Page 2 of K-9 in Pursuit

“I’m sure Sharee is harmless. She’s a kid with a crush.”

“Yeah, well, I wish she’d find someone her own age to crush on.”

“Maybe the answer is for you to find someone your own age to date,” Lily said. “If Sharee knew you were attached, maybe she’d back off.”

“Got a friend you want to introduce me to?” he asked.

Her smile faded. “Sorry. I’ll keep my eyes open for you, though.”

“That’s okay. I’ll find my own dates.”

Lily left and Brian settled behind the desk. He signed the duty log, then checked the previous entry. Lily had apparently sold a T-shirt and responded to one call to help a skier who had twisted her knee. A slow morning.

He shoved the logbook to one side and leaned back, the chair squeaking loudly in protest. Lily’s advice nagged at him. Sure, he’d like to have a steady girlfriend, but he hadn’t had great luck in that department. Women liked him well enough—as a friend. But when it came to long-term romance, they always opted for men with more of an edge. Not the preacher’s kid from the Midwest.

The door to the patrol shack opened and he stifled a groan as Sharee entered. “Hey, Brian,” she cooed, and dropped into the only other chair in the small space.

“Sharee, you can’t stay here,” he said. “I’m working.”

“I can see you’re really busy.” She looked at the door where she had entered. “Does that door have a lock?”

“Why are you asking about locks?”

“I just wondered if patrollers ever fooled around in here. Might be fun.”

He was pretty sure his face was red. He stood. “You need to leave,” he said.

“The sign on the door says ‘open to the public.’”

“You’re behaving inappropriately.” He winced at the words. He sounded like a schoolteacher. Or a preacher.

“I’m flirting.” She laughed. “Don’t you know the difference?” She stood. “But I’ll leave, if it makes you so upset.”

She did leave, and he sank into his chair again, shaken. The situation hadn’t merely been uncomfortable, it had been dangerous. Alone in this small room, Sharee might have accused him of anything.

A few moments later, the door opened again and he looked up, heart in his throat. But it was only patrol captain Connor Donaldson, stomping snow from his boots. He turned to Brian. “I hauled a new rescue sled up to replace the old one,” he said. “We’ll leave the old one up under the shack until end of season, in case we need a spare.” He sank into the chair across from the desk. “I wanted to talk to you about something, anyway.”

Something in Connor’s tone made him wary. “Oh?”

“Have you thought about getting your senior ski patrol certification?” Connor asked.

“You mean, the National Ski Patrol program?”

“Yeah. I thought it would be useful to have somebody else on staff here who’s gone through the training. I think you’d do well at it.”

“Me? Nina and Lars are both better skiers than I am.”

“This isn’t about being a better skier. It’s about making decisions in a crisis and leadership abilities.”

“And you really think that describes me?”

Brian laughed, but Connor’s expression remained serious. “You could do it,” he said. “I’d help.”

“Doesn’t that require a lot more training and stuff?”

“There are two modules you have to complete for certification, and you can work on them one at a time or concurrently. You could do it in two to three years.”

Brian shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s for me.”