11

ELLA HAD AWOKEN TO GAGE’S VOICE as he finished his call to headquarters.

“They know we’re alive?”

“Yeah. We need to get going.”

Dawn crested into the tent. The wind still rattled the poles, but no more torrential gusts, the kind that could blow them right off the mountainside.

For a second, she simply stayed tucked into her sleeping bag, her gaze on Gage as he pulled his hair back and scratched his fingers through his dark whiskers.

She had the urge to do the same, feel his whiskers between her fingers as she ran her hand along his jawline.

His earlier words caught in her head. “No one in trouble should be worried about whether they deserve help. They need help, and that’s the point.”

But see, it wasn’t that easy. It seemed, to her, there needed to be some sort of payment, some penance, some reason for him to want to help her.

He stretched, moving his arms side to side, then behind his back, and she watched with a greedy eye, a little mesmerized at those snowboarder muscles.

But she averted her eyes when he looked at her. “Are you getting up?”

“My muscles are sludge,” she muttered.

He gave her a tight smile. “C’mon. Let’s see if I can dig us out. By tonight, you and your brother will be back at your resort, drinking cocoa.”

“Oh, I know you’re just trying to make me feel better, but when I find him, I’m going to kill him with my bare hands. Right after I weep with joy.”

“How about if I make you coffee?”

“I’ll trade it for my birthright.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That was a Jacob-Esau joke my mother used to say.” She wrinkled her nose. “Sorry.”

He laughed and reached for the pack. “So, your parents are Christians? I mean, the Blairs?”

“Oh yeah. Mansfield and Marjorie never missed a Sunday or Wednesday night at church. And my parents too—Jozef and Alena Laska. I still have my father’s Bible. And my mother’s prayer covering. She was Orthodox until she married my Protestant father—quite the uproar.”

Gage had pulled out the stove, and now he cleared a space for it, then opened the back door. Snow had piled up against it, and he took the shovel, knocked it away. “It’s just a drift. We’re not snowed in.” He leaned out then, and for a second she thought he was getting snow for the container. Then, “C’mere, Ella, you have to see this.”

He came back inside, the finest frosting on his hair, his eyelashes.

He had such pretty dark brown eyes. They bore flecks of gold near the center in the early morning. A new day, fresh starts.

Oh no. Because that thought found her heart. Nope—forgiveness was one thing. Romance, a different story.

They couldn’t go back there. But they could be friends, and she leaned up toward the door in response to his request. He scooted out of the way and she looked out.

A glorious sunrise just barely tipped the eastern ridges, gilding the fresh snow on the peaks an impossible molten gold while striations of deep crimson and fiery orange burned into the deep indigo sky.

“Gorgeous,” she said.

“I know.”

Farther down, in the valley, ragged magenta shadows draped over the crisp white snow, so thick and fluffy it seemed the world had been frosted with one giant dollop of heavenly meringue. Perfect. Unblemished. And probably lethal.

“Can you get us safely down?” she asked as she slid back into the tent.

“Yeah. I got this.” His eyes sparked, just for a second. “As long as . . .”

“I follow you and don’t fly off a cliff.”

“I was going to say as long as your brother is okay. But that too.”

She managed a wry smile, and he didn’t waver from her gaze. He suddenly reached out and touched her hand, squeezed.

His expression turned solemn. “I’m going to get you down this mountain in one piece. And you might even have fun doing it.”

His touch on her hand sent warmth through her entire body. Not unlike the effect it had last night, when he cupped her cheek, thumbed away her tear.

She’d nearly kissed him when he told her that they’d be okay. In that moment, she’d believed him.

Now, she squeezed his hand back, wanting to believe him again. “Okay.”

“That’s the girl I remember.” Then he let her go and turned back to the stove to light it.

But his words had ignited something inside, and if he kept it up, there was no way she would make it down the mountain in one piece. Not if, at the end, he walked away with her heart.

He boiled water while she packed up her sleeping bag, zipped up her jacket, pulled on her boots, and took a hygiene trip outside. He had a tidy breakfast assembled when she returned, including power bars and instant coffee. He’d also packed his gear.

“So, how’s it looking out there?” he asked as he pulled on his boots.

