Page 13 of Mountain Challenge

No.She had to say no. Because she had a lot riding on the next few months. Like making sure she could feed herself and pay Alain’s salary.That kind of thing.

“Do you like burgers?” Ry asked, obviously encouraged by her silence. “Or … vegetables? One of my friends is dating a vegetarian. I know some great vegetarian restaurants.”

Damn, but he was sweet. And hot. So freaking hot. She forced herself to stand up and take a step away from him. His eyes tracked her movement, and though his face didn’t change, she could see he already knew what she was going to say.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing her voice didn’t sound as breathless as it did. And she was. She was so fucking sorry that they hadn’t met at a different time. Before she’d taken over the studio. Before herno more bad boysrule had come into effect.

“You’re not interested,” he said, his voice husky.

“I can’t be interested. Not right now. I’m sorry.”

He seemed to ponder her words for a long instant. “Not right nowmeans, I could ask again in the future?”

“If in the future doesn’t mean a week from now, sure.” Nothing was going to change in a week.

Ry smiled a wicked, devastating smile—the kind of smile that made her wish she could take her words back. “Understood. I need to wait at least eight days before asking again.”

Isla laughed, picking up her black leather jacket from the hook in the corner. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

She ran through her evening checklist quickly, making sure the equipment was all turned off and that everything was neat. She couldn’t help but smile as she took one last quick look at the gleaming surfaces before turning the lights off. Shelovedthis place.

She ushered Ry outside, following him into the cold. By the time she’d locked the door, her hands were half-frozen. She stuck them into her leather jacket pockets, which did little to warm them. She was going to have to start wearing her puffy snowboarding jacket, or purchase a new coat. Not that she had money to buy a new coat.Snowboarding jacket tomorrow, then.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.

She lived right upstairs, so she wasn’t planning on driving anywhere. But, in any case, her car was right there, parked in the street corner. “No need. That’s my—“ The words froze in her mouth as she caught sight of her small silver car. Or rather, as she caught sight of her very flat front tire. “Shit.”

By the time the word left her mouth, Ry was already leaning down beside the tire. “Do you have a spare?”

“Aspare?”

“A spare tire,” he repeated patiently, still on his knees beside her car. “I’ll help you change it.”

Damn. She’d just shot him down for the second time, and still he was willing to get down on his knees in the snow to help her. He looked downright toasty in his thick down jacket, and she envied him as the wind picked up, going right through her stupid leather jacket. How had she ever thought it was a good idea to wear this? She pushed her hands deeper into the pockets in an attempt to keep them from falling off.

“I don’t understand. The tire was fine this morning. And they’re almost new.” She paused to make sure she was telling the truth. The car was old, but she’d changed all four tires three months earlier, in preparation for her first Chamonix winter. She should remember it well, because the tires had nearly bankrupted her. “Shit. This is terrible luck.”

“Isla?” The hair on her arms rose at the warning tone that entered Ry’s voice. “This wasn’t bad luck.”

“What do you?—“

And then she saw what he was staring at.

Her back tire was flat as well.As a pancake.

Ry made his way to the back of the car and kneeled beside the second tire, his expression guarded. Isla’s mind struggled to make sense of this. Had she driven over broken glass? But for both tires to pop at the same time?—

“I don’t understand,“ she said, looking up at where Ry had been. Except he wasn’t there anymore. He’d moved closer to her.He stood to his full height, tall and broad, his head swiveling from side to side. Gone was the easy-going, charming man who’d asked her out to dinner. In a matter of seconds, he’d gone into full protector mode.

For me.

And there was only one reason he’d think she needed protection. “You think somebody did this on purpose?” Her voice rose in pitch.

Ry pointed down at a wide gash on the outside rim of the tire. “This wasn’t bad luck. This tire was slashed.”

Slashed.

The evidence was right in front of her, but none of this made sense. “Why would someone want to slash my tires? Maybe some angry teenage vandals walked down the street.”That kind of thing happened sometimes, right?

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