Slow Heat

And in her own not stoic way, she kind of liked it. She straightened. “For the future, I’m always okay,” she said. “So you don’t have to ask me that question again.”

“It’s my job.”

Oh. Right. Ski patrol.

“Want to tell me why you’re so touchy about being asked if you’re okay?”

Nope. She really didn’t. It was a trigger for her, not surprising given how many times over the past ten years those three simple words—are you okay—had been asked of her. Now when someone brought it up, what she really heard was all the pity the words usually conveyed.

And she hated pity with the same level of loathing she saved for all creepy-crawlies, kale, and men in open-toed shoes of any kind. “Let’s just say it annoys the crap out of me.”

“Duly noted,” he said. “Next time I’ll query you about the weather. Or if you’ve had a real ski lesson yet.”

Look at that, Man of Few Words did have a sense of humor. And she liked that. A lot. She liked him for some odd reason, not that that was going anywhere. “You have a name?”

“Hudson Kincaid. You?”

“Bailey Moore,” she said as his radio went off. Without taking his eyes from her, he cocked his head and listened, then turned down the volume. “I’ve got to go.”

Good. Maybe when he was gone she could stop making a fool of herself.

He started to turn away but then stopped and gave her one more long look. “Stay off the top.”

“Sir, yes sir,” she said, and saluted him.

Another smile threatened the corners of his mouth. “If only I thought you meant that,” he said, and then he was gone.

Bailey let out a slow, shaky breath. What had just happened? It’d been so long since she’d had any sort of interaction she wasn’t exactly sure.

Liar. That was flirtation and you started it.

And she’d liked it.

But man, she was rusty. Sir, yes sir? Seriously, she needed some practice being normal.

She struggled a few minutes to gather up her skis and poles into one of the long lines of ski stands.

It took a few more minutes to pull off her helmet and figure out how to lock it to her skis. Man, this sport looked so much easier on TV. Everyone always appeared to glide so effortlessly down the mountain and then carried their skis on their shoulders like it was no big deal. It really was deceiving. Still, she was challenging herself and that felt… well, amazing. She glanced at her phone to check the time and was gratified to see she was half an hour early for her meeting. She’d use it to feed the beast, which had been grumbling loudly all morning.

The cafeteria wasn’t crowded, most likely due to it being a weekday. Bailey loaded a tray and sat down in a secluded corner of the place, cozied between a half wall and a huge wall of windows where she could see the incredible view.

You almost, nearly, sort of skied down that, she thought with pride. She could also see that huge blank wall, as it was one of the walls designating the outside eating area. It was protected from the elements by being half dug into the hill behind it and also a huge extended patio roof. She stared at that wall, trying to envision her mural on it.

It was going to be amazing.

She was stuffing her face, nearly moaning with pleasure because the food was incredibly good, when her phone buzzed an incoming text. Her meeting place had been changed to another address in town.

Damn.

It took her nearly half an hour just to turn in her rental skis and get to her car. By the time she drove into Cedar Ridge from the ski resort, she was already ten minutes late, but even that didn’t dampen her excitement.

Hud jerked awake when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He blinked the boardroom into focus and also his siblings’ faces, ranging from amused to pissed off. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Yep,” his sister Kenna agreed from her place across the table where, if he went by the jelly beans layered all over him, she’d been tossing them at him as he snoozed. “You fell asleep,” she said. “When you opened your mouth and started snoring, I wanted to go for a bull’s-eye but Gray wouldn’t let me. He was afraid you’d choke.”

Gray, the oldest Kincaid sibling and ruler of their universe—at least in his own mind—shrugged at Hud. “No one here wanted to take over ski patrol,” he said, “so your premature death would’ve been annoying. We boring you?”

“Shit,” Hud said again, and straightened in his chair. Hell yes, they’d bored him, right to sleep, not that he could say so and keep his teeth. But the truth was, he had two speeds—ninety miles an hour and fast asleep. “And I don’t sleep with my mouth open or snore.” He looked to Gray for confirmation.

Gray backed him and shook his head. Nope, Hud didn’t sleep with his mouth open or snore.

Hud nodded. That’s right, he didn’t. He stood and… sent a waterfall of jelly beans cascading to the floor.

Kenna chortled, pleased with herself.

Realizing his phone was still buzzing, Hud pulled it from his pocket, saw the number for his mom’s nurse, and immediately answered. “Is she okay?”

At the question, his siblings’ easy, relaxed attitude vanished. Everyone sat straight up and watched Hud’s face carefully, good humor gone.

“She’s fine,” Jenny, the head nurse, told Hud. “But I really think you need to take away that credit card you gave her. Carrie isn’t so good with credit, as you well know.”

Hud rubbed his temple at the truth of this statement. The card was for emergencies because he knew what it was like to feel stuck and helpless. But he and his mom had different ideas on the definition of “emergency.” Last month she’d ordered two matching kid bikes, the exact bikes he and his identical twin Jacob had once begged her for—when they’d been eight years old. And then a week ago she’d ordered the drum set Hud had wanted for his birthday. His tenth birthday.

Kenna had commandeered the damn thing and now used it late at night to drive him crazy.

“What did she order now?” he asked Jenny.

The nurse hesitated.

Not good. Hud’s mom loved the Internet and the nurses let her have Wi-Fi access because it was a great babysitter. “Jenny,” he said a little tightly. “What did she buy?”

“A woman.”

Following her GPS, Bailey parked in front of a building adjacent to the hospital.

A nursing/support facility.

Checking in at the front desk, she found that she was expected and was given a guest pass.

She was guided to a room where people in wheelchairs were exercising. Their instructor at the front of the room was in a wheelchair too. She wore a headband, leotard, and leg warmers and had her class rocking out to “Hit Me with Your Best Shot” by Pat Benatar.

When she caught sight of Bailey, she waved and ended the class. “That’s enough for our seated Jazzercising class today, gang,” she called out. “Same place tomorrow. I’m bringing Sting and Queen.”

“In person?” one of the other elderly women asked hopefully.

“Unfortunately, Sting didn’t return my calls and Freddie’s dead, but hey, we all gotta go sometime.” The teacher rolled toward Bailey and then shocked the hell out of her by standing up. “Hiya, I’m Carrie. Great to meet you.”