With the scraping of board against hard-packed snow, a sound I now associated with something astonishing from Veena, she dropped into the halfpipe. She swooshed down, picking up speed, swept up the left wall, turned, and shot up the right one. At the top, she flew to an impossible height, went upside down, grabbed the back of her board, and slid down the wall. On the other side, she again got huge air, twisted three times, and landed smoothly—a perfect 1080. She next pulled an elaborate McTwist, which I only knew the name of because Connor told me. From the oohs of the crowd, she’d executed it well. She landed one more jaw-dropping trick. The double V should be next.
“You got this,” I whispered. Connor leaned forward, watching.
As Veena headed back up the left wall, I held my breath. Body forward, she launched into the air, and did . . . something. I wasn’t sure what. I clapped, but Connor muttered and settled back on his heels.
“That wasn’t it, was it?” I asked. Veena’s tricks were so complicated and quick, I wasn’t ever sure what I saw.
“No. That was a cab triple cork.”
“Will she win with it?”
“She should. It’s a sick hit, and she landed it well. It was a solid run.”
He sounded a little disappointed, and I guessed Veena would be, too, but the crowd seemed happy enough—they roared when she stopped at the bottom of the pipe. She unstrapped her board and waved. A minute or two later, the announcer gave her scores. Veena stayed in first place.
A couple of other riders ran out to hug her at the bottom, and up top, Nate pumped his fist in the air. I hooted, and Connor and I spontaneously hugged.
I stiffened, hoping Cooley had his eye on Veena and not me. But a bigger part of me wished there wasn’t so much waterproof material between Connor and me. As he pulled back, one of his hands brushed the bandage on the back of my head, hidden by my hat. I bit my lip and winced.
Confusion rolled across his face. “Did I hurt you?”
“I hit my head yesterday, but I’m all right.” Down below, Veena was on the move. “I’ve got to get down there.”
“Want to ride?”
I glanced at the steep hill beside the pipe. “On a board? No thanks.”
“Not on boards.” He jerked his thumb at a shiny black snowmobile sporting an orange flag near the ski patrol hut. “On this.”
Now he was talking. “Can I drive?”
“Have you before?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll teach you, then.”
Me driving was probably totally against the resort rules, but he got brownie points for not pointing that out. I straddled the machine and grabbed the handlebar. He sat behind me, his chest against my back and hands next to mine. He seemed at ease, but my pulse was skipping erratically. Why was my body reacting like this when I wasn’t even sure the guy could be trusted? Um, obviously, it didn’t care.
Connor spoke in my ear, making me shiver. “Okay, turn the key to start it up, squeeze the throttle on the right with your thumb to give it some juice, and pull the lever on the left to brake.”
The engine thrummed. I tugged the throttle too much, and we shot forward, sending Connor’s face into the back of my head. We both yelped with pain. I activated the brake and turned. He was touching his mouth with his glove.
“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I asked.
“Knocked out a few teeth. No big deal.” His voice was muffled.
“Seriously, are you bleeding?”
He pulled his hand away. His lips were red and—damn it—inviting. But not cut.
“You didn’t hurt me that bad,” he said.
“I could if I wanted to.” A teasing tone had crept into my voice. Nic, what are you doing?
His arm came back around me, and his voice turned gravelly. “I’ll bet you could.”
With fire licking my veins, I turned forward again, determined to focus. I gently touched the throttle, and we eased forward. But I was hyper-aware of every place Connor’s body touched mine. I gave up fighting my attraction to him and enjoyed the feeling of his arms wrapped around me while it lasted.
“Stay to the right on the way down.” His voice was still rougher, I noticed with satisfaction. “And, um, yield to pedestrians.” His breath sounded quicker, too.
Operating the snowmobile was easy once I got the hang of the controls. And fun. I wished I could see how fast it could go, but too many people wandered around the perimeter of the pipe.
At the bottom, a group of reporters surrounded Veena. She held Sona with the bottom of her board turned toward the cameras so the Burton logo showed. Gotta keep your sponsors happy like Newman said.
I stopped a safe distance away and turned the engine off. Connor helped me up, and we joined the throng. Cooley and a couple of others from my team stood nearby, their eyes moving from the reporters to the fans waiting to get selfies and autographs to the crowd watching the contest wrap up. Mr. and Ms. Venkatesan, elegant in sleek ski jackets, listened to Veena answer questions with proud smiles.
A few feet away, outside Veena’s circle, I spotted a familiar red jacket: Darya, with a rare happy expression. Huh. Was she that excited to take third?
Veena finished saying how she felt about her win, and a reporter jumped in with a question. A scruffy cameraman behind him wore an ESPN coat.
“Congratulations on your win, Veena,” the reporter said. “Looks like you’re headed to the Games in Laax on top.”
Her smile widened. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Can you tell us if there’s any truth to the rumor that you were almost abducted yesterday? And that you have a bodyguard protecting you at all times? Are you in danger, Veena?”
Her eyes flew, panicked, from her parents to me. “I . . . um . . . I don’t…” She didn’t need to confirm it. The truth was all
