Alder

T he drive up to my cabin was exactly as expected this morning. Other than the visions of last night that are embedded into the forefront of my brain. The road crews cleared the roads early enough that I could make it home before the sun was fully up. Leaving the redhead’s bed this morning was harder than I thought it would be. I’m kicking myself for not getting her name. It’s going to eat at me all day. A smile tugs at my lips, thinking back to her telling me she wasn’t interested in sleeping with me last night. So blunt and to the point. She was lying, but I found her directness uniquely sexy. Not only did we have off-the-charts chemistry in bed but out of it as well.

I’m contemplating turning around and going back to her room at the hotel and attempting to get her name again. Maybe my sweet baby sister will break the rules and get it for me. I’m off the next couple of days, and my only plans are our family dinner and snowboarding. A family dinner that I can’t get out of even if I wanted to. When I moved out here to the middle of nowhere, I was under the impression I would have fewer unannounced visitors and family check-ins. That has not been the case. At least once a week, I get someone coming to knock on my door to check on me.

“Just dropping off a lasagna, I made extra and was going to freeze one, but then I just thought I would bring you one.”

“Hey, bud. I just wanted to come up and have a beer with my brother.”

“, I was out for a drive and thought I would come say hello. How are you, dear?”

As smothering as it can feel some days, I’m thankful for my supportive family, and I also understand that I had a very rough go of it a few years ago. No matter how much ground I’ve gained, it’s hard to forget the depressive episode I went through after losing Ray.

I close my eyes and bite down on the inside of my cheek. Thinking about my friend and all the plans he made. A life that he never had the chance to live. The guilt has threatened to eat me alive in my weakest moments. It’s one of the reasons I don’t drink more than a couple of beers anymore. I rarely drink at all. I’ve discovered that when I find myself too far down into a bottle, I also find my mental health even lower. Training like I have, as hard as I have for my Alpine Rescue Certification…losing ground for a few hours of mind numbing doesn’t seem worth it.

I put a pot of coffee on and walk out onto my back deck to take in the view that is my backyard. I can see all the way to Kettle Peak today, since the storm has cleared out. My mind wanders as I survey the wintry landscape. Green eyes and lips I can still taste play in my memories. I can hear her raspy pants and moans in my ears. I don’t usually like being told what to do, but last night, I couldn’t find it in me to care.

Distant ringing pulls me from my daydreams. Who would be calling me this early? For a second, I let myself think it’s the woman from last night. A woman whose name I don’t even know, so I’m not sure how she could be calling me. Maybe I’ll call the hotel later and beg Florence to help me. I walk inside and just miss the call. The lodge? I hit the number and wait for our operations manager to pick up.

“Hello, thanks for calling The Edgemont Ski Resort and Lodge. This is Jack speaking. How can I help you?” His voice is warm and friendly as always.

“Hey, Jack. It’s . It looks like I missed a call. Was someone trying to get a hold of me?” I ask, hoping it was a mistake and nobody needed anything from me today.

“! Yes, I called. Kirk is out today with the flu, and I’m hoping you can fill in for his classes. The new hospitality manager is here, and I want things to run as smoothly as possible. I know you have the day off, but I already called Cal, and he isn’t able to make it in.” He says this all in one breath, not stopping until he relays all the information. I can tell he’s stressed and desperate. I sigh, resigned to the fact that my day of playing catch up on laundry and possibly a visit down to town to stock up on groceries is officially derailed.

“What classes do you need me for?” I ask. Please, not the kids’ class.

“The kids' classes. At nine, we have the 9?12 year olds, and at eleven we have the 6?8s,” he confirms. I blow out a breath. Of course. I really want to tell him no.

“I’ll be there,” I agree.

“Thank you! You’re a lifesaver! I have so much to keep track of today, and I want to make a good impression. Stop by my office around two so I can introduce you. Thanks again, !” he rushes out before hanging up, and before I can tell him that meeting some asshole from California who wants to turn my lodge into a luxury spa is the last thing on my list. The previous man I shared the lodge with sold his half of the business to someone in California who’s never stepped foot here. Now, I have to add that to my list of things to get in order. I run a hand down my face. This serves as another reminder that things change so quickly.

