Marriage on Her Mind. Cindi Myers

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      MAX’S FRIEND HAGAN ANSDAR was waiting at the front counter. The tall blonde in the Crested Butte Resort Ski Patrol uniform was rubbing his head and wincing. “You should have a warning sign on that door,” he said in a heavy Norwegian accent. “I almost give myself a concussion.”

      “You need to remember that Victorian doorways weren’t built for six-foot-four Norsemen,” Max said. He fed another stick of wood into the stove behind the counter and shut the iron door. “Anything exciting happen on patrol today?”

      “I met two girls from Austin who are on vacation. One of them broke the binding on her snowboard and I told her I would be happy to repair it for her.”

      Max shook his head. “It’s criminal, the way women fall all over you, just because you wear that uniform and have an accent.”

      “I told you before. Volunteer for patrol and you can have all the women you want following you around.” Hagan grinned.

      “Except those aren’t the kind of women I want.” He held out his hand. “Let me see the binding.”

      Hagan fished a strip of plastic out of his pocket and handed it over. “How do you know these women aren’t the ones you want if you haven’t even met them?” he asked.

      “Because they’re tourists.” He examined the piece of binding and frowned. “This has been cut.”

      “No!” Hagan leaned closer.

      Max pointed to the neatly severed edge. “My guess is she decided she wanted the big strong ski-patrol guy to rescue her, so she sliced through the binding strap with a pocketknife.”

      “That wasn’t very smart,” Hagan said.

      Max grinned. “I don’t know. She got what she wanted, didn’t she?” He turned to the shelf behind him and pulled down a box. “Here’s a new strap. You can install it when you see her again.”

      “Tonight.” Hagan grinned. “She is really hot.”

      “They all are, buddy. And you’re welcome to ’em.”

      Hagan handed over his credit card and leaned against the counter. “I think tourists are the perfect dates. I see them a few times, then they leave town. No messy relationship problems.”

      “That’s because you don’t really have a relationship.” Max rang up the sale and returned Hagan’s card and the charge slip. “People on vacation aren’t really themselves. You don’t know these women. You just know how they act away from home.”

      “That’s all I need to know,” Hagan said. “And you are one to talk. When was the last time you dated anyone?”

      “I go out with women every night,” Max said.

      Hagan shook his head. “Not groups of friends, men and women. I mean a date. You and one woman. How long?”

      Max stuck the charge slip in the cash drawer and slammed it shut. “A while. You know how it is in C.B.—there are more of us than there are of them.” In fact, single men outnumbered single women almost two to one.

      “And you’ve already worked your way through all of them.” Hagan punched his shoulder. “My way is better. At least until some new women move to town.”

      “As a matter of fact, someone new has moved to town. She’s rented the empty apartment upstairs.”

      Hagan looked at the ceiling. “Convenient. What’s she like?”

      “Kind of quiet. But nice.”

      “Pretty?”

      Max nodded. “As soon as word gets around, there’ll be a line at her door.”

      “And you will be first in line, living right across the hall.”

      Max grinned. “I do have something of an advantage.” Although he’d be careful: everything about Casey, from her expensive clothes to her stylish haircut, screamed money and class. In his experience that kind of woman expected a lot from a man.

      “Only because I’m excusing myself from that particular competition,” Hagan said.

      “Yeah—like she’d be interested in a homely guy like you.” Max shook his head. “Besides, it’s not a competition. I figure, what happens, happens. The point is to go with the flow and have fun.” Casey Jernigan might be fun to get to know. If not…well, there were always other women. No need to limit himself unnecessarily.

      Hagan laughed. “Good luck to you, my friend.” He pocketed the binding strap. “Thanks for fixing me up with this. Mitzi will appreciate it.”

      “Mitzi? Is she a woman or a poodle?”

      Hagan delivered a one-fingered salute and exited, the sleigh bells on the door jangling wildly behind him.

      Max checked the display of snowboard bindings and made a note to order more. He could hear Casey moving around upstairs. His new tenant was attractive. And though she looked like a city girl, the fact that she’d chosen to move to C.B. said she was up for an adventure.

      The thought made him grin. Everyone headed out on an adventure could use a guide. And he just happened to be uniquely qualified to help.