“I don’t need you to fight my battles, Tyler O’Neil.” She’d dragged her filthy, muddy schoolbag onto her skinny shoulder, and he remembered thinking that if he ever found out who was doing this to her, he was going to push them off the top of Scream, one of the most dangerous runs in the area.
He never had found out.
And presumably the person, or persons, responsible were now long gone from Snow Crystal, leaving only the memory.
Was she thinking of it now?
He ran his hand over his jaw and cursed under his breath. He didn’t want to think of Brenna as vulnerable. He wanted to think of her as one of the boys. He’d disciplined himself not to notice those sleek curves under the fitted ski pants. He’d trained himself not to notice the sweet curve of her mouth when she laughed. She was a colleague. A friend.
His best friend. He was never, ever going to do anything to jeopardize that.
Shit.
“I’ll go into school. I’ll coach the race training camp and whatever else needs doing.” Even as he said the words, part of his brain was yelling at him to shut up. “Brenna has enough to do around here.”
Jackson’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You?”
“Yeah, me. Why not?”
“The question is more ‘why would you?’”
He waited for Brenna to admit how she felt, and when she didn’t, he searched his brain for an explanation. “They are the stars of tomorrow.” He regurgitated something he’d read at the top of Jess’s school report and then decided he needed something more plausible. “And there’s no feeling quite like basking in the adulation of teenage girls. I don’t get anywhere near enough adulation around here, so I’ll do it.”
“No.” Brenna finally found her voice. “We all know it’s not your thing. I’ll do it.”
“I’m making it my thing. I’m doing it, and that’s final.”
Kayla gave a delighted chortle. “I can see the headline now—downhill champion coaches losing high school team. Great story.” She started to pace, her enthusiasm and excitement visible in every tap of her heels. “I could see if it would interest someone as a documentary. Could I do that?”
Tyler, who loathed the press after a particularly nasty piece about his alleged involvement with a stunning Austrian snowboarder, felt the hairs on the back of his neck lift. “Not if you want me to do the coaching.”
Jackson was frowning. “Are you sure you want to do it?”
“I’m sure.” Tyler thought of what he’d just committed himself to and decided Friday was now officially his worst day of the week. “Are we about done? Because staring at all those lines on the spreadsheet is making me feel as if I’m behind bars. I have work to do on some of the equipment. Proper work, I mean, not the sort that means giving presentations.”
It was fun to wind his brother up, and it took his mind off the fact Brenna was hurting, a thought that made him restless and uncomfortable.
“We’re nearly done.” Jackson refused to be rushed. “As you know, they’re predicting a big statewide snowstorm. A winter storm watch is up. According to the forecast, the storm will be right down the New England coast, which puts us in the sweet spot for snow, good news given that the snow pack is twenty percent down on the average for this time of year.”
“Hey, it’s winter in Vermont. One minute you’re skiing on grass, then you’re slithering on ice, and if you get really lucky, you’re up to your neck in powder.” But the mention of snow roused Tyler from his state of boredom. “How much snow, exactly?”
“Between twelve and fourteen inches. Possibly more.”
“That is the best news I’ve had in a long time. I love a good powder day.”
“So do our guests, and they’ll pay for a guide so you’ll be busy.”
“Trust you to ruin good news. Do you ever think of anything other than work?”
“Not with our busiest time of the year approaching, no. We’re a winter sports resort.”
Kayla glanced up from her laptop. “And you’re our USP.”
“I’m your what?”
“Our unique selling point. No other resort has a gold-medal-winning downhill skier available for hire.”
“I’m not for hire.”