"Where are they?" I say, trying to keep my voice level, though it doesn’t match my pulse raging in my body.
She reaches out a hand as if worried I’m going to bolt for the door. "Don’t you dare do anything to them. I’m already trying to clean up your last mess. Randolph is good at his job, but I don’t think even he can get you out of Swiss prison."
She might have a point, but I don’t give her the satisfaction of knowing. "At least tell me what they were wearing?"
She lets out a sigh as if it’s a compromise. "One had this awful blue-and-white zebra jacket. Bright orange beanie." I nod. "Promise me you’re not going to do anything. It’s just a sprain."
"What did the medic say?" I ask, ignoring her request to make a promise I have no intention of making.
"The medic said to take it easy tonight and tomorrow, but that I should be good in a couple of days. No more skiing for me for a while," she says with a fake jutted pouty lip.
Yeah, I get it. She’s not disappointed about missing the snow.
"I’m taking you back to the chalet," I say.
She opens her mouth to argue, then closes it again. Smart girl… she finally understands that arguing with me when it comes to her health and safety isn’t going to get her anywhere. "Okay. Thank you. I’ll text Zack and let him know that you’re taking me back so he doesn’t worry that I’ve been kidnapped."
The name Zack has me ready to ask where the hell he is and why he left her like this, but I know she’ll get defensive if she thinks she has to defend him, and I don’t need that right now. I need her to let me take care of her first.
I lift her easily, one arm under her knees, the other at her back. She stiffens for a second—then relaxes, fingers curling into my jacket like she’s not as steady as she pretends.
The walk back is quiet. Too quiet… for her.
I feel her weight. The careful way she holds herself, so she doesn’t feel like a burden.
Inside the chalet, I set her gently on the couch and kneel again, adjusting the pillows under her ankle.
"I think we should probably talk about what happened yesterday."
"Okay, what happened yesterday?" I ask, playing aloof on purpose.
She rolls her eyes. She knows what I’m doing. "I kissed you, and I think we need to talk about it to clear the air. I want to apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable?" I ask, standing up from my kneeling position in front of her.
"As if I might have taken advantage of the situation. We work together and—"
I cut her off. "We don’t work together. My agent hired you, that’s all. And if I hadn’t been taken off guard by you jumping into my arms, I would have made that kiss a hell of a lot better. That was not my best work."
Her eyes lift to mine, wide and searching.
I step back because standing this close to her makes me want to do a hell of a lot more than kiss her. Not only is that a boundary that she’s already set between us, but she also has a sprained ankle right now.
"I should’ve been there," I say, turning away from her to grab an ice pack from the freezer in the kitchen. "I don’t miss things like this."
"You can’t be everywhere—" she says over the back of the couch, watching me as I pull the ice pack out of the freezer.
"Protection is what I’m good at," I continue, walking back towards her. "That and hockey."
I don’t say I failed, but I don’t have to. I feel it.
"You didn’t do this," she says gently, as I place the ice pack on her ankle. "I chose to come find you instead of waiting for you to come back tonight."
I nod, even though it doesn’t change that I feel like shit that I wasn’t there to threaten the dumb-ass kids who scared her.
When I leave the chalet after making sure she’s comfortable with her book and laptop, I tell her that I’m going out to the bar to shoot pool, but I don’t go far.
I do what I’ve done every night I’ve stayed out late.