I look around my home. It’s nothing fancy. An A-frame log cabin nestled in the trees about three miles from the lodge. It’s small and rustic. Not like the sprawling ranch you might see if you visit my childhood home, but the view out the back glass windows is really the draw for me.

Looking out and seeing the snow-covered mountains, I’m reminded that this is why I live here. Like a hermit in a secluded cabin. Which half of the time I am. Being outgoing is something people have come to expect from me, and even though it’s such a large part of who I am; I love a good karaoke night; I also love coming home alone. I don’t bring anyone except for my family here. That’s not to say I don’t take women other places, their places, though I haven’t done that for a while. Not before last night, and if I’m being honest, it felt more like I got taken somewhere. I grin, thinking about her taking control.

Rolling my head in a circle, I decide I’d better get ready. It’s seven thirty, and I’ll need to get all the gear ready for the classes I’ve been roped into teaching. If you can even call it that. I would venture to say maybe two kids from each group will be paying attention. These kids are enrolled in classes so their parents can drink Bloody Marys at breakfast. No judgment; it just quickly becomes fifteen screaming kids all falling over their skis and snowboards, complaining that they don’t want to be there.

Three hours later, and I’ve made it through my first class with the older kids. It went better than I thought. The smaller kids should be here any minute, and even though I may not want to teach this class today, they are always adorable. Decked out in their snowsuits and some too small to get down the smallest bunny hill. They make me think of my niece, Hazel. She’s the best thing to ever happen to our family. The fact that she’s even here is a miracle. The day she was born is one I’ll never forget, but the chain of events that surround her birth reminds me that even the most dire circumstances can bring something magical. I chuckle softly. I never would have thought that my older brother was as soft as a kitten until he had her. That softness is reserved only for her, but I still get a kick out of seeing it.

I look up from where I’m standing at the bottom of one of the bunny hills. Here come the littles. I can see them now. They’re running down the hill toward me. The excitement is written all over their little faces, and it’s infectious. I can remember being this excited the first time my parents brought us here.

“Hey, guys! Be careful coming down the hill!” I call out, trying to get their attention. They all keep running. Smiling and shaking my head at them, I turn to grab the bag of tiny goggles, readying myself for the next hour. I take a sip of coffee from my thermos and turn to see one of the smaller kids in a bright-blue jacket fall near the top of the hill. They start to roll. Shit . Last time that happened, the kid threw up. I toss my cup and make a break for him. I’ve run halfway across the hill when the kid’s dad gets him stopped.

A flash of purple to my right catches my eye, but it’s too late. I try to slow, but I’m going too fast. The momentum I’ve gained running combined with the snow is going to carry me right into them. We collide.

A startled gasp registers in my ears as the side of my body makes contact. My hands instinctively reach for the purple ski suit and grip at the waist, turning them with me, so I’ll take the brunt of the fall. I land flat on my back shortly before a body slams on top of mine, effectively knocking the wind out of me. We stop moving, and I hear a husky groan coming from the person I’ve taken out. A knee slides up the left side of my body and then firmly pushes into my stomach, making it hard to catch my breath. The sun is so bright, even with my goggles on, I can’t open my eyes. I open my mouth to apologize, but before I can, a raspy, sexy, too-familiar voice cuts me off.

“What the hell? Do you tackle guests to the ground often?” she asks. There’s my confirmation that it’s her. My redhead– my? No, the redhead from last night. Her breath smells citrusy, like lemons? Oranges? I would answer her, but I don’t think she’s really looking for my answer. I decide I’ll give her one anyway. I feel her shift, hair grazing my cheeks, and then a shadow is cast over my face, giving me the ability to see again. Only when I do, my ability to speak disappears. I’m looking up and into those unique jade-green eyes that I spent last night getting lost in. The most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. A face I spent a lot of time kissing last night. I look up at her purple beanie. Her purple ski suit?

That’s a lot of purple.