“White,” she said.

He grinned, and all of a sudden, it was the kind of grin he gave the cameras after a triumphant run, something that would grace magazine covers and posters and not a few sponsor webpages. Only this one was better—it included a twinkle in his brown eyes, the tiny huff of laughter, deep and low in his chest.

Oh my, 3-D Gage Watson was worth the trip up the mountain. Exactly what she’d told herself three years ago.

“I’ll dig us out,” he said. “Let me know when you’re ready for the tent to come down.” He pulled his pack out with him.

He climbed out, and she finished her power bar and the coffee, then capped the canister, packed the rest of her gear, and set her pack outside the tent. She zipped up her jacket and added her helmet. “Coming out!”

His gloved hand appeared to pull her from the tent. She scooted out and let him help her up.

The wind hit her hard, and she grabbed his arms.

“It’s still a bit gusty!” he yelled. He wore his helmet and his goggles, and she pulled her goggles down and nudged her neck gaiter to her nose.

Despite the cold, the glory of the world dropping at her feet could steal her breath. “Great is the Lord and worthy of praise,” she said.

Gage was taking down the tent, but he looked over at her. Smiled. “You said that before. Right before we skied Redemption Ridge.” He leaned toward her. “And killed it.”

“It is pretty mind-blowing,” she said, trying to tamp down the adrenaline raking through her.

From her perch, the mountain looked like it dropped straight down into nothing.

He tucked the tent into the tiny bag. “We’ll take it one section at a time. Just like I did. Nothing fancy.”

She looked at him. “Oh, please, Gage. You have fancy in your soul. And I know it’s itching to come out.”

He raised an eyebrow, but one side of his mouth ticked up.

She retrieved her snowboard. “Help me get this pack on.”

He had tucked the tent into his pack and now lifted hers, and she climbed into the shoulder straps, then connected the straps at her waist.

He hiked his on and strapped it tight around him.

Then they stood together at the top of the mountain. “I sort of feel like we should pray or something,” she said.

He glanced at her, held her gaze. Then he held out his hand.

Really? She met his grasp.

“God. You know we’re here. You know what we have to do. Make us smart. Brave. Sensible. And keep us safe. Help us find Oliver and Bradley. Amen.”

She hadn’t even closed her eyes; she just watched Gage, listened to his words.

Bold as he approached the throne of the Almighty.

Huh.

She dropped her board, strapped in, and he did the same.

“Okay, we’re going to follow this wedge down into a nice bowl. It’s steep, so we want to take it slow, but we’ll work our way down to the Weeping Wall. And then, from there, the Great White Throne. We’ll hit the cave by lunch, probably.”

“Got it.”

He held up his fist for a bump, and she met it. However, a line of sweat formed at the back of her neck as she watched Gage traverse the hill, slowly, warming up. He cut a beautiful, arching line through the fresh powder, and it bloomed up behind him, a crystalline plume of light and color.

The master at work. If only she had a GoPro.

She hopped in place, trying to get the blood flowing, then eased down after him, her arms out.

He had such a beautiful rhythm that her heartbeat settled down, and she took in the view, the pine-furred valley, the frozen waterfalls. Powder slicked her goggles, crusted on her neck gaiter, sprayed up over her board as she dug in. He stopped every hundred yards, maybe more, just to let her catch up, point out their next destination. Then, they’d hit it again.

The sun rose, shortening the shadows as they worked their way down across the bowl toward the granite face known as the Weeping Wall.

She recalled what she knew of it—a sixty-foot drop, nice soft landing zone, thick powder—at least that’s how Gage described it in his video. But he hadn’t taken his planned route. To the right, a frozen waterfall added drama, but the landing would be treacherous, mostly because of the ice forming below the powder.

He’d changed his line at the last moment and had probably saved his own life with the impulse.

Hopefully her brother had watched that part of the video, listened to Gage’s explanation of how he’d survived.

She’d done plenty of cliff jumping in her life—mostly ten- or twenty-foot drops. She could almost hear Gage in her head, from one of his many instructional videos put out by Xtreme Energy.

“Square up before you take your ride off. You have to be balanced before you launch or you’ll flip in the air.”

