5

OH, ELLA TURNED INTO SUCH A MESS when Gage Watson entered her airspace. What was it about him that even three years later, and with the advance warning of seeing him earlier in the day, the sight of the amazing “Watts” Watson standing on her doorstep still turned her nearly mute.

Nice to see you too, Gage? What was she thinking? That he might, after three years, have forgotten the way they parted?

Clearly not, given the grim slash of his mouth, the pulsing of muscle in his jaw.

It didn’t help that she could still so easily remember the sweet Gage Watson, the one who’d spent three glorious days snowboarding with her. He’d been a gentleman, too, not even trying to make a pass at her until she began to wonder if he liked her at all or if she’d simply wished it into her vivid imagination.

Then, on day three, it all changed. Dinner, candlelight . . . the most romantic evening she’d ever experienced.

And the darkest heartbreak.

Now, Mr. Heartbreak stood on her doorstep. Up close and personal, he looked every inch the sizzling hot snowboarder she remembered. Maybe more, because age had filled out his shoulders, broadened them. He hadn’t lost any of his stun power either, with that long curly hair now held back with a stocking cap, enough grizzle on his chin to turn his whiskers dark and tempting, his eyes just as deep, dark chocolate brown.

He wore his black snowboard pants, the suspenders hanging down to his knees, and a silver fleece that clung to his lean torso and his muscled arms.

How she remembered those arms.

She’d sort of dreamed of this moment, really, for three years. That second—or rather third—chance to talk to him, preferably privately, and apologize.

Tell him that things had simply spiraled out of control. Or, perhaps, dig deeper and admit the truth.

He’d broken her heart when he took Dylan up to Terminator Wall. And that feeling had darkened all her decisions right up to nearly the end. When it became too late to pull back, change the outcome.

“My brother isn’t here.”

“Are you sure?” Gage snapped.

Another man stood beside him. Taller than Gage, he had shorter dark hair and was attempting a sort of crooked smile, as if to ease the tension stringing out between them. He wore ski pants also, as well as a pullover and open-zipped jacket. She recognized him as the other ski patrol who’d joined Gage in the Saloon.

“Hey, back off, dude.” This from Brette, who’d suddenly come alive after Gage’s retort. “He’s not here, okay?”

“What stupid thing?” Ella asked, referring to his statement. She settled her spoon back into her ice cream. The carton froze her fingers, and she set it down and wiped her hand on her pajama pants. Oh, so sexy, Ella. Worse, she remembered the pattern of her pajamas featured tiny penguins in stocking caps.

“He called me and sounded drunk,” Gage was saying.

Or maybe high. Ella tightened her lips against the addition.

“And told me he was going to ski down Heaven’s Peak tomorrow, following my route.”

He didn’t need to elaborate. She knew exactly what he meant.

He’d only traced the route from her fingers down to her open palm, telling her in exquisite, perfect detail every moment of the run, how he’d chosen his line, the perilous moments when he thought he’d skim over the edge, the burn in his legs right before he did a flip off the Weeping Wall.

He’d kissed her palm where he’d spent the night in the cave and then finished the route, curling over her hand, and up her arm until he reached the inside of her upper wrist.

Kissed her there too, and now heat flooded her face, a repeat from when she’d pulled her arm away in the middle of the restaurant, too aware that people might be watching. With their phone cameras.

He probably saw her embarrassment, maybe even remembered the past, because he swallowed and looked away.

“Come in,” Ella said, and Brette looked at her as if to say “Have you lost your mind?”

Maybe. But she’d been waiting three years for this moment. No, not her brother’s crazy assertion that he planned on repeating Gage’s legendary run, but the one that included Gage in her living room, away from reporters and lawyers and Dylan McMahon’s family.

A moment when Gage couldn’t hang up on her. Delete her emails, ignore her texts. “You’re right, Gage, my brother is an idiot. Sometimes. Lately.” She kept her voice easy, soft.

No fight in it.

Gage stepped over the threshold and into her condo. “This is my friend Ty. He’s on the ski patrol.”

“Nice to meet you.” She turned to Gage. “I don’t think he’s here, but you can look around. We used the back entrance when we came in, so maybe he’s here and we didn’t see him.”

Brette had her by the arm, tightened her hold. She pulled out of it. “But why did he call you?”

Ty followed him in. The guys tugged off their boots, a courtesy they probably did on reflex.

“I took his ski pass away today after he skied out of bounds,” Gage said. “We were in the Base Camp and he recognized me. Maybe it ignited the idea.”

“Oh, hardly. He’s been talking about skiing your line for a few years now.”

Maybe she shouldn’t have said that, because Gage glanced up as he set his boots on a nearby mat.

“So, he’s serious.” Gage shook his head. “Ella, you of all people should tell him how dangerous—”

“I don’t understand—what’s Heaven’s Peak?” Brette said.

