Rare and Precious Things

I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. “Give me a minute to get my kit together, would you?”

“Sure thing, man.” He grinned again, and for the first time in my life I felt rather old.

CHRISTIAN and his entourage of four compatriots chose deep snow not far off-piste, but I didn’t let that give me a false sense of security because I was well aware there were risks to doing it. I told them straight up before we set out, to have their shovel and probe kit in their packs and their beacons on them. I’d seen how people become euphoric in the backcountry, and lose sight of danger. Snowpack could change so quickly, and a span of just a few feet could have different conditions. I’d witnessed skiers on slopes right next to avalanche slides like it was a completely normal thing to do. Some of them ended up dead eventually, from just that sort of mentality, too.

“Remember what I said—aim your board towards any trees or the ridge of the mountain if you hear a roaring sound behind you.” I eyeballed each one. “And don’t slow your ride. Keep going no matter what.”

Christian snickered, his eyes laughing at me. “Yes, Dad,” he said. I noticed the colour of his eyes was like Brynne’s—they changed with the light, and with different hues of clothing. It made me miss her even more.

“I’m serious. You do not f**k about when it comes to an avalanche.”

THE third off-piste they chose was not a good prospect. I told them no. Too much fresh powder, with little time to settle, equaled too much risk.

The lads didn’t agree and were hell-bent on going down. Lukas and Tobias called first-tracks and were off before I could call them back. Jakob and Felix started out right behind them. “Huck it, Ethan—if not now, when?” Christian shouted gleefully before he sailed down, his neon green jacket in my sights.

My choice was made for me at that point and I had to follow him.

I’m not sure who triggered it, but I heard the roar before I saw the cloud.

Bad news.

I cut toward a scrub of trees and grabbed the biggest one I could find and held on. A churning rush of snow blasted me off the tree and sent me arse-over-tit down the mountain. I lost sight of anything, or anyone, and could only pray the lads were riding off the sides to safety.

Jolted violently below the waist, I heard a snap. No pain, just an awareness of coming to rest on a rock outcropping. An overhang which saved me from being buried by the second wave that followed about a minute later.

WHEN I opened my eyes I could see the sky, which was a good sign. Meant I wasn’t buried under feet of snow. I could breathe. I looked down and discovered what the snapping sound had been about. My left boot was turned 180 degrees. I knew it was quite probable I’d sustained a compound fracture. Fuck. I struggled to sit up and take stock of my location.

I’d been pushed so far off the main slide, my field of vision offered nothing beyond swaths of white. Bright drops of red spattered in the snow. I felt a tickle along the side of my face, but couldn’t tell through the gloves where the blood was coming from.

First order of business was to activate the beacon, so I did that, and then checked out my leg. Fucking thing was so bashed. Hiking out was not going to happen. Board was long lost from my cartwheel down the mountain.

I took a deep breath and gripped my calf. I counted to three, and twisted it to where it was supposed to be…and passed the f**k out.

SO very cold. I registered the icy temperature, but had no idea how much time had passed. Could be minutes. Or hours. Probably not hours, though. Hours up here would kill me from hypothermia. Was I dying?

No. No! I refused to believe I was. My body could withstand more than this, and had in the past. I was strong. I couldn’t die. I had to get back to Brynne…and our baby. I couldn’t leave them alone. They both needed me. I promised her I would come back. I wasn’t going to die up here.

All I needed was to get warm. Warm. Brynne was warm. The warmest place I could imagine was Brynne wrapped around me when I was making love to her. Brynne was my warm, safe place, right from the very first. And even if my conscious mind didn’t know it at the time, my heart most certainly did.

I went to where I could feel her warmth…

…I knew the moment when she stepped into the room. The real Brynne Bennett was even more captivating in the flesh than in her portrait—which gratefully, now belonged to me. She sipped from a glass of champagne and studied her image on the gallery wall. I wondered how she saw herself. Was she confident? Unforgiving? Or somewhere in between?

“There’s my girl.” Clarkson said, hugging her from behind. “It’s smashing isn’t it? And you have the most beautiful feet of any woman on the planet.”

“Everything you do looks good, Ben, even my feet.” She turned around and asked him, “So, you sell anything yet? Let me rephrase. How many have you sold?”

I could hear everything they said to each other.

“Three so far and I think this one’s going very soon,” Clarkson said. “Don’t be obvious, but see the tall bloke in the grey suit, black hair, speaking with Carole Andersen? He’s inquired. Seems he’s quite taken by your gorgeous naked self. Probably going to go for a good palm session soon as he can get the canvas all to himself. How’s that make you feel, Brynne luv? Some rich toff pulling his pud to the sight of your unearthly beauty.”

I f**king wish. They get to keep it for six long months.

“Shut up, that’s just nasty. Don’t tell me things like that or I’ll have to stop taking jobs.” She shook her head at him like he was daft. “It’s a damn good thing I love you, Benny Clarkson.” “It’s true though,” Clarkson rambled along, “and that chap hasn’t stopped eyeballing you since you glided in here. And he’s not g*y.”

“You’re going to hell, Benny, for saying such things,” she told him as she looked over and checked me out. I could feel her eyes on me, but I kept to my conversation with the director and played it cool.

“I’m right, huh?” Clarkson asked her.

“About the jerking off? No possible way, Benny! He’s far too beautiful to have to resort to his hand for an orgasm.”

Oh, f**k. I couldn’t help my stare then. Impossible to look away when I’d just heard those words come out of her mouth. She likes what she sees. References to my c**k and getting off—from her—and a whole new game plan reorganized itself in that moment. I had to meet her tonight, and that was all there was to it.