Unless, of course, like Gage, you wanted to do a flip.

“And don’t forget forward momentum—a little speed helps with your landing momentum. But you don’t want to fly into the cliff—too much and you’ll do a superman, probably into a tree or off a cliff.”

Those words, spoken before the Dylan McMahon accident.

“Finally, keep your eyes on your landing.”

That, she’d never accomplished. The world always turned to a blur the minute she launched.

Gage stopped on the mountain, this time in the gap above the Weeping Wall.

When she reached him, he handed her his water bottle and she took a drink.

“So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to edge down to the left, through this channel, keeping clear of the waterfall. The ice is probably thick, but we’ll want to watch for crevasses.”

He couldn’t know, probably, how her eyes widened.

“Slide down until you’re right above the cliff, about twenty feet. You won’t want more of a run than that. But you need enough to clear the outcropping at the bottom, so don’t cut it too close.”

Her breath must have hitched, because he looked at her. “Ella?”

She didn’t move.

He grabbed her jacket. “Ella. Listen, you got this? Can you do this?”

She nodded, but it was more of a wobble of her head.

He reached down and clicked out of his board.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting into your head.”

She stared at him as he stepped in front of her and grabbed her helmet in his hands to center his gaze on hers.

“You’re only scared because you’ve built this up bigger than it is. We’re not dropping from a sixty-foot cliff, we’re suddenly dropping from Freedom Tower, right?”

She nodded.

“You probably saw my video—”

“A couple hundred times.”

His mouth tweaked up in a smile, just for a second, then he nodded. “Okay, then you know, first, we’re jumping into a pillow of powder. Second, I’ll go first. You just have to launch off, keep your eyes on me, and you’ll land right where you need to be.”

She nodded, trying to take in his words.

“Ella. Breathe. One full breath.”

Oh. She breathed out. In. Swallowed.

“Again.”

She repeated it.

He grabbed her shoulders. “Stop looking at what you can’t do and look ahead, to your safe landing. Visualize it.”

She gave him a wan smile.

He put his arm around her, turned her. “Look at what you’ve already done.”

There, above her, stretching nearly straight up into the clouds, the peak betrayed a beautiful curving S down the hill, a line so perfect it could have been made by one person.

“We did that,” he said. “And it’s because you let go, stopped looking at your feet, and just trusted the line.”

Huh. She had, actually. Started to feel it, believe in Gage’s rhythm, his ability to choose the right path.

He turned her back to him, and this time he lifted his goggles onto his helmet. “Listen, Ella. Remember what I said about trusting me? Even if it doesn’t make sense?”

She nodded.

“This is now.”

He didn’t smile, didn’t blink, just met her gaze with his.

“Okay,” she said.

“Atta girl.”

And then, he pressed a kiss to her nose, quick and fast, a cute gesture probably meant to reassure but which instead left her just a little weak.

“Ready?”

She nodded and watched as he stepped into his bindings. Then he reached out and took her hand.

She held on as they slid down, her heart a fist in her chest. Overhead, the blue sky arched over the mountains.

“Remember, stay balanced, flex your knees, and keep your eyes on me.”

She nodded.

He considered her one last moment, then squeezed her hand and jerked his board forward.

In a second, he’d cleared the cliff, arms out. She heard a shout, something like a whoop, and couldn’t help but move forward a little to peer over the edge.

“Are you okay?” she shouted.

“I’m down and it’s perfect.”

She couldn’t see him from here.

“C’mon, Ella, let yourself fly!”

Right, yes.

She slid down the mountain, her breath caught, and—

Just before the edge, she tried to pull up. Wait, no!

But despite the fact that she’d cut hard, her momentum kept going.

She flew off the cliff. Soaring, her arms windmilling.

Look for Gage.

She saw him below, waving and hollering, and somehow she found her feet below her. She landed in a poof of snow, bounced, and found herself up on her board, fighting for balance.

Headed straight for Gage.

“Whoa, slow down—”

She edged hard to cut out of it, and he leaped out of the way a second before she would have taken him out.

The momentum tossed her into the snow.

Gage landed beside her, on his back.

