The Right Mr. Wrong. Cindi Myers

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СКАЧАТЬ too. Don’t assume it means anything.”

      “Some people believe confronting fear makes them stronger.” Hagan’s softly accented voice cut through the barroom chatter. Maddie looked over to find his gaze on her, intense but unreadable.

      “Some people say a lot of things that don’t make sense,” she said. She leaned toward him, refusing to look away or let him think he could intimidate her. “What about you? What fears do you confront?”

      The creases fanning out from the corners of his eyes sharpened, then he looked away. “I did not say facing fears was always a good idea. Sometimes it is better to avoid the situation altogether.”

      She had expected him to say he wasn’t afraid of anything. His answer intrigued her—what did a man like Hagan have to fear? Then she was annoyed with herself. What did she care what Mr. Handsome Hagan thought or did?

      She turned and grabbed Scott’s arm. “Let’s dance.”

      “Uh…okay.” He let her pull him onto the minuscule dance floor and began to move, a little stiffly. “Just so you know, Lisa and I are kind of an item.” He nodded toward a curvy redhead who worked in the resort ticket office.

      She hadn’t realized, and felt a little foolish. “It’s only a dance,” she said. All she’d really wanted was to get away from the table for a while.

      “Right. Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

      She’d hoped getting up and moving around would help her feel better and keep her mind out of the downward spiral that thoughts of skiing and her fears could bring on. Instead her knee hurt and a different kind of pain had settled in her stomach. Coming here was a mistake—not only coming to the Eldo tonight, but moving to Crested Butte and joining the ski patrol. She’d picked Crested Butte because it was far from a city, off the racing circuit and offered the opportunity to ski. Skiing was what she knew. What she was good at. But she didn’t really belong here, in this town where everyone knew everyone and all got along so well. Traveling, competing and training was the life she knew—nothing else felt right.

      As soon as the song ended, she mumbled her thanks to Scott, then grabbed her coat and slipped out the door. The others at the table were focused on Zephyr and his friend Bryan’s arm-wrestling match; the loser would have to wax the winner’s snowboard.

      Maddie hurried down the stairs into night air so cold it felt like breathing ice. She stood on the sidewalk in front of the bar and stared up at a sky studded with stars like silver glitter on black glass. Get a grip, she scolded herself. She had a good life. She needed to focus on all the great things ahead instead of what she’d lost.

      But what was ahead for her? For the previous decade she’d had a clear goal—to get to the Olympics. To be recognized as one of the top ski racers in the world.

      All that was gone now, and she had nothing to replace it. The knowledge made her feel empty and lost.

      “If you want to look at stars, there are better places than on the street in front of the Eldo.” Hagan came to stand beside her. He was wearing a red and black parka, but his head was bare, the night breeze ruffling his white-blond hair.

      “You’re going to freeze without a hat,” she said.

      He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. “Where I grew up, it is colder than this.”

      She went back to looking at the stars. It was either that or keep staring at him. Whether it was his good looks, or the quiet strength that radiated from him, or the solid confidence she envied, being with Hagan made her hyperaware of every one of her own flaws.

      “Are you all right?” he asked after a moment.

      “I’m fine.” Freezing, but fine. She hugged her parka closer around her body. “I’m going to catch a bus back up to the mountain and turn in early.”

      This was his cue to go back into the bar, but he fell in step beside her as she began walking toward the bus stop. She glared at him. “Why did you follow me out here?”

      “You interest me.”

      The idea made her catch her breath. She’d heard all about Hagan’s rule about not dating locals. “Why? You have a thing for washed-up athletes?”

      He raised one eyebrow. “Do you have something against Norsemen? Or men in general? Why are you so prickly?”

      Her shoulders sagged. He was right. She was being a witch with a capital B, taking her bad mood out on him. Yes, he was a player and his confidence—which bordered on arrogance—annoyed her. But so far he hadn’t made any moves on her or done anything to warrant her hostility. And he was her coworker on patrol, someone she’d be seeing a lot of in the coming weeks and months. She needed to learn to get along with him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Why don’t we start over?” At the bus stop in front of the Chamber of Commerce, she stopped and offered him her hand. “Hi, I’m Maddie Alexander. I’m new here.”

      A hint of a smile formed on his lips. “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Alexander. I am Hagan Ansdar.” He took her hand in his and fixed her with his clear blue eyes. His clasp was firm, his gaze steady, and his soft accent made every word smooth and exotic. No wonder he had women falling at his feet. She pulled her hand away before she melted right there in the snow, shocked by her reaction. So much for thinking her cynicism about men like Hagan made her immune to his charms.

      “What brings you to Crested Butte, Ms. Alexander?” he asked, continuing the charade that they had just met.

      “It’s beautiful country. And I thought ski patrol would be interesting.”

      “I would have thought after your career as a racer ended you would have had your choice of jobs,” he said. “Representing a ski equipment or clothing manufacturer, or skiing as the pro at a high-profile resort.”

      “Those jobs go to the medal winners.”

      “But ski patrol—” he glanced at her “—it doesn’t pay much.”

      No, but she’d made some money in her racing career and managed to save a portion of it. What she’d needed more than money was a place to lay low and figure out what to do with the rest of her life.

      “I really appreciated the patrollers who helped me when I was injured,” she said. “The doctors and nurses, too, but I don’t have a medical degree and I wanted a job that would allow me to ski every day. I may not be able to race anymore, but I still love skiing.”

      “You are a beautiful skier. You have a natural grace.”

      She didn’t know which unnerved her more—the unexpected compliment or the knowledge that he’d been watching her.

      She changed the subject. “How did a man from Norway end up in Crested Butte, Colorado?” she asked.

      When he didn’t answer right away, she glanced at him again. His mouth was compressed into a thin line, his brow furrowed in thought. “I think for many people Crested Butte is a good place to escape. To hide out, even.”

      The words sent a sudden shiver up her spine. Was he accusing her of running away? Or was he answering her question in an oblique way?

      The bus arrived, filled with СКАЧАТЬ