“Excuse me?!” Her raspy voice borders on indignant. Oops. I must have said that last part out loud. “‘That’s a lot of purple’? Is that all you have to say to me after you just plowed into me?” She’s clearly pissed, so I bite my tongue to keep my ill-timed joke to myself. “You could have seriously hurt someone. Did you think to look where you were going at all? Exactly where were you going in such a hurry anyway?” She is absolutely laying into me. Question after biting question.

She’s verging on sounding like a spoiled brat. Which is familiar territory working here, you see a lot of rich brats. None have ever provoked such an immediate reaction in me as the woman lying on top of me right now though. The same woman who was on top of me with far less clothing last night. I can feel my eyes crinkling at the corners. She doesn’t know it’s me. Not with my goggles on. “Why are you smiling?” she asks in an annoyed tone. Am I smiling? “ What the hell is so funny about this?” Her green eyes narrow into slits as she chastises me. Stunning.

I clear my throat and slide my goggles up onto the top of my head before saying, “Well, I didn’t want to interrupt. It felt like you really needed to get all that out, but it seems that you’re still lying on top of me, princess,”—her eyes flare at the pet name that slips out—“and don’t get me wrong…I’m thoroughly enjoying this tongue-lashing you’re giving me.” I wink, and her expression turns deadly. “I personally don’t mind you being there, but you sound upset with me at the moment. I usually like women on top of me to be enjoying themselves. So if you wanted to get up, I could properly apologize for plowing into you and start my next class.”

She makes an irritated sound at that and scrambles back, enveloping me in her cinnamon and citrus scent. I am once again blinded by the sun as she takes her shadow with her .

“Search and Rescue?” she questions. It’s not a nickname I’ve gotten before, but I like it when she calls me it. “What are you even doing here? Did you say teaching a class?” she huffs out, planting her hands on my chest for support while she stands, causing my mind to flash back to the night before. I wouldn’t mind that happening again. I need to get that thought out of my head immediately. I don’t sleep with guests. No matter how beautiful or fiery or—no. It doesn’t matter. She’s off-limits. I may have made that decision last night, but that’s only because I didn’t know she was a guest yet.

She moves to the side, and I stand beside her. I dust off my pants and look over at her. She’s gorgeous. She has her arms crossed over the chest of her purple suit. Her left hip is cocked to the side, and the set of her mouth tells me she’s still riled up.

“I don’t hate the nickname. I’ve been called worse than ‘Search and Rescue,’” I comment.

“So was the getup you were wearing last night part of your pick-up routine? Do you prey on innocent women who get stuck in town often?” she asks in the same bratty tone I’d like to… no.

“Innocent? I think it was you who wanted to hear about my unnecessary list,” I challenge.

“I remember it being you who mentioned that list, ” she counters.

“And I remember everything on it that we didn’t get to last night.”

“That’s not the point, hotshot. What are you even doing here?” she asks again.

“I fill in as a snowboard instructor for the resort,” I answer. I don’t tell her that I’m a part owner. I’ve been a partner in the resort for the last ten years. “My full title after all the courses and training I’ve done is an Alpine EMS Search and Rescue pilot,” I elaborate, then apologize. “I’m sorry I ran into you. There was a kid, one I’m responsible for, rolling down the hill. I was worried they might get hurt,” I explain. At this, she softens a little. “I didn’t see you, though I’m not sure how I missed you in this getup,” I add without thinking. Shit. Wrong thing to say. She’s pissed again.

“Yes, yes. ‘That’s a lot of purple.’ I remember,” she says as she waves a hand in the air. “I thought you weren’t going to be in town very long,” she accuses.

“I did say technically. And technically, we’re not in town,” I tell her. “You didn’t exactly say you would be here either,” I shoot back.

“Right.” She half laughs and shakes her head, her red hair falling over her shoulders. “You said you had a class to teach?” She looks over my body then, and I feel exposed even in three layers of snow gear. “So, I’ll let you get to that. I have other things to do,” she states and walks off toward the lodge without a backward glance in my direction. I should tell her that I don’t just teach classes here, that I own this place just to see her squirm, but last night and this morning have been the most fun I’ve had in months. I shake my head and smile again. That purple ski suit.