And then, he was laughing. His voice low and sweet as the sound bubbled out of him. “Oh, El,” he said, sitting up on his elbows. “I wouldn’t exactly say that you stomped that landing, but—well, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

He looked over at her. “All right, now we just have the Great White Throne—”

A shot reverberated in the air, and Ella looked up, trying to locate the sound. Gage sat up.

The entire cornice cap above Weeping Wall, right where she’d cut hard above the cliff trying to stop herself, was cracking.

“Get up!”

Gage nearly vaulted to his feet, reached over, and somehow grabbed her by the waist. “The wall is coming down!” His hand was on her back, pushing.

“What?”

“It’s a slide—get moving!”

The wall gave way and dropped.

Get off the mountain. Get off the mountain.

The words thundered in Gage’s head as he pushed Ella in front of him. “Sideways—we need to ski out of the track of the slide!”

He didn’t look back—the roar of the snow crashing toward him had his heart slamming against his ribs.

Ella cut downhill, and he raced after her, grabbing her arm.

“This way!” He angled right, because to go left would be to cross in front of the slide.

But right led them over the ravine. A ten-foot fissure in the snow cut by frozen river and razor-edged granite walls.

However, they could sail right over it if they worked up enough speed.

“Faster! Stay on your edge but keep your weight centered—don’t carve!”

He probably didn’t need to tell her that—Ella possessed enough board skills to teach fast-gliding. Instinct, really, kept him shouting.

That and the sheer panic of knowing what it felt like to get caught in a slide. The pressure of the snow as it crushed your ribs, wrenched your shoulder out of socket. The suffocating cold—

“Don’t slow down!”

He hazarded a glance uphill. The slide careened down, gathering momentum, taking out spindly, high-altitude pines, tumbling over rocks. And while they’d slid mostly out of the zone—

“No! Gage, are you serious?”

She’d spotted the gully.

“Take it fast—we’ll launch off—it’s a sweet landing on the other side, I promise.” Although, in reality, he’d never taken it, only studied this route. Instead he’d opted for the nearly straight drop of the Great White Throne, a series of cliff drops, each about three to five feet down a face of nearly a hundred feet.

“Gage!”

Just in time and with the lead snowballs overtaking them, the edge of the ravine came up at them.

“It’s all about the speed, Ella. Spring off the top, get lots of boost. Let’s hit this!” He hunkered down, hit the lip, and sprang off, riding the air.

Next to him, out of his peripheral vision, he saw Ella mimic him.

He didn’t know if he’d call what emerged from her mouth a scream, but it definitely lit something inside him. Adrenaline, a little goofy fear, and a whole lot of pure crazy panic that bubbled out in unexpected terror-filled fun. He landed, cut hard to slow his speed, and saw her stomp her landing just a little behind him.

He glanced behind, further back.

The slide had turned, slowed at the ravine, but it had enough momentum to make the leap.

“We have to keep moving!” But here, they had more slope to work with. He rode his edge and traversed the hill, cutting hard right, along a ridge.

She followed him, her jaw set.

Gage shot a look back again just as the slide swept past them. It careened into pine trees, off a cliff, and dumped into the valley below.

He angled upslope, slowed, and found a notch in the mountain where he could stop.

He leaned over and grabbed his knees, breathing hard.

Ella slipped up beside him, unclipped her pack, dropped it in the soft snow, then collapsed next to it with her arms out. “Seriously.”

He unsnapped his boots and freed himself from the board. He secured it into the snow, slid off his pack, and plopped down next to her. “You okay?”

“Give me five minutes.”

He reached over and unbuckled her bindings. Set her board next to his.

“Okay, I never want to do that again.”

He offered a smile. “Me either.”

She looked over at him. “I had no idea—I mean, I saw you live through that other slide, but . . . Gage. That was terrifying.”

His smile fell. “Yeah.” He unbuckled his helmet, pulled it off. Underneath, a line of sweat had formed. He wiped his glove across his forehead, noticed that his hand shook.

Okay, so maybe he wasn’t quite as put together as he thought.

Next to him, she sat up. Lifted off her goggles, then unbuckled and pulled off her helmet. She wore a white headband, her hair caught back. She pulled her gaiter down and unbuckled her backpack. “I need a drink.”

“Whiskey?”

