole weeks. This was the place we’d spent what he told me was the best time of his life.

  The photo I’d picked up from beside his murdered body was of him and me standing on the slopes.

  Maybe that was why. Why when I shut my eyes and tried to imagine somewhere my father’s killers couldn’t get to me, it was the very place I’d been happy with him.

  No one knew I’d spent two weeks here eight years ago. Caribou was a small mountain town, only on the map because of BearPaw Resort. The men from Chicago wouldn’t think to look here.

  I’d be safe.

  That’s all I really wanted.

  As the cab drove away and I craned my neck to stare up at the giant wooden building lit up from within, my stomach dipped and my heart squeezed. There was something else I wanted.

  To not see him.

  Lucky for me, in this the odds were in my favor.

  He’d left this place a long tim
e ago. Before I did, actually. I knew he wasn’t here. I was glad. Seeing him would only bring up pain and drag up things I’d long since buried.

  Hadn’t I?

  I had enough to deal with anyway. Like hiding from the men trying to kill me.

  That little reminder had me walking under the giant wooden awning where cars could pull in for the valet service and people could unload their bags.

  Ducking inside the wide wooden doors, I walked through a small entryway with a thick rug on the floor and heat blasting through vents in the ceiling. I hadn’t even realized how cold I was until that heat caressed my skin.

  Shivering, I approached the set of glass doors that opened into the reception area of the main building. The idea of the little entry I walked through was pretty clever really. Most likely thought of by a woman who was tired of cleaning.

  The thick carpet and the extra space… It was for people to track in all the mud and snow they would, and it would all be gone by the time they reached the lobby.

  The place looked the same, even eight years later. Pushing into the giant space with soaring ceilings, wooden beams, and a stone fireplace I could literally stand up in, I remembered just how much I’d loved it here.

  It was a shame that one event had tainted it.

  Shaking off that thought, I wandered inside, taking in the comfortable seating that was grouped together to create various intimate gathering places. Near the large front desk, there was a table filled with cookies, hot cocoa, and coffee. People milled about, laughing and smiling. Some carried bags; others carried ski equipment. There was a couple close to the fire, drinking wine, wearing sweaters they probably got off QVC.

  I was so apprehensive I avoided the front desk at first. Instead, I went to the fireplace. Admiring the large-cut stone in shades of grey and tan, I held my frozen hands out toward the open mouth. Heat wrapped around them, and I shivered again.

  A giant chandelier hung in the center of the space. It was rustic and, despite its size, felt cozy, not grandiose. The fireplace was double-sided, and past it, the room stretched on toward a huge wall of windows that gazed out over a terrain of snow, white-blanketed trees, and a landscape that frankly belonged on a postcard.

  Noise from the bar that was located off the lodge filtered in. Music and laughter warred with the quieter tones out here.