“It’s a mountain in Glacier National Park,” Ella said. “Gage was the first to freeride down the face. He posted his self-made video explaining how he did it, and it’s had over a million views. He even made the national news—it sort of jump-started his career.”

Gage held up a hand as if to stop her explanation. “It’s one of the most dangerous rides in North America,” he said simply. “I got lucky.”

For a second, with that statement, she glimpsed him, the easygoing, self-deprecating, sweet boarder who didn’t deserve to get mauled by the press.

Or by her law firm.

“And Ollie wants to ski it?” Brette said, looking at Ella.

“He’s sort of had this fascination with the big freeride champs over the years, thinks he wants to be one,” Ella said. “He has this dream of doing something . . . well, carving out fame for himself.”

“Fame is an empty dream,” Gage said.

And that shut everyone down. Ho-kay.

His friend Ty finally spoke up. “Can we check downstairs? Maybe he came in after you did.”

“Maybe,” Ella said. She picked up the soggy ice cream carton and brought it to the kitchen.

“I’ll go check,” Brette said and left, Gage’s friend Ty on her heels.

Which left Ella finally, providentially, alone with Gage. She put the ice cream in the freezer.

Gage had walked over to the stairs, as if contemplating taking the spiral staircase up to check the second floor.

“Gage . . . I really am glad to see you.”

A fire flickered in the stacked stone hearth, and the place smelled of the uneaten pepperoni pizza recently delivered from the Griz.

The makings of romance if things were different. Much, much different.

He glanced at her now. “You are?”

“Because . . .” She walked over. “I wanted to . . . I wanted to talk to you about what happened.”

His expression didn’t change, just the smallest narrowing of his eyes.

“I wanted to explain.”

“No explanation needed, Ella. You were just doing your job.” He leaned over the stairway to the basement. “Is he down there?”

“Yeah, I was, but you need to know that—”

And that’s where her words hitched. Because he couldn’t know the details. Not without her career crashing in around her.

Like his had.

“It wasn’t personal.”

And that wasn’t what she wanted to say at all, but she had nothing else.

“Really.” His mouth closed, and he shook his head. “It felt very personal. Especially when you put Ramon on the stand.”

“That wasn’t my call.”

“But it was your examination.”

Her mouth closed. She blinked, heat in her eyes, and for a second she was back in court, feeling his eyes burn her as she declared Ramon, his friend and manager, a hostile witness. As she slowly pried out the incriminating conversation from him that sealed Gage’s fate.

“I . . . I wish I had recused myself. I should have—”

He held up his hand as Ty came up the stairs.

“He’s not here,” Ty said. “But I did find this in his room.”

He handed Gage a folded map. She came over and took a look at it as he unfolded it.

“Oh no. It’s a map of Heaven’s Peak, with my route traced down it.” Gage folded it back up, shoved the map into his pocket. “I have to find him before he does something stupid.”

“Thank you, Gage.” She touched his arm almost without thinking. “But I can find him.”

He jerked his arm away as if her touch might contain an electric spark. It rattled her, but she found the politician in her and schooled her voice. “You’ve done enough. I’ll stop him.”

She wasn’t sure why so much surety came out of her mouth.

People simply did what they wanted, regardless of common sense.

But Gage just looked so . . . well, wrung out. As if, with Ollie’s words, he saw the past flashing before his eyes, same song, second verse. She couldn’t let him feel responsible. Or take the blame.

Not when it wasn’t his fault.

Had never really been his fault.

And maybe only she and two other people in the world truly knew that, but if she could, she’d let him walk away from this one unscathed. So, she kept her voice low and even. “He’s my brother. I’ll find him, and I’ll talk him out of it. Coerce him if I have to. I won’t let him go up Heaven’s Peak.”

Gage’s mouth was a tight bud of doubt.

“Thanks for coming over, but you’ve done enough. Thank you for helping my brother. It was nice of you. You’re a good guy, Gage. I’ve always known that.”

It wasn’t much, especially when she wanted to say so much more.

He blinked then, as if perplexed, his brow dipping into a frown.

Swallowed.

She offered a smile.

He didn’t return it. But he did give her a quick nod, as if willing to hear her words.

Her tiny, pitiful peace offering to the gigantic wound she’d inflicted on his life.

“You let me know if you have trouble with him,” he said, proving her words about him being a good guy. He walked over then, shoved his feet into his boots. His friend pulled on his cowboy boots.

“Nice to meet you, Ty,” Brette said and held out her hand.

“You too.” He shook it, glanced at Ella. “I also work for PEAK Rescue with Gage.”

PEAK Rescue. Well, of course Gage would have joined a rescue team. That thought wrapped around her heart, offered her some healing as he opened the door.

So he had put his life back together.

He walked out, and just when she thought he wouldn’t turn, he did. Looking back at her, and for a long moment holding her gaze.