She looked at him, and he finally got a smile. “Funny.”

He retrieved his water bottle and handed it to her.

They sat in silence.

Finally, softly, “I’m sorry, Gage. I . . . I’m in over my head here.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but, well . . . “Me too.”

She glanced at him, and he let one side of his mouth tweak up.

“What do you mean? You could ski this with your eyes closed.”

He looked at her then, his gaze roaming her face. Then he pulled off his glove and touched his warm fingers to her face. “That’s not what I mean.”

Her mouth opened, her eyes widened.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, the near-death experience, but all his feelings bubbled up, without the reserve to save him. His voice shook. “You scared me. You always scare me a little, Ella. I never have been able to take a full breath around you.”

He didn’t know how he’d gotten here, suddenly, the inside of his heart spilling out into the cold, windy air. But he seemed unable to stop. “I’m . . . I’m so afraid you’re going to get hurt. And if that happened, I could . . . that would be the end.” He fixed his gaze into hers, unmoving. “I could not bear to have you hurt because I couldn’t keep you safe.”

He dropped his hand but couldn’t take his gaze from hers.

She blinked at him, as if trying to assimilate his words.

Oh, where were red flags, waving him off?

Then, whisper soft, “Gage—I trust you.”

Oh no . . . that’s not . . . “You shouldn’t.”

She frowned, and he cut his voice low, serious.

“Ella, you should not trust someone who’s made the mistakes I’ve made.” He shook his head. “I mean, frankly, I had no business praying like I did today. I have no doubt God is up there laughing.”

“Gage, God doesn’t laugh at our prayers.”

“Trust me, he’s thinking, you’ve got a lot of guts, pal.” He sighed. “And to remind me of that, thanks, God sent an avalanche. Believe me when I say that I am not your good luck charm here.”

“Whatever! You only got us to safety. And I have a feeling God put us exactly where we needed to be to get away, so—no, I don’t hear any laughter. I hear God saying, ‘You messed up, but that doesn’t mean I did. Trust me.’”

He let her words in but couldn’t feel them. “Oh, El, you don’t get it. I’m not the hero you think I am. But around you, I forget that. You make me think that I am more than who I am.”

“You are more—”

“No. That’s the whole problem. I used to think I was, and it went to my head. And then I was this guy who strapped on a video camera and risked his life for a living, and somehow thought that was brave or honorable when it was just plain stupid. Then my luck ran out. And people got hurt.”

“Gage, you inspired—”

“Crazy. I inspire crazy. I’m not a hero, Ella. I’m just a guy who keeps trying to do the right thing, hoping desperately he doesn’t get somebody killed in the process.”

And then, because they were alone, here, right now, in the glorious ethereal wake of near disaster and heady triumph . . . “And I know I should be angry with you, but . . . I can’t stop thinking about how it was before, and how much I still want you. So desperately I can taste it. Because when I’m with you, you make me cut past all the debris of the past three years to that guy I used to be—only maybe less arrogant. Less reckless. Being with you just might make me into the guy I actually want to be..” He swallowed, pretty sure he’d lost his mind back there in the slide. “You’re . . . you’re good for me,” he said, sighing. “But if I can’t get you down this mountain, I’ll be disastrous for you.”

“Gage.”

“No. We shouldn’t be here. This is no good.” He closed his eyes, shook his head.

And that was why he didn’t see her roll to her knees and grab the front of his jacket. But, a second before she kissed him, he opened his eyes and saw her intent.

“Ella—”

She pressed her lips against his, sweetly, her gloves fisted in his jacket.

He didn’t move, so shocked by her touch . . .

And then, he found his bearing, the place he wanted to be. The place he’d wanted to be for three long years.

With Ella.

Right here in her embrace.

She tasted of the morning coffee, the sense of adrenaline and fear and adventure, her kiss so fresh and crisp and alive, he lost himself a little.

She slid her arms around him, and he wove his fingers in her hair, put his arm around her shoulders as he leaned her back, cradling her in the snow.

She relaxed, moved her arms up to rest on his shoulders. He felt a smile curve her lips.

And it only made him deepen his kiss, his heartbeat slowing, finally. The world stopped around him, and the moment cocooned him, blotting out the avalanche, the gusting wind, the worry for Oliver.

