Chapter One #2
“I’m Brian.” The man who looked up from petting a glossy golden retriever had hair almost the same shade of blond as the dog’s, and earnest brown eyes looking out from beneath shaggy brows. A handsome face, in a boy-next-door way.
“I believe you know my sister, Sharee,” Chloe said.
He straightened. “I know Sharee,” he said. “Is something wrong?”
“Her friends tell me she’s been hanging out with you,” Chloe said. “Are you aware she’s only eighteen?”
“I’m aware.” He frowned. “You say you’re her sister?” He looked her up and down—not in a leering way, more like he was trying to connect this petite, dark-haired woman with the statuesque, blonde Sharee.
“I’m her sister. She lives with me and I’m responsible for her.”
“Then I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your sister I’m not interested in her romantically and she should find a boyfriend closer to her own age.”
Chloe blinked. This wasn’t how most men reacted to Sharee’s attentions. “You shouldn’t encourage her,” she said.
“I don’t encourage her. I’ve been trying to discourage her. But she won’t take no for an answer.”
Chloe was aware of the other two patrollers—the redhead and a tall blonde woman—and even the dogs—two goldens and a goldendoodle—watching and listening to everything they said. Embarrassing, but it didn’t hurt to have witnesses. “You must not be trying very hard,” she said.
“I can’t be rude to her,” he said. His tone was almost pleading.
The blonde woman moved in behind Brian. “As representatives of the resort, we have to be nice to everyone,” she said. “Not that Brian would ever be rude to anyone.”
Brian was scowling now, though Chloe had to admit, he still didn’t look very threatening.
His boyish face and sunny good looks had probably appealed to Sharee.
“I’ve been trying to avoid your sister,” he said.
“But it might help if you talked to her. She’s a sweet girl, but…
” He didn’t finish the sentence, leaving her to interpret what might have come after “but.” But she’s too young.
But there’s something not right about her.
“I’ll talk to her,” she said. She locked eyes with him again, and an unexpected heat moved through her. Hmm. Maybe there was more to Mr. Nice Guy than first appeared.
BY THE TIME he reported for work the next day, Brian had made up his mind to make it clear to Sharee she could no longer hang out with him.
If her sister believed he wasn’t trying hard enough to get rid of Sharee, then others probably believed it, too.
It was past time he made his feelings clear.
If he had to, he’d lie and say his bosses were concerned.
And it wasn’t lying to point out that her sister was upset.
The sister. Why hadn’t he asked her name?
As much time as he had spent worrying over the situation with Sharee last night, he had wasted at least as many hours thinking about her sister.
So different from Sharee. But so…compelling.
Dark and compact and radiating energy. She hadn’t simply looked at Brian yesterday, she had looked into him.
As if she saw more than the nice guy everyone else saw.
Not someone who was evil or anything, but someone with more depth.
Someone edgier, not all smooth surfaces.
After the morning meeting, he headed up the mountain with fellow patrollers Chase Sargeant and Renee Castro to take down snow fencing that had closed off a run for a junior ski racing competition the previous weekend.
Chase, dark-haired and sharp-featured, was the jokester on patrol, and he regaled them with a story about a snowball fight he’d gotten into with a group of ski school kids.
“The kids enlisted me in their fight against their instructor, Tabitha. I nailed her right in the middle of the back.”
Renee, the smallest on patrol at barely five feet, wrinkled her pointed nose. “You could get in trouble if Tabitha decided to file a complaint.”
“Oh, she won’t. She fired right back and got me in the face.” Chase rubbed his cheek, as if remembering the sting.
Their radios alarmed as they were finishing up with the snow fence. “Go time,” Chase said. “Accident on Wildcat.”
The three of them made their way to the intermediate run, where they found a wiry sixty-year-old with a probable rotator cuff injury.
They stabilized him and got him into a sled for transport while curious skiers looked on.
Some took out their cell phones. No doubt some of the pictures would end up online before the day was out.
“Smile,” Chase said under his breath. “You’re on Candid Camera. ”
“That reference is as old as your grandparents,” Renee said.
“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He winked at her and took up the handles of the rescue sled, prepared to ski to the base area.
Once they got the injured man to the medical clinic, Brian and Chase hung out above the beginner area after someone called in a report of skiers speeding through a major intersection.
The presence of their red jackets with the distinctive white crosses effectively slowed everyone down.
No one wanted to lose their lift ticket to patrollers, who were known to take safety violations seriously.
By the time lunch had passed with no sign of Sharee, Brian was breathing a little easier.
She was probably off doing something else today.
Maybe her sister had done a good job of warning her off him.
If he ever ran into the sister around town, he’d have to buy her a drink to thank her. And finally learn her name.