by Annie O'Neil
She crossed her fingers within the secret confines of her mittens. Please, don’t let him think spending time with me is a duty.
She watched her breath collect in little clouds, not wanting to chance another look up into those lake-blue eyes of his.
“I haven’t been on the gondola before—how long does it take?” His baritone slipped naturally into the wintry silence.
“Ooh—not long, from memory. It’s been awhile since I’ve gone down on the gondola.”
“I thought you did a shift at the hospital last week.”
Well remembered. Keeping tabs on me, eh? “I got a ride down from Eric.” Fraser lifted an enquiring eyebrow. “He had a training course down at the hospital so said he’d take me.”
They turned simultaneously at the sound of a family approaching the gondola viewing platform. Tara felt a small twitch of relief. That takes care of the problem of being on a twenty-minute ride all on our own...
“How are he and Liesel getting on?” Fraser let a mischievous smile play upon his lips, his eyes twinkling.
“I don’t think I need to answer that one.” Tara gave a snort of laughter despite herself. “It would take a blind person not to see they are head over heels for each other.” She quickly lowered her eyes, not wanting Fraser to see even a glimmer of yearning for the same happiness the pair exuded. If ever there was a picture-book version of falling in love, what Liesel and Eric had going on was definitely it. They had even started finishing each other’s sentences. She was so very happy for them, but also felt questions teasing away at her own resolve to stay a lone she-wolf.
“Here we are.” She felt Fraser’s hand slip onto the small of her back as the gondola approached. The knot of nerves weighing down her core unfurled in a delicious twist of heat. This is not a date. This is not a date.
*
“You know I’ve never done this before, right?” Fraser lifted the bowling ball from the rack and gave Tara what he hoped was some approximation of a wide-eyed innocent. Surely throwing a twelve-pound sparkling purple ball down a wooden lane wouldn’t be that big a challenge. He’d had military training, for crying out loud! Fraser stopped at the sound of a loud buzzer and Tara’s uninhibited laughter.
“You can’t step over that line, you big picklehead!”
“Picklehead? What sort of a slight is that? Surely you can come up with something better.” Fraser joined in Tara’s infectious laughter, silently admitting he had been distracted from the start of their game. He and Tara had arrived late and had been assigned to a lane together. Each time she went up to collect a ball and send it hurtling down the lane, he only had eyes for her slender form bending, leaning, fluidly holding a pose in line with the bowling ball’s trajectory. It was all incredibly distracting. She was distracting.
Thank goodness they had all agreed to switch partners after a couple of games. There was no chance he was going to make any sort of headway with Tara bewitching his limited skill right out of the bowling alley.
Fraser sent the ball on what initially looked like a long-hoped-for straight shot down the center of the lane when, at the last moment, it careened off to the side and landed with a thunk in the alley.
“My turn again!” Tara’s voice was positively gleeful. He couldn’t help but give her a playful knock with his shoulder as he made his way back to the scoring table. Pool shark and now a bowling champion. What other little tricks did she have up her sleeve?
He collapsed into the chair she’d vacated to watch her lean forward with a studied concentration. Arm back, body poised and, whoosh—she unleashed the scarlet bowling ball into the lane with a practiced swing.
“No-o-o-o!” She’d done it again! Another strike. Unbelievable. Nor was that beautiful smile on her lips. What he wouldn’t give to deserve the chance to kiss them every single—
“You two ready to make a switch?” Fraser looked up at the approaching player—one of the guys he’d met when he’d done a shift in the ER a couple of weeks ago. “You’d better watch yourself if you’re taking on Tara. She’s a menace.” Fraser stood as Tara approached. He couldn’t stop himself from throwing what he hoped looked like a casually draped arm around her shoulder. He wasn’t marking his territory. Not exactly.
A pretty brunette appeared at the ER doctor’s elbow, raising herself up on tiptoe to give his cheek a kiss before putting a hand forward to introduce herself to Fraser.
“I’m Jane. From what I’ve seen, I had better play Tara next—I think you two would be better suited to one another.” She nodded at her boyfriend—was it Ryan?