Yes, here he belonged.

He finally leaned up and found her beautiful eyes. “Wow, I missed you.”

She smiled, her eyes a pale blue to match the sky. “I never stopped thinking about you, Gage. Never.”

He leaned back in, covered her mouth with his.

He could stay here all day, all year, until the thaw found them on top of the mountain.

And then they could simply hike down. Instead of risking Ella’s pretty neck on yet another cliff, another avalanche, a run through the trees that could impale her.

He winced and pulled away from her, rolling over.

“What is it?” She sat up. “Are you hurt?”

“We have to find your brother and get off this mountain.” He met her eyes. “Alive, preferably.”

“We will, Gage. I don’t believe in luck. I believe in courage. And loyalty. And you. I believe in you. And I want to believe that God is on our side, despite our mistakes. Don’t you?”

He looked up at her, swallowed. Nodded.

“Okay, then, get up and figure out our line.”

He stared at her, and she raised an eyebrow.

“You’re a little bossy, you know.”

“Mmmhmm.” She reached for her backpack. “Want a power bar?”

He probably didn’t need one, since, at the moment, he felt downright invincible. But he nodded as he stood up to study the hill. They could ride the ridge down, drop down a wall of cascading cliffs smaller than the Great White Throne, then down what looked like a chute of white, between two walls of granite and . . . “Ella, you’re not going to believe this, but we’re right above the cave. This is a shortcut.”

She handed him a power bar. “Well done, champ.”

He grinned at her and sat down in the snow, tearing open the snack. Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his walkie.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking in with PEAK, telling them we’re okay. And that we are going to get off this mountain alive.”

Someone needed to get out into the backcountry and start searching from the bottom. The thought came to Ty as he listened to Gage’s second transmission, an update about the avalanche they’d narrowly escaped.

No, it came to him as he watched Brette push away Sierra’s homemade tomato soup and ignore the grilled cheese sandwiches. She sat on the sofa, her arms around her stomach, gritting her teeth, looking pained, probably at the thought of her best friend outrunning a slide.

Not to mention all the other perils awaiting them as they headed further down Heaven’s Peak. Like Angel’s Wings, a thin couloir in the rock that ran two hundred yards straight down through two towering granite cliffs, so close together that if he and Ella deviated one foot, they’d crash into the side. Or Cathedral Canyon, the vast pine forest that littered the backside of the peak near the final descent.

Ty had watched Gage’s video a few hundred times back in the day when he realized the guy came from Mercy Falls. Back then, however, Ty’s life had been full of trips to Vail or Steamboat Springs—no backcountry skiing for his family.

No, he’d been too busy keeping up with Selene Taggert and her brother, Barron, and their circle of New York friends. Ty Remington, the wealthy rancher’s kid from Montana, hobnobbing with the page six crowd.

Brette’s words from last night hung in his head. “Entitled. Selfish. The world revolves around them, and they’ll take anyone down to keep it that way.” Her comments about the class of people that he came from.

He’d kept his mouth shut.

After all, he wasn’t that guy anymore. Not since the accident, really.

Nearly dying had a way of teaching a guy who he was. And wasn’t.

And who he wanted to be.

Now, Ty got up from the table, brought his bowl to the sink, rinsed it, and loaded it in the dishwasher. Then he grabbed his coat, slipped on his boots, and hunkered down into the cold, heading to the barn.

Last night’s storm had sculpted the land, drifted the snow against the house, the fence, the barn, leaving bare patches in the heli-pad and in the yard. Overhead, the sky had cleared, a perfect powder blue. The air contained a bite, and a faint wind bullied its way down the back of his jacket as he scurried out to the barn.

He opened the door and flicked on the lights. The chopper sat in the relative warmth of the heated barn, having been brought in on the hydraulic pad. Beyond that was the gear room, and in the back of the barn, their various vehicles—the medivac truck, the 4Runner, and the two Polaris sleds. Ty might have lived the life of a playboy, but his father also taught him the workings of the ranch. Including how to repair the vehicles.

He opened the cover, pulled out the dipstick, and checked the oil.

“So you’ve decided to make a run for it?”

