02 Avalanche Pass by John Flanagan Read Free Book Online

fixed the drinks and brought them to the table, sitting opposite her. They touched glasses and drank. She leaned forward slightly and he felt a stirring sensation as the movement revealed a little more of her cleavage. Good legs. Good breasts. Pretty. And friendly. What more could a man ask for?
    “I was wondering,” she said, and he hastily raised his eyes to meet hers. She smiled again, letting him know that she knew what he’d been looking at and it was fine by her. “Did you have any plans for dinner?”
    He grinned and indicated the room service menu where he’d tossed it on the bureau.
    “I was thinking of a burger,” he said.
    She frowned in disapproval. “Not the thing to have on your last night in Snow Eagles,” she replied. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”
    “Well, it’s just I don’t like eating alone in restaurants,” he told her. She tossed off the rest of her drink and stood.
    “Problem solved. I’m buying you dinner. Or rather, the hotel is.”
    He raised an eyebrow at that. “Do the desk clerks here get an entertainment allowance?” She put one elegant finger up to her lips and pretended to look around for eavesdroppers.
    “Big secret,” she said. “I’m not usually on the desk. I’m the Security Officer here. And since you’re a cop…”
    “I am?” he interrupted and she nodded.
    “That’s what it said on your booking sheet. You’re with the Routt County sheriff’s office, right?” He nodded and she went on. “Right. So we can say we were discussing policing and security matters over dinner. That means we both get a decent meal and the hotel pays. I don’t know how that strikes you, but it sounds kind of win–win to me.”
    He smiled. “And will we be discussing policing and security matters?”
    “Maybe we’ll give it five or ten seconds,” she told him, her face mock serious. “So, are you ready?”
    T he dinner was excellent and Tina was a good companion. It was strange, he thought, but because she was a relative stranger, and a sympathetic listener, he found it was easy to unburden himself a little to her, about why he had come to Snow Eagles, about the accident and about the lingering doubts in his mind.
    She listened quietly as he spoke and when he paused, she set down her wineglass and leaned toward him.
    “It’s logical that your mind would do this,” she said. “You just have to build up to it. Don’t try to do it all in one hit. Work up to it with ski runs that get progressively harder until you stop thinking about what might happen and begin to do it instinctively again.”
    He regarded her curiously for a moment. “You sound like you know something about this sort of thing,” he said. She nodded.
    “Before I did this, I was in the Marines. I joined as an athlete, playing softball. I was pretty close to Olympic selection one year when I fell running between bases and tore up my elbow really badly—tendons, ligaments, the lot. Ruined my pitching.
    “Once the medics had patched it up, it took me months to getup the nerve to pitch full out again. At the last minute, I’d back off, afraid I’d throw the whole thing out again.”
    “So how did you solve it?”
    “I built up to it. I’d pitch at three-quarter pace until it had become instinctive again. Then I’d up the pace a little. Then more. Nothing too soon and nothing too sudden—just a gradual increase every few days or so. That’s what you should try.”
    He nodded. It made sense. Up till now he’d been going at it, balls to the wall, trying to regain his former skill and confidence all at once. Maybe he should build up to it after all. Then he made a gesture dismissing his problems.
    “Enough about me,” he said. “Tell me about you.”
    She pursed her lips, wondering where to start. “Grew up in Wyoming. Not on a ranch or anything fancy like that. Just in a small town. As I got older, it all seemed pretty dull. The Marine Corps looked like a good way out of it all so I joined