Body Heat by Devyn Morgan

Author:Devyn Morgan [Morgan, Devyn]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2016-04-16T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

NICK’S knee kept slipping off the damn trunk he was trying scramble up on. Without branches he could use as parallel bars, he’d have never even gotten to stick his head out. The other branches sloped down.

“Damn.” His foot slipped.

Digging his way out had turned out to be harder than he’d thought.

Finally! Right knee on the trunk, Nick turned.

Clay began making his way toward him. He looked taller than before with the change of perspective, and in his heavy-duty gear and mirrored sunglasses, he reminded Nick of a fashion model from an Alpine resort advertising spread.

Nick’s heart beat fast.

Clay did show up. Just like he said, he was here, and so was the other guy down the hill.

And now that the cavalry has shown up, Nick didn’t see anything wrong with enjoying the view. He grinned as Clay’s muscled thighs shifted under the smooth layers of his tights. It made him think of last night’s call. Clay’s olive green parka reached down past his hips, obstructing Nick’s view. He suppressed a sigh.

“I’ll pass my backpack to you, okay?” Clay called out. “It’s heavy.”

Nick shook off his reverie. “What do you want to do?”

“I need to get the extra weight off to get to that hole safely and rescue your ski. Then we’re out of here!”

“Okay.” Nick lifted his left knee up and, very carefully, braced his foot against the branch that he’d been gripping so hard for the last two minutes. Balanced on a knee and a foot, he slowly straightened his spine and reached his arms to the side. The snow reached only to his waist now.

The swish-swish of Clay’s skis was punctuated by Nick’s labored breathing. “Don’t come too close,” he warned. “You’ll collapse the hole!”

“Okay.” Clay angled his skis parallel to the slope so as not to slide down, and stepped up the last few feet toward Nick. “I’ll be careful. Is there a hole in the snow next to you?”

“Yeah. I dug it.”

“Okay.” Clay fished in one of his pockets and came up with a coil of yellow nylon rope. “I’ll tie my bag to this, drop it down the hole, and give you the end. That way, we can pull it out if it gets buried.

Nick nodded. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “But I could’ve caught it.”

“No doubt,” Clay said with a distracted nod. “You also could’ve gotten knocked off your tree and into the snow. Which would cause needless upset and exertion for both of us.” He looked up, fixing Nick with a blank stare of his sunglasses. “I like to play things safe.”

Then he shrugged his heavy bag off, swung it once, twice—and on the count of three he let it fly. It thunked into the snow next to the hole and plowed its way under the surface. Unconcerned, Clay coiled the end of the yellow rope. “Here, catch!”

He threw it. Nick caught it easily. “Okay. You want me here, or under the ski?”

Clay seemed to ponder for a bit. “Here, in case I fall through.

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