I’m sorry.

He swallowed. Opened his mouth as if to say something. Then abruptly turned away and walked down the steps to his car.

Brette’s hand tugged on her arm, pulling her away from the door. “Let him go.”

She took a breath at Brette’s words.

If only she could.

Then Brette shut the door and turned to her. “Let’s go find your idiot brother.”

Ella Blair could still dismantle him. First, simply from the shock of seeing her as she opened the door. Gage thought his heart had stopped, right there, banging to a halt in his chest. She looked—well, almost like the first version of Ella Blair, the one who’d wooed him with her smile, her laughter on the ski slope. Her amazing hair might be shorter but was just as tangled, just as pretty. A sunburn on her nose, those cherry lips, and she wore pajamas.

He nearly didn’t recognize the woman who’d later dismantled his life. Buttoned up. Lethal.

Seeing her in those penguin-printed bottoms, the tank top and sweater, reminded him that he’d known a different side to Ella Blair.

A kinder, sweeter side.

Yeah, seeing her unsettled him, but it was her words that nearly took him apart. Because sometime after his heart started beating again, after he’d grabbed ahold of his emotions, she’d become the woman that, once upon a time, he’d fallen in love with.

“You’re a good guy, Gage. I’ve always known that.”

And that nearly had him unraveling the tight fist of control he had over his words, his hurt, to hurtle at her the one question he still hadn’t found the answer to.

Why?

He pulled up to the duplex and into the garage, got out, and headed inside, not waiting for Ty.

Who hustled in on his tail anyway.

“Okay, I let you simmer on the way home, but clearly that just built up a head of steam.”

Gage wrenched off his boots, pulled his fleece over his head, hung it on the entry hook, shucked off his snow pants, and headed up the stairs to their main floor.

“You can run, but you can’t hide!”

“Leave me alone.” Gage headed to the kitchen, opened the fridge. Stared inside, for what, he hadn’t a clue.

Mostly for the cool air that wafted over him.

He could nearly feel the way her hair sifted through his fingers, heard her tiny moan when he kissed her—

He slammed the fridge door.

“Dude—take a step back from the appliances,” Ty said, now coming up the stairs in his stocking feet. “Who was that girl? Because, I’m sorry, but you were a royal jerk.”

Gage’s mouth pressed tight, and he grabbed a bag of chips off the top of the fridge and headed into the family room, where he flopped onto the sofa. He picked up the remote. Maybe he’d find a decent western, something that might lull him to sleep without memories of Ella.

In his arms.

Block out the sound of her laughter. The shine in her eyes when he told her stories about the many peaks he’d torn up.

The taste of her lips on his.

He settled on a rerun of The Fugitive.

Ty opened the freezer and pulled out an ice pack, one of the many he kept frozen for his off-duty recuperation. He’d probably spend the evening with his leg up, the pack wrapped around his knee. Gage had noticed him starting to limp as they’d come out of Ella’s condo.

Ty retrieved a can of soda from the fridge, came over, and leaned against the edge of the other sofa. “She knew you, back—”

“Yeah.” Gage reached out, turned up the volume.

“Did you guys . . . ?”

“We barely knew each other. Skied together a few times. It was nothing.”

“So, how terrible would it be if I follow you back to Vermont?” His voice, soft over the flickering candlelight of their dinner table, a private space in the Outlaw resort.

“It didn’t look like nothing. She went white, you looked like you’d been hit by a truck.”

“She prosecuted the McMahon case against me.” He kept his voice light and stared at the screen as Harrison Ford did a header into a waterfall. Not unlike how he’d felt when he’d walked into the hearing to see Ella Blair, the girl he hadn’t forgotten, sitting in the counsel for the plaintiff’s side of the table.

“What?”

“She was a junior lawyer, but . . . yeah. She worked the case, got my manager to testify against me.”

He didn’t take his eyes off the screen as Ty slid into the sofa. “How?”

Gage glanced at him. “You just can’t let this go.”

Ty glanced at the television. “Can you?”

Gage took a long breath, saying nothing, not trusting himself with the emotion roiling through him.

Not when the woman could still take his heart from his chest and grind it into pieces.

Ty finally got up and headed upstairs to his bedroom.

Gage stared at the screen, watching a relentless Tommy Lee Jones drag the river for the body.

He cleaned out the bag of chips until he got only crumbs, then he got up and went to the fridge. After considering the beverage supply, he grabbed a bottled water and returned to the sofa.

On-screen, Harrison Ford was tracking down his friend, the one who would betray him.

Run away, dude.

Gage finally picked up the remote and flicked off the television, then stood in the darkness of the room.

No, maybe he couldn’t let it go. But it wasn’t his fault.

A guy just didn’t forget a girl like Ella Blair, no matter how hard he tried . . .