Who knew how long it would take them to get back down the mountain? She still had those deadlines she’d mentioned yesterday.
Resigned, she trudged toward the picnic tables at the refreshment pavilion settled at the base of the slopes. From there she’d be able to watch for Leah. This early, no one had cleared them of the previous night’s snow. With a broad sweep of her arm, Isabelle cleared a space to sit. Still wet and she was in jeans, not ski pants. Tugging her hat off, she laid it down and sat, hoping the knit was enough to keep her butt relatively dry. Then she popped the stylus out of her phone, pulled up the latest of her submissions, and settled in to work and wait.
~*~
“Don’t answer that,” warned Brandon as muffled banjos rang out from Travis’ coat pocket.
Travis ignored him and checked the caller ID. “It’s work. I have to answer it.”
“Even more reason not to answer.”
“Abernathy.”
Brandon rolled his eyes and headed for the refreshment pavilion. If he was going to have to wait while Travis talked whoever through whatever, he was going to do it with coffee. Standing at the back of the line, he scanned the slopes. It was a beautiful day, perfect weather, fresh powder. And, being a weekday, the mountain wouldn’t be over-crowded.
Travis had stopped halfway from the parking lot. He was pacing a short loop, his free hand scooping irritably through his hair. The expression on his face didn’t bode well.
I should never have let him have the phone back, Brandon thought. Clearly there was no saving him from the job without completely disconnecting him from civilization and technology.
Travis wasn’t the only one, he noted. A dozen feet away, a woman at one of the picnic tables was also hunched over her phone, stylus tapping at the screen. Glossy, dark brown hair spilled out from the fur-lined hood pulled up over her head. As he watched, she looked up toward the slopes and the parking lot. He had a brief, tantalizing view of delicate features and long-lidded eyes before she looked down again and went back to whatever she was doing.
With those jeans and hiking boots, she clearly wasn’t dressed for skiing, so what was she doing here? Waiting for someone? Brandon wondered. Not enjoying the views, that was for sure. And that was a damned shame. At least he’d saved himself from that kind of technological suck. If he had his way, he’d eventually manage to do the same for Travis.
At the crunch of snow, he turned to see the man in question, an apologetic expression on his face. Today was clearly not going to be the day he got saved.
“No,” said Brandon, pointing at him. “No, you are not about to back out on me now. We’re already here.”
“I’m sorry, man,” said Travis. “But that was one of the senior partners. He wants to pull me in as co-council on a huge corporate case. I have to go in.”
“You are full of suck,” declared Brandon. “Abandoning me in my hour of need.”
“Hour of need my ass.”
“Okay, fine, your hour of need. The system’s gonna kill you.”
Travis began backing away, lifting his hands in a gesture of acknowledgment. “We’ll reschedule. I’ll plan a day off in a few weeks, and we’ll come back.”
How many times had he heard that since Travis had joined Rigel, Williams, and Stone?
“You don’t plan for perfect powder,” Brandon insisted. “You embrace it when it happens.”
“Sorry, Bran!”
On a whim, Brandon bent and scooped up a palmful of snow.
“Hey now,” said Travis. “There’s no call for that.”
He felt a slow smile spread over his face as he packed his ammo. “There’s every call for this. I won this snow day and now you’re bailing. You gotta pay the penalty.”
He let the snowball fly with all the momentum of an outfielder aiming to cut off a base runner, feeling the sing of muscle as it left his hand. Travis darted to the side, just out of the line of fire, and Brandon watched with horror as the snowball hurtled by him and slammed against the head of the brunette at the picnic table.
She squeaked in surprise and dropped the phone.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered.
Slowly, oh so slowly, her shoulders dropped from the defensive hunch and she turned her head—hoodless now—to look at Travis. His eyes were round as saucers and he was already pointing back toward Brandon. She shifted her attention, and Brandon found himself snared by a pair of gorgeous brown eyes, slitted with temper.
Wow. For a moment, that was all he could think. Now there’s a face a man could get lost in. Then his brain re-engaged and he was striding across to her, spewing apology. “I am so sorry. I wasn’t aiming at you. I was aiming for him, and the coward moved, and I—”