“Why’s that? Is he as good at gutter balls as I am?” Fraser chanced a wink and a smile at Tara.
“Better!” the brunette parried on her boyfriend’s behalf. Fraser felt Tara wriggle herself out from underneath his arm.
“Anyone fancy a beer or something before the next game?” Tara linked arms with Jane before Fraser had a chance to offer to go up to the snack bar with her.
Looked like he’d overstepped the mark. Again.
“Just a soda for me,” he called to her back as she disappeared into the crowd. Fraser turned back toward the lanes, pulling a hand through his hair. Was this the four-or five-millionth time he’d put his foot wrong with this woman?
“Don’t worry, man. We’ve all tried.” Ryan gave Fraser a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Fraser couldn’t keep his puzzled expression at bay. “Tried what?”
“You know.” He tipped his head in the direction Tara was heading, “Tried to date Tara.”
Fraser took a step back and laughed, grateful Ryan couldn’t read his thoughts right now. Ready. Aim. Fire and bullseye! Crikey. He didn’t think he was that transparent.
“Don’t worry, mate. It’s nothing like that at all,” Fraser quickly covered. “We’ve just got a really good working relationship that seems to have blossomed into...” Into what exactly? A flirtation without expectations? Hardly. The woman set his whole nerve center into overdrive. “A good friendship,” he finished solidly, knowing full well he was on shaky ground.
“Sure, pal.” Ryan gave him another amiable clap on the shoulder before settling onto one of the orange plastic players’ chairs.
“Honestly, we really enjoy working together!” Fraser knew he was veering a bit too close to “the gentleman doth protest too much” territory.
Ryan leant forward, elbows on his knees, looking as though he was a coach about to deliver a you can do it speech to his rookie quarterback. “Look, Fraser, you seem like a nice guy, but a word to the wise—the little I know about Tara Braxton is that her life is her work and there is no, and I mean no, room for romance in it.”
“And what’s wrong with that exactly?”
Ryan sat back in his chair, looking surprised at Fraser’s response.
“Nothing, if that’s your gig.”
“She’s a very dedicated doctor and has a lot to give to the medical world.”
Ryan raised his hands up in a surrender pose. “Hey, man, I’m not trying to pick a fight. I just thought...you know...” His eyes worked their way back to the snack bar, where Tara stood laughing with Jane, then returned to Fraser with one of those wink, wink, nudge, nudge looks.
“No.” Fraser needed to nip this one in the bud. “Just friends. That’s it.”
“That’s cool. I have to admit. I’m a little bit jealous.”
Easily understood. “Of what?”
“We did a couple of internet searches on her a couple of times after her volunteer shifts at the ER and when it comes to orthopedics, talk about impressive.”
Fraser felt himself smiling proudly, as if he’d had the slightest thing to do with Tara’s medical knowledge. Ryan continued, oblivious to Fraser’s internal monologue. “We are just surprised she hasn’t come to us to carry on with her research here. Especially now that the intellectual rights are up for grabs.”
Fraser leapt at the suggestion, even though it wasn’t his to take. “You know about that? Her resea
rch?”
“Sure.” Ryan pressed his hands to his legs and stood up. “We all do. The wonderful world of orthopedics isn’t that big and let me tell you—I’m surprised you didn’t hear a cheer coming from the hospital when we heard her ex got what was coming to him. He completely deceived her and now it sounds like a big slice of karma pie has landed on his plate. Serves him right.” Ryan ambled over to the ball rack and selected a blue twelve-pounder. Fraser’s mind was reeling with possibilities. Possibilities on a very close horizon. Tara could continue her research. Right here!
Ryan looked over his shoulder at Fraser as he headed towards the lane. “Don’t quote me on this, but over at the hospital the rumor is that if she wanted to use our place as a launch pad, all she has to do is say the word.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“IS IT ALL right if I take off early today?” Liesel twisted a curl of red hair expertly into place, returning her pixie cut to a picture of perfection. “Eric’s promised to take me down to the Valley for a movie if the roads aren’t too bad.”