He found the voice, saw that Pete had followed him out. “What?”

Pete had his hands shoved into his pockets, as if trying to look casual, but with his hair pulled back, it only accentuated the sharp planes of his face and his dark expression. “Caught between Jess and Brette?” Pete shook his head. “I’d run too.”

Huh? “I’m not running. There’s nothing between . . .” Him and Jess. But he opted for the version that Pete knew. “Me and Brette.”

“Then why did I find you two all cozy this morning on the sofa?”

“She couldn’t sleep. We watched a movie.”

Pete had come up to him, his face unmoving. “Watched a movie.”

“Yeah. She’s upset and worried.”

“And you decided to comfort her.” Pete took another step toward him. Too close.

“Yeah. Now back off, Pete.”

Pete didn’t move. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I swear to you, Ty, if you break Jess’s heart, I’ll run you back to that fancy ranch of yours so fast—”

“Step. Back.” Ty had put the dipstick back and now pitched his voice low and turned to Pete. “I’m not afraid of you, Pete. Sure, I might have grown up with a few more advantages, but I promise you, I’m not who you think I am.”

“Clearly. Because I thought only I was stupid enough to date two women at the same time.”

“I’m not dating—” He sucked in a breath. “I am just being Brette’s friend. She needs one.”

“Really. Maybe I should be her friend,” Pete said.

Ty had never really understood men who got instantly riled when other men talked about their girlfriends, but suddenly he had the very real image of slamming his fist into Pete’s smug face. Maybe rock him back from his righteous perch, remind him that Jess had chosen to walk away from him, into Ty’s embrace. And yeah, it might be a platonic embrace, but she’d still chosen the safety of Ty’s arms over the warmth of Pete’s.

He managed not to say that, or let the thought tip a smile to his lips. Instead, he took a breath. He schooled his voice. “Pete. You’re so jealous you’re not thinking straight.”

The air went out of Pete at Ty’s words. He swallowed.

“Brette is just a friend. I promise I won’t hurt Jess.”

Pete’s jaw tightened.

Ty met his gaze.

Silence passed between them until Ty heard the door open behind Pete. He looked over his shoulder.

Jess had walked into the barn, her timing impeccable.

“Pete? Miles just came in. He wants to talk to you about the possible evac off the mountain over land.”

Pete didn’t move for a long heartbeat. Then, finally, he turned and must have smiled at Jess because she smiled back as she passed him.

Polite. But she wore so much longing in her face as Pete walked by, Ty wanted to shake them both.

She came up to him, and Ty waited until Pete closed the door behind him.

“Jess, this has gone on long enough. You have to tell him. The poor guy is completely in love with you and nearly took my head off just now because he thinks I’m cheating on you with Brette.”

Jess swallowed, looked away. “I know.”

“You know? Good. Yay. Because I’m tired of Pete being furious with me, and frankly . . .” He didn’t want to say the rest. The part about him watching Brette as she fell asleep, the way her blonde hair swept over her shoulders, the very real urge to twine her hair between his fingers.

“I just need you to settle this thing with you and Pete. For the good of all of us. Trust him, Jess. Tell him the truth. No one is going to betray you here—your secret is safe with us. At least it is with Pete, just as much as it is with me.”

Jess nodded, wiped a hand across her cheek. “You’re right. I’m being silly. After all, what could happen? So he finds out that I’m actually the missing whistle-blower of the Taggert Financial scandal. You’re right—I’m blowing this out of proportion.”

“Yes.”

“Because he won’t care that I testified against my father, put him in jail.”

He frowned at her. “No, I don’t think he will.”

“Even though his own father died in an accident his brother blamed him for. ”

“Jess, where are you going with this?”

“And it won’t matter at all that he felt betrayed and rejected—”

“Okay, just take a breath.” Ty took her by the shoulders. “It’s not the same thing.”

Her eyes glistened, her breath falling. “I betrayed and rejected my entire family. And, most recently, Pete.”

“You were scared. And trust me, he’ll be so glad we’re not dating he won’t hear anything else, I promise.”

Her mouth lifted up. “I hope so.”

“Trust me, Jess. Everything is going to be fine.”

Please, let everything be fine.