“You looked great,” I said.
“I didn’t throw the double V, but whatever. It feels so good to be out here!”
She carved a path down to the chairlift. A few minutes later, Connor appeared from the ski patrol hut. I tamped down the slight smile that crept over my face when I saw him. I might have had to turn down his offer of a snowboarding lesson, but all work and no flirting made Nic a dull girl.
“How’s Veena feeling?” he asked when he got to me.
“Better.”
He moved closer and lowered his voice. I wished he wouldn’t; it was seriously distracting.
“Nic, Veena said something about Darya at the hospital. Why?”
I shrugged. He studied me, but I kept my gaze up the hill, watching for her.
“All right,” he said, “keep your secrets. So, have you been on a board yet?”
“Not yet.”
“My offer still stands.”
I glanced at him. Sincerity shone in his expression. Why was he being so nice to me? I hadn’t been all that nice back. Guilt snuck through me. I smiled at him.
“Thanks, Connor. I—” A flash of color at the top of the pipe caught my eye. “There she is.”
A few seconds after Veena started her run, a snowboarder dropped in behind her, way too close. Nate waved his arms and yelled at the rider as he went by.
I stiffened. Who was this guy, and what was he doing? Veena was halfway through her run, but he gained on her. If he wasn’t careful, he could hit her. Wait—was that what he meant to do?
Connor jogged into the bottom of the pipe, waving his arms at Veena to stop; I followed him. She didn’t notice us or the other rider, who curved right at her.
Her head swiveled back toward him at the last second. As she came out of her crouch, he clipped the back of her board, and she went down, sliding halfway up the side of the pipe. Alarms screamed in my head.
Adrenaline took over. I launched myself at the rider as he went by, taking him down in a perfect open-field tackle. He fell on his back, his snowboard under him, me on top.
“Hey, man, what the hell?” His words were slurred.
I pinned his shoulders to the snow, his body bent awkwardly below me. “Who are you? Who hired you?”
“What?” The guy moaned.
I yanked off his goggles. Red shot through the rider’s half-mast eyes, and his clothes smelled skunky. He was about my age.
“Who do you work for?”
“Um, Subway?” he finally answered.
What? Shit.
Connor kneeled next to the guy, sniffed his jacket, and made a face. “You know riding while high is illegal, right?” He pulled out his walkie-talkie and spoke into it. “Hey, Steve, I’ve got a rider possibly under the influence here. Might need to pull his pass. Or call the sheriff’s office.” He winked at me.
“Aw, bro, don’t do that.” The rider squirmed on the ground, trying to free his feet from the board.
“Too late,” Connor said. “You should know the rules before you smoke and ride.”
“She didn’t have to jump me.”
“Are you hurt?” Connor asked him.
“Don’t think so…”
“Then stop whining.”
I jog-walked over to Veena, who was getting to her feet. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, fine.” She was a little out of breath. “Who was that?”
“A stoner who took a wrong turn.”
A snowmobile plowed up the hill toward us. Veena’s eyes found it, and she grabbed my hand.
“Nic, go before more ski patrollers show up and you get in trouble. I’ll see you at the clubhouse.”
I hesitated, looking around for Cooley. He stood a little way away. I couldn’t be sure because he wore sunglasses, but he appeared to be glaring at me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!”
I scurried off down the hill. Cooley would tell Brown what happened, of course. But how was I supposed to know the guy was riding high, not trying to attack Veena?
And—seriously—how many more ways could I screw up this assignment?
I flopped at the same corner table as I had before. When Brown heard I took down a bystander, I was done.
Maybe I should be done. I truly sucked at this job.
The coffee guy was back in his usual spot. He had the right idea. Coffee, paper, stubble. Forget trying to make something of yourself; be a ski bum. I’d probably suck at being a ski bum, too, though.
I studied him dully. He had sharp angles to his face, veins standing out from the taut skin of his arms, and he wore a teched-out watch. He could be a coach, but I hadn’t seen him talking to any racers or riders.
Veena and Connor came in an hour later, wind-swept and beaming, with helmets slung over their arms.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Don’t worry, we took care of everything.” Her voice was breathless.
“Didn’t the guy complain about getting tackled on the slope?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Connor said, “but the idiot was riding high and not wearing a brain bucket. We pulled his pass and made him go to the clinic for a concussion check.”
Veena and Connor grinned conspiratorially and bumped knuckles, but I could barely conjure a smile in response. How many more times would Veena need to make excuses for me?
He raised an eyebrow. “Now, would either of you like to explain why Nic impersonated an All-Pro linebacker out there?”
He looked from Veena to me. We glanced at each other. She blinked innocently, and I shrugged.
“Uh huh. That’s what I thought.”
Veena pushed back her unruly helmet-hair. “Hey, Nic, I need to shower. We’re meeting Ali and Gage in an hour for dinner before the Grinders show.”
“Right. Thanks again for covering for me, Connor.” We started to walk away, but I turned back to him. “Oh—do you know that man?” I pointed to