“Sure, not a problem.” Fraser smiled up from his patient chart at the nurse. She was clearly well past smitten and deep in the throes of love. He knew the feeling. At least, from a noncommittal point of view. In the few moments of hard-core honesty he afforded himself, he’d lost count of the number of times he could’ve happily thrown caution to the wind, swept Tara up in his arms and kissed her with a hunger he’d not imagined possible.
Between the clinic, a few gratefully received general surgery shifts down at the Valley Hospital and a handful of snowboarding lessons from one of the local hotshots, he’d been run off his feet.
The past few weeks had been a revelation. For the first time in the last four years he had felt peaceful. That night at the Blue...holding Tara in his arms, swaying to the music...had felt natural, real. Even laughing themselves silly at Fraser’s attempts at becoming a tenpin bowling king. He’d definitely fallen into the jester role that night.
Well, there was a first time for everything. And firsts were coming at him faster than snowflakes up here. After years of taking flight at the first sign of happiness, he could see why Tara wanted to put down roots and stay here in Deer Creek. The location was downright beautiful, there was a fun group of people here, living a surprisingly lively social scene despite the waxing and waning seasonal population. They were good folk and it was easy to understand how she had found such comfort in the straightforward nature of the locals. They were loyal. Kind. They were stayers.
Dropping Tara off last night after the gondola ride back up from the Valley had been a genuine test of his mettle. He’d tossed a cavalier “See ya” out into the night when all he’d really wanted to do had been to scoop her up in his arms, carry her up those rickety steps of hers and make mind-blowing love to her. Not to mention letting her know where she stood with the Valley Hospital. But that wasn’t on the cards. All that sang of commitment and was still a big no-go area.
Fraser popped the finished chart into the filing pile and stared at the front door of the clinic, willing someone to come in. As long as he kept busy, everything would be fine.
Who was he kidding? Nothing was going to keep him busy enough to keep his thoughts away from Tara for long. Like right now. He cocked his head to the side and closed his eyes, fine-tuned to the gentle creaking of the floorboards above his head. It meant she was back from her ER shift in the valley. X-ray glasses wouldn’t go amiss right about now. Images of Tara standing in her kitchen in that fluffy red towel of hers flitted past his closed lids. It was a bit too easy to imagine it falling to the floor. He rubbed his fingers across his eyes, willing the provocative imaginings away. Too distracting.
Pushing back from the desk, Fraser headed to the office computer in the next room with the intention of looking up obscure skiing injuries online. It was never a bad time to swot up. Especially with Tara as a colleague. She was an exceptionally good doctor and never took the easiest path if another course of action was going to benefit the patient in the long run.
He heard the radio crackling to life on Liesel’s desk. Good. He jogged into the main room to listen with her. Something to do.
“This is Ski Patrol Three. Deer Creek Clinic, can you read me? Over.”
Liesel picked up the transmitter and confirmed the signal.
“Gear up. There’s been an avalanche on the Shadow Peak Pass. We need all hands on deck. Over.”
“Where’s Eric?” Liesel abandoned radio protocol, her face draining of blood.
“Chopper will be ready for the docs in two minutes, Liesel. You’d best stay and man the clinic.”
Panic flooded the redhead’s green eyes, her face blanched in fear. Fraser automatically reached out a reassuring hand to squeeze her shoulder, certain it would be of little comfort. He knew as well as she did what the ski patroller on the other end of the line was saying.
Eric was involved in the avalanche. They didn’t know where he was.
*
Tara ran into the clinic through the back door, radio in one hand, bright red ski jacket in the other. Standard issue for on-site rescue crews. Protocol was essential right now.
“Liesel, you can do this.” She held the nurse by her shoulders, mustering up the most reassuring smile she could. Sure, it was a grim smile, but working without hope wasn’t an option.
Behind her, Tara was aware of Fraser raiding the supply cabinet to load their emergency medical backpacks and totes, but for the next few seconds she needed to focus on her friend. “We’ve got to slow your breathing down, Liesel.” Tara knew hyperventilation in times of stress was a possibility and losing the nurse to a panic attack was the last thing they needed. “We’re going to go out and find him, okay?”
Even as she made the promise, she knew it wasn’t hers to make. The mountains could be dangerous. At least a dozen snowboarders and skiers lost their lives across the Rockies every year and sometimes even the utmost precaution was no help in the face of a mountain covered in hazards.
Liesel clutched at Tara, her fingernails making painful half-moon impressions into the backs of her hands. The scratches were nothing compared to the pain she could only imagine, Liesel was feeling as she pleaded, “I want to go. Please let me come with you.”
“No. You’re too close to this. You’ve got to stay at the clinic, man the radio, take care of anyone who comes in. We’ll get a medic to come up from the Valley, but you’re in charge now, okay?”
Tears began to flow freely from her friend’s eyes. It broke Tara’s heart, knowing there was nothing she could do to stem the flow. “Look, Eric’s experienced at this. He’s always got his beacons on, and everyone on the mountain will help with the search, not just the ski patrol.” Liesel swiped at her tears, unable to speak. Tara pulled her petite friend into a close hug, suddenly concerned she’d been wrong to press her to work. “C’mon. We’re going to set you up at Marian’s. We can bring the radios and everything there. We’ll put a sign up for patients to come to the bakery.”
“No. I’m going to stay here.” Liesel grounded herself, her tone adamant.
“Really, Li—you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do. Eric would be furious if he found out I’d abandoned the clinic.”
She didn’t blame Liesel for wanting to go to the site. She would do the same if someone she loved were in danger. If Fraser were in danger.
An icy chill shot through her. Not something she could consider. Not with how she was beginning to feel about him. How she did feel about him? Already something told her wolves couldn’t have stopped her from being out there, digging with everyone else, if he was in danger.
She shook the thoughts away. Right now there wasn’t time for speculating. She had to trust Liesel’s professional skills and get out onto the mountain. Avalanche victims had an hour, maximum, if they were unable to find a pocket of air to breathe. Crews would already be out searching for victims, but the more people who were on hand to help, the better.
“Ready?”
“Mmm...” Tara wished Fraser knew how much his voice was like a soothing tonic to her. He sounded the picture of calm. Another story ran through his eyes when she turned around to take her rescue backpack from him. Those normally deep blue eyes were black with—what was it, fear? Her mind sped through everything she knew about him. Very little. Whatever it was he hadn’t told her, she could see this was going to be tough for him.
If she’d been able keep him here with Liesel, protect him from whatever it was he was dreading, she would. But lives were at stake and they needed him up on the peak.
*
The last thing in the world Fraser felt was calm. He hadn’t been in a chopper since...well, since that day in Afghanistan. He was going to have to use every last ounce of his military training to keep his nerves in check. There were at least a dozen lives on the line up there and he was one of a small team who’d have to save them. No failure. Not this time.
He’d had avalanche training in the forces but hadn’t needed to put it to use. Rescuing people was hard enough, but having to do it in unstable conditions with limited visibility increased the stakes for the victims. Time was of the essence.
He watched Tara as she jogged out onto the helipad to join him. Seeing her beautiful face, a picture of concentration and professional focus, helped shore up his reserves. He could do this. He needed to do this. The past was exactly where it was—there was nothing he could do to change it now. It was time to live in the moment.
Time took on an otherworldly quality as he felt the helicopter lift from the ground, tenuously at first, then in rapid flight up towards the pass. A bitter taste rose in his throat. The familiar physical sensations, the sounds of the helicopter blades whirring into high speed, they were all acute reminders of the last time he’d flown. Fraser had left base camp that morning with a brother and returned home without one. All in the space of an hour. He flinched away the similarities of the situation. No time to dwell on them. Each second was precious now. Within an hour they would know if anyone had survived. He suddenly felt fingers reaching across his hand. Giving it a reassuring squeeze. Tara.